Plague 2024 [Plague 2022 Season 3]

Prologue

The world had long since begun its descent into chaos. What remained of civilization lay scattered and broken, plagued by the relentless march of the undead and the twisted ambitions of rogue scientists. Yet, amidst the despair, a glimmer of hope flickered—a single antidote that could turn the tide and save humanity.

***

January 2024

At dawn on a chilly January morning, the port of Incheon came alive with a cacophony of sound and movement. The sprawling structure of the port was a labyrinth of weathered docks and rusting cranes, remnants of a time when commerce thrived. Large cargo containers stacked haphazardly rose like jagged sentinels, their bright colors faded and peeling under layers of grime. The scent of saltwater mingled with the acrid odor of decay, a stark reminder of the world’s downfall.

A massive cargo ship loomed over the dock, its dark hull stark against the vibrant hues of the rising sun. As the ship’s anchor dropped with a resonant clang, a group of heavily armed men, clad in makeshift armor and wielding an array of guns, disembarked with urgency.

The men moved with practiced efficiency, scanning the surrounding area for any signs of danger. The air was thick with tension as they opened fire on the shambling zombies that had begun to crawl toward them, their groans mingling with the distant sound of crashing waves. The men’s precision was commendable; headshots rang out like a symphony of gunfire, echoing against the weathered docks until the undead bodies fell to the ground, lifeless once more.

With the immediate threat neutralized, the men slung their weapons back onto their shoulders, still alert and vigilant. Their faces were obscured by masks that shielded them from the stench of decay and the risks of the world beyond. They exchanged terse nods, a silent acknowledgment of their shared mission, before turning to the task at hand.

One by one, they retrieved brown cardboard boxes from the ship’s hold, each labeled with a simple, yet urgent, marking: “Emergency.” As they maneuvered around the bodies of the fallen zombies, the morning sun cast long shadows, painting the dock in a golden hue that felt almost surreal against the grim backdrop.

The men placed the boxes carefully on the dock, their expressions hardening with determination. Just then, a group of figures emerged from a large, makeshift tent nearby. Clad in similar masks, these men approached swiftly, their movements fluid as they lifted the boxes and carried them into the tent, where the air felt charged with urgency and hope.

But not all was quiet at the port. From the depths of the ship, another group stirred, wary and terrified. A handful of desperate individuals peered cautiously over the ship’s railing, their eyes scanning for any signs of safety. Realizing the danger posed by the masked men, they exchanged panicked whispers before making a swift decision. Without hesitation, they leaped into the cold, murky waters of the harbor, trying to conceal themselves behind the nearby boats bobbing gently in the waves.

The masked men remained oblivious, focused solely on their mission. The sun glinted off the surface of the water, momentarily illuminating the faces of those who had chosen to hide, their expressions a mix of fear and determination.

As the last of the boxes disappeared into the tent, the cargo ship’s engines roared back to life, churning the water beneath it. It began to pull away from the dock, leaving behind a scene fraught with tension and the lingering scent of gunpowder.

In the shadows beneath the boats, the hidden group held their breath, watching as the vessel slipped away into the horizon, carrying with it the weight of hope and the promise of salvation—or perhaps the last chance for a world on the brink of annihilation.