The Dead Will Rise

Prologue

     The earth is a good thing, a blessing, but as hell nears, all good things must come to an end. Including humanity.

     Some say that the world would end in fire. Some say ice. Some say nuclear apocalypse. One day hell will be full, and the dead will roam the surface of the earth. That is what people said. But myself, I was a non-believer. The zombies will never come, I said. You're all mad, I said. Who knew that I would be the one to start it all. Well, maybe I was the crazy one.
None of that matters now. The whole world is mad now. There used to be a difference, between all of the people of earth. Some were crazy and some were not. Not, there is no classification that decides mankind. There is no good or evil. There is no mad or not. Only the living, and the dead. A fight for survival has never been so massive.

     Some people would say that the dead would rise from the graves. Some say that they'd be the result of a failed science experiment. It was May 19th, 2027 when I had my first day on the job as a CDC Scientist. We tested dozens of bacterial substances and yet found nothing exciting. Yet, there was one substance that stood out. After weeks of working, I became obsessed with creating a new matter. I used that substance to create my new matter.

     By June 26th, I had finished my project that would change mankind for the better. A matter with healing properties. I decided to introduce my colleagues to this new matter. We had a volunteer to ingest the liquid. This substance, I created. One that —once injected— killed the victim over a two hour period. I did not understand how I went wrong.
It took days of thinking, but I soon had it. Before I had shown anyone my creation, I had seen a colleague tamper with my invention. He was jealous of my recent success and he finally decided to act. In an attempt to get me fired, he inserted cyanide into my creation. I did everything in my power to try to reverse the cyanide particles. I could not make another batch, for the one he had tampered with took weeks. When I was convinced that the cyanide was wiped from the matter, I showed it to my colleagues, praying that it would still work. I should have known better.

     We stored the bodies in another room, not thinking about what would happen to them after that. As a scientist, I was not one to believe in zombies, but these reanimated figures looked pretty damn similar. Their skin as grey as midnight fog. Their hair as silver as the oldest human being. Their stance as arched as the zombies on television. Their appetite as cannibalistic as the monsters from my old favourite tv shows. I had created the illness of the century. I had created man-made plague.