Infected Regression - Complete Series

Infected Regression - The Dawn Of The Dusk

Nature always has a plan
We may not see it nor understand
But the plan is always in motion.

Nature always has a plan.

Change is life. From the single cell to the dominant species on the planet, we have undergone multiple changes as we have evolved over the course of centuries. As we have evolved so have many other forms of life that share this beautiful planet with us.
Change, you see, is required by nature. Without change there is no life, there is no growth. Many humans fear change for they become too comfortable in stagnation, they see in narrow ways and try to force all of life and their own species to see in very narrow and destructive ways.
Wars have been waged because of the intolerance of men who are terrified of being unique, who fear the individuality that nature requires of all life so that it can grow and develop.
Many have been murdered for being a different sexuality, for being a different gender identity, for having a different colour of skin, for not conforming to any religion and the poisonous dogma churned out on a regular basis by delusional and power hungry control freaks.

But despite the hatred of fools and the restrictions enforced by narrow minded men over the centuries, nature continues to do as it has always done – encourage change.

Because change happens, without it there is no growth, no progress. And nature will always push for change regardless of our pathetic fears.

~~

Dying Months – Before The Virus:

The results were as clear as the nose on her lined face, results that she had hoped would not be a reality.
Despite the noise outside the doctor's office, there is only silence as she reads the results again, the painful reality hitting home with the same impact as that of her husband's death barely a year ago.
These were now her dying months, there was no cure for her condition and even if there were it would be too late, at her age her health was already in decline and has been for the past three years.

When she had been born 93 years ago the doctor's had believed that she would not make it past her first week because her heartbeat was too weak, she had surprised them though by continuing to live.
But that was long ago and her luck had finally run out, her unusually good health was gone and she was dying as was expected for one of her age.

Her husband had died in his sleep, his last words to her before he went to sleep for the final time being a very simple three words – "I love you" – and his loss had hit her hard. They had been together for almost 70 years, their love as strong as the day they had met when they had been in their early 20s.
She had lain beside him holding his hand as it grew cold, she knew he was dead but she didn't want to be parted from him, she had hoped that she would die that night but to her despair she had continued to live.
Now she would join him, yet part of her wasn't ready to die yet, she wanted more time. Just a little more time.

"Miss Barrison, I feel it will be best if you reconsider your refusal to move into a care home. They can provide you the care you will need for your remaining months, it would be dangerous for you to remain in your house without care" She doesn't listen to the doctor's words, choosing instead to dismiss them as dim background noise.  Barely six months left to live, just six months. She would not see her 94th birthday, she would never see her great grandchildren and grandchildren again, she would never see her children again.
Six months. Not enough time.

Never enough time.

~

The news is received with stony silence after she informs her surviving children – her eldest daughter and her eldest son, the other two – both sons – had died in some war decades ago.
Her surviving children – Rachel at 69 years old and Nicolas at 65 – mulled over the news while their own grandchildren could be heard in the living room being cared for by their parents.
Nicolas was on his third marriage, Rachel on her second, they both have four children and six grandchildren. A fairly large family line to say the least.