Death is Hard to Come By
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It's the year 2757 and the world is insanely over populated. People are dying of starvation and there are more homeless than those actually living in homes and something had to be done. It takes over one hundred years but by the year 2880 scientists have made it so each child born will have a date tattooed on their arm, the day they'll die. It's randomized, in a computer somehwhere- it's calssified. When the mom gets pregnant, as soon as she knows, she has to go to the doctor to get the shot that injects the DNA into the baby that "installs" its death date. There's no way around it; the mom is given a temporary tattoo that disapears when the baby is born, but if they're seen without the tattoo and pregnant, they're taken to prison, then to a hospital to have their baby and then neither are ever seen again and no one has any idea what happens to either of them. But it's 2993 and things have been happening. Babies born without tattoos even though they got the shots. People running away and almost never coming back. But nothing prepared anyone for what was going to happen.
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Let's get one thing straight here, I'm not a hero (I totally am, but I hear that these days being modest is in fashion or something, so I don't know man). I never planned on being a hero. It kind of just happened. Clark's the bigshot. The fame, the girls, the attention. Me? I'm just his loser younger brother. Another rich Trackerson kid, but that quiet one with no personality. I'm kidding. I'm funny. I promise. I have to be. The name's Liam. The apocalypse wasn't easy on anyone, but it was harder on some. We made it okay. My family lives in a mansion, and we basically run this town. I come from a line of famous zombie-hunters. Not me, though. I kind of suck. I was never supposed to get bitten. I'm running out of time. I'm turning, and it's happening fast. People are rising up, feuds are breaking out, the world is ending all over again; and it's all up to me to stop it. Or something. Crazy, right? Anyway, I've got to go. I guess the good part is, if they find out my secret-if they kill me-at least not many people are going to miss me. I just hope they get my name right. L-I-A-M. It's not hard. Please, for the love of humanity, remember my name. Whatever they call me after all this, remember my name.
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