Better Days Forgotten

Three weeks ago, Chicago was the site of a massive biological attack. Little was known about who did this, whether it was a singular act of terrorism from a madman or a targeted attack from another country. In fact, most didn't even know if any other parts of the country were hit; what everyone did know was everyone in the center of town was killed when the attack began. The first news coverage explained how they said a man set off a small bomb that leaked out smoke, quite clearly containing the contagion. According to the CDC members who were sent, anyone who was exposed to the initial pathogen died within hours.

As horrific as that news was, what everyone learned next was truly horrifying. The members of the CDC were quickly jumped by the victims of the attack. Just as the poor scientists started to be torn open, the signal was lost. Before anyone knew it, every channel on television became an announcement stating martial law was in effect. Nearly one week passed as everyone listened to the law or was to, just waiting and praying to be taken out of Chicago safely. What they didn't know was the first order of business; before any kind of rescue, the military sealed the city. It was around this time that more reports began to filter in about other large cities experiencing similar attacks, and before long, the entire country was making these reports, and the response teams were being stretched thin.

By the time survivors were out of food and to leave their homes, the Military had sealed any tunnels leading out of the city as well as put up a massive wall forcing everyone inside to stay trapped inside. The streets were empty, a smell of now overpowered the natural scents of the city, and the only noise came from distant gunfire and an occasional helicopter flying overhead. Before long, some came face to face with a horrible view; the streets were scattered with the bodies of citizens. Some were shot, others were ripped open, and to their confusion, some of them seemed to be both.

In the following two weeks, the population of Chicago was decimated, but the dead did not stay dead anymore. Whatever was inside this biological attack caused the infected to die and come back again. The only thing everyone could tell they did was eat; it didn't matter who it was; a man, a woman, or even a child. It was also quickly learned brain damage seemed to put these things down for good finally, so it was now key to never left home without some heavy and hard to bash the heads of the dead in.

On the dawn of the third week, the word was slowly spread between small surviving groups that the military was pulling out soon and that if you wanted to survive you'd report to the nearest checkpoint and get on a helicopter before there were none left to get on. A few members of the military, now a coalition of whatever branches of serving members were still alive, sent a few people out into the city to gather up who they could. That's how one group of survivors ended up together, thinking that their tour through hell was ending, but little did they know it was only beginning.