The next day, Cassandra was laid to rest. They honored her with heartfelt tributes, burying her as a hero who fought alongside them. The ceremony was somber yet dignified, and her sacrifice was etched into their hearts. After paying their last respects, everyone returned home, their spirits heavy with loss but their resolve to move forward stronger than ever.
The following day, Fred called a meeting. Everyone gathered, curiosity written on their faces.
Fred stood at the center and began, "As you all know, we've built a new community—a new world. But with this new beginning comes responsibility. To survive and thrive, we need structure. From today onward, we'll establish rules and regulations. There will be politics, immigration, and a push for civilization. We'll need teachers, farmers, engineers—every role vital to a functioning society."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd.
Fred continued, "We must each volunteer for a role to help build our future. Together, we'll make this community strong."
One by one, people stepped forward to take on responsibilities. Fred appointed Michael as the head of the military. Overwhelmed with joy, Michael exclaimed, "Finally, I've made my father's dream come true."
Life in the community flourished. With everyone contributing, the settlement began to feel like home. Fred named their new haven The World of the Survivors, a name that inspired hope and resilience.
Amidst the rebuilding, love blossomed. Fred and Jane, who had grown closer during their trials, fell in love and were soon married. The head of the family approached Fred with a heartfelt request: he wanted to adopt Alice as his daughter. Fred warmly approved, and the community celebrated yet another step toward normalcy.
The lab coach became the community's scientist, working tirelessly to innovate and improve their lives. Over time, they created a sustainable lifestyle, free from the chaos of the past. Five years later, Jane gave birth to a healthy baby boy, a symbol of hope for their future.
But peace can be fleeting.
One fateful day, Fred went out alone to gather supplies—a routine task for the community. The rain poured heavily as everyone stayed busy with their chores. Jane, at home with their child, played happily, unaware of the storm brewing in Fred's heart.
When Fred returned after the rain subsided, Jane greeted him with a smile that quickly faded when she noticed his troubled expression.
"What took you so long?" she asked, concern lacing her voice. "And why did you go alone today? I thought you'd take others with you."
Fred hesitated before replying, his tone grave. "There's a problem—a big problem."
Jane frowned. "What are you talking about? What happened out there?"
Fred hesitated again, his voice trembling. "I was bitten by a zombie."
Jane froze, her mind racing. "No, that's impossible! You can't have been bitten by a zombie. We killed them all, didn't we? Where did you even see one?"
Fred sighed, exasperated. "I don't know how it happened, but it did. I'm telling you the truth."
Their argument was interrupted by a knock at the door. The lab coach entered, looking concerned. "What's going on? Are you two fighting?"
Jane turned to him, desperation in her voice. "Fred says he was bitten by a zombie! Tell me that's not possible."
The lab coach's face darkened. "Bitten? How could that be? We wiped them out and we are vaccinated."
Fred lifted his shirt, revealing the bite mark on his side. It wasn't deep, but it was unmistakable.
The lab coach leaned in to examine the wound, his expression grim. "Where did this happen?"
Fred replied, his voice heavy. "I don't know. I was scavenging supplies, and suddenly, it attacked me. I didn't see it coming."
Silence filled the room as they stared at the bite mark, realizing the gravity of the situation. The hope they had built so carefully now teetered on the edge of a new nightmare.
Jane was extremely worried, "This is not adding up!" She paced back and front.
"All I know is that I saw two zombies," Fred says, his voice shaky as he recounted the terrifying encounter. "I got out of the car, thinking I could handle them. I stabbed the first one, but the second one… it was too fast. It bit me—right here." He motioned to his stomach, his eyes filled with disbelief. "I managed to kill it, but I couldn't believe they were that strong. We thought they were all gone…"
The lab coach, who had been listening intently, sprang into action. "We don't have time to waste!" he said, rushing back to his apartment. He returned moments later with a vaccine injection, quickly administering it to Fred. "This should help… I hope."
While Fred winced at the injection, the lab coach ran back to his lab to test the vaccine. Minutes later, he returned, his face pale. "The vaccine… it's expired. I'm not sure if it will work."
Before anyone could respond, Fred cried out in pain. His skin began to change, turning an eerie whitish hue. His breathing became labored, and sweat poured down his face. The lab coach quickly tied him to a sturdy chair, fearing the worst.
Gathering the community, the lab coach broke the news. "Everyone, listen to me. A big disaster is upon us. The zombies… they're back. And Fred—our leader—has been bitten. He's already showing signs of turning. You all need to prepare for the worst!"
Panic spread like wildfire. Michael, head of the military, clenched his fists. "I thought the vaccine is preventing us from bite, so, what happened?"
"It expires!" The lap coach respond to Michael.
Michael got frustrated and sad, he told the armies to prepare for what is about to happened.
As if on cue, loud bangs echoed from the gates. The zombies had arrived, relentless and hungry. Chaos erupted as the undead broke through the gates, swarming the community. The military fired at will, bullets tearing through rotting flesh. Civilians armed themselves with whatever they could find—knives, pipes, and even wooden planks.
Amid the chaos, Michael noticed something odd. Many of the zombies bore knife wounds on their bellies, all inflicted with a weapon engraved with a crown symbol. His mind raced, but there was no time to dwell on it.
Inside one of the safer buildings, Fred, Jane, the lab coach, Michael, Alice, Edmond (Fred's son), and the head of the family locked themselves in a room. Fred's breathing grew shallower until, finally, it stopped. Jane screamed, her grief pouring out in raw sobs.
"Fred!" she cried, clutching her son. "You can't leave us like this!"
But her cries took a horrifying turn when Fred's body jerked violently. His eyes snapped open, now glazed and lifeless. He growled, his transformation into a zombie complete.
Jane froze, unable to approach him. Everyone else stood paralyzed, unsure of what to do. Only Michael had the resolve. He raised his gun, his hands trembling but steady enough. "I'm sorry, Fred," he whispered before pulling the trigger.
The gunshot echoed, silencing Fred's growls. But the commotion outside grew louder. Zombies were pounding on the door, their numbers increasing.
"Michael, this is reckless! You shouldn't have shoot." The head of the family shouted, as Michael got pissed and stormed out, gun blazing. He fired at the undead, each shot fueled by anger and frustration.
"Michael, get back inside!" the lab coach yelled. "You'll get yourself killed!"
Michael ignored them, his rage blinding him to the danger. Just as the situation seemed hopeless, the roar of an engine filled the air. A massive van barreled into the community, and its passengers unleashed a torrent of firepower, including a bazooka that obliterated the horde in seconds.
The stunned survivors peeked through windows as the van's driver stepped out, a figure cloaked in authority. He climbed onto the roof of the vehicle, grabbing a microphone.
"Everyone, listen up!" his voice boomed. "If you're still alive, come out now. A new order is being established. We are the only ones who can save you. If you want to live, pack your things and follow us. If you stay, you'll die, because another wave of zombies is on its way!"
Terrified and desperate, many survivors quickly gathered their belongings, lining up beside the van. Michael, the head of the family, Jane, and the lab coach emerged cautiously, their faces grim.
The man with the microphone spotted them. "What about you? Are you coming, or are you staying to die?"
Michael stepped forward, his jaw set. "We don't take orders from strangers. Who are you people, and why are you here?"
The man smirked. "Is that how you thank someone who just saved your life?" He pointed to the van, where a crown symbol was painted on the side. Michael's eyes narrowed as he remembered the knives used to stab the zombies.
"Who are you?" Michael demanded again, his voice like steel.
The man's smirk widened into a sinister grin. "We are the Virus. We are the Zombies!"