Information taken from The Zombie Survival Guide, Dead Frontier, and various other Zombie-related media. No copyright infringement intended.

 Chronicles of the Dead

He comes from the grave, his body a home of worms and filth. No life in his eyes, no warmth of his skin, no beating of his breast. His soul, as empty and dark as the night sky. He laughs at the blade, spits at the arrow, for they will not harm his flesh. For eternity, he will walk the earth, smelling the sweet blood of the living, feasting upon the bones of the damned. Beware, for he is the living dead.

—Obscure Hindu text, Circa, 1000 B.C.E

A Vision of the Future

It is the year 2012, and humanity's worst nightmare has come to pa.ss. The air is thick with despair, and the battles never cease; slowly but surely, the human population is being driven to extinction and reanimating as the living dead. There are wounds that will not heal; cries that will not end. The incessant moaning of the undead is a sick melody that poisons the mind and stabs at the heart. It fills the atmosphere, swallowing all hope and oppressing those who still have a will to live, for even in the bravest of hearts, cowardice lurks. Those who still have a rebellious streak attempt to fight back, but as strong as they are, they are no match for the infected who carry a power far beyond their imagination.

The world is falling apart. Law and order cease to exist; bandits, looters, murderers prey on the few remaining survivors, taking what they want, indulging in sick fantasies, and ultimately causing as much damage as their infected counterparts. Hope existed in a different life time; trust is a thing of the past. Neighbours, friends, relatives, are willing to kill and sacrifice others to save their own skin. Man could no longer look after themselves, let alone each other. The sun shines on, but it no longer warms the hearts of the people. Instead, it places a suffocating hand over the land. In the shadow of the moon, nightmares came to life. In a world as damned as Earth, is there any hope for the future?

To survive, people fled to all corners of the world; they left the light of day to live underground. But even then, safety did not come easily. Many found themselves surrounded by the undead, unable, or unwilling to escape. Everywhere they turned, they saw half consumed humans lying in a pool of blood. Everywhere they went, riots, looting, widespread panic, and the infected followed. Where had their loving God gone in their greatest time of need? Had he turned his back on humanity in their darkest hour?

The Outbreak
History
Secronom Inc., at the forefront of the medical revolution, was one step closer to finding the cure for cancer. They engineered many nano-viruses, some of which were sold exclusively to the government and its top secret agencies, and some which have not yet been released to the public. In their heavily guarded and isolated headquarters, they began testing Nerotonin 4—a virus to combat cancer cells—on willing volunteers in exchange for a hefty sum of money.

100 hundred volunteers were quarantined in a high-tech compound in order to study the effects of the Nerotonin 4 drug. The effects are as follows:

Hour 1: Decolourization of the skin.
Hour 3: Acute pain in joints, light fever, chills.
Hour 5: High fever, chills, slight dementia, vomiting.
Hour 17: Heavy nervous break down, collapsing of the immune system.
Hour 18: Slowing of the heart rate, coma.
Hour 20: Heart stoppage, zero brain activity.
Hour 23: Reanimation

Upon reviving, the test subjects showed symptons of extreme hunger and aggression towards the scientists. Uncontrollable due to their mental instability, the hundred volunteers were scheduled for execution the following day. The ma.ss. execution never took place.

There are few Secronom scientists alive today. Many died and reanimated when the infected broke out of the compund. Those who survived went into hiding, for their heads were as wanted as those of the undead. Only a handful of the survivors have access to Secrocom's top-secret files, which contain information about the Nerotonin 4 virus and its genetic coding. Without these files, the chances for a cure will be locked away forever.

Top-Secret Government Agencies

• The Omega Agency: Consists of networks set up much like the CIA. There are thousands world-wide who take their orders directly from the ruling council of the Omega Agency. The OA is the driving force behind what is commonly known as the "New World Order."
• Majestic 12: Created to deal with the negotiation and presence of extra-terrestrials of Earth. Majestic 12 was set up during what could arguably be the most deceptive and secretive period of the US Government's existence.
• National Security Agency and the Echelon System: In the booming surveillance industry, they spy on whom they wish, when they wish. They are protected by barriers of secrecy and fortified by billions of pounds worth of high, high-tech technology.
• Federal Emergency Management Agency: FEMA is not an elected body, it does not involve itself in public disclosures, has a quasi-secret budget in the billions of dollars, and has more power than the President of the United States or the Congress. It has the power to suspend laws, move entire populations, arrest and detain citizens without a warrant and hold them without trial; it can seize property, food supplies, transportation systems, and can suspend the Constitution.
• Air Force Space Command: AFSPC defends America through its space and intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) operations; vital force elements in projecting global reach and global power.

Drugs Administrated to Top-Secret Government Agencies ONLY

• Effects of all Nerotonin drugs: Minimal pain intensity upon physical damage to the body, increased hearing, sight capabilities, and sense of smell.
• Nerotonin 1: When administrated, the pain is strong enough to kill. However, it instantly repairs the severed or damaged body. Its effects are indefinite, along with the pain accompanying insta-regeneration.
• Nerotonin 2: Alters the metabolism of tissue promoting extraordinary growth of muscle, skin, bone, internal organs, and nervous tissue. Accompanied by acute pain in the joints. Incapable of regenerating body parts. Its effects are indefinite.
• Nerotonin 3: Enhanced healing capabilites, powerful muscles, and thick skin. Capable of adapting to extreme conditions given time. Its effects are indefinite.

Cla.ss 3 Outbreak
Zombies number in the millions, pushing humanity into a corner before finishing them off. There is a all-out battle between the infected and the government, military, and society. Quarantining infested areas become impossible due to the throngs of people fleeing from the dead. Despite all attempts for rationed supplies, restricted travel, and strictly monitored communication, the government can do little to control panic and riots. Decimation and sweeping of zombies will take several years, if contained. If not, a Cla.ss 4 Outbreak will take place; it will be a world in which the undead are the dominant species.

Zombies 101
All Infected

• CANNOT BE CONTROLLED IN ANYWAY.
• EXTREMELY aggressive; will stop at nothing until their prey falls.
• Unable to recall emotional relationships and previous needs.
• A mental pull towards being in a horde.
• Extreme craving for human flesh.
• Cannot feel pain or the effects of exhaustion, and therefore, will not be hindered by it.
• The eyes of a zombie are no different than those of a human.
• Exceptional hearing; can hear frequencies that go undetected by the human ear.
• Acute sense of smell.
• Cannot self-repair, no matter how big or small the wound. For example, every time humans physically exert themselves, our teared muscles rebuild to a stronger state than before. A zombie's muscle mas.s will remain damaged.
• Can only be killed by destroying the brain; a severed head will snap at the heels; it will continue to attack until nothing remains.
• MUST HAVE DIRECT CONTACT IN ORDER TO INFECT; the virus is not airborne.

Level 1

• Characteristics of all infected.

• 1 step every 1.5 seconds.
• Cannot run, swim, climb, jump, or balance.
• Most common, restricted to no single area.

Level 2

• Characteristics of all infected.

• Will turn humans into Level 2 zombies upon direct contact.
• Cannot jump or balance; capable of running, swimming, and climbing
• Slightly heightened senses; can smell human flesh at 500 meters away, hear footsteps at 250 paces.
• Occupies 10 mile radius surrounding Secronom Inc. and various other government holdouts; horde zombies.

Level 3

• Characteristics of most infected.

• See Administrated Drugs for characteristics exclusive to Level 3 zombies.
• Capable of minimal thought process
• Usually a Secronom scientist or government agent.
• Will turn humans into Level 3 zombies upon direct contact.
• Capable of sprinting, swimming, climbing, jumping, and balancing.
• Heightened senses; can smell human flesh at a mile away, hear footsteps at 500 paces
• Occupies the one mile radius surrounding Secronom Inc. and various other government holdouts; horde zombies.

Setting
The roleplay will start approximately a week before the initial Cla.ss 3 Outbreak. At this point, rumors about the dead rising will be circulating. Governments, militaries and law enforcements will be trying their best to cover and clean up all suspicious tracks. The press will have little media coverage, however, small bits of information will be leaked. During this time, preparations and alliances can be made. Only one post regarding regarding the pre-apocalyptic war is required to be made, but do feel free to make a couple.

There will be no fixed setting for the roleplay, as the infection will spread worldwide. It may become essential to keep moving in order to escape the living dead.

Objectives
1. Recruit other survivors.
2. Find the cure or vaccine to “Nerotonin 4,” rumored to be hidden inside Secronom Inc.'s main headquarters.
3. Eliminate all zombies.
4. Start a new civilization.
5. Stay alive.

Rules
Do note that I am open to ALL suggestions.

• No Mary/Gary Sues.

• There are no special abilities unless you are a part of a secret government agency.
• Very minimal god modding and power playing.
• I don't care about the male-to-female ratio; go female crazy if you want.
• Violence is encouraged, but do keep it Rescreatu appropriate.
• Romance is allowed; side plot will be important. Gay, straight, lesbian; all are fine.
• I'm sure that in order for this to work, everyone will have to play as zombies at some point.
• Do be respectful and try to invite or incorporate all roleplayers into a scene when applicable.
• All roleplaying levels are welcome.
• I reserve the right to change or add rules without notice.

Character Form
Weapons, history, personality, strengths, weaknesses, miscellanea are all optional, as they can be revealed throughout the roleplay. However, do try to balance every strength with a weakness. Also, try to keep things as realistic as possible. A student who has access to an AK47 at the very beginning of the RP is an extremely rare occurance. Forms for minor characters are optional. Just plop them into the RP.

Form for Regular Characters

Name:
Age:
Appearance:
Occupation:
Weapon(s):
History:
Personality:
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
Misc:

Form for Government Agents
More government agencies can be added upon request.

Name:
Age:
Appearance:
Occupation:
Drug Taken and its Effects (optional):
Agency:
Branch (if applicable):
Specialty/Skills:
Weapon(s):
History:
Personality:
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
Misc:

Name: Drago Wheeler

Age: 18

Appearance: To your left

Occupation: Student

Weapon(s): arm blades crow bar

History: Drago grew up with his mom and dad in a small city. His parents were both sports fanatics, so as soon as he could walk, he had been playing sports. Sports brought the entire family together, and Drago enjoyed a childhood full of mutual love and understanding, something that most children did not experience due to petty familial conflicts.

His best memories consisted of him winning trophies for MVP and various other sports academies, and watching sports with his parents.

He attended a public middle school and high school, and actively took part in sports and student council. He maintained a high grade point average despite all his extracurricular activites and volunteering.

Drago lived a fairly sheltered life, rarely travelling and having stayed in the same area and schools all his life. His overprotective parents did not expose him to the real world full of troubles; he lived in blissful ignorance, and that bubble of misconception popped when the outbreak occurred.

His family was ripped away from him, and his world was turned upside down. He finds it is not so easy to maintain his optimistic outlook on life.

Personality: Drago puts the group before the individual; by playing many team sports and taking part in a wide range of activities, he has gained many leadership skills. He tries his best to avoid conflicts, but will not push them out of his mind and out of his sight, either. Drago likes to take charge of the situation and will use his charisma to his full potential in order to do so.

Drago is known to be stubborn and thick-headed. He stands by his beliefs and although he takes many opinions and ideas into consideration, he usually does not act upon them unless he sees exceptional potential in an idea; he hardly gives into anyone's will.

Extroverted and kind, he makes friends easily. Due to his caring nature, he pries into personal life more often than needed or welcomed. Drago sees the best in people, and is therefore has been taken advantage of multiple times. However, when this occurs, he goes out of his way to make his a.ssailant's life a living hell.

Drago wears his heart on his sleeve and is often made fun of for it—he cries as easily as he laughs—but he continues to be expressive and open-minded, and people are instinctively drawn to him despite what they say about his demeanor.

He is also patient and understanding, and just to spite him, people try to make him snap. It hardly ever works, for Drago was starting to get wise to the game.

"Let's settle this like real men with rock, paper, scissors!"
—Drago Wheeler

Strengths: leadership skills, optimistic, agile and quick on his feet, basic first aid, skilled in martial arts and muay thai, large stamina reserves.

Weaknesses: His compa.ssion for others makes him a very hesitant killer. He is also somewhat dense to ploys and trusting, and a complete pushover for his loved ones.

Misc: Really likes cereal and is bi-curious.

Name: Keagan Duval

Age: 19

Appearance: To your right

Occupation: Student

Weapon(s): trench knife Desert Eagle

History:

Keagan grew up estranged from his family, not because he disliked them, but because he felt compelled to wear a mask around them. He dislikes how his parents forced their selfish ideals upon him when he should be free to live his own life. His parents expected him to be successful, find a good woman, gain unparalleled amounts of status, and take over the family business. He constantly had to wear a mask around his parents, for if they found out his true personality, he feared he would be disowned without a second thought.

From his childhood, Keagan clearly remembers the air of tension surrounding his family. He wanted to share a bond with his parents—one that wasn't related to business. If felt like he was only a pawn, and that one day, he would be thrown away. He just wanted to spend quality time with his father like most teenagers, a luxury he never got the opportunity to experience. Instead, his father always brushed him off, and when they did talk, it was about the business world.

He spent his days in the mansion receiving education from private tutors. Along with core subjects, he learned the art of fencing and archery, and the beauty of poetry and freedom of artistic ex
pression.

When his parents encouraged him to get out and make friends—people he could use to his advantage, from their viewpoint—he didn't feel attached to them in anyway. Conversation and pleasantries were forced, and although Keagan was constantly surrounded by people, he couldn't help but feel alone.

When the outbreak occurred, Keagan felt he didn't lose a thing.

Personality:

Keagan is what he has been made. He has a reputation to uphold, and he follows it to a T.

He is a selfish snob that puts himself before others. He believes that material worth is everything, and therefore does not like to a.ssociate with others who are not as well off as he is. He is not compa.ssionate, nor understanding, and does not accept excuses no matter how legitimate they may be.

Despite his handsome features, he is not well liked due to his inflated-ego and superiority complex. He has few likes and sneers at anything he believes to be below him.

Keagan is also very close-minded. Physical appearance is very important to him, and he spends many hours keeping up aesthetics. He knows he's good looking, and lets it get to his head. He spares no second glance for the ugly, though he hardly cares for the aesthetically pleasing. To him, people are as ugly inside no matter how beautiful they look, himself included.

He uses his money and power to influence others into bending against his will. Keagan does everything he can to get what he wants. Extremely competitive, who he is and what he has must always be a cut above anything and anyone.

Keagan is quick to anger and speaks his mind without hesitation. He cares little for the feelings of others and goes out of his way to get them into trouble.

He acts loud and c.ocky in order to attract attention, something he got very little of growing up. But really, he is all bark and no bite. He wonders if anyone will take the time to learn who he really is behind his mask of arrogance.

“Love is too beautiful to exist in a world as ugly as this.”
—Keagan Duval

Strengths: Extremely smart and practical, can think quickly on his feet, basic first aid, fast runner, a crackshot with any firearm when he isn't scared out of his wits.

Weaknesses: Stubborn and hard-headed, always thinks he's right, doesn't take into consideration the opinions and feelings of others, easily frightened and riled up, poor social skills

Misc: Wants to make lots of real friends.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NCt2nZF2nLk

my theme song for this apocalypse

Name: Sk-J

Age: 17

Appearance: 

Sk-J is pretty slim for the average 17 year old. He wears a mask so that you cannot see his whole face. Only people he trusts have seen his true face. He always wear this black scarf with the emblem of a cross. No one has ever have seen him without it on him. There are scars noticeable scars all over his arm. He prefers to wear greyish dark comfortable somewhat baggy clothing. And for some reason is he always wear black chuck taylors.

Weapon(s):

 twin dual chinese hook swords.

http://images.solidcactus.com/swblades/twinhooksword.jpg 

History: 

Sk was a pretty wealthy young man as he was growing up. As Sk was growing up, he was very attacted with his father. He never was able to see his mother, his father never told him why. Sk's father was a very bright man who taught Sk to see the bright side to everything. Everything changed when the outbreak occured. He lost his father and that was when his innocence as a child began to fade away. He began to become anti-social, only trusting in a handful of people.

Before his home was left in ruins, he was able to retrieve the twin hook swords, a jester mask, and his father's old scarf in his father's gallery. He repeatedly tell himself that his father is alive. That is the only hope that he's still moving on. 

Personality:

Anti-social. He doesn't like talking to others around him. He only talks to the people he trusts. He literally hates people. Sk believes humans are no better than zombies.

"People... are selfish. Doing everything in their way to survive. Even going through the trouble of hurting the people you love for survival. Disgusting. Trust no one, not even yourself." -Sk  

Strengths:

Sk-J is a quick striker. He moves fairly quick, and very flexible as well. Because of his motive in being here, Sk is not afraid of doing what others are scared to do. His hope in finding his father fuels his strength.

Weaknesses:

 Sk highly dislikes (terrified) of insects. Especially spiders. He will literally freeze in that position if he sees one. He also cannot handle transportation for very long. He has huge motion sickness. Sk stamina is also not that great. Even though he is fast, if he uses his energy too fast, he'll be to tired to defend himself.

Misc: 

Sk likes bubble tea.  

MY FIRST RP, not that great >: 

Completely relevant, Jay. LMFAAOO. <33
Set music player to shuffle --> 3rd song is your apocalyptic theme song.

-editing at the moment-

this is the most thinking i've done in my life 

[[This is. This is a literate zombie roleplay. I... I think I need a moment.

edit: but i prefer the literates. D; I'll lurk then.]]

Name:

Krall

Age:

19

Appearance:

[here]

Weapon(s):

The blade in the picture.

History:

Abandonned at birth, Krall grew up on the streets. As a baby, he was taken in by a poor family who took pity on him. At the age of 7, he was thrown out because they no longer had the money to take care of him. He grew up to be antisocial, surviving off robbing vendors and taking scraps from the garbage can. In his spare time, he taught himself how to fight, as being in the streets was a dangerous life full of crime. After all, no one would care if an unknown orphan such as him was robbed and murdered.

Personality:

As cold-hearted as he may seem, Krall is surprisingly a very shy person. Because no one has cared for him since birth, he believes that all human beings are worthless, that everyone is part of a whole. No person is above another person.This is another reason why he shows no sympathy to other humans. He has never felt warmth from other people. He has never felt gratitude or love. 

Strengths:

He barely has any sympathy and so is able to kill without regret. His life of constant fighting has molded him into a perfect warrior.

Weaknesses:

Due to his past, he isn't good at talking with people, or working together with him. Being alone and living in a violent area for his entire life has caused him to become unaware to warmer hearts. He can be very shy and prefers working alone. He will rarely be found around people. He is unable to understand kindness and sympathy. He doesn't understand giving or receiving.

Misc:

Nothing.

I'll post my profiles tomorrow when I'm not half dead. <3
I encourage people of all roleplaying levels to join. :3

((Wow, this....you hvae put so much thought into this. Its simply amazing. I must join.))

-Will edit bio under here-

Name:

Aurelie Faustere

Age:

18

Appearance:

here

Occupation:

Medical Student, Chef

Weapon(s):

Combat Knife

History:

Aurelie lived an ordinary life, with a wealthy loving family. Quarrels with her parents or sister were extremely rare and did not last for long. As a child, she developed an interest in gardening, which soon lead into herbs and their effects. She gradually became more and more indulged within the medicinal areas that it became her entire life. There was never a day where Aurelie could be found without any herbs in her brown bag. She easily made it into an esteemed high school, where she has been studying medicine up until now.

Personality:

Aurelie is naturally a kind-hearted girl, yet prefers not to show it. She believes that one must be wary with who they trust and help in this world, yet she will willingly and unhesitantly help another in need of aid. In terms of fighting, she is extremely weak and cowardly with no experience in combat whatsoever.

Strengths:

Aurelie excells in the area of medicine and cooking. She is able to tell what is edible and what isn't by their properties. She has no trouble with rushing towards those who need aid, regardless of what trouble she's put into.

Weaknesses:

Due to her easy-going past and lifestyle, Aurelie has no experience in any kind of fighting. She keeps a combat knife in her leggings, however, she will barely use it as she panics whenever she's put in danger. Not that actually pulling it out will do her any good, as she can't swing a knife to save her life.

[ooc]KUKU <3(: If you're too lazy to read through my wall of text, only the last five paragraphs are relevant. I don't think you need to read anything before that in order to make your post. [/ooc]

Dinner was late today. Dinner was always late. It was also the most awkward time of the day for Keagan Duval, and he loathed to sit down at one end of the wooden table and stare and the man opposite him. On the very farthest seat of the table, sat the man Keagan was supposed to call father. He scowled at the thought and pushed the food around in his plate. His father ate silently, not acknowledging his presence.

“Good evening, Father.” Was he expecting an answer? Of course not. Keagan continued to make small talk, not receiving any replies except for the clanking of steel utensils against each other and the steady drip of rain against the window pane. He trailed off when his father cleared his throat. The silence was deafening, and he racked his brain for words to lessen the tension.

“Today I fired a servant for acting negligently, bought a new Prada sweater, and practiced fencing. How was your day, Father?”

His father did not even look up from his meal. Keagan waited a few seconds before speaking.

“How lovely,” he said, imagining that his father had replied to him instead of continuing to eat in complete silence. Keagan was left to stare around their expansive dining room. He was only separated from his father by an oak table, yet it felt as if he was worlds away from him. Their mansion had been a lively abode once, when his mother was still alive. Now it had been cast into an air of gloomy desolation with dark, tattered curtains and faded paintings of tragic deaths. The room was miserable to behold, and even more miserable to live in. Albert stared at his plate, thinking for anything that would break the ice.

“Did you hear rumors about the undead?” Keagan fretted the entire night when the news reached his ears, and it wasn't until dawn when he fell into a fitful sleep. He was hoping that his father would rea.ssure him that it was only a farce. Although his father could care less about him and he reasoned that a zombie apocalypse wouldn't be possible, a huge weight would be lifted off his shoulders if he could hear the words from his father.

“There is no need to worry; you will be safe.” His father's deep voice resounded the room, and Keagan's heart leaped in his chest to hear such caring words. “The zombies are looking for brains, and as far as I'm concerned, you don't have any.”

The tightening of his lips into a thin line was the only sign of anger Keagan showed. He chuckled at his father's dark joke. He couldn't bear to be around his father's presence any long. Setting down his fork and knife, he dabbed lightly at his mouth before pushing his plate away. “I'm going out, Father. Don't wait for me.” His father wouldn't wait five seconds for him. Upon receiving no reply, he left the room.

Keagan beckoned for a nearby servant. “Prepare bacon frittata, grilled cheese, and tomato soup. Have it delivered to my room.” After issuing orders, he retired to his bedroom.

He opened the doors to his walk-in closet and slid the cashmere Prada sweater he bought earlier that day from a metal hanger. He folded it carefully and smoothed out any signs of wrinkles. He hoped his acquaintance would like it. After all, he did spend the entire afternoon picking it out. His acquaintance was a mysterious, cloaked figure, as cliché as it may sound. He had stolen from Keagan once, and since then, Keagan had taken to setting aside food for whom he hoped would be his future friend. The nights were getting colder, and a.ssuming the person did not care much for clothing when food was much more important, he decided to buy a sweater for him.

A knock at his door signaled the arrival of his meal. Without thanking the servant, he took the tray and with the sweater tucked underneath his arm, made his way to the backdoor of his mansion.

A breath of fresh air filled his lungs and the cold wind bit into his bare arms. He set the tray down near the metal gate and hid in the shadows. The thief was very shy, and Keagan was hoping that he'd catch a glimpse of his soon-to-be-friend's face. Curled up in a dank corner, he mused silently to himself. Keagan didn't mind waiting in the cold if it meant he could meet a potential friend.

Keagan Duval

Keagan shivered and buried his head into his arms. Never before had he waited so long for a person he cared for, much less a stranger. But somehow, he was drawn to the mysterious figure. He had always wondered what it would be like living on the streets—though God knows he'd kill himself before that happened. He wondered what it would be like to fall asleep hungry, awake hungry, and trudge through the whole day hungry. But living on the streets offered freedom, something he never got to experience. The prospect was dangerously alluring to him.

Keagan felt a glow of pride in his chest and grinned. Although he most likely wasn't acknowledged, he was probably the cloak figure's only benefactor.

He shuffled impatiently as the seconds—which felt like minutes to him—pa.ssed by. He wasn't accustomed to waiting, and couldn't be bothered to do so any longer despite his initial eagerness. Keagan stood up shakily on his numb legs and brushed the dirt from his pajama bottoms. Turning on his heel, he made his way back to the mansion when he heard the sound of flesh hitting concrete behind him.

There was the person he had been waiting for, looking inquisitively at the meal he tripped over. Keagan stifled a laugh when he saw the thief glance around, as if expecting a trap. Before Keagan could call out a greeting, the figure picked up the tray and fled towards the surrounding forest.

“Hey! Wait up!” Keagan called, to no avail. Sighing with frustration, he ran after the figure. Air raced into his lungs as his feet skimmed the ground. The thief was fast, despite holding a tray of food. However, Keagan was a track star, and caught up quickly.

“You!” Keagan puffed, trying to draw in oxygen. His lack of exercise was finally starting to show. “God, will you just stop and let me talk to you?”

Surprisingly, the figure stopped and turned around, dark shadows flitting over his face.

Keagan beamed. “Hello. I'm Keagan Duval.” Upon receiving no reply, he continued. “Must be hard, huh? Living on the scraps of others. I don't know if you've noticed, but I've been setting aside food for you,” he boasted. “You should have dinner with me sometimes. That would surely make Father angry, and I'd love to get under his skin..” He trailed off. “You're a shy one, aren't you?”

He pushed the Prada sweater into the person's free arm. “You must be cold. I bought this for you.”

Silence ensued. The night wind whipped around them, rustling leaves and swaying trees. The wind groaned above the treetops. Black clouds made their way across the sky, sheilding the land from the moon and throwing the forest into an unsettling darkness.

The moaning became progressively louder, and Keagan could hear the crunching of branches behind him. He instinctively took a step closer towards the thief.

“What's making that crunching noise?” He whispered. “Is it a wolf? I heard there was a pack around here.”

He risked backwards glance and saw several human-like figures shambling towards them. Keagan made his way towards them, curious to see if they were hurt. Moonlight filtered through the trees and dappled the figures in an eerie light. Stink filled his nostrils as he got a clear look at the figures: discoloured and rotting flesh, broken teeth, burrowing maggots, visible muscle.

Keagan let out a whimper and took a step back. His heel caught on a tree root and he fell ungracefully on his behind. His heart was threatening to explode from his chest. He shuffled backwards on his hands. “Oh God. What the hell is that?” His mind raced to find a logical explanation for such vile creatures, but the morning news ran through his head.

The Undead.

The horde of living dead gurgled delightfully—human flesh.