A flu vaccine was what collapsed civilization.
Something as simple as an immunization was found to stop the spread of cancer. It had been hailed worldwide as a magnificent accomplishment, one in which the scientists thought they had come across something monumental.
They had, but what they brought to humans was a hell on earth. The ones who had gotten the vaccine started exhibiting signs of cannibalism and necrosis.
They became far sicker than anyone could have imagined. Everyone thought they were safe if they stayed away, waited out the sickness. They refused to take responsibility for what they had done, what they had created. They thought they were helping people, curing something as devastating as cancer.
They had been wrong.
Whatever was in the flu shots infected people, changing something inside them and making them crazed, thirsty for blood, and something that wasn’t considered human any longer. It slowly killed them from the inside out, made their flesh rot, every orifice bleed, and all logical reasoning vanish.
And this was the world they lived in now, trying to survive each and every day with obstacles thrown against them.
Starvation, death, rape, and being hunted by walking corpses was the world now, and the ones standing needed to be the strongest, having no remorse in trying to survive.
New York City: Five years ago
The music was loud, the room filled with smoke, and naked flesh gyrated in front of him. Collin Suthers leaned back, brought the cigar to his mouth, and inhaled deeply. The smoke billowed out around him when he exhaled, and the sight before him had his dick hardening. There were two naked women sitting in front of him, their hands on each other, their mouths fused together, and the thought of them getting it on for his viewing pleasure was a guarantee in the very near future.
The club he was currently in was one of many he owned in New York. This was his empire, his world, and he controlled it any way he saw fit. He wasn’t a good man, didn’t care about anything but what allowed him to grow as a king in every way. He fucked any female he wanted, because they were there for the taking. He killed without remorse when the time called for it, and he never looked back. Never. He did things to ensure he stayed on top, and because of that, he survived. He always survived, and always would.
Marco, one of the men working for him, stepped up to Collin, leaned down, and whispered in his ear, “Mr. Suthers, the shipment is here for your inspection.”
Collin stood, smoothed his hands down his three-piece suit, and made his way to the backroom. The room was lit with harsh florescent lighting, but this space was used to store the club supplies and conduct Collin’s less than legal business deals. He moved away from the shelving and stopped at the stainless-steel wall that held bottles of stocked liquor. He gestured for Marco to proceed. He crouched and pushed one of the boxes of bottled beer aside. Marco pressed the hidden lever that had the wall opening up and revealing a small office. Collin heard the side door open and saw two men coming forward with black briefcases in their hands. His men patted them down for weapons once more, because although they had been frisked before they were allowed in his club, he didn’t trust anyone.
They walked into the backroom, and the wall shut behind them, sealing them in. Collin had Marco and Peter standing guard, their guns visible if these two junkie fuckers thought to try anything. If they were smart and knew Collin’s reputation, they would not, of course, but they were drug addicts, so anything was possible.
“Collin, we have some primo shit here—”
“Just shut up and put the fucking cases on the table.” Collin didn’t have time for conversation. He didn’t give a shit what these assholes thought. “If the product isn’t up to standards, then the solution for bringing me less than quality drugs is simple.” He stared at the two men, and although he didn’t usually do business with junkies, their product was known to be top-shelf shit. He’d find out for himself.
The men set the cases on the desk, opened them, and the product that was presented could have given Collin a hard-on. “Sample it.” He pulled out his switchblade, sliced the package of cocaine with the blade, and held it up to one of the men. The junkie was eager to try, and he moved forward and sniffed the white power off the stainless steel. After a few seconds of Collin waiting to see if the fucker would drop dead, he had one of his men try the coke. Marco took a hit for himself, inhaled roughly, and then nodded.
“The product is primo, boss. The drip hits real good in the back of the throat.”