The World in Which We Live
One of the Last takes places in the future; a few years after a world wide virus has caused mutations in the infected.
There is no rule of law.
Only the rule of gangs and warlords who control their regions.
Bites from the infected cause an almost instant toxic shock and whilst an antidote exists, it requires injection within a minute of any bite.
Those infected don’t sleep.. they eat anything with red blood cells and can wait on you for days… Be weary of the slow and cumbersome infected, they might seem docile but that’s only when there’s little of interest… The interest is you!
The infection destroys the mind, but it doesn’t dull the senses – when dealing with them you must be careful, strategic and quick! They hear you, they see you and they remember where you disappeared to.
Throw items to distract them… flares help bunch them up.. or try sneaking up from behind to destroy the brain. Use a gun as your last resort, the noise will attract many many more…
They just don’t eat alone, they communicate – though primitively – so you must not attract the horde. It’s best to thin out the crowd, as far away from them as possible. However, sometimes you’ve got to get your hands dirty.
You’re aim must be perfect, head-shot perfect! The infection has destroyed all pain receptors. Wounds don’t bleed. And it takes a lot of ammo to take down something that’s not alive. But the brain still has some function, destroy or remove that and it will keep you alive. For Now.
Having spent the first years after the outbreak in isolated groups, you moved from location to location in search of a more permanent existence.
In more recent times these isolated groups have started to merged into larger organisations but not without violence, often extreme violence.
With each organisation ensuring complete control of their territory, they push to expand into more fertile ground – whilst ensuring the infected don’t unexpectedly visit.
It was once such push that rolled over the top of you, dragging you into the organisation regardless of choice.
That’s what they called it – hundreds, aligned to a select few at the top.
You don’t know much more than that, when it rolled over you – it literally did, with the help of a club to the back of the head.
For now you’re alive – with a splitting headache.. Having woken in the back of a bus that looks like it seen more than it’s share of bloody action..
As the fog clears from your mind, you notice the bus has a large wooden wall in the middle of it – blocking your view of the front half.
Then the voice behind the wooden wall starts to speak…