The Fall of Society (The Fall of Society Series, Book 1) by Thonas Rand Page A

person was active and fit while
they were alive, then they were fast
movers as the dead. And fast movers usually formed groups, hordes , working together to find food,
prey, and when they did, the strongest always ate first, while the weakest were
left with scraps, if anything at all.
                All
of the undead had battle scars and damage from when and after they were
infected and turned. Many had kitchen knives and forks stuck in various parts
of their bodies, except the head, which was the sweet spot . Some had crowbars impaled into their guts, others had
garden tools stuck in them, including machetes. All one had to do was run
around and pluck items out of the walking corpses and they would have a
complete kitchen and gardening set.
                It
was the jungle of the undead.
                And
they were everywhere.
                All
the homes were deserted, some were burned out shells, and some houses had
bashed in front doors, windows busted in, entire walls that looked like a car had
crashed through, but it was all destroyed by the dead that got in to kill and
eat. Children’s toys; some smeared with old blood, littered dead lawns. There
were baby seats that had been torn to shreds. A school bus was flipped on its
side in the middle of an intersection and the windows were all shattered, some caked
in flesh and smeared excrement from children who were pulled out by them.
                There
were backyard pools with water that had turned black, mixed with bodies and
dead pets, carcasses of the unknown. The houses were like gravestones for this
dead part of town, but there was no caretaker here, no flowers, nothing, only
the memory of the life that once flourished here.
                Except
for one two-story home.
                This
one was intact, besides random scratches on the doors and walls, the structure
was still sound. All the windows were broken, but nothing entered the premises,
because all the windows had metal security shutters that were locked tight.
There was an RV in the driveway, but it was smashed up and inoperable, so it
left the question—what happened to the family?
                Inside,
the house was quiet. A layer of dust coated the air and everything else in this
place that was once a loving home. The pictures on the walls told the story of
happiness that this family of five shared; the joyous couple had one son in his
twenties and two teenage daughters. Their bliss caught forever in glossy photo
paper and a legacy to whoever would visit their home in the future, if there was
one.
                A
weak noise broke the silence, a very slow sound that had caution in its
meaning. Underneath the staircase of the second floor was the door to the
basement, and it was the source of the noise. It had opened to reveal that it wasn’t
your typical basement door that’s usually about an inch and a half thick. This
door was six inches thick and composed of steel plating topped off with
soundproofing material on the inside. The open crack was barely an inch wide, and
it was pitch black beyond that, and then a snake spy camera slowly came out at
floor level. It angled to the left for a view of the kitchen down the hall, which
was clear, it then angled the other way for a view of the front door, and that
was clear as well. It appeared that the house’s integrity was intact. The
camera quietly retreated into the darkness, and the door stayed open.
                Inside
the basement was the camera operator, a man in his fifties, gray haired and
tanned, rough skin, he was the kind of man that worked outside a lot with his
hands. He was the happy husband in the family pictures, but right now, he was
dead serious. His son was behind him and past him was the rest of the basement—they
had converted it into a survival shelter by expanding the square footage beyond
the house walls. It was equipped with beds for all