27
It seemed like the end of the world. People everywhere came down with some sort of hemorrhagic fever, seemingly out of nowhere. Millions died, thousands survived only to become something inhuman. No one really knows how long it's been since the end, just that the Old World is nothing more than a campfire story these days. The governments fell long ago. Civilizations, if you can even call them that, are few and far between, but what's left of the human race has to band together if they want to survive.
The Ill don't speak, don't procreate, don't play. During the day they hide in the sewers or in caves, away from the light. They see and hear much better than humans, they're faster and so much stronger, but their sense of smell is virtually nonexistent and they don't feel pain the same way humans do. All they care about is food. They'll eat just about anything they can get their hands on, as long as it's meat. Because of their sight, well lit places hurt them, but when night falls... The only way to survive is to keep your distance, sever their brain from the rest of them if you can, and hide if you can't. Running solo in the New World is suicide, but with a big group you can sometimes make enough noise to scare them away, since their ears are so sensitive. Alone, your single scream is more likely to be a death sentence, because it's not loud enough to hurt, just to let the Ill know where you are- and you don't stand a chance of outrunning them.
Some call them walkers, or zombies- the walking dead despite the fact that the Ill never come back from the dead. Whatever you call them, everyone knows one thing: you don't want to touch them. Blood, spit, sweat- all those bodily fluids have the potential to infect. Once you've fallen ill, you've got nothing to look forward to but pain and the hope of death, because the only alternative is becoming one of the mindless Ill.
Or, at least, that's what most people think. Then, there are the rare ones; you could call them the lucky ones, but such a term is debatable. It is, most certainly, however, the rarest of the rare that change but in a much more... perplexing way. Their senses heighten, they get stronger and faster, sure- but they don't lose their minds, and instead, gain something else: powers beyond even the Ill's standard. Superpowers, some stories from the Old World might call them.
So when someone survives falling Ill and throws all theories of the Illness out the window, what's left? Does it give others the chance to make it through this post-apocalyptic world, does it give them hope? Or does it simply make things worse?
Perhaps that question can be answered if we find the origin of the Illness itself, and what's more, the reason for its existence.
The Ill don't speak, don't procreate, don't play. During the day they hide in the sewers or in caves, away from the light. They see and hear much better than humans, they're faster and so much stronger, but their sense of smell is virtually nonexistent and they don't feel pain the same way humans do. All they care about is food. They'll eat just about anything they can get their hands on, as long as it's meat. Because of their sight, well lit places hurt them, but when night falls... The only way to survive is to keep your distance, sever their brain from the rest of them if you can, and hide if you can't. Running solo in the New World is suicide, but with a big group you can sometimes make enough noise to scare them away, since their ears are so sensitive. Alone, your single scream is more likely to be a death sentence, because it's not loud enough to hurt, just to let the Ill know where you are- and you don't stand a chance of outrunning them.
Some call them walkers, or zombies- the walking dead despite the fact that the Ill never come back from the dead. Whatever you call them, everyone knows one thing: you don't want to touch them. Blood, spit, sweat- all those bodily fluids have the potential to infect. Once you've fallen ill, you've got nothing to look forward to but pain and the hope of death, because the only alternative is becoming one of the mindless Ill.
Or, at least, that's what most people think. Then, there are the rare ones; you could call them the lucky ones, but such a term is debatable. It is, most certainly, however, the rarest of the rare that change but in a much more... perplexing way. Their senses heighten, they get stronger and faster, sure- but they don't lose their minds, and instead, gain something else: powers beyond even the Ill's standard. Superpowers, some stories from the Old World might call them.
So when someone survives falling Ill and throws all theories of the Illness out the window, what's left? Does it give others the chance to make it through this post-apocalyptic world, does it give them hope? Or does it simply make things worse?
Perhaps that question can be answered if we find the origin of the Illness itself, and what's more, the reason for its existence.