Work Text:
Sam Cortez
January 3, 2 x̷̨͚͉͍̩͊̉̅̀͗͠͝͝ͅ x̷̨͚͉͍̩͊̉̅̀͗͠͝͝ͅ x̷̨͚͉͍̩͊̉̅̀͗͠͝͝ͅ
Muertovivenkenisis. Maybe to you that jumble of letters means nothing. But to me. To any living soul today, that word strikes pure terror in the deepest parts of our souls.
At first it was just brushed off as another strain of some other sickness. It came like any other deadly disease seems to. Forms somewhere where its warm and humid, some under privileged and unfortunate soul catches it, it’s brushed under the rug, then suddenly everyone gets it. It spread fast, before the first few actually started showing the final stage symptoms.
Symptoms started with a cough, runny nose, dizziness, sore throat, and mild headache. Followed by them becoming delirious and not eating. Then they’d start to grow weak, become unable to breathe. That’s when their bodies start to form blisters and ulcers. It’s real nasty.
The body pushes everything out within 24 hours of the fourth stage. Then well, their dead.
Thousands, probably more died in the first few months. By the time there was any research on it people were in a panic. Screaming about government policies and fighting over the weirdest of items. Then everyone- much like the whole Covid thing my grandmother rambled about every once in a while- was forced to hunker down. If you go out wear safety gear, don’t do anything until you shower or something. And for a while it worked, Miraculously they managed to find a cure before they even found a name. We had a year where no one was in a panic, we could go outside, eat at Olive Garden. A whole year after Muertoviven took the lives of over 700,000 people. Everything was at peace.
That’s when the bodies started waking up.
Not like the usual thriller Zombies- groaning out brains and slowly stalking about with their arms in front of them.
No, these people were waking up and screaming, crying. It was like they were dying again. Terrified, gargled gasps of “help me” or “make it stop” filled the air. They’d tear at their skin and drag themselves out of their freezer boxes. Tearing anything to pieces in their sight for the first 24 hours. And it all started at once, like some kind of hive mind effect. Hospital’s and mortuaries became horde grounds almost instantly.
They were called Wakers. Once the Wakers started walking that’s when hell broke loose.
The Reviver’s were formed three months after the Wakers started. Born in a dingy bunker under in a field owned by General Donald Renovy.It had been stocked with over 40 years worth of canned goods. But that doesn’t mean he never had to leave to go scavenge for random items- more blankets, a heater, medicine.
Don’s family had been the first of many to go. Don had a son and two grandaughters, but he doesn’t talk about them much. He found and saved Natasha during a supply run. She was pregnant at the time.
Real boring, but they don’t really talk about how they found eachother- or what happened to Lukas’ dad.
The two of them raised Lukas, then found Thomas about 13 years later. His mother and father fell victim to Muertovivenkenisis. Yet Tom has an immunity to it. (Wish it worked like The Last of Us. We'd be set)
He was 17 at the time. And Thomas was 22 when he found me. I had ran away from home I was kicked out by my parents when I was 13. I was kind of useless to them, too short tempered or what ever, honestly it’s behind me. What happened, happened 3 years ago. Then you have Oliver. Oliver was a runt, nothing more than dead weight. He was too short, skinny, and weak for any other group in this hellscape. A 16 year old ghost with sad blue eyes and a knack for getting on my nerves. Perfect really. He’s not good at fighting, can’t cook, all he does is mope around and look like a lost puppy. But I’m not allowing some Waker half-snack to take up room on the team and not be useful. So training with him starts tomorrow. I’ll update this tomorrow in a week When I feel Like it.