Thursday Writing Prompt

My grandfather’s warning echoed in my ears. The world had gone to shit, friend became foe and a stranger was at the door begging to be let in.

It’s taken our camp 2 weeks to completely bandit proof our refuge. When reports of the dead coming back to life started emerging we all thought it was a joke.

My grandfather had seen many outbreaks working as a scientist for the World Health Organization Should be given him insight.

Rowan Mercier, my grandfather, was a genius at deciphering causes for the spread of moat known diseaseases. Advising a dead person could be reanimated given the right conditions was a concept no one wanted to accept. 

He’d bartered his services for the safe keeping of myself and his children my mother and Uncle.  Sadly, my mother ended up being his first patient.

The stranger banged louder, there were no other sounds to be heard around him except for the chirping of insects.

An extra set of eyes had been trained on the new comer. He’d been covered in mud, clothes torn presumably by the trees that surrounded our safe haven.

We’d let him inside.

The door opened slowly leaving just enough room for the stranger to slip through. A fresh pool of blood dripped from a spot he’d been holding at his side. 

“Thank you, I was ambush…”

A loud pop rang out through the holding area. Someone had shot him. 

Commander Rheikford had pulled the trigger. 

“He’d been wounded out there, no need to bring that in HERE.” He’d walked away in silence.

Rheikford hadn’t even given us a chance to even look at him for signs. It was the beginning of the end for us all.


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