Chapter One: Death of the Old World
Oklahoma City
Refugee District #01
Just like with every city in the world there were times of boom, and bust, and Oklahoma City was no exception to this rule. The city had in the 1940s undergone an economic depression, and entire parts of it were abandoned for the countryside as its people sought to find work on the farms or volunteer for the war raging yet again in the lands of Europe. By the 1950s Oklahoma City was undergoing a revival of sorts, and an industrial magnate bought large tracks of the city only to be killed during the second rising in 1952. The Columbian Emergency Affairs Agency or CEAA set up regions across the country following that particular event considering five percent of the Columbian population died as a result of it. Their decision to set up shelters across this ruined part of Oklahoma City for emergency purposes in 1960 would turn out to be the right thing.
Though the current mayor at the time laughed off CEAA's attempts for emergency housing due to the severe status of the rundown area it mattered not. About a month ago the graveyards all over Oklahoma City spewed open the dead who were still able to recover, and while they struggled with their existence it soon became apparent everyone was afflicted. Anyone who died would come back which didn't happen in the last two risings at all, and this horrified people. Panicked civilians began to burn graveyards, and some stormed registration areas in order to execute the "freshies" (ghouls who are still intelligent, and human-like). At first, the government accused the populace of ignorance since it was known by many at the time freshies could maintain their human-like state so long as they consumed a small amount of raw meat every few days.
This, of course, changed when suddenly all the freshies from this third rising went feral in a matter of hours and caused a global bloodbath. Oklahoma City was lucky due to the military having contained theirs so fast, but other cities weren't such as Phoenix which saw a ninety percent human population drop in an hour. CEAA cleaned up the registration centers and repurposed them into tent cities as they didn't have time to be embarrassed, and admit the lynch mobs were right for once. Statistics released from around the world indicate a fifty percent population drop of humans across the globe, and this has sent many people into an apocalyptic fervor. The cults which at least a decade prior would have been far more subtle about their methods decided to abandon their "masquerade" and operate out in the open regardless of casualties in their ongoing occultic war.
The government knows the current world is ending and has decided that the use of self-sufficient cities known as "Outposts" containing a varied number of humans will serve as future seed banks to repopulate the planet. Most people know it is only a matter of time before Oklahoma City falls, and as communication with other areas become sparse, and/or non-existent most are pinning their hopes on acceptance into "Outpost-12". This particular outpost covers the southwestern region, and with the environment as tense as it is they cannot seem to do their tests and choose who to evacuate fast enough. The five refugee districts that CEAA set up have now become full to the point that the city might start turning away refugees. The high amount of military here so far has prevented attacks by angry groups of refugees, and the occasional ghoul horde, but probably will not do much against an occultic force.
Time: 8:00 am.
The apartment supervisor sat fidgeting with a clock at his desk, and casually grabbing a flask out as his secretary gave an annoyed look. He chuckled knowing she severely disapproved of his rampant alcoholism, but she couldn't complain knowing the man saved her life back at Los Alamos. The facility was being evacuated, and its scientists sent to Outpost-12 while a skeleton crew maintained the place until it could be stripped down. Turns out the scientists, and anyone else important left just as a ghoul horde came through, and savaged the place. Most of the skeleton crew were killed save for the security guard (him), the secretary, and a few people scattered when trying to reach a panic room.
They decided to use military-grade explosives, and level the place taking the herd down. The military rescue team was livid as not all of the important research had been taken out of the facility, and was now lost. Instead of being given leave to head back to Los Angeles both the secretary and he were taken to Oklahoma City. For his efforts in trying to destroy a herd he lost his left leg, and the bulky prosthetic was a pain so he drank to numb the pain from having to use it. For all its advancements Columbian science hadn't exactly figured out how to get leg prosthetics from causing an unbearable pain which turned its users to pain reliever addicts of any kind just to bear it.
With one simple switch he flipped on the intercom, and after a quick swig announced in a hacky cough laden voice "Good morning everyone, breakfast will start soon, and before anyone asks the food is government issue so please don't bother complaining to me. On a more positive note, some of you will be waking up to letters in your room from the testing crew at outpost-12. Consider yourselves lucky for you have been chosen to be tested by the facility. Should you pass, you will, of course, be escorted on the next Zeppelin out of this city once it arrives for you. So please have a good morning, and be cheerful....it just might save your life", what sounded like a loud nudge, and a groan of pain seemed to suggest the secretary was even more annoyed with the man than usual.