The Fallen

People have been dropping dead. Stone cold. No one knows why, or how. They are dead. Gone.

They have fallen.

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1. Prologue

People have been dropping dead. Stone cold. No one knows why, or how. But they are dead. Gone.

They have fallen.

Fallen into the endless abyss of death. Never to return. The disease spread fast.

It hit the streets of London. No one really knew where it came from, or how it started. "Carried in the rats", they said. Others just blamed God. That's the only logical explanation. The explanation of the working man, the religious man:

The commoner.

But they were the ones dying - Not the rich folk. The money people moved, got through quarantine, out past the gates and into freedom.

Did they take the plague with them? Who knows? Not the commoners. They know nothing. Damn the commoners; the peasants; the working man:

Damn the dead, worthless chunks of meat.

This had happened before. The "Black Death". Everyone had heard of it. Killed half of Europe. But medical research was next to non-existent then.

However, now people know what they are doing. We have the correct drugs. But they do not work. Nothing works. All dead.

There is only one, small slice of mercy that the great plague has granted the commoners - children. The children are safe. The age of seventeen is the age of infection.

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