The Dead Rise (448 words)

When there is no more room in hell the dead shall walk the earth.
That's what the film said, that's what we were promised, an all out zombie apocalypse. A plague of the dead laying waste to civilisation as we know it.
What we got was something a bit different.

The Methuselah project was where it all started, where the end of the world began. They had grand dreams of extending life for the greater good. Making old age and suffering a thing of the past. Making the universe that little bit smaller, the stars that little bit closer.
They extended life all right, just not in the way they wanted to.

The initial results were amazing, cancer patients given days to live still alive months later. Awards and honours were dished out, countless words were written about them in scientific journals.

And then it started.

It wasn't such much that people stopped dying it was more they didn't stop dead when they did.

The first confirmed case was at the county general hospital in Chicago Illinois , sixty three year old Vic Gregory had a heart attack and was pronounced dead, three days later come his autopsy the pathologist unzipped the body bag and promptly announced him alive again.
After that the cases mushroomed nationwide, it took a while, too long really, for anyone to notice the link between the recently not so deceased and the wonder drug vitaediebusamin or VitD as most users called it.

It was as the cases got more widespread, and the un-deaths got more gruesome that panic spread and emergency measures were put into place
Corpses dragging themselves out of car wrecks looking for their heads. Soldiers torn apart by landmine's groping for their weapons.

What can only be described as a puddle of gore, the ever living, bubbling, remains of farmer Si Palmer were found the messy end of an industrial shredder, oozing towards the optimistic suicide note that sat on his carefully folded clothes at the business end.

After several disturbed services, burials were banned and cremations became mandatory.
No one officially ever admitted it but even that didn't do the trick, urns danced and jumped off shelves, spilling clouds of sentient ashes trying to find their way home.

Soon the law was that the still warm ashes were interned under concrete as soon as possible and never mentioned again.
Mourning is a thing of the past, people dream about death the same way folks used to think about winning the lotto.

No one knows just how many people are  infected, that's what they call it, an infection .
The worlds first disease that won't kill you.
A global pandemic of life.

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