Stranded on Portsmouth Island, William Hill struggled to survive even as The Fever raced across the world leaving a scattered wasteland of the dead and dying in its wake. The news brought stories of storms and riots, of people starving while the government promised food.
Two weeks before, life had made sense. The outlook hadn’t been bright, but he understood it. Faced with dwindling supplies and a disease so virulent some wondered if humanity might be facing its own extinction, William figured he had enough to worry about.
Then he found the message, scrawled in blood and written personally for him. The chilling words left him wondering whether or not he’d live long to see the next sunrise.
Not even a fool could mistake the intent, not when the evil knew his name and watched from shadows.