New World Order

Prologue

Hi. I'm Coen Walker, I'm seventeen, and eight years ago, the world ended. For the last seven I've been living in an apartment on what used to be Coal Harbor, Vancouver with my makeshift family. It's chaotic, but I love them, so it's not all that bad. There are seven of us in total, if you count our dog, and you should. Sunny, our version of Snow White's Grumpy, Lilly Vásquez, the sweetest girl I've ever met, Jackie Harper, the glue who sticks us all together, Théo Dubois, our little walking ray of sunshine, and Jackie's dad, Ethan, who's been looking after us all since the Scourge started. Then there's Max. He's our toller dog. He barks at mutants yet still thinks squirrels are the real threat. He's a certified good boy.

You're probably confused. I'm sorry, my bad.

Around eight years ago, the world was in chaos, and it started with an economic crisis. Oil, as you should know, isn't a renewable resource, and when the earth started to run dry of it, humanity panicked. Oil wasn't just fuel — it was the thread holding the whole world together. It powered everything: cars, planes, factories, heaters, trade. So when it disappeared, people were terrified. Countries fought over what was left. Economies crumbled. Entire governments fell. Renewable energy was the next big hope, but it turned out to be more of a dream than a solution — clean, sustainable and wildly expensive. Nations went bankrupt trying to switch over.

So, scientists got together and did the only thing we could think of — invent something new. They created a synthetic energy system, made from concentrated radioactive chemicals that were just about as stable as a squirrel on crack. At first, it worked. Cities lit up again. Cars were back on the road. People breathed easier. Then the chemicals started leaking into the atmosphere, and they came back down on us, and the world died.

There was total environmental collapse. Extreme weather events all over the world — hurricanes, droughts, heatwaves, lightning storms that lasted days. People got sick from radiation exposure. But most significantly, it started affecting animals.

Radiation warped their DNA. If it didn't kill them outright, it twisted them into something else. Some mutations were subtle—stronger muscles, extra teeth, more legs — but other mutations were much more drastic, much more violent, much more dangerous. That's how we got monsters.

Imagine animals, tripled in size, their bones stretching unnaturally, skin warping around muscle that shouldn't even exist. Some lost their eyes completely, sockets sunken or sealed over like melted wax. Others had their sense of smell fried from the radiation, but what they lost, they made up for tenfold elsewhere. If they can't see you, they'll smell you. If they can't smell you, they'll hear you—down to the exhale of your breath or the crack of your knuckles from two blocks away. They attacked us on the streets, forced us indoors, overthrew humanity and quickly became the new most dominant creatures on the planet.

The fallout doesn't end there. If you were lucky enough to escape a mutant, you'd probably catch the virus we call CND54 (cardio neurological degradation, 2054). The mutants carry it. It spreads through exposure and wiped out 47% of the 86% of the human population we lost. You start with a fever, then inflamed veins, then you begin coughing up blood, and then the virus hits the brain. Messes with your memory, scrambles who you are. You forget names. Faces. Where you are. What you're doing. Then it flips a switch and turns you into something savage. Like a wire snaps, and you're just gone. You lash out at anyone nearby—friends, family—it doesn't matter. You don't know them. You don't even know yourself.

Eventually, your body gives out. Most don't make it past day five.
The one good thing is that not all the animals turned into ravenous monsters. After all, we have Max. Gotta love him. He's great.

Gradually, the chemicals wore themselves out. And you'd think, 'that's great, no more problem, right?'
Wrong. The animals that did mutate bred, and basically took over the entire world. And, because of that, the virus is global too, so right now the chance of living out your entire lifespan is pretty slim.

Eventually, the governments of the world died out. From what I was told, most members caught the virus or were eaten by mutants, and the rest suicided or just hid away like everyone else. Then this new organisation stepped up, at least in Vancouver- I don't know about anywhere else. We didn't vote for them or anything, I guess you can call them dictators. They call themselves the Coalition for Authoritarian Governance and Enforcement (C.A.G.E). They've got scientists working on a cure. Hunters who track and study mutants. Enforcers on the street in black masks, carrying batons and rifles, called Peace Corps. They say they're here to keep order. But mostly, they just make sure everyone's afraid enough to stay in line.

They brought in curfews. 8 p.m., no exceptions. Causing chaos or resisting arrest is a death sentence. Same goes for hiding infected people or mutants. They do virus checks on the streets and random raids. If you break a rule, you're gone. No warnings. Just gone. That's how Sunny's dad died.

Soon after C.A.G.E. took over, a group of people banded together. We call them rebels. You'd think they'd be the good guys — the people fighting for freedom, resisting the new world order. They go around killing as many Peace Corps as they can, stealing, mugging people. Doing anything they can to prove they still have control over their lives. We avoid them, or we try to.

Survivors around the city split into four sectors, each with its own focus of work. Sector A—our group—is the smallest, but we handle rooftop recon. We map the city from above, marking safe paths, flagging new threats, and keeping an eye on C.A.G.E. movement without being seen. Sector B works the ground, scouting out mutant zones and infected hotspots. Sector C travels into the forests to hunt and gather edible plants. Sector D, the largest, specializes in deep retrieval. They enter red zones no one else would touch—mutant hives, burned-out quarantine sites, old labs — and dig through wreckage for meds, batteries, weapons, anything worth something. We communicate with the other sectors using radios and old technology. We check in with Sector B mostly every week, because Micah, Ethan's old friend, lives in B, and he gives us a lot of useful information- he goes on runs a lot. He has a kid who Lilly likes to talk to, too, this little girl called Ellie. Ellie is a sweetheart.

So, anyway, we called this wonderful list of unfortunate events the Scourge. And it's not all that bad. I've got a great group. A great dog. So, that's something.

~ ~ ~