This is a work of fiction. I do not own/know anyone who is responsible for The Walking Dead. This was created all in good fun.
That I Should Rise
Chapter 1: Urbes
Spring in Georgia had arrived with too-vibrant greens and pollen galore. It was nearly picturesque... except for the rotting corpse that used to be human smothering the grass beneath it, a stark juxtaposition lost to few. Not 'corpse', a 'biter'. The decomposition of the flesh had rendered the normal springtime foliage around it to be withered and nearly dead.
Completely dead. Blackened. Unsustainable for life.
Not a 'corpse'; the Governor Philip Blake would NEVER accept that sort of term. "Ill".
He never asked about why the Governor refused any term associated with 'dead'... But Milton had been getting slightly hopeful too.
Maybe they weren't dead, only brought down by affliction. One could hope in that, right?
He'd never been a religious man, how could he? An only child and eventually orphaned by his parents, he'd scoffed at his caretaker, his only surviving grandmother's, religious beliefs early in life. He was different from other children; he knew that early on, when he would rather study in the small and impossibly inadequate library of his school than play with the others. His studies never seemed to help him socialize with his fellow peers; in high school, he'd been mocked mercilessly by the other students for being too studious or possibly homosexual, as he never seemed to take much of an interest in any of the girls that attended with him in class.
Truth was, he didn't much care for the 'fairer sex'; there were more important things to concern himself with than whatever went on in the back seat of his classmates' vehicles after sporting events and the like. He'd graduated top of his class in both high school and university to the shock and awe of absolutely no one and had gone on to finish his graduate work with the same vigour.
After securing a position with one of the larger Georgian universities history department, he managed to convince the higher ups that his job could be done remotely via online classrooms and such. Milton came to reside in a suburb of Atlanta in a small apartment that he kept sparsely furnished. The suburb was like a small city on its own, which suited Milton just fine. He never really cared much for the hustle and bustle of Atlanta but required it for his education.
The apartment building he lived in was no more than 3 stories high, cost efficient if not small. He really didn't require much more room than what the tiny flat offered, but if he had to have a complaint, it was that he needed more book shelf space. Any available wall space was lined with bookshelves which were nearly crammed full of history texts of all kinds. He kept books on all sorts of histories, local, state, national, international... As the late George Santayana has once said "Those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it" and Milton thought that truer words were never said.
If only he could get that message across to his students. They didn't much seem to care about history of any kind, much to his dismay and confusion and at times his students left him feeling as if he'd never left public school at all.
It was a Thursday evening and the sun was just beginning to set when he flipped on the television to his favourite news station. The female newscaster wore a look of concern as she spoke. Milton turned up the volume.
"-outbreaks have been reported across the state. Officials urge Georgian residents to stay inside their homes and not engage those infected. It is unknown at this time if this is an act of bio-warfare terrorism but local law and national law enforcement is taking all necessary precautions."