Fallen Earth

William Hill knew his chances of avoiding the virus sat squarely between slim and none. With experts predicting a global pandemic, his choices boiled down to not if, but where he would die. While the rest of the world built barricades and set up distribution points for food, he chose a simpler end. The island had been one of the last and best times with his father. He couldn't think of a better place to spend his final days.

The fever exploded across the US and the world. Hour by hour, the news grew worse. The virus was spreading at a bewildering pace, killing so fast that estimates had to be constantly revised. Even worse, it appeared to be mutating to an even deadlier form.

Day by day The Fever grew stronger, surging across boundaries in its relentless assault on humanity. The news pouring out across the airwaves turned more shocking by the hour. Hospitals had started closing their doors. The dead and dying littered the landscape.The tiny group stranded on Portsmouth Island listened as the horror unfolded. They had nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. The struggle to survive had taken on a new meaning.

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.

The old radio at the station had poured out haunting images of a dying world from the first day. Through it, the tiny group hunkered down at the Village of Portsmouth, bore witness to the death of millions. Where the sickness left off, storms and brutal emotions took over. Some fought. Some starved. Others simply disappeared. Storms ravaged the power grids. Relief efforts died before they ever started. Entire countries collapsed.