Soon the military was spread too thin to be effective anywhere. State by state, region by region, the federal government gave up, pulling back and leaving the country to fend for itself. Many states rallied, managing to cling to some remnants of order, and for a time it seemed that perhaps something of the nation might remain intact.
Then the diseases came. First was influenza, descendant of the great influenza epidemic of 1918, cutting down young men and women in their prime. Some called it a divine judgment, others claimed it was a bioattack, but whatever its cause, its timing could not have been worse.
Weakened, the survivors were no match for the next disease, a plague unlike any the world had ever seen before. It swept through the remains of the United States with frightening speed, spreading from coast to coast in barely two weeks. No disease can kill everyone, but those who were left were adrift, struggling simply to survive. Gangs hoarded food, weapons, water, anything that could be hoarded, and life soon dissolved into a series of desperate battles over these few necessities.
The survivors huddled in the cities for the most part, gangs staking out territories, raiding each other, driven beyond all the rules they grew up with by their desperation. Inside one of those cities, once known as Chicago, a hospital still stood -- stripped of its drugs and supplies, but inside there were still some things untouched by the ravages. One room held a man, wounded but alive. And now he was waking up at last from a long sleep, about to find that there was nothing left of the world he'd known...
The fog was lifting and Richie Bravery slowly began to be aware. The first thought that run through his mind was one of clarity. He could feel his heart beating, the blood rushing around his body and the sweet air being sucked into his lungs and exhaled.
The fog lifted some more and he found his eyes were stuck together and his limbs felt weak. His hand slowly lifted to wipe the crust from his eyelids. The clarity gave way to confusion. Sight instead of settling him some more gave rise to fear. His vision was blurred and he felt weak.
Everywhere was the same. Empty and devoid of life. Richie had been a Priest before and he still wore his collar. But he wondered now if there was really a god.
Slowly he made his way home. He covered hundreds of miles to his home town. To see if there were any survivors. A relative, a friend or an old school friend.
He met people but avoided them. They were either scavengers, or thieves. He kept to himself till he made it to his home town.
There were survivors. But few that he recognised. He made his way round house to house to see if he knew anyone. That was when he found her. She used to be his best friend. Almost like a sister to him. But she was different. She was a changed woman. She was a whore and she disgusted him. She had found a way to make a living and that was with her body.
He dragged her out of the building. He fought the men that tried to stop him and won. He dragged her to his parents home. It felt safe and he would inhabit it again. But the whore.... She had to be cleansed. She had to be shown the true path. The way of God.
I am looking for someone to play the old friend. Someone who can play someone down on their luck but desperate to change.
The Priest will use shame and torture to help cleanse her soul. But essentially she will always be a whore. But maybe even his......