The world fell. It died screaming.
The sickness came first, a wave of plagues rushing across the land. The hospitals were overrun in days, and people died in droves. The army was called out to keep order, but the military fell victim to the sickness as easily as anyone else. Public services broke down in a week and all semblance of public order in a month.
Then the dead rose. The sun turned black. Madmen screamed about the red tide. Things keep getting worse.
The end has come. No one can deny that. But you have heard of a secret place of safety somewhere in the mountains of Virginia, built up by the remnants of the old government and a group of valiant survivors. Getting there may mean your death—but staying where you are will certainly be the end.
You must at least try.