Twenty-three years old Ryan Goal silently watched the red sky. He'd heard it was once a beautiful sky-blue, but he had been unfortunate to never lay eyes on it. No, maybe not. If he had been born under the blue sky, then he would probably have perished during the three months of purgatory.

A sudden voice in his ear snapped him out of his reverie. He focused his attention at the town below him peering through his rifle scope.

People shambled along the streets, feet dragging slowly behind them. Occasionally, they would dash towards something random, but always returned to their awfully slow stride. He zoomed in on one of them, confirming the red eyes that marked their kind.

Goal turned his attention to his companions. "Take the alley to your left, then turn right. The super's right there."

"Thanks kid," Houser said as he and Terry took the path laid out by their scout.

They entered the supermarket unhindered, and started filling trolleys with the necessary equipment. There were several infected right outside the shop, but luckily, zombies were as stupid as stupid got, so as long as they made no sound, they would not be caught.

"G-guys run!" shouted Goal.

The panic in his voice did not go unnoticed. "What's the matter kid?" shout-whispered Houser.

Silence.

"Kid!"

When there was no reply, he turned to Terry who nodded. They abandoned the trolleys and made a beeline for the back door.

A horde of infected streamed in through their exit, blocking them off. They turned to run through the front, but the zombies which had been idling about rushed in too. The most shocking thing was that the infected did not attack. They formed a circle around the men, cutting off all means of escape.

"Wh-what's going on? Infected don't act like this? It-s almost as if..."

"As if it was planned," muttered Terror as he glared down the infected.

"But that's impossible. They are incapable of complex thought... right?"

"No more," said a dismembered voice.

The men watched in shock as the zombies parted ways for a man dressed in a black suit, bright red eyes burning beneath his top-hat. He possessed the kind of presence that revealed he was the leader.

"I-Impossible," was all Houser could manage. "He talked? What the fuck is going on?! There's no way zombies can fucking talk!"

Top-hat smiled as he raised a hand. The zombies cleared a path to the backdoor. "You can leave, but tell your leaders this: We were born of greed, slaughtered by fear, but were reborn by hate. The age of humanity has run its course. It is our time now... the age of the Enlight has begun."

The men stared in horror as they angled towards the door. Once they were sure they would not be attacked, they fled the town like they were chased by dogs from hell. This was the worst case scenario. The Enlight had gained intelligence.

...What would happen to the world?