The young man, no older than seventeen, looked the children over. Down here, in the decrepit sewers, the only other sound than his voice was the trickle of foetid water. Four boys in total, the children looked at the young man with a mixture of fear and awe.
The young man, Richard, wore a loose white flannel shirt, tie, and pants. He would have looked fit to work in an office, were it not for the massive improvised shotgun clutched in his hands, the pipe rifle pointed at the boys.
"It started out innocently enough..." He said to them, his voice barely above a whisper, "We found out how to do it with...with...simple minerals and stuff. It was real easy, but so /revolutionary/. Death itself was transitory, so many dead figures brought back, even if only as stupid vermin! The formula made the dead rise into zombies, zombies that we used to make life a...a utopia, for the most part! All the terrible, low-wage work was eliminated, whole new divisions of life opened! The...the 'everyman's world', where a man could own a personal palace for pennies on the dollars, provided it was zed-built and zed-maintained. They didn't need food, or water, or even air! But...but we were fools to think we could order them around forever. Even though we had drastically reduced war, made poverty completely obliterated, we never thought that...that...they'd rise up! Nobody knows /why/ or /how/ it happened, but the zeds- just like in those freaky little movies from the double-O's started biting down on people, infecting them with Agent Zed like the fucking AIDS pandemic!"
He let out a long sigh, shaking some loose hair out of his eyes. "And now? Now we live in the fuckin' sewers, like rats! Why? Because the Zeds can't work manholes...yet. But the infected? The infected /can/! So...that's why...that's why I've gotta do this." He said, cocking the pipe rifle's hammer back.
"Can't risk it."