The Sanctuary Series

Book One: Sanctuary's Warlord

In 2020 humans were warned, melting ice and rising sea levels were going to release disease into the world. We were warned that the effects of this disease would ravage the world unlike anything humanity had ever experienced. More than half the world's population would fall. Still, countries warred. Still, they ignored the warnings.

In 2022, in a South Pacific country, formerly known as the Solomon Islands, a new, never before discovered illness arose. Some described it as the plague, others described it as a twisted version of Ebola. The world ignored this terrifying news. Countries were at war, nuclear threats were common, dangerous synthetic drugs were being sold illegally, food shortages and unpredictable weather patterns created an untenable financial burden for governments. Citizen unrest led to riots, police actions, the rise of gangs and out-of-control crime rates. Politicians, military, media and law enforcement were too focused on their domestic struggles to turn to the medical crisis in a little-known island country. By the time they took notice, some of the world's biggest cities were on the verge of being consumed by an angry planet.

In 2025, after the disease wiped out half the South Pacific and spread to each continent, it became known as Necrotitis Primeval, or Death Kiss. It was a hybrid of a new type of flesh-eating bacteria. The people who contracted the disease became known as the Primitives. There was no known cure. The incubation rate was minutes, no one was immune, and the results were irreversible. Once a person became infected, they would rapidly return to a primitive state, focusing only on their base needs. Food, water, reproduction. They attacked without conscious thought, devouring everything organic in their path. Humans, animals and plants became food. They would mutilate their prey, mutilate themselves in their driving need to scratch and bite.

By 2030, Death Kiss had ravaged the world, collapsing all systems of government, destroying communications, electrical grids, everything essential to society. Pockets of humans banded together, creating towns and cities, protecting their new homes by whatever means necessary. Anarchy became a way of life as humans fought to survive. Fought each other, fought the Primitives.

By 2050, Sanctuaries had risen from the ashes of great cities, taking in the terrified refugees that clawed for survival. But many of these Sanctuaries fell under the pressure of high populations, lack of resources and bad leadership. Birth rates increased as birth control became less and less available. But death rates climbed even higher. Medication was no longer widely available, infrastructure was falling down all around us, bands of people fought not only the Primitives, but each other in a bid for territory and resources. It quickly became apparent that only the strongest could survive this hostile world.

My name is Taran and I was born on April 27th, 2047. I watched as my parents and five-year-old brother were taken by illness. Not the Death Kiss, but a common flu. The virus and harsher winters took out more than half of the remaining Northern population, forcing the rest of us to relocate. With a band of survivors, including my grandparents and sister, Skye, I walked South for weeks and months, in search of Sanctuary. Finally, after a gruelling journey, including the loss of my sister in the Nevada riots and the subsequent fall of the Las Vegas Sanctuary, we arrived at the Tucson Sanctuary. I was taken in, but my grandparents were refused entry. They were left to survive outside the city walls. An impossible feat, especially at their age. Primitives rove the land looking for new victims. No one can survive the Death Kiss without turning. From birth, I've been taught that a bitten human is a dead human.