Prologue.
Hello, everyone, and welcome to the first entry in the Outbreak Britain archive. This is a chilling reconstruction of how a Western nation fell to an unstoppable terror.
This is not fiction; this is not a game. It is a raw, rational, comprehensive examination of how it started, spread, and fell.
The year is 2030. My name is George James, and I currently reside in the one remaining Safe Zone, located deep in the Scottish Highlands.
Before what became known as Vector Day, I was a journalist with The Guardian newspaper, specialising in conflict zones. I reported from Russia, China, and the Middle East. I’d witnessed famine, revolution, and war. But nothing prepared me for what was to come.
I now work for what is left of the UK government. I have been given unrestricted access to top-secret files, footage, and interviews from survivors, scientists, and military personnel. My task is simple: to document exactly what happened.
To examine the collapse of British Soil to a Zombie Horde.
This record is not just history. It’s a warning.
Despite everything we have lost, the worst may still be to come.
I will attempt to present Britain’s downfall in a rational, but clear way. If there is any chance of rebuilding what we once were, we must understand how we fell.
The year 2026. Breaking Point.
The United Kingdom was already on the verge four years before the collapse.
Economically crippled. Politically fractured and socially exhausted.
Living standards were at an all-time low. The country was divided. Public services were in open decline, and the gap between rich and poor had become larger than at any other point in modern British history.
Trust in government had vanished, worn away by scandal, misinformation, corporate influence, and a once proud nation’s slow, visible decay.
The one area that had been all but abandoned was the environment. Nowhere was this neglect more visible than in the nation’s waterways. Britain was facing an unprecedented water crisis.
Decades of underinvestment, combined with catastrophic mismanagement and billions in debt, had left the national water network in ruins. Rivers overflowed with untreated waste. Lakes were saturated with chemicals and microplastics.The water was no longer safe for human consumption in many places.
Nowhere else has this collapse been symbolised more than in Bristol, in the southwest of England.
The Harbourside – Once a cultural landmark, filled with tourists, families, and cafes, had become a symbol of environmental failure.
By mid-2026, the stench from the water was unbearable.
Tourism collapsed. Businesses shut their doors.
The whole area became an abandoned cityscape.
In response to mounting public pressure, the government released emergency funds in an effort to solve the issue once and for all.
A significant portion of that funding was allocated to Bristol University.
Dr. Peter Shepherd, a leading figure in genetic biology, was at the centre of the operation.
Dr Shepherd assembled a team of top students and set to work.
Their idea was to use a genetically engineered parasite closely related to Cryptosporidium, already known for its resilience in water systems. They then reprogrammed its DNA to target harmful waterborne bacteria.
By disabling the genes responsible for human infection and reconfiguring its cell-targeting proteins, the modified organism was designed to latch onto and consume dangerous bacterial pathogens.
It was further engineered to metabolise industrial pollutants into harmless waste.
After months of tests and failures, the team finally had a breakthrough in August of 2026.
In the laboratory, the modified organism — labelled VP1 — rapidly reduced bacterial contamination in controlled water samples. Within 30 days, test samples showed a near-complete cleansing of common industrial contaminants.
This was seen as a monumental triumph that could have far-reaching benefits for the future of water quality.
Although the tests had only been conducted in controlled laboratory conditions, the government was under pressure to get a result. They immediately gave the green light for a full rollout in the Harbourside Waterways.
The date selected was October 15th 2026.
The team had now produced over six million parasites, a staggering feat of engineering for the time.
Contained within temperature-controlled biotanks, the organisms were microscopic, fast-replicating, and, in theory, harmless to humans.
Each had been programmed with a kill-switch gene, designed to self-terminate after completing its bacterial consumption cycle.
A specially adapted water tanker was the delivery vessel, and it began to pour the parasites into the water, about 200 yards downstream of the SS Great Britain.
In the laboratory, the parasites had taken around 30 days to complete their work, so immediate results were not expected. The water would be tested daily to assess its cleanliness and therefore the parasite’s effectiveness.
After 7 days, the results were positive; the bacteria level dropped 35%, and the water quality improved. By day 0, the bacteria levels were now showing a 73% improvement, and the water was almost clear to the naked eye.
It was around day 27 that things took an unexpected turn. A thick, white foam began to gather on the water’s surface. It collected in pockets at first, soft, stringy, resembling algae, then slowly spread into a continuous sheet across the Harbourside inlet.
Samples were collected. The initial results showed no toxic readings. No mutation or foreign microbial behaviour.
A harmless symptom of bacterial decomposition.
Dr. Shepherd insisted it would clear naturally.
The whole city felt the success of the project. Families, locals and tourists all started to return as the air quality began to improve. People were enjoying walking the promenade, and even a few old cafes had started opening up.
The foamy white surface only added to the public interest; people were taking pictures and live-streaming a happy return to a popular pastime.
Plans were made to reassess the situation on day 30.
When the team arrived, it was clear things had progressed much faster than expected. What had once floated lazily on the surface had congealed into a dense, opaque crust. Textured like fibrous rubber. Off-white. Slightly translucent. The water beneath was no longer visible.
The team was perplexed. It was evident this new development would need to be investigated with extreme haste.
Dr Shepherd himself approached the waterside and used a small pickaxe to crack a layer of the surface. They needed a sample to analyse back at the lab, but when the crusty layer was compromised, it released a small swarm of flying organisms.
They moved fast with purpose.
The team and a few hundred bystanders were rapidly surrounded by the soaring swarm. Those caught in the crosshairs were systematically attacked. Witnesses described them as very similar in size and shape to an Asian hornet, only with a slightly elongated stinger of around an inch long.
Chaos, fear, disorder and absolute pandemonium took hold of everyone involved.
These organisms were later identified as Insecta Morbis, though most people referred to them simply as Needlers.
The initial swarm infected an estimated 250 people in under three minutes.
Each Needler could sting once before dying— not unlike a bumblebee. But it didn’t matter. Their job was done.
Their stings pierced clothing. Cotton, denim, leather- none of them offered protection.
When a victim was stung, they were infected with a new, highly evolved parasite. VP2. This would surge through the bloodstream, causing a cascade of terminal symptoms.
Within 10 seconds, the body would start to convulse.
Eyes bled. Mouths foamed. Skin flushed red with vascular stress.
Some collapsed, seizing on the ground. Others tried to run, but lost control of their limbs mid-stride.
What came next was death, which occurred between 30 and 45 seconds after the initial sting.
No pulse. No respiratory function. Brain activity ceased.
By all medical definitions. They were dead.
If only that were the case.
Roughly 30 seconds post-mortem, the bodies began to move.
First twitching, then jolting, then standing.
The eyes now solid black, the skin covered in enraged veins, and the muscles engorged with adrenaline.
Once the parasite enters the bloodstream of its host, it immediately attacks the spinal column and brain. It then sends signals to the adrenal glands to supercharge adrenaline production.
It uses its primal instincts, sight, sound and smell to hunt its prey and contaminate other organisms. It’s almost impossible to outrun, outmanoeuvre, or evade its grasp. This makes it a lethal weapon beyond anything that had ever been seen.
It disregards its own safety or preservation, crashing through glass, smashing its body through barriers and climbing walls. Most people don’t stand a chance against it.
What rose from the pavement was not the person who had been stung.
It was a highly contagious, virus-spreading machine, labelled Carrier Prime.
Or, as survivors would later call them: Berserkers.
The Carrier Prime displayed no capacity for speech or cognition.
They did not eat their victims. They did not retreat.]They did not hesitate.
Three impulses governed them:
Seek out the uninfected.
Spread the parasite.
Continue until physically destroyed.
The parasite VP2 is saturated in their saliva. A single bite was enough to transfer the infection. Once infected, new hosts followed the same 30-second death-and-reanimation cycle and joined the horde.
Initial responders attempted to intervene. Security guards. Council workers. A nearby community officer. They were all overtaken.
Those who tried to run were chased.
Those who stood still were torn down.
Those who fought back, with fists, chairs, makeshift weapons, had no chance at all.
The Carrier Prime does not fear pain.
It does not avoid damage.
It will break its own body to break yours.
Nothing can help you in the face of such extreme horror, power and unrelenting violence.
Hide if you want. But make a sound, and it’ll find you. If it gets close enough to smell you, it’s already too late.
Ten minutes after the first infection, the Harbourside was in freefall.
People ran blindly in all directions. Into each other, into traffic, into nowhere.
Some tried to help the fallen. Others shoved, crushed, climbed, and screamed.
Panic spread faster than the infection itself.
In cafés, diners smashed back exits, trying to escape.
Families on morning walks were caught without warning, with nowhere to go.
A mother was seen throwing her child over a metal fence, before being tackled by a Carrier Prime moments later.
One man attempted to fight them off with a chair. Another grabbed a kitchen knife.
None were successful.
The Berserkers moved like wild animals.
They crashed through windows. Sprinted up stairwells.
Climbed brick walls. Smashed through doors, even as their limbs broke against them.
And they were fast. 15 to 20 mph in open sprints.
Even a brief line of sight was enough to trigger pursuit.
By 10 minutes past 10, the infected had pushed out beyond the Harbourside.
Queen Square. Park Street. Redcliffe.
The movement was relentless. Street by street, building by building.
Anyone bitten became infected. Anyone infected became another Carrier Prime.
And each one added to the momentum.
A couple held hands as the infected closed in. They didn’t run. They just looked at each other, one last time.
In less than 30 minutes, over 10,000 people were compromised.
There was no time to process. No time to coordinate.
Just screams, blood, and phones live-streaming the end of the city.
Some of the most chilling footage came from apartment balconies. Shaky handheld videos capture the chaos below.
A few people on the ground managed to live stream their own transformation, to enraged monsters. The last thing you would see is their phone hitting the pavement, just as black-veined feet stepped into frame.
As their phone lay upon the floor, growls, gargles, and splutters were audible, the process of loved one to monstrosity complete in a flash.
People on the phone to their loved ones would scream, as the horror of the situation entered their peripheral vision.
Concern would turn to panic, voices shaking, stumbling, fear taking over, unable to describe what was coming for them. The speed of it all didn’t allow for any goodbyes.
Now, the area was awash with sirens, as first responders arrived on the scene. Ambulance staff helping people on the ground, then suddenly teeth snapping like a rabid dog, flesh torn from bone.
Police arrived in waves. Some on foot, some by van.
They came with stab vests. Batons. Tasers.
They were not at all prepared.
One officer tasered a Berserker at point-blank range. It dropped for fifteen seconds, then immediately got back up.
Another tried to subdue a reanimated victim with zip ties, only to be bitten mid-process.
Ambulance crews pulled victims off the street and into the back of vans.
Those vans stopped moving within seconds.
Fire crews were called in to help manage the panic.
They were last seen using hoses as improvised barricades.
By 11:00 a.m., the majority of first responders on site were either dead… or part of the horde.
In the first hour alone, over 20,000 calls were attempted to nine nine nine.
Most were never answered.
The switchboards were overwhelmed. Call handlers froze at their desks, unable to comprehend what they were hearing.
Some stayed on the line with dying callers, offering quiet comfort in their final seconds.
A few gave life-saving advice:
“Hide. Be silent. Lock the doors. Don’t move.”
Some of those voices were never heard again.
The Avon and Somerset Police force made a controversial decision. They issued a rare, high-level mobilisation order.
All active-duty personnel were instructed to fall back to three key stations:
Portishead Headquarters, Keynsham Police Station, and Almondsbury Command Centre.
The goal was to regroup, stabilise, and organise a response.
Roughly 1,000 officers made it to those locations.
Many were injured, traumatised, or mentally unfit for further service.
Some refused to go at all. Choosing instead to stay in the field. Most of them never made it out.
At this stage, it was no longer about control.
It was about survival.
By the early afternoon, the roads around Bristol were completely frozen.
People abandoned their vehicles.
Parents dragged children through hedgerows, across embankments, into strangers’ gardens.
Rumours began to spread in real-time.
Videos were circulating showing things no one could believe, until they looked up and saw them happening just down the road.
One by one, people stopped to ask what was happening. As soon as it dawned on them, they started running.
To a place where no one knew.
Only away.
Away from the sounds.
Away from the screaming.
Away from what was coming next.
One hour after the initial infection, the horde had reached Temple Meads Train Station. Over 50,000 people were now presumed infected. On every street, in every shop, in every park, people were fighting, not each other, but for their lives.
It was quickly recognised that this was no longer a local incident, but a national emergency. The police escalated the crisis to the highest level. COBRA was activated.
At the time, the Prime Minister was visiting a hydrogen power station in Newcastle. She was briefed mid-tour and wasted no time. Her decision was swift, and it saved countless lives. She ordered the emergency broadcast system with a stark, three-part instruction:
STAY HOME. FORTIFY YOUR PROPERTY. STAY SILENT.
A high-altitude surveillance drone, tasked initially with border monitoring, was rerouted over the southwest to provide real-time visual confirmation of the outbreak’s spread.
Meanwhile, the Prime Minister and her emergency cabinet were airlifted by helicopter to a classified bunker beneath the Scottish Highlands.
Twenty minutes later, the drone transmitted its first images. It focused on Bristol’s Harbourside. Ground Zero. But something was wrong.
There were no screams.
The Carrier Primes were no longer running.
They were crawling. Twitching. Dragging themselves forward in slow, jerking motions…
They were evolving.
Thank you for taking the time to read this first episode of Outbreak Britain. I’m keen to get some feedback, so if you could leave a comment below, that would be fantastic.
Thanks again
Steve
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