At first, many people would be skeptical. They would dismiss reports of zombie sightings as hoaxes or hallucinations. But as the evidence mounted, it would become harder and harder to deny the truth: something was happening to the dead. They were no longer staying in their graves. They were no longer decomposing. They were no longer human.
The first zombies would probably be isolated incidents. A few corpses would reanimate in a morgue or cemetery, and attack whoever happened to be nearby. Maybe a funeral procession would be interrupted by a swarm of undead mourners. Maybe a medical experiment would go horribly wrong and unleash a horde of ravenous zombies on an unsuspecting city.
At first, the authorities would try to contain the problem. They would quarantine infected areas, dispatch military units to fight the zombies, and launch public awareness campaigns to educate people about the danger. But as the zombies spread, their methods would become less effective. They would be too numerous, too fast, too resilient. They would overwhelm defenses and consume everything in their path.
The world would change. Society would collapse. Governments would crumble. People would die. The survivors would be forced to adapt to a new reality, where the undead were an ever-present threat. They would have to scavenge for food, water, and weapons. They would have to build fortifications, traps, and shelters. They would have to learn how to fight, how to run, how to hide.
In the end, the zombie apocalypse would be a nightmare. A world without hope, without mercy, without reason. A world where the dead ruled and the living cowered. A world where zombies were real.
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