The year is 2119: Ash lives in a dead, hollow world. She is one of the few survivors of an apocalyptic plague called "The Palsy" that decimated the world almost a hundred years ago. The few remaining humans live out their empty days in withered bodies, unable to taste or smell and barely able to feel. They live in a permanent hospice, watched over by mechanical caretakers called Clerics. Like everyone else, Ash has amnesia. She remembers nothing before her last catastrophic seizure four years ago.
In a world made nearly perfect by man's enlightened progress, an ancient, hungry apocalypse slithers from the shadows and onto the clean, brightly lit streets. Though few realize anything is wrong, it's already too late: too late for the authorities to face this new threat, for science to discover a cure, for the world's warriors to gear up to fight. It is humanity's swan song, and the fat lady is on the stage and clearing her throat.
"Plot line was good"