The Zombies milled about in what used to be the City of Ottawa, Ontario. From Bank Street to Rideau, from Vanier to Gloucester, from Kanata to Stitsville, the Undead were everywhere. Once upon a time, a million friendly, cheerfully, polite and passive-aggressive Canadians called Ottawa home. Now, it's Zombie central. When the Zombie outbreak started in Detroit, Michigan, it soon crossed over to the Canadian side even though Canadian border services blew up the bridge connecting Windsor, Ontario, to Detroit. The Undead don't respect borders, all they crave is human flesh. Driven by that hunger, they invaded Canada.
After consuming much of America and Canada, the Zombies soon crossed over into Mexico. The only thing which prevented the rest of the world from being consumed by Zombies was drastic action taken by Russia, China and North Korea. How about that? The dictatorial states combined their military might to drop nukes on America, Canada and Mexico, thus curtailing the Zombie outbreak. The continent of North America has been written off as Zombie central. There were small outbreaks in Latin America and the Caribbean but those were contained.
The Alliance of Defenders, spearheaded by Russia, and which includes China, Nigeria, Ethiopia, North Korea, Saudi Arabia, South Africa, Brazil, Australia, New Zealand, Turkey, Iran and the United Republic of New Britain, now controls the world's resources. The Zombie plague didn't just wipe out most human life in North America. It also turned geopolitics on its head. With America and Canada gone, the world moved on. What hope does freedom have in this current state of affairs? Humanity gladly sacrificed freedom for safety when the ravenous dead began walking the earth.
What am I doing in Ottawa? What does any of that have to do with me? Hmm, long story. Let's start with some basics, shall we? The name is Ramon Salvador, and I was born in the City of Oaxaca, Mexico, to a Mexican father, Estevez Salvador, and a Nigerian mother, Jamila Adewale. I was eighteen years old when the reanimated dead began devouring the living. My relatives and I got separated during the chaos that followed. I survived, and eventually made my way to Africa. I arrived in my mother's ancestral homeland of Kano, Nigeria. I've been living there ever since.
Life isn't so bad in Kano. I adjusted fairly well to life in Nigeria and mastered several local languages including Igbo and Hausa. I also gained Nigerian citizenship. I work for the Nigerian Police Force and it's a decent gig. My direct supervisor, Captain Omar Boulaye, is a decent man. I've learned a lot from the man ever since I started working for the Nigerian Police Force. I've adjusted fairly well to my new life in Nigeria, which is about as different from Mexico as one can get. There is one snag, though. I am not exactly one hundred percent human. No, I am not a Zombie. I am something else entirely.
If you were to look at me, you'd see a six-foot-one, broad-shouldered and brown-skinned, curly-haired man. I am half Latino and half African, and my features reflect it. You might notice that I have a bunch of tiny spots all over my skin, and think it's some kind of birthmark. You've got no idea how right you are. I am different, and it's a genetic thing. Not much I can do about it. I was born this way. What am I talking about? Let's get down to it...
Folks, have you ever heard the term Bultungin? Hmm, probably not. In the myths and folklore of many West African and Middle Eastern cultures, a Bultungin is a mythological creature that's a cross between a Hyena and a man. Unlike the werewolves of European and North American folklore, a Bultungin, also known as a Were-Hyena, isn't a person who transforms into a supernatural beast. Nope. The Bultungin is an inhuman monster that goes about disguised as a person. Big difference there, folks. Werewolves are transformed humans. Bultungin were never human to begin with.
