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In 1945, ****** unleashes the Blood Death on Britain as his final act of vengeance. Those who died at once were the lucky ones. The really unfortunate took years. The survivors; people like me who had the blood group that kept us safe from the disease were now targets for those who believed our blood could save them. I survived for three years. I lived alone, spending my days avoiding the ****** Blackshirts who wanted my blood for their dying leader. Then I met the others—and life got complicated all over again.