The Outer Wall
An iron, steel and concrete monstrosity 30 feet high and six feet thick, with a single gate barred from the inside. Blinding searchlights scan the “kill zone” outside: a razed strip of earth littered with mined trenches, barbed wire and spiked pits, all designed to keep rabids at bay.
The largest part of the city is divided into six sectors in a loose semi-circle around the Inner City, each neatly fenced off to control the flow of food and people. Rusted-out cars and crumbling buildings are wrapped in vegetation as nature slowly reclaims the concrete jungle.
Life in the Fringe is tough, like the people. Most make their homes in abandoned buildings. There are no jobs, and most goods—scavenged or rationed—are bartered at makeshift trading posts. No one reads: there are no schools, and it is illegal to own books.
The Inner City
Most Fringers secretly dream of being Taken to the glittering Inner City, with its starry towers. Rumors say the vampires breed certain humans—the brilliant, the beautiful—on the inside. But since no one Taken into the city ever returns—except the pets and their guards, who aren’t talking—no one knows what it’s really like.
An extensive network of former sewer pipes and subway tunnels beneath New Covington: a twisting maze lit only by what little sunlight seeps in from grates above. A dangerous place rumored to be inhabited by pale and disturbing "mole men," the tunnels are the only way to get outside the Wall.
Beyond the Wall and the kill zone are the old suburbs, where unchecked plant and animal life has conquered the subdivisions and strip malls. Rows of dilapidated houses may hide precious caches of food, clothing and blankets for anyone brave—or stupid—enough to escape the city and search.
Beyond New Covington is a vast unpopulated wasteland, crisscrossed with disused roads and the rotting remains of villages, filled with all sorts of wild animals…and rabids. These predators roam freely but gravitate to anywhere humans might live.
The ruins of this metropolis teeter on the lakeshore: decaying skyscrapers looming over miles of broken pavement. The city center is completely underwater, which keeps rabids at bay. The residents scuttle above the turbulent sludge on a web of metal and wood woven between the old elevated train tracks.
Like its Biblical namesake, it is a much sought-after paradise: a city rumored to be completely free of all vampires and rabids. Many humans have never even heard of it and no one is certain where it is—or whether it truly exists.