Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT

As an additional kinda disclaimer, I started writing this long before I started watching the walking dead, in fact I'm not sure it was even out yet, so there will be very little influence from that arena, at least in the first half.

A/N: I decided to redo this chapter in part because I want to work on a sequel, yet when I looked over this story I cringed in some places. In short, if you look at the publication date, I wrote this a WHILE ago! I remember when I started it, I had joined the military, had just finished my military medical training and had started on my first duty station on my first post. I was newly married, but because of the miliatry we had to live over 200 miles apart, so all Ihad was me and my new cat with LOTS of down time. Now I have three kids, have been medically out of the military with a house full of animals! lol In any case, for those of you who are new to this story, hope you like it! To those of you returning, hope it is either as good or better. Hopefully this will get my writing gears going on sequel ideas.

This will be written in everyone's POV. Each chapter will be the POV of a different TMNT character. I'm going to be sticking to just the turtles and Splinter, though, unless anyone requests otherwise. The POV character will be written before the start of each chapter. This is partly to exercise my own literary skills to adapt to multiple characters.

Chapter 1

Visit to April's

I have often thought of telling this story, I have pictured it so clearly in my mind that I swore that when the decision came it would be a simple thing. How I kid myself. For now that the story is about to begin, I can scarcely find the proper words. How do you tell such a story? It is a story of frendship and family, horror and romance, excitement and sadness, along with an ample supply of flesh eating dead people. Some of you might find this story offensive and disgusting, others intoxicating and spellbinding. Others simply may not give a hoot. Well, whichever group that you belong to it does not matter.

Either way the story that I now tell you is the truth, or at least from what I heard. I was there for most of it, but not all of it. Including the beginning, where the main characters set the stage. The main characters are not human, in fact they are genetically mutated turtles, something which I know a surprisingly good amount about considering what I am. Despite their lack of physical humanity, it is them that will set the center stage and them who will perform the closing act, and display the abject humanity that exists in their very souls.

But I digress. This is all about starting a story, is it not? And where better to start than the beginning...

I hoisted my bag over my shoulder alongside my bostaff as I walked down the sewers. I hardly noticed the ever present stench of human waste rotting in this underground mostly enclosed tube. My mood was much too high for that.

Tonight I was on my way to see April, which I won't deny always puts me in a good mood! Especially today. I haven't seen her at all in a week. Master Splinter saw fit to give us an extra long training session out in the wilds, i.e. Casey's Grandma's. Though I understood the reason, and didn't mind the whole thing for the most part, it never was my favorite thing. It was much better to go for a vacation where I could tinker on stuff with optimal space and privacy. Training was a no tech atmosphere, though. We did everything 'as it was supposed to be' as he put it. What this meant is that we had no weapons, no canned food, no shelter. And no technology. We had to come up with all these things on our own, and in pairs of two's we played a militant version of 'capture the flag' in between sessions of running and sparring. We could be 'killed' and had to remain so until the next day. The winners got to sleep in the farmhouse and had a bath.

Yeah, you could say that the competition was tough. Or at least it turned that way when mosquito bites covered your arm. Or when you sat on ants nests. I was surprised that my group won as much as I did. Mikey can be a bit trying at times, but during the course of the week I saw some of his more 'athletic' nature. I just had to work on keeping his mind focused. Kind of like a dog, constant attention and praise! Plus he easily accepted my plans better than my other brothers probably would have. Leo and Raph probably would have won more if they didn't stop their bickering. But there's simply no stopping those two when they get at it. I'm surprised that there wasn't blood shed from them being at each other's throats so much. I'm sure that Sensei hoped to cool their tempers towards each other by making them a team, but personally I'm not sure it was the wisest of decisions. I'm surprised that they both walked out inact after had slept outside so much, in their own sweat and covered in bug bites, that in my opinion they were even more eager to get at each other. Sorry, Sensei. I think that one was a dismal failure.

In any case, we were glad to be home. We got back at the blackest part of the night, mostly to more easily evade detection. Everyone passed out exhausted except for me, the driver. Me and my half gallon of coffee, always the driver. I used a route that we know isn't traveled very much since we weren't exactly in peak form. Even still, the city seems quieter than it usually is. And other things seemed off place. Like the sudden lack of homless people. And random cars parked out on the side of the street, half of them with a door open. The stench in the air that reminded me somewhat of rotting flesh, yet with another distinct, yet unrecognizable aroma. It perplexed me.

And sent off my inner warning bells like crazy.

Something was wrong. I just couldn't put my finger on it. I wanted to stop and see what was. Splinter wouldn't let me. His first priority was to get home and get some rest. After all, it didn't look like anyone was in immediate trouble. It could wait.

But I couldn't shake that feeling.

Couple that with the phone calls, and it's downright disturbing. Yes, phone calls. Since weren't allowed technology on our training session, I never had access to my shell cell. I had fifteen messages. All in the past two days. And according to the posted number, all of them from April.

Yes, it was more than disturbing. The worst of it was, none of the actual messages seemed to go through. I got a bunch of static and what sounded like deep throated growls of some sort. This, of course, was underlied with the same static. None of my filters could pick anything substantial out of them. I had no idea what to make of it. The texts didn't make it through either. Theyy either got sent to me blank of blatantly said that it failed to go through.

We were all completely exhausted by the time that we got home. Even when we got to sleep in the farmhouse, we still got very little time to sleep on top of our physically strained bodies. Everyone was asleep as I drove us home, and everyone collapsed in their beds as soon as home was reached. I don't know. Call me a techno geek, call me obsessive compulsive, but there are things that I must do before I go to bed. I checked the lab. I checked my systems. Checked the security protections. And finally, I checked my messages. Of course, the first thing I tried to do was to call her back. But my calls didn't go through. It was as though all communications were down, something that scared me.

Things like that don't just happen. My instincts screamed that something was very wrong. Of course my mind kept on going through all the worst case scenarios. Of course, NONE of those end good.

But I'm probably just freaking out over nothing. The techno turtle without his tech. Of course I'd freak out, right? Maybe it's jus this half gallon of coffee I just drank...

Or maybe something's seriously wrong.

Everyone was in a dead sleep. Yet after mulling over it, I decided to try to wake them, at least a little, at least so I can honestly say that I tried if they get pissed about it later. A bit part of me hoped that they'd all rouse and either tell me that I was worrying over nonsense or help me figure things out.

No luck.

For the first time in a long time, Leo was a heavy sleeper. None of the others were easily aroused either, though I didn't even try Sensei; he got less sleep than the rest of us. I'll admit that I might not have tried as hard as I could, but everyone was tired. And April was anything but defensless. I'd hate to wake everyone up only to find out that she had a new electronic toy eager to show off or something.

That probably wasn't it.

Was something wrong?

But I'm a fairly capable turtle. A ninja trained since I could walk. And I had a head to match. So why not investigate myself? Her place wasn't too far. I knew the way well enough that I knew all the darkened hiding places along the way like the back of my hand.

Besides that, there's the possibility of some alone time with April.

So I quickly left a note on my computer screen and loaded some essentials in my bag. For some reason my instincts screamed at me to include some extra bottles of water as well as a few weapons.

So this is why I'm trudging through the sewer by myself, on my way to visit April's. It was nearing four in the morning, and she normally gets up around five so I won't be waking her up too early.

I pressed my fingertips against the manhole cover, one that was on the same street as her apartment, listening for noise before silently moving it aside. Even then, I peered about the street above before actually climbing out and replacing the cover without noise.

The same feeling that I had before struck me again as I crouched beside the closed manhole cover for a moment, listening into the darkness. I couldn't hear a thing. Not traffic from neighboring streets, no one yelling at one another in the distance, no dogs barking or cats knocking over trash cans. A cold chill went through my insides. Something was definetly out of place.

As though an answer to my thoughts, a cat screamed suddenly and barrelled into a row of trash cans, knocking them over with a loud cacophony. I started, staggering backward before regaining my dignity.

Something shuffled through the garbage behind me. I whipped around, bostaff in hand. Man, did everything come to life just because I came out?

A cadaverously thin man struggled out of under several bags of trash. He stared at me, eyes unblinking, mouth agape. It was like he couldn't see me. Seeing the white, scraggly hair and the stained oversized clothes practically labeling him as homeless, I lowered my bostaff. As sympathetic as I was to his plight, I needed to get to April's. Plus he smelled way worse than usual.

I was about to dissappear when he moved into the light of a street lamp and I got a closer look at him. He still stared at me and had yet to blink once. He was still struggling with some trash covering his waist. He looked sick, his skin was pale and loose, his eyes sunken, some sort of fluid dribbled out of his eyes and mouth. He moaned harshly, as though he were having trouble breathing. The entire effect was just as unnerving as the complete silence.

I was about to ask the homeless man if he needed help when he finally got out of under the trash.

I could see why he had so much trouble. The man was missing the lower half of both his legs.

And it wasn't an old injury. It was fresh, with blood soaking his pants and the end of his freaking femur protruding from a stump. Crying out, I staggered back straight into another garbage can. I fell into it halfway,. My heart thudding against my chest so hard it hurt, I scrambled to my feet. "Sir! Sir! Please, let me help!" I clung against the wall. What could have done this to him? How the hell was he still moving?

He didn't answer, but instead started crawling, dragging himself by his hands straight towards me. His eyes were locked on me, still not blinking, pupils witish, with singleminded determination. With abject horror I looked down at the rest of him. There was no blood pumping from the wounds. No fresh blood, in any case. Instead only torn muscle, sinew, and tendon was dangling from his two fleshy stumps like red weeds, his pants leg stained with dried blood. The shiny butt of his femur protruded form one, his patella dangled off the other, held on by a few strands of tendon.

With pale, cold fingers he grasped my ankle and brought his mouth to my skin. With a cry I instinctively kicked him full in the face, yanking my leg from his grip. His head whipped back until I could hear the audible snap of his vertebrae. But his other hand was already reaching for my leg once more even while his head lolled listlessly to the side. Spinning my bostaff, I rammed the end into the side of his head and used the other end to propell myself over his prostrate form.

No sooner had I landed in the street than several human figures burst out of neighboring alleys. They staggered to a halt, seeming somewhat loose-jointed. Swinging thier heads over in my directions they all screamed and charged me at a manic pace.

This was the last thing that I was expecting.

Tightening my grip on my bostaff, I waited for them to come. As they passed under a fading streetlight and I got a glimps of them, my resolve deepened. They looked the same as the homeless man, sunken eyes, empty gaze, pale skin...it must be an epidemic of some sort, one that drives people mad? Several of them had horrible wounds. One had a sizeable chunk missing from his forearm, another had half the skin missing from his bloody face with an eyeball dangling out of his socket from the optic nerve. They all looked horrible.

I smacked them aside with my bostaff, using powerful blows. I heard bones snap. But at least they weren't lethal. Then they could live to get treatment.

They were batted aside easily enough, it helped that there were only a couple of them. And that they made no real attempt to defend themselves. They seemed minless, almost, didn't even flinch as the hard wood struck their flesh. But they showed no reaction to the painful blows, instead they whipped around and came after me once more with dogged determination. With a yell I smacked them again, this time aiming for their legs. They hit the ground like a sack of potatoes, but just as before immediately began to scramble forward with gaping mouths.

It was then that I spotted April's apartment. Turning my back on the sick people, I sprinted towards it. The people squealed and came after me, but I finally the running sessions we do paid off and reached it first. Leaping in the air, I grasped the ladder of the fire escape, using my momentum to swing myself up. Hooking the metal as I landed on the pads of my feet I yanked the ladder up behind me, far enough that they couldn't reach.

They ran to the wall under me, staring up at me with their listless eyes. They scratched at the brick so hard that their fingernails broke and peeled right off. Blood didn't even well to the surface of these fresh wounds. I winced but they didn't seem to notice. What could be happening to these people? They didn't answer or say any audible word, simply reached for me with their hoarse moaning, mouths gaping open, gory wounds painfully obvious in the glittering moonlight.

It was then that I heard another person scream. Not an unemotional, mindless animal scream like that of these sick people, but an honestly terrified scream. Then a man tore out of an alleyway about a hundred yards away. He sprinted down the street, being pursued by several sick behind him. But he didn't know about the sick people who'd chased me to the fire escape. He ran straight towards us. I grasped the bars of the fire escape. "STOP! STOP! RUN! They're here too! STOP!" he did, looking around in a panic. Quickly forgetting me, the sick sprinted towards the man. He saw them immediately and hesitated, torn between which way to go.

He hesitated too long.

They hit him like a battering ram. He was knocked completely off his feet. Then something happened that I didn't expect. Never in my nightmares or in my experiences had I seen something like this.

They tore into him.

Literally.

He screamed as their fingers dug into his abdomen, peircing into his skin and deeper, pulling out things that were meant to stay inside. Skin peeled apart like cloth. Arterial blood spurted hot into the air as the sick people scooped up the flesh in their hands and shoved in into their mouths before going for more. The man screamed into the night, thrashing wildly. Teeth sunk into his limbs, his chest, his face. Flesh and blood were gulped down like the finest ambrosia. Many put their mouths directly to his flesh, sinking their teeth into it like dogs. The screams of the man were getting weaker. He was dying even as they were being eaten to death.

My fingers tightened on the cold metal. I couldn't stand it.

Before I realized what I was doing, I found myself grasping the ladder with every intention of pushing it down and helping him.

Then a hand touched my shoulder.

Grasping the wrist harshly, I whipped around, fist at ready until I saw April's scared face. "I tried to call you, Donny. I tried." She whispered, touching my face lightly as she purposely turned my face away from the man getting eaten alive.

"April, what the hell's going on?" I didn't mean to sound harsh. She flinched.

I stared at her, for the first time noticing how pale her skin was, her face tight with stress beneath dischevelled hair. She bit her lip and delicate tears brimmed at the bottom of her eyes. "While you were gone, Donnie...the dead. The dead, they came back...and then...they live and..."

A mounting horror rose within me as I looked at her, then slowly swivelled my head to look back at the scene. The teaming mass of people, covering the man like a mass of insects, leaving only his feet exposed as they went for the juicier bits. My eyes widened and my breath caught in my throat as I watched one of those feet twitch, then slowly flex its toes.

The dead live.

A/N: So how was my first chapter? Please keep in mind that I have the remaining 28 chapters that I only need to revise and rewrite, not write completely from scratch. Unless I think I need to of course. In other words, I should be able to easily give you a chapter a week. Those of you who are reading my Mike romance, no fear it will not interfere lol

Also, I will be hoping that someone will be willing to act as a bouncer for this story, meaning someone who is willing to be an ear, bounce ideas off of and assist with plot bunnies. I want to strenghten the original story as well as get a solid foundation for a good sequel to this sucker. You will get acknowledgement in everything plus my own gratitude!

In any case, remember if you read it, review it! Looking forward to hearing from you!