I'm working on a multi-part series that runs parallel to The Walking Dead story line with my own OCs, the premise stemming from in depth conversations of 'what would we do' in the event of a zombie apocalypse and spiraling into a concrete story and concept. The timeline for the start of my story is roughly the same day that Shane was trying to get Rick out of the hospital before getting Lorie and Carl and heading towards Atlanta. As with any story within the Walking Dead verse, this series is going to be riddled with all sorts of nasty stuff that deserves warnings: Gore, Rape/Non-con, Animal Death/Cruelty, Cannibalism, Self-Harm/Suicide, Hate-Speech, Slurs - all canon typical, all potentially triggering, plenty of offensive shit. Gritty realism is the aim and there will be very little censoring.

Part One: System Crash

Rome wasn't built in a day but even great empires can fall in that time. Outbreak, pandemic, plague: whatever the name, there was a cap where it reached critical levels and couldn't be contained. A balloon filled to the brink, it burst; the explosion sudden and absolute. It took one day for their world to go to shit.

Chapter One
The Scenic Route

Her phone wasn't working, and the only thing she could get on the radio was the emergency alert system, no matter how many times she scanned through the stations. Abby forced a deep breath, blowing out slowly and purposely through pursed lips as the swooping, fluttering in her chest warred with her need to stay in control, no matter how stressful things seemed to get. It was hard, though. She was shaking as she threw her cigarette butt out the window and immediately fished another out of the pack sitting in the passenger's seat. Nervousness always made her smoke like a chimney and even though she could feel the burn in the back of her throat and the ache in her lungs, she fit the fresh cigarette between her lips and pressed in the cigarette lighter on the dash.

The radio just kept blaring that obnoxious honking beep that was meant to get and keep people's attention. But unlike every other time she had heard it throughout her life there was no following message stating, "this was a test of the emergency alert system," and instead it kept playing the same thing over and over again about evacuations to safe-zones, telling people to head for the nearest one and so on. That was all. There were no details, no information about what was happening, absolutely nothing useful. Just the same message stating that the entire state was supposed to evacuate to the nearest refuge city – they hadn't even bothered listing off specific counties, just saying that a state-wide evacuation was in effect and rattling off cities where refuges were set up. The only clue she had was half-known facts about some rioting happening across the world. There had been a lot of fighting lately, a lot of violence. Riots and mobs, people killing each other – they'd been getting worse and worse, and she'd heard that there might be a virus causing it, some nasty bug that made people go crazy and start literally tearing each other apart. Claws, teeth – she wasn't sure how much she believed about it, but there was talk about people getting eaten.

Abby slammed on her brakes suddenly, her car skidding to a hard stop. She wasn't surprised that the SUV behind her didn't manage to stop before knocking into her rear bumper. Not real hard, but enough that her rear hatch was probably dented. She didn't care. The highway in front of her was packed – the highway she always took to get back home, the only route she knew. The latest job she'd taken wasn't all that far out, but still it was a town she didn't know, a place she couldn't find her way out of now that the main highway was blocked with traffic.

It was terrifying. The highway was full on backed-up, bumper-to-bumper traffic that was so out of place in a middle of nowhere town. What the hell was going on? She was a good 40 miles away from Springfield, one of the 'refuge cities' they kept listing on the broadcast. Was it actually backed up all that way? She heard the horns blaring, saw people flitting about outside their cars in a manner that seemed like they had been there for hours already and decided in that second that there was no way in hell she was getting on that highway. The SUV behind her gunned its engine and Abby's car shuddered as the pressure was suddenly released from the rear end. The woman in the passenger's seat flipped her off as the Tahoe whipped around her, only to come to a screeching halt again as it pulled up to the end of the line of cars uselessly waiting for a chance to get on the highway.

Abby crunched her shifter into reverse, craning her neck over her shoulder and backing up onto the narrow shoulder of the road she'd just come down, ignoring the cars that were pulling in behind her. She revved the engine a bit too hard, screeching the tires a bit as she let off the clutch and barely missed clipping mirrors. She had to slam her brakes as a car pulled out into her path from a side-street. As soon as it was clear there was finally enough room to turn her car completely around and she was off, speeding away from the growing line of cars waiting to pull onto the highway. It wasn't until she was well off the main streets that she stopped on a rough country road that led out of the town completely. For a few minutes she just sat there, aggravated. The sun was beating through the window and she ripped the bandana off her head, running her fingers through the short, sweaty curls that were plastered to her head after a long day of work.

Everything felt urgent and she raced through all the junk in her car to find the Missouri State map that was probably still somewhere though she couldn't remember the last time she used it. The map was under the back seat, crusty and stained brown from what was probably spilled coffee. It tore a little when Abby unfolded it and it took some searching but she was able to find where she was on the map. It took even longer to trace out the back roads and find a route that would take her somewhere familiar, somewhere that led to roads she knew, that would lead her back home. The route was somewhat complicated and looked about twice as long as the straight shot on the highway, but it was all she got. She carefully wrote out the directions in a quick, easy to access list so she wouldn't have to keep checking the map every few miles. A minute later found her racing as fast as she dared down some zig-zag of a country road that was supposed to dump her out on some tore up old highway that ran through ten different types of nowhere, hoping with everything she had that a hair short of half a tank would get her through.

It was desolate. She had nothing to distract her from the tickling pressure that was building in her chest as the nervousness threatened to overwhelm her. She passed a truck, roaring in the opposite direction. It was hardly any comfort that she wasn't completely alone out there. The emergency alert was still crackling through on the station that was turning to static the further she drove. Jerkily, she turned the radio off altogether. It wasn't like it was giving any useful information anyways.

A burst of nervous energy had Abby blindly pawing at the passenger seat until she managed to snag up her overstuffed bag, wrenching it upright and slipping her pistol out of the back pouch. She kept it in her lap for a few moments, before setting it carefully in the space between her seat and the parking brake. She couldn't help but keep reaching down to make sure it was still in place as she drove, making sure it was loose in the holster. The impulse to keep fidgeting with the revolver was finally put in check when she dug out a fresh smoke to have something extra to do with her hands.

What was going on? That was something she could focus on, though she wasn't expecting to figure out the answer. What she knew was limited to snippets that were hard to remember because she hadn't really been paying enough attention.

She caught the news in passing only, acknowledging what happened in the wider world and then going on with her life. If it seemed important she'd take a few extra minutes to read up on it, browsing through Facebook for both the far left and far right blurbs that spammed her feed and playing website roulette to find the plainest report on what was happening so she could be informed. When she felt she accomplished that goal, it was back to indifference and the mile-long to-do list that never seemed to get shorter.

It wasn't that she didn't care about the riots and fighting that sprang up. She just didn't have the time or energy to spend fretting on something that didn't affect her in any way she could see, especially since she couldn't even figure out why the riots were happening. What was the cause? What were they fighting for? Was there some injustice that was worth killing for or were these people the ones that just wanted to stir up shit and watch the world crash into the ground? Nothing was clear about the situation and Abby refused to dwell on it any longer than it took to acknowledge that it existed. It was happening somewhere else and even if she wanted to she couldn't do anything about it. The only reason she knew about the first few riots was because her mom talked about them. Stuck in bed and too weak to get up for more than a short trip to the bathroom, there was nothing to do but watch endless hours of Fox News and get angry at the world at large: her mom always made sure everyone got an earful of what was happening.

It had started snowballing, at some point. It hadn't taken that long before one or two riots turned into a lot more. It became the only thing anyone was talking about, about how awful and nasty things were turning. It was that time between summer and spring, the point where it was getting hot during the day but the nights were still cool and the spring storms were letting up. The news was always going on about the riots. It was closer, much closer than before because St Louis was only a couple hundred miles away. But still, that was enough of a buffer that she did little more than double check that she had her pistol on her when she left the house, much to the approval of her dad. There was a small chance some of those idiots might manage to make their way down through her part of the state. It seemed highly unlikely – people like that didn't give a rat's ass about some small town in Southern Missouri that was hardly more than a blip on a map and a pit stop for people to fuel up as they took the highway to somewhere that actually mattered. There just wasn't the time or energy to spend getting upset over stupid people doing stupid things in places she never went to.

At that point, it was hard to filter out the truth. Gossip around town was painting it as some sort of cult thing or some new drug that made people go crazy enough to start eating each other. Somewhere along the way the word 'pandemic' was thrown in the mix, but Abby couldn't say where she first heard the word slung out. It all seemed kind of ridiculous, actually. Like a little problem that was getting thrown out of proportion so that people were too occupied to notice some new law they'd probably raise one hell-of-a fuss over.

Abby hadn't really expected to be steamrolled by the same crazy that she'd been hearing about for months. Just that morning, everything had been fine. She'd come into work, listening to classic rock on the radio and ten short hours later it was like the world had gone up in flames while she wasn't looking. She might admit that it was a bit delusional to think the violence exploding around the country wouldn't affect her, but there had already been so many other things that had simply passed her over that she couldn't really be blamed for thinking that this new insanity would whip by just as easily.

How was it in the course of a day it had devolved to a state-wide evacuation? She had to have missed something critical in the last few days.

One thing was certain in the whole mess. She'd be damned if she was going to just go charging off to shut herself in with thousands of desperate people. That seemed like the stupidest thing to do. If anything, wouldn't it be smarter to go where there were less people or to stay put and shut themselves in and try to wait it out? That was her plan. She was going to haul her ass back home, board up the windows and barricade the doors before it got any worse, make sure her family was safe and accounted for and ride it out like they always did.

The road was getting rougher. It was less taken care of and she had to slow down quite a bit because the curves were getting sharper, the hills steeper and it was late in the afternoon so she was driving through the deeper shadows of the woods. At some point she might have passed one of the signs for the national forest, but she couldn't be bothered to care much as she was only concerned about finding the next turnoff.

Sighing, Abby checked that her gun was still in place. Finding it exactly where she knew it would be she reached for her pack of cigarettes, upending what was left of the pack as she fumbled to pull one out without taking her eyes off the road. She let it be, punching in the cigarette lighter forcefully and snatching it up to light the tip of her cigarette, inhaling deeply and holding the smoke in her lungs for a few seconds before blowing out harshly.

It didn't really matter how it had happened, so much as that it was happening. All she needed to focus on was what was in her control and she was doing exactly what she needed to be doing. Get home, make sure her family was safe, fortify – that was the only thing she had to worry about. They'd figure out the 'what next' when it came to it.

There hadn't been another vehicle since the one truck she had seen and it made her uneasy. It seemed like there should have been others, either heading out to the highway in an attempt to follow the evacuation orders or barreling off in the same direction she was heading, trying to get somewhere else. She had no idea how long the broadcast had been running, so for all she knew everyone throughout these parts had already made whatever move they planned on making.

Didn't seem likely that there wouldn't be any stragglers, though.

She almost missed the turnoff for highway 76, having to brake hard to slow down enough to make the sharp left and she didn't have to check to know her pistol went skidding out of place. She heard the thud, could feel it in the floorboard under her left heel as she stomped down on the clutch.

"Son of a bitch!" Abby took the turn a little too fast, the back of her hatchback fishtailing a bit before she was able to right it. She had to take a few minutes to just breathe as she focused on the road, gripping the steering wheel too tight and forcing herself to keep it slow as this stretch of road was just as gnarly as the last, all blind corners and half-assed patched asphalt.

Another few miles passed quietly, just the drone of the four-cylinder and the whining buzz of the tires pushing along the road. A brief scan of the radio gave her endless static and three stations that were still cycling through the same tired message. It was starting to get dark for real then, no more patches of sun shining through the trees and the colors around her fading to that blue-greyish tone that made it hard to tell everything apart.

Abby saw the crash with plenty of time to roll to a slow stop, the yellow of her headlights shining on the crumpled dually that blocked all of the other lane and most of hers. There wasn't enough room to eek her car around either side, the edges of the highway giving way to deep ditches and no shoulder to speak of.

"That's just great," Abby grunted, jerking the shifter into first and wrenching up the parking break as she cut the engine. A flick and a jiggle of the switch had the overhead light on and she had only just gotten the map in hand when she heard the screaming. Someone was yelling for help from the other side of the flipped truck.

"God damn it." Abby grabbed her bag up, unlatching her seatbelt and snatching her revolver from the floorboard and stashing back where it belonged. A quick rummage through the bag showed her just how much she wasn't prepared to help out the victims of a car crash, but a couple of Band-Aids and a sweat-soaked bandana were better than nothing.

The door caught a bit as she shouldered it open, disentangling herself from the seatbelt as she stood. It took another second to lean over and fish the keys out of the ignition so she could use the cheap, dollar-store keychain flashlight.

The yelling was louder once she was out of the car, clearer and she could make out the girls voice. "Help! Please, help us! Help!"

High-pitched and ragged, the voice was young and Abby wondered how long she'd been trapped as she jogged around the upturned diesel to try and get into the cab.

The scene on the other side brought her to a halt because it just wasn't what she was expecting. It was closer to dark than light, but she could still clearly make out the two kids – teenagers, really – huddled on top of another truck that looked like it had smashed headfirst into the rollover. A man was pressed against the side of the truck, tall and wide and reaching up towards the terrified kids with a single-mindedness that escaped any reasoning she could think of. The way the kids jerked away from his reaching hands told her all she needed to know, that this man was trying to hurt them. She was quick to pull out her gun, cocking back the hammer even as she kept her distance. Another two cars were pulled in behind the wrecked trucks and she could clearly see drivers in both of them just staring at the scene like they had no idea what to do.

"What do you think you're doing?" Abby demanded, loudly enough that she knew she could be heard and leveling her .38 at the large man. The kids stopped screaming long enough to stare at her for a second before they were hollering again, yelling over each other.

"Don't let him get close-"

"There's more of them-"

"-eat you-"

The man stopped pawing at the truck and turned around. He stared blankly at her and Abby could see more people moving jerkily around the other side. Her best guess was that the dark smears on the man's face was blood and he staggered towards her with the same single-minded determination he'd had when trying to snatch the kids off the top of cab.

"Don't come any closer." Abby yelled, but the man kept at her, his stride jittery and uneven. He was groaning – a raw, growling moan from somewhere deep in his chest. Her hands were shaking as she kept her gun aimed at his chest, her heart pounding a fast, damning cadence that made her blood throb. The man didn't listen, his face blank and showing no signs he even understood what she was shouting as he ambled closer.

"Shoot him!"

"Don't let them bite you!" It was a new voice added to the fray, a man's voice coming from somewhere to her right – from one of the cars just idling there. "Don't let them bite you! That's how it spreads!"

The man was close now, his arms outstretched towards her like a toddler reaching to be picked up. He was only a couple feet away and Abby fired straight into his torso, the crack of her gun making her ears ring and she flinched at the recoil. She hit him, she knew it. She wasn't a great shot, but she couldn't possibly have missed at damn near point blank. But he was still coming and she backed up as she fired again, watching his shoulder jerk at the impact, actually feeling some of the splatter from the shot to his chest. He didn't go down.

Again she pulled the trigger – and then again. He just kept coming and she only had one shot left. That was four shots to the chest. It shouldn't have been possible that he was still up, even if he was jacked up on PCP or some shit like that. She felt the asphalt under her feet give way to grass and stopped dead, frantically remembering there was a pretty steep ditch behind her. She could smell him by that point, kind of like a mix of when you opened up the refrigerator after the power had been out for a couple days and the sewage backed up during a flood. He was close enough that she could see the ripped skin on his arms. His stomach was torn open: was there intestines hanging out?

"GET OUT OF THERE! DON'T LET IT BITE YOU!"

Abby surged forward and fired her last shot into his head at point blank, wincing as she felt the splatter hit her face. He finally went down and with him out of the way she could see three more people shuffling towards her with the same, jerky movements. Her gun was empty and there was no way she had time to dig around in her bag to find some extra rounds. Even if she did, there was no way she could make headshots on them unless they were right up on her.

"RUN!"

She skirted around them, absolutely flying as they turned to follow her and she made it to the furthest car in the line. The woman in the driver's seat reached over to unlock the door of the small hatchback and Abby jerked it open, stopping long enough to watch the three shuffling freaks start back towards the kids that were still crouched on the roof, like they were attracted to the noise of their screaming more than Abby's quiet getaway.

"Shut your damn mouths!" Abby yelled. The order was followed surprisingly quick. "Keep quiet and wait, and when the coast is clear get to that car! Tell him to follow us!"

Already, her shouting had gotten their attention back, had them shuffling in her direction. She waited for a bit, bellowing endless rounds of, "Hey! Hey, over here assholes!" When they were right up to the nose of the car she threw herself into the passenger's seat, slamming and locking the door. She didn't have to give the order, the woman was already turning the key and when the headlights flicked on they saw the teens climbing down the bed of the truck, sprinting to the sedan in front of them. As soon as the car doors slammed closed behind them, they were backing up, a three point turn that knocked over two of the crazies that were still trying to get at them through the window.

"Go. Go, go, go." Abby urged needlessly. She was shaking, wiping at the gunk on her face and rummaging through her bag to find the little tin she kept spare bullets in. She dropped her gun in the floor board once, cursing and finally getting the revolver open to pull out the spent shells. At least one fresh round ended up lost on the floor before she finally had her pistol reloaded and clutched tightly, resting against a fidgety thigh. Stupidly bright LED headlights flooded them and the road but she still wrenched around to make sure the other car was on their tail. The woman next to her was staring straight ahead at the road, her lips moving wordlessly. She was wearing a pair of scrubs and her dark hair was pulled into a no nonsense ponytail high on her head.

She didn't look over at Abby when she spoke, "What is – what's going on?" Her voice was quiet and low, her hands were shaking but she seemed pretty calm for a woman who'd just seen her shoot someone in the head.

"I have no fucking clue." Abby answered, swallowing hard over that hard knot in the back of her throat, trying to force down the acidic burn and breathing deep through her nose for a while.

"I just got off work and I pulled up and they were trapped up there already. I wanted to help but I just didn't know – there was a body on the ground. I think they were eating it." Rachel's voice pitched up and she cleared her throat. "They were eating a person. They were eating him. I thought… I don't know what I thought. Then, he got up. He got up, even though he was half eaten and he was one of them then. They started trying to get at the kids and I didn't know what to do."

"Rumor was that something's turning people into cannibals. I thought it was a load of bullshit," Abby said blankly, frantically wiping at her face because it felt sticky. It was supposed to be contagious, right? What if she'd caught it? There were splatters of it on her glasses, dark spots that made it hard to see the road. She pulled them off her face, rubbing them clean with the inside of her shirt.

But mister sedan man seemed to think it was only the bites, had sounded pretty damn sure about it and she hadn't been bitten, hadn't let them get close enough. She'd know more when she could talk to him, find out what he knew. "Name's Abby, by the way."

"Rachel," was the delayed response. "Um, it's nice to meet you I guess?"

Abby couldn't help but laugh at that. It started out as surprised, silent giggles that turned into loud, obnoxious guffaws that shook her to the core and made her sides ache.

Rachel didn't say anything after that and Abby kept laughing for a good long while.