A/N: Well hello children! Midnight Bubbles here! For any of those who've read my other stories, I am eternally sorry for not updating. I will get around to it. However, the latest season of the Walking Dead has inspired me to write this and so here it is! My last exams are almost over and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel so I've been more creative as of late. Hopefully in a few weeks I should have updates for my other stories! Yay! *Cheers* Hope you guys like, I don't know whether this story is worth continuing so based on the response I get, I'll update accordingly :) Thanks, and on to the story...

PS: The story is about an O.C, but hopefully not a super cliche one, and a series of events that could change the fate of the apocalypse (*cue dramatic music*). Read on and you shall see...

CHAPTER ONE

As much as I'd like to tell you that the zombie apocalypse was what turned me crazy, I'd be lying. If I'm being honest with myself, I've always been a tad insane. Just a little bit. The apocalypse just served to kind of push me a little further over the edge. But really, can you blame me? Corpses rising from the dead to feast on the living; it sounds like something out of a 'Goosebumps' novel. And here I was living it. Well, not really. 'Living' is a bit of a stretch; more like 'barely surviving'. But who was I to complain? Those poor bastards wandering around out there, searching for their next meal, without warmth, life, feeling, purpose. It was enough to send anyone to the loony bin these days.

"You know, you really should try to dress for your body shape," I advised, with a knowledgeable nod, "that style really doesn't suit you."

The woman looked at me blankly and said nothing.

"The whole mermaid style cocktail dress just makes your legs look waaay too long for your body. You should consider something a little more formfitting." I pointed over to a rack of dresses on the opposite side of the room. The woman didn't bother moving, just gave me that look again.

"Hey, don't blame me for wanting to help a sister out here. We gotta stick together, you and me." I paused. She said nothing. Same blank expression. "Wow, for a mannequin you sure do talk too much."

The humanoid plastic figure stood in front of me, its presence and lopsided wig strangely comforting despite the shuffling I could hear outside. Shuffling and moaning. Their noise was constant and though I tried my hardest to ignore them, their threat was something that barely left my mind. My inane chattering to the dummies that stood before me was all I could do to fill the silence and mask their noise outside the department store that had become my sanctuary. The store wasn't what you'd call 'zombie-proof' quite yet, but I'd done my best. The entrances and exits were boarded up and every day I ventured out of the shop to kill a few more of the damned creatures and reduce their numbers little by little. Being several levels up in a huge shopping mall helped as the zombies down below couldn't smell or hear me, and therefore had no inclination to make the climb up the stairs. Or figure out how to use an elevator. I was pretty proud of my logic, but now I was stuck without sunlight and a limited number of social options. My lack of vitamin D was the least of my problems right now, though. I was running out of food.

My army of mannequins stood in front of me, dressed in their finest formal wear, James Bond tuxedoes for the men, deadly high-heels for the ladies, and looking at me with that goddamn blank expression on each of their faces.

"Hey guys, don't look so glum," I announced to them all in a falsely cheery voice. I reclined in my la-z-boy further, "the zombies may have eaten my entire family, but at least I've got you, right?" Silence was my only reply. "Well, fuck. Don't all comfort me at once."

Now, I know what you're thinking. A crazy lady who talks to mannequins, there's no way she could survive the apocalypse for long. Well, unknown reader of my story, I beg to differ. What's that saying again? Oh yeah – "The meek will inherit the earth." Or something like that. For me, meek equaled survival.

The department store was quite large, plenty of space to do whatever I wanted, though I usually just stuck with the area behind the counters. There was something about having those little mini walls around me, keeping me in the shadows and shielding me from the large expanse of mostly empty space around me, that felt like extra defense. I'd been there for over a month (a very long, monotonous month), combing through the shit I found, making piles of stuff I thought could be useful and piles of stuff that held no value whatsoever. The latter was significantly larger than the former. When the proverbial shit hit the fan, most people spent their last remaining hours stocking up on the essentials; food and weapons. Not many people fled to the department store thinking "Gosh, I need me some new clothes for this zombie apocalypse we're having. Wouldn't want to be caught DEAD in these clothes." Pun definitely intended. Lucky for me, I was a stupid son of a bitch and drove to work in my time of panic, thinking I'd try and salvage some of the extra cash I'd hidden there for safe keeping. Before I'd gotten the chance to leave this godforsaken building, the zombies had surrounded me and my isolation and mental decay into total insanity had begun. First, the television had stopped airing. That was my first sign that this was indeed the end of the world. Then, after hearing vicious and increasingly disturbing reports on the radio, that cut out too. External contact was at zero, nada, nothing. I could only assume that what I was experiencing in my isolated piece of the world was nothing compared to what was out there. And I was terrified.

The low level of light coming from the high set windows indicated that it was time to think about dinner. This used to be my favourite part of the day; food in all its delicious glory. But I wasn't currently very enthusiastic about it anymore. I wandered over to the table that held my food supply. Three cans of beans, a shit load of dog food I hadn't been desperate enough to try yet and a half empty box of chocolate that I'd found stashed in an employee's locker. So far, I'd been impressed with my own self-control about the sugary sweets – I hadn't expected them to last this long. To reward my efforts of self-control, I plucked one out of the box, ripped open the packet and promptly chomped down on the caramelly-chocolate goodness. Mmm. Still tasted just as good as when the world had been normal. I doubted there was much that could make chocolate EVER taste bad.

As I savoured my dinner, I looked over the other food I had left. Not much. This wasn't going to last long. I'd been thinking about making a move out of the store for a while now- I'd pretty much gotten all I could from the mall, there was nothing left here for me and I'd probably die here (whether from starvation, zombies or loneliness, who knew?) if I didn't move on to somewhere with more resources. I didn't really have any family outside of this place, so I was left with only one motivation; basic human survival instinct.

"One more night," I concluded. "One more night and I'm outta here." My mannequin army said nothing. "Sorry guys, it's been good while it's lasted. I don't mean to eat and run, really. But our time has come to an end. It's not you, I swear. Blame the apocalypse." I turned away from their accusing eyes and started the preparations. Tomorrow was going to be a big day.

That night, in my big, comfy, display bed, I could hardly sleep. I'd gotten used to the occasional growl or distant shattering glass in my time at the store, but that wasn't what kept me up. Knowing I was about to leave my sanctuary, my safety, my unlikely home, kept my brain running all night, coming up with nasty scenarios. As the sky outside the high window turned from midnight blue to a hazy pink hue, I decided it was time to make my move.

My backpack was packed and on my back. My wheeled suitcase was ready. My knife was in hand.

"Gina, Martha, Ferdinand, you crazy goose," I nodded at them each in turn, "Fred, George, Carlos. You've stuck with me for a while now. May the force be with you. May the odds be ever in your favour. See ya."

My goodbye felt both silly and inadequate at the same time. Inanimate objects they may be, but they'd been my only company for over a month now and their sentimental value had grown on me. I was sad to leave them. Alas, I gave them all well-earned high-fives as I made my way towards the small wooden doggy-door type opening I'd constructed haphazardly. Making sure the zombies were well out of ear – or nose – shot, I squirmed out and pulled my bags with me. This was it.

I knew I had to get as far as I could in order to find safety before my limited hours of daylight ended, but I took a good hour just getting OUT of the store. Zombies were left, right and centre. They looked extra hungry (not that I wanted to stay and find out if that was true), so I took my time. My knife stayed clean until I got out of the store, it was too risky to chance causing a ruckus when noise echoes so much in such a large, resounding space. As soon as I exited the mall, I wished I hadn't.

"Don't turn around and run as fast as you can," a low voice commanded, deep undertones of authority and menace laced underneath.

Stupid, idiotic, masochistic me had to turn around. "Wha-" I started but I never finished. A huge horde of zombies, dozens of them, were dragging their limp carcasses towards me down the street. Their hollow, glazed eyes stared unseeingly at me with trained focus and I could feel my heart beat faster as though it knew there was only a limited time to do so. Their snarling mouths opened and closed like fish, itching to close around my flesh and eat me limb from limb. A whimper escaped my mouth as I stood rooted to the spot. I'd never seen so many of them before. Not like this, in the open air, in daylight. Without a shred of knowledge how to deal with them.

"I said, run!" A hand snagged my arm and yanked me stumbling backwards. I turned properly and focused on regaining my footing as the figure in front of me pulled me at a sprint.

I couldn't help it. I screamed like the frightened, helpless little girl I was. I was only twenty-two for God's sake. Brevity and strength don't just happen overnight.

"Shut the fuck up!" The figure in front of me yelled back to me. They wore a long, trailing dark cloak that shielded them from my view, but at that moment I didn't really care. They were alive. I was alive. For now. The zombies were catching up to us and we ran like bats out of hell; we weren't fast enough. The urban streets of Atlanta were crawling with zombies in various states of decay and as we passed alleys and buildings, they all came out of hiding to join the party. The horde grew larger and larger as we ran, turning from a few dozen to over a hundred in but a few minutes. My breathing blew out of me in strangled puffs as my lungs struggled to pull back in the air necessary to keep me going. The person in front of me seemed to have an endless supply of energy as they ran, not bothering to wait for me to catch up. Just as I began to fall behind and lose hope of ever seeing another sunrise, the person turned a corner into an alley and disappeared from view. I almost careened straight past the opening, but managed to skid to a halt and hurry down after them just in time. The alley was empty, dank and dark. It smelled like rotting flesh.

"Get the fuck up here!" A voice thick with urgency and frustration called to me. I looked up with sharp relief as a scarred hand popped down. I grasped it as tightly as I could and used the jagged bricks to help clamber up the wall of the alley and onto a high, grated platform.

My lungs felt like they would give out and my heart was running faster than my legs had been moments before. I badly wanted to say something, anything really, but my body wouldn't allow it, so I sat back against the railing and studied my new companion.

Huddled protectively in his cloak, an old man sat before me, his azure eyes watching me closely with hidden depths that spoke of secrets and unknown motives. His crinkled face was stony and without emotion. For such an old man, he was barely even puffing after such a sprint, compared to my heaving, which I would have found embarrassing if not for the hundreds of undead monsters milling around below, scrambling to reach us.

"Who are you?" I asked, once I had regained my breath. "I mean, thanks. But seriously, who are you?"

The stranger withdrew his hood and sat down heavily, his breath whooshing out of him. "Fucking zombies." Man, this guy had quite the potty mouth. "Adrenaline's wearing off… shit… Come here."

I hesitated, my mind warring with the desire to be smart about strangers and the curiosity and want to help this old man, whoever he was. "For fucks sake, come here!" I jumped and edged as close as I dared. "Th' name's Wal, kiddo." He gave a racking cough that made me jump all over again. The cough turned into a laugh as he looked me up and down. "Jesus, jus' a little rabbit aren't ya?"

I gave him a questioning look and tried to think of a way to respond. Before my sluggish, chewed up mush of a mind could think of anything, he continued. "I got a job for you. You're not exactly the kinda person I had in mind, but you'll have to do."

"Listen, sir-"
"Sir! Ha!" Wal gave a bark of laughter that sent the zombies below into another frenzy at the sound. I glanced down at them warily. "I haven't been called 'sir' in a while."

"Sir," I soldiered on, despite his odd behaviour, "We have to get out of here."

"Yeah, yeah…" Wal pushed himself up and started fumbling around in the satchel at his side. As he did so, his trailing black cloak fell back and revealed the gaping wound at his side. The edges of it were tinged in a sickly green hue as it leaked pus steadily. Blood stained the edges of his shirt and a bandage was falling off as I watched.

"Holy shit," I squeaked. "You-you're-"

"Oh this? Nothin' but a flesh wound," he grunted, head bent low as he continued to search his bag.

"Is it a- are you- did they-" I stumbled to voice the question that was burning into my mind.

"Spit it out, little rabbit," he mumbled.

"Are you one of them?" I asked in a hushed voice.

Another sharp bark of bleak laughter. "No, rabbit. Not yet, anyway. Best I get a hurry on though, wouldn't wantcha t' be caught with me turning on ya, huh?"

"Uh-"

"Aha! Found it, the little shit." With a flourish that defied his mortally wounded state, he withdrew a small vial. "This," he said in a hushed whisper, almost reverently. His eyes stared feverishly at the dark vial, wide and unblinking. "This is th' most important thing in your life from now on, got it?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked dumbly. This was happening too fast. The old man was obviously insane from the blood loss. "We need to get you a bandage or something."

Wal struggled to sit up further, which only served to aggravate his wound as blood flowed out from it in a steady stream, dripping through the grate and down to the alley below. The zombies grunted and opened their mouths towards us, greedily lapping up the dark liquid as it fell. I was going to throw up. Wal let out a sharp cry of pain and fell back with a thump. I jumped forward and awkwardly tried to help, but there wasn't much I could do.

"Enough," Wal swatted my hands away and remained slumped, having given up on sitting up. His face held defeat and immense exhaustion. "You must take this to th' CDC," he pressed the small vial into my hand, "Tell 'em this is th' answer. Th' cure." His words didn't really sink in for me. The situation was quickly deteriorating and my mind was switching between freaking out over the zombies below and the dying man in front of me. "You're th' only one standin' between those things," his eyes flicked to the restless creatures below us, "and the rest of our kind… what's left of us…"

The gravity of his words was starting to break through the barrier of absolute fear in my mind. The vial in my hand, a cure? It wasn't possible, there was no way. I'd barely processed the fact that there was a disease in the first place. This was big. Not just big. Huge. Was it really possible that this man had given it to me, of all people, to transport this to the CDC? "There's no way," I blurted. "This is a cure?"

The old man rolled his eyes. On his deathbed, and he still had the energy to show me how stupid I was. "Fuck, jus' take it to th' CDC, that's all I'm askin', rabbit…" His voice grew slow and quiet. "Don't fuck it up." His eyelids drooped and his shoulder slumped further as I watched, horrified.

"No! No, no no…" I fluttered my hands over him, wanting to do something, but not knowing what. "You don't get it, I don't know even how to defend myself, I'm the last person you want the fate of humanity to rely on. Seriously. Wake up. You've gotta do it." My frantic words were lost on Wal as he slowly slipped away from consciousness and into death's firm grasp. The flow of blood from the open and festering wound at his side began to ebb, and soon, the blood was barely dripping out, signifying that the old man's heart had stopped pumping. Tears blurred my vision as I opened up my clenched hand and stared at the dark vial. The liquid inside appeared to be red, was it blood? Small bubbles of air floated to the surface, resting underneath the tightly corked top. This tiny, seemingly insignificant thing held so much potential and it was in the palm of my hand. The bloodthirsty zombies below me feverishly gnashing their jaws towards me reminded me that I would be lucky if I made it out of this alley alive, let alone made it to the CDC alive. Fuck my life.

A/N: I'll keep it short, but I hope you guys liked it! I'm excited about this one :) Like I said before, based on the response I get for this first chapter, I'll update accordingly so let me know if you think I should continue! (Or if it's super shit and should die in a hole) Much appreciated. MB.