Hey guys! It's been years since I've written anything for this site, but I've recently felt the call. I'm a huge fan of The Walking Dead TV series (including all things zombie), and felt the need to arrange some of my thoughts into a story within the Walking Dead universe. I'd like to share my story with you all, and hopefully you enjoy it. It's been great getting back into the writing scene and getting this much out already. Let me know what you think, and I hope to have more soon.


Laura grimaced and subtly shifted to the right in her seat a few inches, as the man sitting directly to her left hacked into the hand that was loosely cupped over his mouth for what seemed like the thousandth time. He noisily blew his nose into a wadded and already heavily used tissue he produced from his jacket pocket, before shoving it back in and turning to look at Laura with an apologetic look on his blotchy face.

"This cold is a killer!" he said nasally and with a faint smile. Laura forced a polite smile then hastily shifted one seat over as soon as the man turned away to talk with the woman on the other side of him. His wife or girlfriend, maybe. She didn't seem as perturbed by his constant spewing of mucous and other bodily disruptions as Laura and a few other people nearby did, evidenced by shared looks of distaste and annoyance. Laura glanced at the time on her cell phone for what seemed like the tenth time in the past five minutes and sighed in frustration, brushing a lock of honey blonde hair out of her eyes. She wrapped her dove grey cardigan tighter around her, and slid down in her seat slightly to get more comfortable.

Laura was sitting in the airport near downtown Atlanta waiting for her connecting flight home to DC to start boarding. The problem was that she had been waiting for her plane to board now for over almost three hours. Multiple delays had been announced by the bored looking airline employee at the counter ever since boarding was normally supposed to begin. As the delays increased, so did the activity near the main counter. Various airline employees hurried to and from the counter, turning the expression of the initial employee from boredom to tense concentration. Laura barely took notice of this, however. A migraine had been steadily growing behind her right eye as the wait progressed, and she had been trying to keep her mood relaxed and tension level low. So much for that actually happening, though.

"I should've just driven," she muttered to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose tightly with her thumb and forefinger. A woman across the room started coughing wetly into the crook of her arm, causing Laura to again wrinkle her nose in disgust. One thing she had taken notice of during her wait were the number of people who seemed to be suffering from late spring allergies or warm weather colds. Not too unusual for April. Taking a quick assessment, she easily counted fifteen out of the roughly fifty people waiting for the same flight, with some sort of visible symptom: coughing, sneezing, or nose blowing.

The local news back in Houston had had some "on the hour" reports about this rash of colds, allergies, whatever you wanted to call it. They had recommended regular hand washing and to always cover your mouth when coughing and sneezing. The usual precautions one would hear from your mother every day. There had been a few stories from some overzealous reporters about how the influx of patients to hospitals in neighbouring states were "highly unusual" among other things. But Laura never paid those kinds of stories much credit. They were just done to cause unnecessary hype and have everyone and their third cousin freaking out over every little sniffle.

Laura was just glad she wasn't prone to allergies and rarely got sick. She had gone down to Houston for her friend's wedding, and it would have been a miserable trip, had she been sick. A couple of the guests had complained of their allergies acting up and at least one claimed he suspected he was coming down with "something."

Thinking about the wedding made her check her phone again. Not for the time, but to see if she had gotten any calls or texts. She had called her fiancé, Jack, as soon as she landed in Atlanta nearly six hours ago, but had yet to hear from him. Laura didn't think too much of it, but couldn't help being annoyed. Jack had stayed behind in DC instead of going with her to Houston because he was an attorney and had a big trial to prepare for. She had tried to convince him that he could get some work done on the plane and once there, telling him that she didn't want to go stag to a friend's wedding, whom she had told so much about Jack. But he wouldn't budge, complaining too that he had a sore throat and didn't want to risk aggravating his health by traveling, especially right before such a big trial. Laura twisted her engagement ring, a large two carat solitaire, around on her finger distractedly as she thought about Jack and wished again he were there with her. At least it would've made this wait go by a little faster.

"Attention customers of Flight 96 to Washington DC," came the sudden voice of the formerly-bored-now-concerned looking airline employee at the main desk. Everyone swiveled their heads towards the source of the sound, expectant and hopeful looks on most faces. Laura readjusted herself for a better view of the employee, and her heart sank when she saw the look on the woman's face. This wasn't going to the good news everyone was waiting for. "I regret to inform you that the flight has been cancelled due to unforeseen circumstances. We apologize for any and all inconveniences. If you would form a line at the counter, we will hand out hotel vouchers-" The rest of what she was saying was lost as there was a loud collective groan from the crowd.

"You have GOT to be shitting me," Laura said fiercely as she roughly began collecting her purse and suitcase. Luckily she had all of her belongings in a carry-on case, since her trip had only been for two days and she didn't have much with her. She figured it should be enough for one more day or so away from home. Laura glanced at the line forming now in front of various airline employees, who looked like they were having a hell of a time trying to calm people down, and shook her head curtly, deciding she didn't want to try and brave the line and other angry people. She turned on her heel, away from the line, and started walking towards the main exit, flipping her phone open in the process. Laura expertly dialed Jack's number and put the phone to her ear. It rang a few times with no success. Again her call went to his voicemail.

"Hey babe, just wanted to let you know that the airline cancelled my flight. It's late so I'm going to find a hotel and probably rent a car in the morning. I'm not dealing with these flights anymore. But anyway, I hope you're doing ok. Don't work too hard! I love you, and I'll see you soon." Laura hung up and slipped the phone into her back jeans pocket as she briskly walked down the packed main hallway, wishing desperately she could hear Jack's voice. As she walked fast, trying to avoid people, she couldn't help but overhear a couple of employees talking in worried tones. What she heard made her furrow her eyebrows together in concern, but she still didn't slow, determined to get the hell out of the airport as fast as possible.

"I heard that they just found the guy slumped over the main controls; his copilot right next to him, too. No way that flight was going anywhere after that."


"Thanks again," Laura said, speaking to the cab driver through the passenger side window before he drove away. She grabbed the handle of her carry-on case, readjusted her purse on her shoulder, and started towards the hotel front door behind her. By the time she had managed to hail a taxi at the airport entrance and suffer through an agonizingly long and traffic filled drive into downtown Atlanta, which was only ten miles from the airport, the sun had dipped below the horizon and her cell phone told her it was just after eight o'clock. The grumbling in her stomach reminded her that she hadn't had anything to eat since her flight from Houston nearly eight hours ago now.

Laura brushed past a few people coming out of the hotel, and quickly thanked the man who stopped to hold the door for her. She took a moment to adjust to her surrounding and seek out the main desk, before making a beeline straight for it. The hotel she had requested her taxi take her to was rated a modest three stars on the site she had scoured while waiting for said taxi to arrive. It boasted of the typical hotel amenities: high speed internet and a warm continental breakfast. But all she was really concerned about was a warm bed and hot shower. She didn't plan to stay longer than a couple hours of sleep, and only needed a place to crash that was close to a car rental site. This one happened to be right down the block from one, and so she had called ahead once in her taxi and made the reservation.

"Hi there, checking in?" a young woman who stood behind the desk asked brightly in a thick Southern accent as Laura approached. The woman's eyes were a bit too wide and her smile a bit too big, making her pleasant tone seem disingenuous. Her name tag read "Brittany." Laura gave a flat smile.

"Yes, Laura Dern? I called not too long ago, actually," she replied, releasing her suitcase handle and placing her purse on the counter between her and the smiling woman. Brittany clattered away on the computer before her. Her long, painted red nails creating a cacophony of sound as she searched the hotel's database for Laura's reservation.

"Ah, here we are, Ms. Dern! Have you all set up in room 205. Here are your keys, and I hope you have a wonderful stay!" Brittany drawled. Laura determined Brittany seemed a bit too manic for her migraine-addled brain to handle, and hastily grabbed the keys off the counter along with the rest of her things. She muttered a quick thank you and headed straight for her room.

Room 205 was only one flight of stairs up from the lobby and around the corner. It was also blessedly cool and dim. A welcome reprieve from the uncomfortably warm Georgian weather outside and bright hotel lobby lights. Laura sighed with relief and locking the door behind her, she dropped her belongings onto one of the two queen sized beds in the room. Aside from the beds, there was a simple nightstand between them with a lamp and a short dresser before them with a TV resting on top.

Laura clicked on the TV for some background noise as she began removing her clothes, ready for a scalding hot shower. The TV defaulted to the news, where a worried reporter was speaking to a man sitting across the desk from him and wearing a white lab coat. As the camera focused in on the lab coat clad man, the banner that appeared below his face read "Dr. Bradson, CDC - Atlanta." Another stationary banner at the bottom of the screen simply read: "Epidemic in the US?"

"Right, John," Dr. Bradson was saying, speaking to the reporter. "We've received some alarming results from our recent testing and-"

"Nope," Laura said, clicking away from the News channel until she found some light-hearted romantic comedy she couldn't quite remember the name of. She wanted to relax; she didn't want to hear about the latest tragic current event. Satisfied with her channel choice, Laura walked into the bathroom and started the shower, testing the water with her hand until she was satisfied with that as well. She finished removing her clothing, dropping her jeans to the floor around her feet. Stepping out of them, she tossed her bra followed by her underwear down to the floor as well and pulled the clear shower curtain back. The hot water hit her body as she stepped in, and she sighed with relief. Laura closed her eyes as she dipped her head below the stream of water, and smoothed her long hair with both hands as the water turned it from a light honey colour to a deep amber on contact. Instantly her migraine seemed distant as the water beat a rhythmic pattern against her upturned face, the hot water soothing her internal aches and pains.

Laura finished her shower at a leisurely pace and almost reluctantly shut off the water. She wrapped a bright white hotel towel around herself and stepped out into the steamy bathroom towards the mirror mounted above the sink. Her green eyes stared back at her when she wiped a hand down the glass to clear away the condensation caused by the shower. They looked tired and worn. Too old to be the eyes of a 25 year old. But then again she didn't feel 25, so perhaps their perceived age made sense. As her mind began to reminisce on memories that might have been best to forget long ago, her migraine returned with a sudden, fierce vengeance. Laura gave a small cry at the sudden pain that flared up behind her right eye, and shut the bathroom light off quickly. The darkness in the bathroom helped a little, especially now that the only light in her hotel room emanated from the small nightstand lamp and TV.

With the migraine back, Laura quickly brushed out her hair and squeezed the water out of it one more time before twisting it into a long braid that hung over her shoulder nearly to her breast. She rummaged through her carry-on until she found what she was looking for: an oversized Boston Redsox t-shirt that belonged to her fiancé. Smiling faintly at the thought of Jack, she quickly donned it along with a pair of clean cotton underwear she pulled from the bag. Her phone and its charger were the last things she grabbed before flopping down on the second bed across the room. After plugging in the charger in an outlet behind the nightstand, Laura flipped open her phone.

No messages and no texts. The time read 9:03 pm.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Laura texted Jack, her fingers deftly moving across the on-screen keyboard of her phone. Her eyebrows were furrowed together as she hit send on the message, and watched until it was completely sent. She was worried now. It had been a day since she had last heard from Jack; the night before, in fact. She had spoken to him briefly on the phone before going to bed in Houston. His voice had been hoarse and scratchy from what he claimed to now be a full-blown cold.

"See, you should've come with me so I could take care of you," Laura had said the night before as she lay in bed at her Texan hotel, the phone cradled against her ear with her right shoulder. Jack had chuckled in response, then fell into a fit of coughing.

"I just need you home with me," he said, his voice low. She could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. "I can think of a few things you could do that would make me all better." Laura smiled coyly at his words and unconsciously twisted a strand of hair around her finger as her mind went to where Jack was implying. She imagined how he probably looked right then. Short, black hair tousled and sticking up in places from him running his fingers through it as he thought. Dark blue eyes deepening in colour and becoming endless pools she often found herself lost in as they made love.

"I'll be home soon, I promise," she'd said softly, her heart aching that she couldn't be with him right that second. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Laura started and turned to the nightstand in Atlanta after a few minutes lost in thought and plugged her phone in to charge overnight. She checked one more time for any messages. Not seeing any still, Laura tried to push the worry from her mind and told herself that he must have been exceptionally busy today. The trial was tomorrow morning, and he probably spent the day with a buddy of his preparing the case. Telling herself to be reassured, she used the remote to set the TV on mute and turned off the nightstand lamp. Laura pulled the covers up over her body and sighed in contentment as her body sank into the mattress, her migraine easing just a bit.

As Laura drifted to sleep, the romantic comedy that had been playing silently on the TV disappeared and was instantaneously replaced by bands of different colours behind the simple, block-printed words "Emergency Broadcast System." A banner began running at the bottom of the screen. Words such as "evacuation" and "epidemic" scrolling quickly by. But Laura was ignorant to all of this, lost in sleep and unaware of anything besides her dreams.

Outside a single scream pierced the night.