Pestilence – a contagious or infectious epidemic disease that is virulent and devastating.

Introduction

When news first broke that the world was going to shit, where were you? What were you doing? Who were you with? What were the first thoughts to cross your mind? Did you reach for your loved ones? Did you pack up and hit the road? Did you call your local news stations, begging for it to be a hoax?

I remember exactly where I was the day the outbreak hit my small town. I remember exactly what I was doing. I remember exactly who I was with and the first thoughts to cross my mind. I remember exactly what I had planned, because I didn't get a chance to think. I didn't get a chance to react before my world, my own, little world, was among the first to come crashing down.

It was a cool night, the night it all fell apart. I remember tucking my daughter, Mackenzie in for the night, her favorite teddy bear clutched loosely in her arms as she drifted into a peaceful slumber. I remember singing her favorite song to her, as her little, bright blue eyes slowly closed, her long, amber hair falling around her in waves of soft satin. I remember kissing the top of her head before turning off the lights.

I remember walking down the hallway to warn my son that he had five minutes left before lights out. He never listened, what 10 year old boy did? He would be up well into the night, reading his comics like any boy his age would. I remember letting our old collie, Bes, out into the back yard for one last time before locking the door.

And I remember shooting my husband in the face not even an hour later.

I was in the yard with Bes when a bone chilling scream tore from the upstairs bedroom. I ran through the door faster than ever, our dog at my heels as I stumbled up the stairs, convinced my son had just heard a creak or a crack. What I saw, will haunt me the rest of my life.

There, in the middle of his bedroom, was his father, crouched over his body, moans escaping his lips as he bit into the flesh of our eldest child's throat. I felt my insides tighten with pure instinct. I grabbed the baseball bat that sat by the door as it did for the last three years. I swung with all my strength, beating the man I swore to love and cherish, in sickness and in health, from our son's limp, bloody body.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I screamed, my voice hitting that certain note that only a mother in despair could manage.

He turned on me, his eyes red, his jaw flapping. Then I saw it. The bite. His throat was torn, his shirt even more so. His arm was hanging limply at his side. He came at me, his movements slow and weak.

I don't know where the instinct came from. Maybe it was primitive. The natural will to survive. Before I could comprehend what I had just witnessed, I found myself digging in the back of our closet, reaching for the old shotgun my father had given us when we first got married – a gesture I have long since learned to appreciate. I tore it free from its post, my hands blindly searching for the bullets we kept on the very top shelf of our closet, far out of the way of the children.

Once locked and loaded, I took a deep breath. I could hear him scratching at the door. I braced myself against the dresser, before pulling the door open, my hands shaking just slightly.

I aimed. I pulled the trigger.

There in the doorway of our master bedroom, I shot my husband in the face.

"Katie! Run!" Scottie screamed, pulling my daughter after him as he aimed his dull blade into the head of the Walker closest to him. Mackenzie flinched and tried to run towards me, but Scottie's grip on her was stronger than her will to make a break for it.

Over the months that had passed since we left our home and hit the road, a small group of us had banded together, keeping each other alive. Even if just barely. Scottie was our unspoken leader, a strong, determined man with the skills it took to survive in the wild. Scottie proved to be more than just a good hunter in that time – he proved that he had more heart and more determination to survive than most.

I was ducking and dodging my way over to my companions, my arm bloody from the fight with the Walkers. I hadn't been bitten – a misplaced knife managed to slice me from shoulder to elbow. Grace, a young female we recently met, was at my back, her blade slashing and plunging into the heads of the Walkers nearest us.

"Grace, go far," I hissed as I broke away from her, my good hand reaching for a nearby branch. I pulled myself up like I had so many times before, balancing carelessly on the branches as I leapt from tree to tree until I was hovering over my daughter.

I took out my slingshot, along with the hard, metal balls we had made for this very purpose. Taking careful aim, I took down the Walkers, one at a time, until there was nothing but silence and the beating of six frantic hearts.

Grace was closer to my age than anyone else. A young, carefree woman with golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Her sister, Angel, was the exact opposite. Her dark eyes shown with hate as she stepped over the dead, her expression grim, her stance guarded.

Then there was Victor, a thick, violent man whose hate for the Walkers was greater than anyone else's. He had lost his wife, son, and daughter in the early days of the outbreak. We couldn't blame him for harboring so much hate, but at times, that hate could pour over and cause more chaos than anything else.

"All clear!" I hissed loudly as I carefully leaped from my perch, landing silently beside Scottie, who was nursing what looked like a fractured wrist. Kenzie was shaking like a leaf beside him. Though she was six now, she was still too young to fully grasp what was going on. All she knew was that things were not how they were when she was young.

"We're getting close," Scottie observed, his eyes scanning the location. "We should break the prison by tonight if we move quickly."

"We need to take a break," Grace said softly, her eyes scanning my arm. "We have to tend to our wounds and count our losses before we go any farther."

Her statement was true. In the last two weeks, we had lost more than half of our group, along with them, most of our supplies. We choose to travel light, carrying only what we truly had to, but when we lost our doctor in the fight, we also lost with him, all of our medical supplies, including the bandages that would have come in handy right then.

"You're losing too much blood," Scottie noticed, his hand coming up to brush away the stray dirt that was settling in my wound.

"I'm sorry about that," Grace said softly.

"No harm, no foul," I said gently, a smile playing on my lips. "I've seen far worse."

"If an infection sets in…" Scottie said tensely.

"If it does, then you're putting me down, end of story," I shrugged. "Let's keep moving. I'd love for nothing more than a break from the never ending running and worrying for a change."

"What even makes you so sure they'll let us in? I mean, I'm sure I could take down the scruffy looking one, but the one with the crossbow? He's no match for any of us," Scottie said with a shake of his head.

"I just have this feeling," I said with a shrug. "Besides, they're human. I'd rather take my chances with humans, you know?"

"C'mon," Angel said darkly. "Less chatter, more walking."

"Always a rush with you, huh Ang?" Scottie joked.

"She's right," Victor said tiredly. "The faster we move, the more likely we can sleep behind stone walls for once."

"Let's go," I nodded. I picked Mackenzie up, despite the pain in my arm, and carried her carefully on my back like I had been for so long now. "Maybe tonight we can sleep with only one eye open."

Everyone agreed with that. It had been a long time since any of us got any real sleep. Same went for food. We'd been living off wild berries and roots for almost a year and none of us were strong enough to put up with much more. Scottie had a nagging cough that had us all worried, Grace looked like a bag of bones, and poor Mackenzie was barely able to stand for more than a few minutes, much less run or hide.

We kept moving until we cleared the trees. That was when we realized we hadn't scouted the area well enough. From where we stood at the tree line, we had a good quarter mile from the prison. In between us and the safety of the fence, was a mass of Walkers.

"Retreat," Scottie hissed, changing his course quickly. We all followed until we were tucked in a small cluster of trees.

"We need a plan," Victor said urgently.

"We're never going to clear them out," Grace sighed with defeat.

"No, but we can distract them," Angel said quickly. "Me and Kate are fast. If we move fast enough, we might be able to catch the attention of the people inside. Maybe, just maybe, we can make a break for it."

"And if they shoot first, ask questions later?" I asked.

"Then we'll be dead. We can only hope they'll aim for the head," she said sourly.

"I'm game," I nodded. It was a better plan than anything the rest of us could come up with.

"Be careful," Scottie nodded as he took Mackenzie from me. "Give the signal and we'll come fast."

"Good shit," I nodded. "If I…If I don't make it, take care of my daughter, alright?"

"Absolutely," he said with a tight smile. I nodded my thanks before kissing my daughter on the top of her head.

"I love you, Mackenzie," I said softly.

"You too, mommy," she whispered. I noticed how tired her eyes looked. She was exhausted. We all were.

Without further discussion, Angel and I made a break for the prison, blades drawn. It didn't take long for us to realize our one fatal error. We never discussed how we'd stick together. We were quickly broken apart, each ending up without the other to watch her back. It was too late. Too late to change course and even worse, too late to turn back.

A/n - I decided it was about time for a new TWD ficlet, so let's see how this one goes. ;) Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated and I'd love to hear back from the readers. Love it? Hate it? Want to tear it apart? Any and all feedback is welcomed.