The world has always been a dark place. Murder. War. Famine. Death. The world was so dark. But now it's hell. You've still got all of these, don't get me wrong, but you can add one more thing to that list. Undead. Compliments of America's insatiable desire to explore and play with things that should never be played with, a super virus was created. Well, it wasn't called that. Scientists gave it the dignified name of RS-19.

It spread quickly, consumed all major cities within the United States in two months. The US officially fell three months after RS-19 got out. Canada fell shortly after. Mexico before that. The rest of the world, well, no one really knows for sure. Some believe Europe , Asia, Africa, and Australia are still in one piece and will eventually come to the rescue. Most have given up that hope.

Emma Swan had given up on that hope. She sat slumped over on her horse as he paded through the forest. In tow behind them was a tall draft horse, who was carrying several weapons, ammunition, and a few necessities. The three walked through the forest in complete silent. It's damp and humid after the recent rain fall. Everything is lush and green, oblivious to the carnage in the cities and towns.

They walked for another few minutes before coming upon a road and she brought the horses to a halt. The road hadn't been touched in at least a year. It's cracked and crumbling from the long winter. An old drainage ditch ran along both sides of the road. Leaves cover both the road and the ditches and a few trees were trying to make their way up through the cracks in the blacktop.

"Almost there," she whispered before giving the horse a quick tap with her heels. He jumped the small drainage ditch and began trotting down the road. The draft wasn't far behind and matched their speed. The click clack of their hooves reverberated off the trees and deep into the forest. Emma bit her lip and looked about the forest for any signs of movement. Satisfied nothing was there, she turned her attention back to the road.

"Hard to believe it's been a year since I've been here," she told the horse, "I hope she's here."

The buckskin glanced back at her and gave her a hopeful whinny.

She patted his neck, "Once we get there, we can rest for a long time. There'll be lots of hay and grain for you and you can play with all the other horses."

Both horses brightened up at the mention of food. The draft picked up speed. She made the buckskin look like a midget as she trotted up beside them and settled into a steady rhythm next to them.

A large wooden sign was positioned just off the side of the road in front of them. It had once read: Welcome to Storybrooke, but now it had spray paint across it that read: Turn around, dead here. She stared at the sign as they passed it. On the back the words good luck had been painted in loopy cursive.

It seemed as if hours had passed by the time they could see the town. Emma pulled the horses to a stop on the main street, just before the first buildings. At least five zombies were sliding their way to her and the horses. She recognized a few of them. The others were unfamiliar and looked as if they had been put through a grinder.

"Great." She growled as she took out a machete, "I was hoping you all would be gone by now." She dismounted the horse and approached the first zombie. He had been one of the town's people. She remembered seeing him at Granny's Diner the day before she left. He had smiled at her and told her to drive safely, but she couldn't remember his name.

He reached for her and groaned.

Emma let out a soft sigh, "Rest in peace." One swing of the knife was all it took. His head rolled on the ground a couple feet before she stuck the machete deep into the back of his head, ending all motor function and any resemblance of life. She did the same to the five others.

The horses followed her down the street as she led them through the town. There was no living people. She saw a few zombies. No one she knew personally. They were all just citizens to her. People she had passed in town. People she was supposed to protect. But there was no protection from this kind of chaos.

They walked quite a while before coming upon a mansion. Emma stared at the closed door. "Regina," she whispered, before taking slow steps to the door. The horses went off into the un-manicured lawn and started snacking on the weeds and grasses. She hesitated as she came up the steps to the large door. Her eyes shut and she dreaded the moment she opened the door to nothing. Thick layers of dust covered everything.

Her eyes glided over all the photos, one or two of them were missing, having been taken, she presumed, by Regina and the rest of her family. Then her eyes fell upon a particular photo. It was nothing special, probably the reason why it had been left. It was a photo of Regina and Henry out at the barns with Henry's horse. Regina looked so proud of their son. But it wasn't the photo that had caught her eye. It was the lack of dust where gentle fingers had run across it. It was fresh. Someone was here, or at least had been here recently.

"Don't move." A voice grumbled from behind her.

Emma turned to see a dirty blonde woman standing in the doorway to the living room. She was a little shorter than her and looked very thin, even behind the thick clothing she wore. The woman was no one she recognized, but the handgun she did recognize. It was a Colt Special Combat Government that had been modified with a scope and an LED weapon light. The kind of gun a professional would carry.

"Who are you?" the woman snarled.

"Emma." She looked the woman over, noticing blood on her hands and arms, "I mean no harm. I'm just looking for someone."

"Well, they aren't here. There's no living humans in this town, hasn't been for some time."

Emma continued to look the woman over.

"Stop sizing me up! I swear to god I'll shoot you."

"I don't doubt it." Emma hesitated, "Where's that blood from?"

"None of your business."

"Okay, easy. If you're hurt, I know where a first aid kit is…were it should be anyway. I can help."

The woman narrowed her eyes.

"I mean no harm. This was my house-"

"I know. I recognize you from the photos."

"I don't care that you're here. You can stay for all I care. I'm just looking for my wife and son."

At that the woman softened, she lowered the gun slowly and stared at Emma for a long moment before clearing her throat, "Sorry, can't be too careful."

"Where's the blood from?"

"Moose. Shot it this morning."

"What's your name?"

"Fox."