Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.

A/N: This story is the prompt I filled from Round Three of the Criminal Minds Prompt Meme; the theme was Alternate Universe.

The prompt: Garcia, zombie apocalypse survivor

PG was following the signal that only showed up when she was close to the old federal building. She left the compound in central D.C. at dawn with the intention of easing her curiosity.

"There could be survivors," she told herself. But as far as she knew, there were hardly any survivors left beyond the lucky few that made it to the compound.

It took five hours to reach the building even though she was in the best truck available. The highways were jammed with empty cars and dead bodies. PG made a mental note to suggest that a crew should start clearing the roadways and taking anything worth keeping around.

Earlier in the week, she refashioned a GPS system that would pinpoint exactly where the signal originated from. She took a deep breath and headed into the old FBI building, always keeping an ear out for any signs of life or unlife. If she was lucky, which she usually was, then she would be able to find the signal and leave before nightfall.

The beeping of her device led her all the way to the fifth floor where the glass doors opening to the main area were covered with plywood. Scared but too curious, PG entered and looked around. She froze.

The loud sounds her device made got their attention but they didn't attack. And even as PG reached for her gun, the zombies just looked at her with what seemed like curiosity. She took aim at the one closest to her.

"They are really quite docile," a man's voice said from behind her. PG spun around and pointed it at the man's head. He looked at her through his thick glasses and smiled.

"Are you here about the signal?" the man asked.

"Yeah," PG answered as she lowered her gun. This wasn't the first person she met who kept zombies around. She was wary, but there was something about him that she trusted. If it turned out she could not trust him, she had no problem with killing him and his… pets.

"Okay, well let me feed them and we can talk." PG just realized the bucket in his hand filled with what looked like, and what she hoped was beef. She quietly observed how he placed a piece of meat on a desk or on the floor near each of the chained zombies.

"Who are they?" PG stepped closer in order to get a closer look at the zombies. It was pretty interesting considering the circumstances.

One male held a book in his hand and another was pacing in front of a turned over desk. The two females were looking out the windows and another male was staring right at her from an office on the upper level. She tried not to think about the dead bodies in another office at the top of the stairs.

"They were agents," the man answered. "We used to work together. When everything started, we just held up in here."

PG didn't say anything; her mind was in the past. She couldn't help but think about how she turned down the job offer to work for the FBI. How she convinced them to let her work on solo projects for the federal government. She wondered if she would have worked with these people.

"I'm Kevin," the man told her. He held his hand out and smiled. His bucket was gone and the agents were chomping away at their meat.

"I'm Penelope," PG answered kindly. They shook hands and she followed him down the hall to a room filled with computers and radio equipment.