DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction. I do not own The Walking Dead.

Apparently, it started off as a small news story about a single, isolated case of a mutated strain of rabies in a human. Barely any attention was drawn to it as there were more pressing stories in the media to worry about. Stock markets rising and falling; the latest celebrity scandal and sports teams rising to victory. Not many people even remember the initial report. I certainly didn't. To me, it was like it all happened at once.

Seven months after my father's passing, I had finally built up the courage to visit the now empty house. It was a modest home. Working in the county sheriff's department had allowed my parents to earn enough money to put down roots in Georgia. A year after they married and moved in, I came along and by the time I was in first grade, my mom had retrained as a teacher. My only memories of her were from the framed photos around the house and discoloured home movies. I'd watched them so much I could practically remember them down to the pixel. My favourite being her singing 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow' to me at my 6th birthday. Four months before she died. My six-year-old self couldn't take my eyes off of her. The framing was too tight and the lighting was less than perfect but she couldn't have been more beautiful. Her voice effortlessly hitting all the notes and rendering everyone else silent as she sang directly to me. She didn't look sick at all. When I was younger and feeling lonely I would watch and rewatch the video – insisting we kept the VCR long after VCRs were rendered a thing of the past. After she died everything changed. My step-sister from my mom's first marriage stopped coming over for dinners, then stopped coming over for Christmas's, then birthday's and then all together. By the time I was off to college I hadn't seen Melissa in over 3 years. Growing up it was just me and my Dad. He never remarried after Mom, insisting that she was his one and only true love.

The house was full of our memories together and I couldn't face sorting my Pa's things alone, so I called his old partner to help. Scott Parkinson was a no-nonsense man. At almost 55 years old, his 6ft stature and broad shoulders meant he looked intimidating to everyone but I knew deep down he was as gentle and loving as my dad. They had gone through the police ranks together and both shaped me into the woman I was today. Sorting out the house looked to be a four-day job so we both stayed there each night to get an early start the following morning. The third day was when It all changed.

I could tell something was wrong when Scott yelled for me to come downstairs as I was boxing up my Dad's clothes to donate. As soon as I entered the room I could see the words 'breaking news' in bold red letters across the TV screen. Clips of the infected were shown on the news with the simple message playing over the top: Evacuate. In a blur, I was packing up my clothes and getting ready to head to Atlanta. From what I had heard on the announcement there was some sort of safety zone in the city with limited places. I grabbed the largest backpack I could find and stuffed it full of clothes and a few small toiletries. I changed into some blue ripped skinny jeans and a black vest then tied my red flannel shirt around my waist and put my hair into a pony tail. I could hear Scott hurrying me from downstairs, so I laced up my hiking boots and quickly walked to my father's room. I didn't have time to stand in the doorway, hesitant to go in, as I had done the past two days. I bee-lined straight for his closet and pulled out his thick, black hunting jacket. It still smelt like him. With no time to get emotional, I walked over to his bedside dresser and opened the top drawer to reveal a small gun safe. After all his years in law enforcement he couldn't sleep without his gun right next to him. I wasn't too sure whether I should take it or not but based on the videos playing on the TV it seemed necessary. I took everything there: two Smith & Wesson guns, enough rounds to last a couple of weeks, a holster and a silencer. The last thing I took from his room was the photo of mom, dad and I taken on my 6thbirthday which sat atop the dresser. I grabbed my bag and ran down the stairs to meet Scott.

He had filled the back of his truck with some camping equipment, a small first aid kit, his belongings and seemingly all the food in the house. I followed him to the truck, switching off all the lights as I went.

"Ready?" Scott said in a gruff voice. I nodded, too choked up at the thought of leaving the house I grew up in to speak. He sat down in the driver's side as I locked the door and followed him into the truck. I kept staring at the house for as long as I could see it as we headed towards Atlanta.

I don't know how long it was that we were driving for until we hit traffic. It was completely unmoving and lots of people were outside of their vehicles talking to one another and speculating at what was causing all these delays. Scott stepped out of the truck and asked around at what was happening. I rolled down the windows to hear what was going on.

"Sherriff!" Scott exclaimed, causing me to look up. A man in a blue shirt with a small badge printed on the chest looked up in response. The woman in pink behind him looked up too – presumably his wife. "What's goin' on up ahead?"

"Sorry mister, I'm not an officer at the moment. Just looking to keep my family safe," he responded, dismissing Scott.

"I was an officer back in the day. Need any help? Once in the force, always in the force in my book. That makes you as good as family to me."

The man looked hesitant and shared a knowing glance with his wife before walking over to Scott and whispering something in his ear. Scott's face went a ghostly white. He returned to the truck and immediately started to back up and out of the traffic. I noticed a few surrounding cars doing the same. He seemed far too focused to interrupt and I didn't know if I wanted to know whatever Scott had just learned. The Sherriff too got into his car, with his wife and son. A handful of cars, including us, started following the officer away from Atlanta causing a sinking feeling in my stomach. We drove for about 20 minutes before reaching a clearing.

It was pitch black at this point with only headlights to illuminate the way. Everyone parked up and people started to get out of the cars. The officer called everyone over to explain the situation.

"Er'ryone... I don't know quite how to tell y'all this but up ahead. We saw it. Me and Lori saw it all happen." The woman in pink slightly nodded her head as she stood next to the man. "They bombed it. Atlanta. Choppers flew over-head and burned Atlanta to the ground. Now I don't know what's going on or what's to come, but I can say with all the certainty in the world that this shit is way worse than we know…"

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review and let me know what you think.

-QwertyWords