This wasn't a plan. Just want to put that out there. This is not the start of a story. I just really needed to write and get things out of my head.

Play list:

Bryce Fox - Stomp Me Out

The Score - Higher

I Don't Know How But They Found Me - Choke

Fitz And The Tantrums - The Walker

Miike Snow - My Trigger

The Skins - Dead Hands

Prologue:

Her mobile rang in a shrilly upbeat tone. "Christ," Sarah muttered into her pillow. Did they not know they were five hours ahead? She'd only been back here, what was it now, six months? Didn't matter, her family still called from Ireland at god awful hours in the morning.

Blindly she grabbed for the offensive black object with its blue and white case spitting out music much too happy for three in the morning. "Riley, what's wrong with you woman? It's three in the bleedin-"

"Oh god, you're alive. Thank the lord."

Groggy from sleep, but growing more aware, "Course I'm alive. Have you gone and lost your mind? What's wrong with you?"

Her twin's sobs slowed to quiet sniffles after a few moments of silence. "People said there's an outbreak. It's all over the world. We hadn't heard from you in days and I thought…" another quick sob, "but you're not, yeah? you're alive and not in danger or anything, yeah?"

Sarah took in the space of her flat share, eyeing the darkened common room where she'd crashed after studying. Aside from the breeze outside, the moans of some couple getting their jollies somewhere in another flat and the slow crawl of clouds over the night sky nothing seemed notably out of place.

She rubbed her eyes, "Nah. I'm good. I saw the news, they're just riots."

"Riots," Riley said slowly, absorbing the word. "That's all they're saying?"

"I don't know Rye, really. I need to sleep. It's three in the bleeding morning and," outside the moans grew louder though no more urgent or frequent. Sarah dropped her head into one hand. "And the deaf feckers downstairs are shagging like mad again." She reached over and grabbed the baseball bat she kept for such moments. Louisville slugger, solid wood not that hollow plastic garbage they sold in convenience stores.

She slammed it down on the floor a good few times, "Oi shut the feckin' hell up, some of us are sleeping!"

The moans didn't stop. They did increase in volume though.

"Shit."

"Just promise me, yeah? You won't take any risks, and you'll come home if things get bad, yeah?"

Sarah sighed, "I will. Yeah." She couldn't exactly leave, she had classes. Downstairs the moaning got louder still, sounding almost tortured now. What were they, tantric or something? "Ach, Rye, I have to go. The beating these two are asking for is about to be epic."

On the other end of the line, an ocean between them, her twin breathed out softly. "Be safe. Even if it takes you a lifetime, get home." She clicked off, the dial tone ringing in Sarah's ear.

Right then. The eejits downstairs.

Even in the early morning, the Georgia air was warm on her skin. She exchanged sleeping shorts for leggings, and an old worn t-shirt. gray trainers, for running because the man downstairs was a huge fecking redneck complete with shitty attitude and meth-breath. Baseball bat in hand, Sarah left her flat locking the door so no one would disturb her flatmates Rebecca and Marie.

At three in the morning the halls to the complex were empty. Almost silent aside from the quiet buzz of the light fixtures overhead and the slow ride of the elevator at the end of the hall. It kept dinging softly, like it was trying to close but something wouldn't let it. The heat tended to short the doors occasionally. She decided to avoid the problem all together and go for the stairs by the fire exit. Wasn't like they were used for much besides a hobo taking the occasional piss.

Her feet made hollow echoing sounds on the pavement as she went down the steps. Speaking of hobos. One man stretched out on the bottom floor, right in front of the stairs. He slept the sleep of the dead, huddled into himself. Sarah hopped over him, her shoes making a muffled squeak on the ground. The hobo groaned, hand swiping out at her as she passed through the propped open fire door.

A stink hit her as she walked down the hall. Someone shat on the floor, or something. It was a puddle of smelly mush with flies around it. Christ in heaven. There was a dark smear on the wall, reddish almost. The hell happened between when she returned home last night and now? Did someone leave the front door open? It was usually locked, but the lazy ass university kids were prone to leaving the lock taped down so they could forget their keys.

Eejits.

These people were supposed to be university students? How did they ever get out of their parent's homes without the common sense to lock the door behind them when they leave? Unbelievable. She passed several doors before coming to the one with distinct moans behind it. Swinging her bat up, she tapped it against the door.

And the door slid open a crack.

Really? Were they that perverse? Sarah, never one to judge another's sexuality gave them mental props for sheer balls. Inviting random people in to watch you shag someone else was...kinky. The moans were a little louder now, with some shuffling. Jesus, how many people were in there?

"Hello?" She called, pressing the door open a bit more with the top of her bat.

Thump.

This was like something out of a B horror movie. The kind her flatmates watched when they were procrastinating. The flat was devoid of life save the occasional thump and the repetitive, louder, more frequent moans coming from the bedroom. It had the same layout as her digs, except, fewer people it seemed.

Her feet slowed as she neared the bedroom door. What sounded like pleasure before didn't sound too much like it now. It sounded more like…

Scratching, harsh moans, and- Whump.

The door practically jumped off its hinges.

Sarah put her hand down to reach into a pocket that wasn't there. Damn. She left her mobile upstairs. The door thumped again, creaking and the moans behind it were joined by clawing sounds that sent shivers of fear and disgust down her spine. She wanted to be back upstairs, away from this now. Right now.

She'd call emergency when she got upstairs. The newscasters, reporters, they had the emergency numbers for people suspected of infection running all hours of the day. Why hadn't she copied it down? Hell.

Just before she reached the front door, there was another moan. The same kind of pained, almost hungry sound coming from the hallway. Shuffling over the carpet. Someone walked passed. No, not walked, shambled. Like they weren't used to walking, they dragged their feet with every step. Whether it was her lizard brain or maybe it was years spent doing shit a lot more dangerous, Sarah froze just out of sight. Her hands clutched the bat hard, nails biting into the smooth wood. She missed her gun.

Silently she counted, dark blue eyes carefully addressing her surroundings for alternate weapons. The thing walked away down the hall toward what sounded like other people laughing. The impulse to call out and warn them buried itself under the proclivity to stay intact.

"Hey man," a slurred male voice said, "you okay?"

Sarah closed her eyes, breathing out in a slow quiet breath.

"Hey, back off."

"Greg, come on, let's go," the woman's voice tinged with fear.

Please let them be smart enough to run. Please.

They weren't. The hollering came right before the screaming and the tearing sounds. Sarah ran. She swallowed the bile coming up from her gut and ran back to the stairs. The hobo was still there only it wasn't a hobo anymore. It hadn't been for some time by the extent of his wounds. Most of his right side was a crushed mess as if he'd been struck by a truck at some point. He was gray and gaunt with bloodshot eyes, clawing at the floor, making hungry growling sounds with a blackened bloody mouth.

The bat came down hard on its hand. She could hear the bones cracking but the thing that used to be a hobo just wouldn't stop clawing at her. Again and again her bat came down until the hand was a bloody mushy pulp. And the thing just kept growling and moving its mouth like it wanted to bite.

The screams had stopped at the other end of the hall. Please, please let it not have heard the echo of the bat hitting the thing on the ground. Sarah lifted the bat one more time; closed her eyes and slammed it back down with all her might into the hobo's head.

A splitting, sickeningly wet crack made her gag.

But the growling sounds stopped.

She leapt over the body sprinting up the stairs faster than she'd run in years. The bat was slick in her hands, mostly from sweat but there were spots of blood all over the wood. The top was pink and red and shiny instead of tan. Shit like that wasn't supposed to happen anymore. Not to her. Not now. Going straight meant no more blood on her hands. Before now she figured maybe once in a while she might get to beatdown the occasional mugger. That's what going straight meant, living a normal life again.

At the stairs she paused, one deep slow breath in to stop the roiling of bile in her stomach. Stopping to vomit wasn't an option yet. She needed to get inside her flat, call emergency and convince Rebecca and Marie they needed to get the hell out of Atlanta while they still could.

Her fingers flexed on the push bar for the door. Noise. These things went toward noise. As quietly as possible she pressed in on the bar. The click was barely audible. Still to her it sounded deafening. Another slow breath out. Nothing came down the hall in either direction. Safe? Possibly.

Sarah pushed the door open enough to squeeze through the crack and let it slide closed again. The elevator still dinged again and again as if it were trying to close. Morbid curiosity got the better of her. Threat assessment, she used to be good at it. She moved quickly, but carefully down the hall toward the elevator.

Her hand came up to her mouth to stifle a sound of horror.

On the floor just outside the elevator was an arm. Attached to the arm was what was left of a body. Two of those things were chewing on the previous owner to the hand. They hadn't noticed her yet. She walked backwards quickly, recoiling from the mess of monstrous magnitude. Panic welled up in her throat. Her stomach was slowly losing the battle to keep whatever was left of her dinner last night down.

Running Sarah made it back to the door of her flatshare, breathing hard as she opened it. The keys in her hand jangled much too loudly for comfort. There were moans coming from the creatures in the elevator snacking on that poor person. Did they hear her? Maybe. Finally, finally the door opened. She pushed inside; dragging in deep hard breaths once the door was safely closed and locked behind her.

None of the escape plans she worked out when she moved in dealt with this kind of threat.

Sweat trickled down the side of her face, not from the ever pervasive Georgia warmth. Her hands shook and her stomach gave up the battle it had been waging with itself for what seemed like hours. She barely made it to the toilet before her stomach heaved a dozen times with very little result.

Rebecca must have heard her because she came out of her room groggily rubbing her eyes and yawning. "If you're pregnant," Rebecca told her while the blonde woman knelt down, rubbing Sarah's back in slow soothing circles, "I am going to be so pissed."

Had it been any other night Sarah might have laughed, shake it off. Instead she rubbed her lips with toilet tissue. "We need to get out of here," she said once she wasn't tossing up bile and worse. "There are…" she shook her head, "things downstairs. Tearing people apart."

Rebecca's brow furrowed, "What are you talking about?"

Sarah groaned in pain, her head throbbing from the adrenaline crash, "Beck, I saw dead people eating living people. Down. Stairs."

Green-gray eyes opened wide, "That's...that's not possible. Dead people don't move."

The toilet flushed, "Are you telling me I didn't just see what I saw? I smashed a man's hand to pulp and he still kept trying to bite me!"

Rebecca's face turned an ashen gray, "Did he bite you?"

"No, no. I killed him."

That didn't seem to make Rebecca feel better at all. She retracted her hand as if burned. "What?"

"I took the slugger to his head. He stopped, I escaped. Stop looking at me like that; we need to get Marie and go. Get out of here."

Rebecca was already on her phone calling back, "You're in shock, I'm gonna get you a Coke."

Sarah wiped at her mouth again still tasting the awful she'd upchucked. "Who are you calling?"

"Nine-one-one, you're in shock. Also, you might have hurt someone and I don't think you're in the right frame of mind to deal with it. It is going to be okay, you'll be okay. I promise. Marie's dad is a lawyer." The phone made a whining sound in Rebecca's hand. She pulled it from her ear, staring at it. "It's nine-one-one, all circuits can't be busy."

They can if the world is about to end, Sarah just barely stopped herself from saying it. She watched Rebecca try again and again, all three times coming up with a futile nothing. Green-gray eyes met Sarah's in the light from the bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling. She licked her lips.

"Turn the tv on," Rebecca told her roommate, mouth dry.

A handful of moments later the sound of the emergency broadcast system filled the room.

I come across so many decent Walking Dead stories. That haven't been finished. I don't want to join those ranks, but I also really have no motivation to write a full Walking Dead story with so many other stories in my head.