AUTHORS NOTE

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. The O.C. is of my own imagination. Hopefully she stands up to the AMC characters.

PLEASE DON'T READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18.

CONTAINS: Graphic Gore, violence, maybe some torture scenes,

Descriptions of assault, TONS OF FOUL DIRTY LANGUAGE,

AND last but not least SMUT.

(My first naughty scenes. Hopefully I do them justice.)

This is my second fanfic in a week! I had this idea when I watched the most recent episodes of TWD and have been writing like crazy.

This story will contain SPOILERS, so if you are not caught up on season FIVE you may want to watch them before you read.

The group is in Alexandria. I have added details and/or characters that are in the most recent episodes. I will continue to add as the season proceeds. With only three more episodes of the season I am expecting some amazing new twists. I hope that I can work a lot of it into the story while still making it my own. I hope you enjoy.

PLEASE favorite, follow and review, pass along etc!

Prologue : Six months ago.

Jameson is hiding in the attic of a suburban home. Traveling through the forest an approaching herd forces her to hide out and wait for it to pass. The oppressive heat is sweltering. She opens the tiny vents on both ends of the home but the slight breeze is not enough to get airflow through the dusty unfinished attic space. The smell of the hundreds of walking corpses is assaulting. She's thrown up twice from the abhorrent smell. Her clothes are soaked in sweat and she's running out of supplies. If they haven't passed in two days she's going to be shit out of luck.

Looking out the window she watches them shamble by. Their groans and growls turn into a constant hum. Droning on and on she almost hears a pattern in it, like ocean waves ebbing and flowing onto a beach. To pass the time she plays disturbing games of guessing the names of the passing bodies or making up stories of who they were before they changed. There are times Jameson talks to herself. Full conversation that vary from out loud to inside her lonely head. It used to cause her pause but now that she's been alone for so long it seems normal.

Jameson lies still trying to pretend that she isn't burning up, listening for sounds below her. The house was secure but she can tell they've gotten in. The thumps below and moans inform Jameson, she's no longer alone in the house. Hoping that the herd passes and that she can escape out the vents rather than face how ever many biters are below her.

Peeling open a can of peaches she sucks on the syrupy fruit. It's her last can of food and she's going to savor it. After its gone she'll be surviving on a stale granola bar and a dried package of ramen. Not the worst thing but eating ramen dry is pretty jaw tiring and loud. She's happy to have some calories at least. Her water is too low and she fears the amount of sweat is making her dehydrated faster.

A thunk, thunk sound on a wall below brings Jameson out of her head. Freezing still, she focuses on the noises below her. There's groaning, scratching and snarling but there's another repetitive sound.

Thunk, thunk.

She's concentrating on the specifics of the sound. Her ears picking up every nuance.

Thunk, drag, thunk.

Thunk, drag, thunk.

"What the fuck is that?" She mutters as she rolls over to press her ear to the ceiling below her.

Thunk, drag, thunk.

Unable to take the not knowing, Jameson crawls along the tiny scaffolding floor. Listening carefully she finds the room the sounds are coming from.

Thunk, drag, thunk.

Jameson moves to the center of the room and kneels. Taking out her knife she pokes through the drywall that makes up the ceiling. Cutting a tiny one-inch by one-inch square out she lays down on the tiny boards balanced on cross beams. Her eye lowers to the little peephole and she tries to see what is making the noise.

Thunk, drag, thunk

Slapping a hand over her mouth to hold in an inappropriate snort of laughter, she sees the source of such an odd sounds.

Thunk, drag, thunk.

Directly below her is a walker who committed suicide by hanging. Jameson knows they chose it since the noose is still around its neck. That long braided rope is still attached to the wood beam they hung from. At some point the beam gave out and now the walker is doomed to travel the earth with a large three foot long wood beam around its neck. It is currently trapped in the room below.

Thunk, drag, thunk.

The sound is the walker trying leave the room. Thunk. The beam hits the door frame. The walker gets pulled back. Drag, the walker moves forward pullinging the wood beam. Thunk. The beam hits the door frame again. So the pattern repeats.

It doesn't give up its quest to leave the room so the rope has started to cut into its neck. Now the head is lopsided and looking at the world at a slant.

Thunk, drag, thunk.

Siting up Jameson shakes her head.

'Only in the apocalypse.' She thinks moving away from the strange sight.

Thunk, drag, thunk.

Thunk, drag, thunk.