Here is my searching thread, for more info about me and sample(s): [url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/3022/posts/ooc]Searching Thread[/url]
Definitely need to check that out if the following looks interesting... .

[hider=Zombie disclaimer]Please note that while this plot may include zombies if you wish it to, I will only go so far with zombie gore/horror. I am not a brain-matter-flinging-everywhere kinda' girl. I can do dark and gritty action, but I can't stomach Walking Dead or write about it. So it would be "soft Zombie action" if any. xD [/hider]
The plot is basically about a man-made contagious sickness which has covered the globe. The epidemic has killed so many people, so quickly, that from the perspectives of the characters, it is the end of the world. The idea could be added on to in order to include zombies; some of the sick people could have become akin to the "living dead." That part is optional. 

I have written a prologue or intro of sorts. I will put it in a hider, but recap it here:
A woman and her friend go to the mall, where they find everyone huddling, talking quietly or praying. They ask what is wrong, they are told that people have chosen to get sick to get money from the government, and now that sickness is spreading. The friend with the "main character" starts arguing politics with her, when the shop lady begins to show signs of the illness. The main character runs, leaving her friend. The mall is chaos. Some are sick, most are panicking. She makes it out, running for the car. She stops to pick up her husband. They leave, trying to get as far away from people, and the sickness, as they can.

[hider=Prologue Intro]An excerpt from the diary of Kathryn Brown

Entry dated 10 March 2015

If you're reading this, you're probably wondering: "What were you doing when it happened?"

I was abandoning someone.

I didn't know her that well. She was an acquaintance; I sometimes ran errands with her. That's what we were doing when it happened: running to the mall. The mall wasn't crowded. Some people talked in the hallways. Everyone looked very somber. When we entered the shop we wanted, the workers were gathered in clumps. In hindsight, they looked as if someone important had died, like maybe the president. Or they looked the way people had looked when 9/11 happened. Except less panicked, more resigned. I didn't make the connection. I remember wondering if there was a shooter in the mall.

We went up to one lady. My friend, the spokesperson, said, “All right, what is going on? Tell us.”

I seconded her by saying: “What’s happened,” I think.

The woman gave us a look, like [i]“They don’t know yet.”[/i] I think she milked it a little bit, sniffling into her wad of tissues, saying things like “Oh, it’s bad.”

Finally, when the truth came, it didn’t make sense at first.

“People were choosing to get sick in order to receive money from the government. They thought that they would rather live only one year more, and have everything they ever wanted in that one year, rather than live one normal lifetime. There was an expensive cure they could maybe get at the end, if they really weren’t ready to die.”

I didn’t really understand. How could people choose to get sick? I couldn’t ask, because my friend had started to get into a political argument with the shop lady. I tuned them out. The shop lady’s huffiness was overcoming her grief. My friend didn’t seem to believe her story.

“Well, that’s just the way things are,” the shop lady was saying. “We would rather let the government make all the decisions rather than taking care of the sick ourselves. People aren’t charitable any more.”

“Hold on now,” my friend was saying. “Lots of people give to charities.”

“--And that’s not the worst of it,” the shop lady continued, as if my friend hadn’t said anything. “This sickness that they gave themselves, they didn’t realize it was contagious. It’s mutated, and it’s spreading around the globe.”

You could tell just by looking at the lady that nothing this exciting had ever happened to her before.

My friend scoffed, not buying into the anti-government tripe, which is what she thought it all was. “Oh yeah? And how were they supposed to have gotten sick in the first place?”

“That’s the strange thing,” the shop lady said, with the air of someone getting to the best part of the story, “nobody knows.”

My friend rolled her eyes as if to say [i]“Convenient.”[/i]

The shop lady continued, splitting her attention between the two of us. “It’s rumored that people got desperate, wanting a piece of the government payoffs for the ill and dying. Some say that the government was experimenting with disease as a weapon, and testing it on well-paid subjects. Though that will never be confirmed, of course. Others say it was black market stuff. In either case, it was supposed to maybe have a cure, so that people could take the money and then get better after all. The sickness got out of control. It’s a contagion, and it kills quick. They haven’t found out a way to contain it, yet.”

“That’s ridiculous,” my friend retorted, though even she was starting to sound a little worried. “I don’t know how this became mainstream, but clearly, it’s a hoax - it’s not even on the news or anything, and --”

Then she stopped, noticing what I had already begun to. The shop lady’s pale skin had been taking on a pink flush. I had attributed it to her getting angry, though I felt dread coursing through me. It grew to an angry red in the central part of her face, down her arms, rising in her throat. She was sweating, and no longer keeping up the pretense of listening to my friend. She clutched the counter with her manicured hands, panting hard. Blisters roiled beneath the surface of her skin, rising hot and clear on the red parts of her face.

She was sick, and I ran.

I didn’t say a word to my friend, I just took off at a sprint, leaving her there. I just thought [i]“I have to get back to my husband.”[/i] We had already talked about this, in the joking-serious way that young couples do. [i]“If I die, I want this kind of funeral.” “If someone’s ever in danger, don’t risk your life for them.” “If there’s ever a catastrophe, we get back to each other. We don’t stop for anyone. We have to be together.”[/i] 

As I ran, a small part of me wondered if it was the right thing to do, although questions about right and wrong had were already becoming irrelevant. 

The halls had become more crowded and chaotic since we went into the store. No one seemed to be actually sick that I saw, but they were pawing at each other and running around aimlessly nonetheless. For some reason, they were surprised to see someone making a beeline anywhere. I guess you lose a sense of purpose in an instance like that. If I didn’t have someone to get back to, I don’t know what I would have done.

I think people thought I was sick, and that was all right with me. I didn’t want anyone getting in my way to slow me down, or perhaps give me the sickness themselves.

“Move!” I screamed, as I ran for the glass doors. People looked at me with panicked faces and parted.

Though it was the middle of December, I didn’t feel cold once I made it outside. There was gray slush in the parking lot which sucked at my feet, making me have to work hard not to slip. It felt like it took forever to get to the car. You know that terrible feeling when you’re moving slowly, trying to run, in a dream? That’s exactly what that was, except real.

When I slammed into our minivan, the sides dusty with road salt, I couldn’t believe I had made it. The inside of the car felt comforting; the speed of driving a relief. I didn’t have time to check myself for signs of sickness. I had to get to my husband. I parked outside of the gym - I don’t know why I parked so far away, my brain wasn’t working very well, I guess. I ran toward the glass windows, kicking myself when I saw empty spots near the front.

He saw me - he had been looking for me, waiting. Hoping, because I had the car. Once he saw me, I waved to him, and turned around and ran back. I wanted to get the car and pick him up, but he was a faster runner than me. He caught up to me, passed me, and went to the car himself. I was winded when he picked me up, so winded that I could hardly feel any relief.

“Tell me what’s happening,” he told me. He had seen people freaking out, but didn’t know why.

“We need to get as far away from town - from other people - as we can.”

That was how it all started, for us. We ran out of inhabited gas stations before too long, and had to walk, but that was all right. At least that kept us off the roads. It was full on apocalypse by that point. Technology didn’t work, news was almost impossible to come by, we stocked up on supplies from abandoned homes and convenience stores. We met two others on our journey - another couple. They weren’t sick and they hadn’t seen people in awhile, like us.

I was amazed that I hadn’t gotten sick from the shop lady. Maybe I got out in time. Maybe it was just a fluke.

We don’t know what has happened to the rest of the world. It’s just the four of us for now. The four of us the only thing that is safe. We can’t risk anything. We have to move on, in order to keep finding food. If we come across an inhabited dwelling, they try to kill us. Humans are the enemy now. We can’t help each other. I wonder how many died in the beginning, from riots and shootings and suicides, from selfishness: and I realize, I am no better. My friend is probably dead, because she was transfixed by shock. The sickness, after all, is our own fault. Our own greed, our own hatred. It should never have been created, and we should have never have used it.

If anyone ever finds this journal, if humanity ever has a chance to start over: do not repeat our mistakes.[/hider]

This could simply be a prologue to set the stage, or we could utilize any of the four characters mentioned in the end. It's all pretty flexible, but hopefully that gives you an idea of what I am thinking. 

Please read my searching thread (linked at the top) and hopefully provide me with a sample. Then we can talk ideas for this!