Whoo, My first fanfic, let's rock. I hope it's an enjoyable one, as said in summary, it follows right after the Dead Center campaign and goes canonically from there, tell me what y'all think, I may go a bit off a bit from the story, maybe bring in an OC later, but for now, I'll try to keep it as canon as I can, without further ado, here we go.


"Got the last can!", a voice with a twinge of irritation rang out. The owner of said voice was filling up the soon to be escape vehicle, currently multitasking between insulting the sports car and dumping the contents of the gas can into the car's tank. It'd once belong to, according to the two Georgia locals in their group, legend of the southern US, Jimmy Gibbs Junior, who was now actually nothing more than a corpse and splattered brain matter on the mall's tile floor, much to Ellis' dismay. Sure, he was infected and trying to tear at them, but Ellis just couldn't do it, leaving Nick, the group's resident pessimist and germophobe; to end the infected race car drivers "life". "Hey, that was not cool, man.", Ellis said, a mix of sadness and anger in his voice, however, due to the current situation, decided to drop it for now.

As soon as he finished the thought, he'd become aware of the slight vibration coming from the ground, turning just in time to see their other comrades, Coach and Rochelle, sprinting towards them, a tank not far behind, angrily stumbling after them, it's movements similar to that of a gorilla, a very pissed off gorilla. His thoughts were then interrupted by Nick's annoyed voice, "OVERALLS, GET IN THE DAMN CAR." He basically leaped into the driver's seat, excited, he'd won out, when deciding who would drive, much to Nick's further irritation. "FLOOR IT." The conman shouted in his ear, as Ellis quickly familiarized himself with the car's interior, practically stomping on the clutch, shifting the vehicle into first gear, and then second gear, smashing clear through the plate glass windows of the unfinished mall, the hulking, rage induced infected, within an inch of the car's spoiler. The following afternoon would be nerve-wracking, with Ellis wanting to push the car to it's limits, clearly enjoying himself, and clearly tuning out Nick's constants insults and jeers. Rochelle was initially panicky at Ellis' driving, however the adrenaline that had kept her going, had quickly cleared her system, leaving her quite exhausted, had it not been for the constant jolts the car made when Ellis shifted gears, she could have damn well fallen asleep. Coach on the other hand, was still greatly enjoying this, sharing Ellis' enthusiasm, and for better or worse, fueling it. Sure he'd been saddened over Jimmy's death, but had he not been there, with his stock car, they wouldn't have had a means of escape, and plus, he was riding in his idol's car, and was having a blast, even if he wasn't the one driving.

It'd been a little over an hour or two, who knew, Nick was the only one with a watch, which had been broken from a meeting with what he could've sworn was a relative of Ellis, a Charger. Nick was the one to break the silence. "Alright...So, what are we going to do now?" Ellis, turned to him, a little taken aback. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure, as far as they were concerned, the Military had abandoned them, and though they had gotten the Jimmy Gibbs and escaped, they hadn't thought past that.

"Huh, guess I never bothered to think 'bout that." the southern man lifted his hand from the gearshift to scratch at the stubble on his chin. Rochelle, being the proactive of the group, proceeded to unfold a quite large map of the United states, she'd taken it from the board meeting room in the Vannah hotel, its contents displaying the origin point and spread of the Green Flu. "Well," she started, "Since, New Orleans appears to be the last evac zone standing, we should check it out, according to the map, we need to take an exit off the highway, through a town called 'Rayford' and we'll be on our way. "Nick piped up, "Okay...Guess that's a good as plan as any." Out of everyone in the group, he was starting to be somewhat okay with Rochelle, though when they first met, he had called her "loud girl", least she wasn't as annoying as Ellis, his constant stories about his stupid past and his stupid friend Keith.

Coach interrupted his thoughts with, "Mmm...I hope they have an open Burger Tank." Honestly, the thought was pointless, it was the apocalypse, after all, why would they have restaurant open? Although, considering the grim state of things, it was positive thinking, and it did bring a chuckle from the group. Coach was a likable person, he was just one of those people that everyone got along with, the group wasn't sure what his real name was, or hell, if it was actually Coach. He was their unofficial leader, it made sense, with him being an actual coach, albeit formerly. He quickly grew to like those within his group, immediately bonding with Ellis since they were both from Georgia, and even becoming a sort of older brother figure to Rochelle. Even though he was not originally trusting of Nick back at the hotel, a friendship had formed between the two, through close calls with the deadly Special infected, and other danger. Both Nick and Coach mutually respected each other, although Nick still occasionally tossed jokes in Coach's direction, but he easily ignored the conman's ornery personality. It was settled then, not fifteen minutes later, Ellis made the turnoff onto the off ramp that would take them to the small port town that stood in their path.

Elsewhere, in the port town of Rayford...

She hated him for it, she hated herself for it. It was a vicious cycle. The young woman currently perched on a maintenance platform of an old, rusted truss bridge. Zoey tucked the few strands that dangled in front of her face behind her ear, a futile move, seeing as they would just go back to their original place moments later, it was a habit she'd developed when she was either nervous, upset, or irritated. Right now, she was all three. They had just lost a vital member of their group, their support, a veteran of war, a friend. She stared down at the water, the boat, ironically named, 'One 4 All', was bobbing patiently in the water, waiting to be used. He'd died for it, for them, for the hope that they'd be safe, but in her mind, she feared he died for nothing, that this was all for not, that the keys would be crawling with the infected. Her train of thoughts was interrupted by a gruff voice, scratched with years of shouting, drinking, and being a general drunken bar patron.
"Zoey, he did this for us." the biker simply stated, but before she could turn away from his vacant gaze, before she could retort, he continued, "He-", but before he could get the words out, the pain stricken, sore from crying voice of Zoey shouted,

"What if he's wrong Francis? What if the keys are flooded with those godforsaken things?! What if he died for nothing.?!". At a loss for words, he attempted to speak, going as far as opening his mouth, but she was gone, stomping off towards the other side of the platform, and down onto the somewhat unsteady plank that led into the upstairs living quarters for the two-story bar next to the bridge. Francis stared down at it, the building where he lay, cold and lifeless, sure he and the old man butted heads constantly, a lot more so before this had happened, but he was deeply saddened by his death. Honestly, he wasn't sure what they'd do without his experience. That was one thing Bill had over him, he had experience from the Vietnam war, which proved to be helpful in this apocalypse, he was going to miss him, he let out a long sigh, before turning towards the building, and then to the other side of the bridge, believing he d heard something Zoey had just entered the room. Inside, Louis was sat on a chair, his injured leg elevated, and well bandaged by Zoey.

The former IT tech was lost in thought, pondering over recent events, and what positive outlooks were there to grasp onto. He looked down at his leg and wondered how it was possible to find so many witches in one place, honestly. Zoey then walked into the room, a bit calmed down from her short outburst, she already felt bad, it wasn't Francis' fault, it wasn't anyone's fault. Bill had done this for them, it was his choice, although she couldn't help but feel terrible, she'd been giving him the cold shoulder ever since that incident at Millhaven, abandoning those people, so that it would buy them time to escape. Then a thought rang through her awareness, we look after our own...It wasn't until she snapped out of it, noticing Louis had been glancing up at her, a look of sympathy, and the ever-present optimism that he held. "Hi Louis, how's the leg holding up?" She began. "Oh, it's doing much better now thanks to you. You've gotten pretty good at patching us up, guess you have a lot of opportunities to practice, Eh?" He said, before chuckling. This had done what he'd hoped. A small smile formed on her face, sure it wasn't much more than a small curl of the lips, but this was satisfying nevertheless. Zoey moved towards another chair in the room, just getting into settling down, and reclining, she heard something, Francis, talking...The hell is he talking to? She wondered, before climbing to her feet, and heading out the door, back outside.


A/N, I kinda feel I made Zoey a bit too emotional here, but honestly, she lost someone near and dear to her, almost like a father figure, I dunno, what'd y'all think? ALSO, I apologize for the kinda short chapter, I was testing the waters as it were, I only noticed post-publishing, but don't worry, I'll try to keep the chapters longer from here on out! Onto Chapter two!