DISCLAIMER / Unfortunately, I do not own 'The Walking Dead' or any characters or locations involved. Even more unfortunately, I also do not own Norman Reedus. *Sigh*. Anyway, sorry the first Chapter is a bit short. I'm going to upload a new chapter every Saturday (if I can). Reviews and positive/constructive criticism is always welcome.
Panting softly, Elliott sprinted through the forest, sweat glistening on his forehead. The male was 26, stuck in a world full of what some people called "Zombies" or "Walkers" but what Elliott called "Run for your life machines that shouldn't exist" Before the outbreak, Elliott had been a ordinary lad : interested in guns and cars; played football; was a Christian. But now all that had changed. He now found himself running away from what used to be his best mate. He'd lost all faith in God and somehow found himself clueless as to how to even load a gun.
Soon, he reached a highway with the zombie still on his tail. Elliott tripped over a jagged piece of metal, falling to the floor with a cry. He rolled, cowering backwards against a car as the walker loomed ever closer. His leg gushed out blood, blue eyes closing tight in preparation for the pain that was sure to follow. But, just as the walker should have reached him, there was a dull thud then silence.
The brown haired boy opened his eyes, the walker laid in front of him with a single arrow through it's skull. He blinked softly before stumbling to his feet, glancing around in an effort to find the source.
"Easy there, kid. Don't wanna make y'leg worse now, do we?" Came a southern drawl from behind him, as a strong arm slid around his waist to support him. Elliott turned his head, eyes locking with those of a ruggedly handsome man.
"Who are you?" The younger male whispered through chapped lips, eyes widening in surprise at the man – who he guessed now – must have been his saviour.
"M'Daryl. Daryl Dixon."