Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Walking Dead series (both comic book and television), and I do not claim to own any of these characters other than my own originals. This is a story I have written and I am in no way, shape, or form making any sort of profit from it. I am poor. I might even be more so now having written this.


Chapter One

He felt the heat more than the others. Sweat poured down his temples and trickled down his soaked back. With the Georgia sun beating down, he felt as though he would melt at the right angle. Chris lifts his baseball cap and runs a hand through his drenched hair. They would find out soon; they would know.

His eyes close for a moment as a child up front lets out a laugh. It was his brother, Sam. Chris grits his teeth as his cheeks pinch up with his eyes catching the sun. It wouldn't be long. He pulls at his sweater and winces as the material adds pressure to his side. It hurt, dear God, it hurt.

Chris rolls his head as his eyelids refuse to open. He was dizzy, weak; soon he would not be able to continue with the group. They would have two choices; one, slow down for him or, two, leave him behind. The sixteen year old lets out a sigh and hangs his head low on his shoulders. They would go with option two—he would force them to; he couldn't put Sam's life in danger. The group had to keep moving because if they were still for too long the spooks would come.

At the front of the line marches a girl; he never caught her name. Her face was young but her eyes carried the weight of the world in them. Chris understood those eyes; they were the same ones that looked back at him in the mirror. He stumbles on the highway and hands quickly reach around his waist for support.

"Water," a voice near his ear calls out. Chris kneels on the highway and dry heaves. "Water now!" the voice calls and Chris holds his empty stomach as a small voice calls out his name. He rolls onto his back and feels a hand lift his head as wetness touches his lips.

"Save it," he breaths out, but the words are drown out by the curious voices of the group.

"You're dehydrated," a new voice says. "Drink 'n' we'll wait 'til you feel better." Chris opens his eyes and sees the face of a young man above him. He smirks down at him as if to say everything was okay, but nothing was; nothing would ever be. "We got all day," he says with a nod.

Chris shakes his head and slowly opens his sweater. There, just below his ribcage blood seeps through his dirty grey shirt. "I'm sorry," he whispers as his eyes shoot to the faces surrounding them.

"Ah shit," the young man says before looking to a girl a few feet in front. "Kayla, take the kids up ahead," he says with a nod and the girl rounds the children up. "Samara," he calls and, before he can blink, the girl who had been leading the group is before them. "He's got the fever," he says quietly.

For a moment, the girl stands above them; her dark eyes watching the two before looking off to the group fifty feet down the highway. "Do we need to check your brother?" she asks with a distant voice.

Chris shakes his head and winces as the young man helps him up into a seated position. He made sure the spooks didn't have a chance of giving Sam his same fate.

Samara looks to the young man and shakes her head as she reaches into her waistband. She gives a careless shrug and brings a pistol to Chris' temple. "I told you he was bit." Bang.


This is a very short chapter, but that is simply because I don't want to invest too much into this if it is not something people want to read. It is an idea that has been floating around in my head for the past four or five months now. Just thought I would cast it out and see if there are any readers willing to catch on the hook.

Please let me know what you think, how I'm doing and what I could do better :)

Reviews are much welcomed and always appreciated!

~MsBBSue