The Walking Dead: Alone
Chapter 1
The morning sun beamed down and glistened across the still ocean. Gentle waves slowly crept up the sandy beach of Miami only to fall back into the ocean.
Other than the sounds of squawking seagulls searching for their next meal; the coast was silent.
The road was empty.
The streets were littered with trash and broken down cars. Some of the buildings stood tall with their windows boarded up, whilst others found themselves
smashed to bits.
A strange atmosphere overlooked the city of Miami as there seemed to be no sign of life. The city looked to be a ghost town, until a tall man emerged from one of the buildings.
The man was wearing a grey suit with the top few buttons undone and his tie loosened widely. His straw-like hair looked as though it lacked energy, covering
half of his face. He fixated his gaze to the floor, as he slowly walked around a car that had broken down outside of the building. For some reason he stopped and just stood motionless. The horrifying reality was that the man's right eye hung low from its socket.
The left side of his face was partially torn off, resulting in a gaping hole to the side of his mouth.
Blood stained across the man's face leading towards his mouth. More blood stained below his chin where a large chunk of his neck was missing. This man was no longer living, yet he was walking around. There's a simple explanation for that. He was a walker. Like most of the world he was unfortunate enough to become one of the walking dead.
About forty meters from the beach, a small fishing boat lay still on the glistening ocean. Its grey paint job seemed to be wearing itself away as rust gathered along the outsides.
A large fishing rod rested over the edge of the boat. This seemed meaningless as there was no bait attached to the hook. The carcass of a fish lay upon a plastic dinner plate on top of what looked like an old unfolded table. The hull of the boat looked as though it may fall to pieces at any second.
The pale cabin door gently swung open, and a man appeared from inside.
Michael was one of the lucky ones.
This virus that now plagued the earth hadn't hit him yet, and he intended to keep it that way. The twenty-four year old was just short of six feet and had developed a healthy tan due to living in Miami his entire life.
Being an excellent swimmer Michael had the physique of an athlete suiting for a world like this. His scruffy looking black hair was messed up from a long nights sleep.
His dark stubble indicated that he had not shaved in a while.
Either that, or he just didn't see the point anymore. He wore a jet black t-shirt with the sleeves cut away, shadowy blue jeans with and an old pair of slightly worn down black work boots.
He stepped out onto the deck, and his milky green eyes forced him to look back towards the city that had gone to hell. He gently rubbed his stubble deep in thought, wondering what to do next.
It had been about ten months since the outbreak, and now Michael was clean out of food. He remembered the day he found out about the dead walking the earth.
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Before all of this had started Michael was a fisherman who had lived a simple life, until one day he had returned from a five day fishing trip out at sea to find the world in this state. As soon as he had realized what was going on he had grabbed what supplies he could and headed back out to the ocean, believing it was the safest place.
He wanted to wait for it all to blow over, figuring it would only be a few days before the police or the National Guard took action and sorted things out. He took with him a radio so that he could keep tabs on what was happening. Unfortunately the days he spent waiting turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months.
At first it was broadcast all over the radio warning citizens to stay within their homes and make no contact with anyone, but after a few weeks the broadcasts began to fade until eventually they fell silent.
During this time Michael had to make a few runs back to the mainland to gather what supplies he could find.
This is where Michael witnessed first-hand the horror that had taken over the world he once knew.
It was simple for Michael to gather supplies during his trips back as his house was literally twenty steps away from the beach. He had only come in to contact with a few walkers when he went back but was able to evade them with a level of ease.
His supply runs had been working thus far, but Michael was now faced with the problem of having nothing left.
He had wiped his and his neighbors houses clean of all supplies now and didn't know what to do next. Even though this was a disaster situation Michael was relaxed and seemed unfazed.
That was just his personality.
Cool as ice and tough as nails. He didn't scare easily and took any problems head on. That's what he'd done all of his life and he wasn't going to stop now. He'd given up on the idea of the National Guard saving the day, as it would have been done by now. Heading back to the city seemed to be his only option left at this point.
He hadn't spoken to anybody since everything had started, and he was beginning to wonder if anyone he knew was still alive. Most of his family were already dead before the outbreak had even started, other than his cousin Jaden who lived in Atlanta, Georgia.
Michael and Jaden got on well enough but rarely seen each other as they lived so far apart.
The thought of not knowing whether his cousin was dead or alive was killing him inside, so Michael decided that he was going to take matters into his own hands.
He was tired of sitting around waiting for a miracle that deep down he knew wasn't coming. As he looked towards the city of Miami he thought about the horror that awaited him, but he still made a promise to himself that he would find Jaden no matter what.
Michael walked up to the steering wheel of the boat, and started the engine with a slight smirk on his face as he angled the boat towards the city and then took off in that direction.
As Michael drew closer to the beach, he reached into the top drawer of a stack of shelves and pulled out a black standard semi-automatic handgun, loaded a new magazine into it and tucked it into the back of his jeans.
He had bought the gun for protection a couple of years back, after there had been a few break-ins and robbery's in his neighborhood.
Michael was weapon trained, and had developed a decent shot as he used to practice at the firing range with a few friends, who were probably dead by now.
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He had three spare magazines for the gun, just in case he needed them. He grabbed an old looking backpack from the floor and carefully placed the magazines into it.
Looking around for other things to take on his journey, Michael grabbed the last two bottles of water he had remaining and threw them into the bag. He pulled out a tool kit from underneath the sink and opened it up.
Scanning the inside for things he thought to be useful, Michael decided to take a screwdriver, a hammer, wire cutters, a torch and duct tape. He loaded it all into the bag making sure it wasn't too heavy, and opened up another drawer and took out a small first aid kit. He placed it into a different compartment of the bag and zipped it shut.
The boat was about ten seconds from reaching the beach now, and looking ahead Michael saw that there were no walkers roaming, so he threw the backpack onto his back and prepared himself mentally.
As the boat slowly rolled up the beach until it came to a halt Michael grabbed a penknife from the counter.
He took one last look around making sure he wasn't forgetting anything valuable before placing one hand on the edge of the boat and then vaulting over it onto the dry sand below.
He looked both ways along the beach checking the situation again as he advanced towards the road. Once Michael stepped foot onto the road, he headed in the direction of his house as there was something he needed to pick up.
So far so good he thought to himself. No walkers around, that was a good sign. After a few more steps he reached the front of his house, and wasting no time Michael quietly lifted the garage door up.
A small smile worked its way across his face as he looked towards a powerful black motorcycle.
With the keys in the ignition Michael hoped onto the bike.
He didn't even bother looking at the helmet as he set the gears and clutch for the bike. He then turned the key in the ignition, and the thunderous sound of the engine bursting into life echoed throughout the garage.
Not wanting to stick around, Michael forcefully twisted the throttle and the motorcycle sprung out of the garage. He turned to the right and raced off down the
road, dodging abandoned cars. Riding down the coast road, Michael wondered how long it would take to reach Atlanta and then he began to wonder if he would even make it that far, but quickly withdrew that thought before he let any form of fear get to him.
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Thanks for reading, Chapter 2 is coming soon!
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