Hey guys! I'm back with another story, but this time it's of The Walking Dead! Yes, it's a self-insert fic (don't be mad), and it's based on the game, not the show.
Now I know most of you guys were expecting this to be my new Resident Evil fic, but honestly I have no idea how to start it! But I can promise you I'll get it up as soon as I can!
Well, I hope you all like this story, and I'll see you next time!
Living Among the Dead: Prologue
My breath labored into hard, shallow gasps as I tore my way through thick patches of briar in the dark, endless maze of wood. I didn't dare so much as glance backwards in fear that they would be right behind me, with half-meatless limbs outstretched and ready to feast on my raw flesh. I'd seen this stuff in movies: rotting corpses rising from their graves to gnaw on the living. But nobody could have predicted this.
When I finally reached a clearing, which was just a field fifty feet in diameter with dry, itchy grass that just barely tickled your knees, I halted immediately and caught my breath. They were no doubt still after me, but I'd put at least two football fields between us. At least that's what I thought.
At the sound of the smallest twig being snapped, I turned around faster than I thought was humanly possible and widened my eyes at the sight in front of me. There were at least eight of them, and they were all slowly making their way toward me, the hunger evident in their lifeless eyes.
That was when I heard the gunshot. It was loud and came from about two hundred meters east of where I was standing. I instantly froze, as if I was staring into the eyes of a twenty foot tall reptile, and watched as the merciless carnivores began limping away towards the source of the gunshot. For the first time in what felt like years, I breathed a sigh of relief.
Perhaps I should explain myself, so I guess I'll start the way most people do: My name's Emily. I'm fifteen years old, and I've lived in Macon, Georgia my whole life with my mom, dad, and two older sisters. But they were all dead now.
I was in my room when the outbreak started, casually reading a book under the light of my desk lamp when I heard my mother's blood curdling scream. Practically throwing my book across the room (sorry, Harry), I rushed outside, grabbing my phone on the way out, already dialing nine-one-one. I didn't know what if I was expecting burglars, or if my mother had simply witnessed a random act of street violence… but my eyes weren't ready for what I was about to see.
One of my long-time neighbors, Jeff Baker, was holding my limp mother in his claws and was tearing into her flesh like she was a turkey and it was Thanksgiving dinner. I didn't know what to do, he was chewing straight through her neck, and blood was gushing out of her like I'd never seen; there was no way she was still alive. Without thinking, I reached down, picked up my father's conveniently placed pitching wedge and began beating his head in until he stopped moving and my clothes and shoes were soaked in blood.
After that, I dropped to my knees, and wailed over the loss of my mother. A few seconds later, my father and two sisters ran outside, too, and they all stared at the sight in disbelief until a deep groaning sound emitted from the corpse.
"M-mom?" I weakly called out, my voice hoarse.
Then my father rushed over and pushed me out of the way, examining his dead wife. That was when she came back to life and pounced on my father, sinking her teeth into his face. After that, it seemed as though they were everywhere. I ran back inside and grabbed anything I needed, because by then my sisters were dead too, and the entire street was full of those monsters. I threw anything I could find in my backpack, (which was just three water bottles, a granola bar, a first aid kit) and grabbed the biggest hammer in the garage and ran out of the door.
That's how I ended up here. Alone, and running for my life.