Hey guys, welcome to my Warm Bodies/Life is Strange crossover. This takes place after the tornado has hit Arcadia Bay. I got this idea while thinking of potentially sad endings for Life is Strange. Hey, if everyone dies they can come back as ass kicking zombies, fall in love then come back to life, right? Text in italics is either a memory or song lyrics.

As far as roles are concerned Max (M) is R, Chloe is Julie, Rachel is Perry, Kate (K) is M, Victoria is Nora and David is General Grigio. Other characters will make an appearance. This is a Pricefield/minor Amberprice story.

This is my first fanfiction I've published so hopefully you will all enjoy reading it as much I did writing it. Rated M for language (what do you expect, Chloe is in it) and probably some mild gore (it is a zombie apocalypse after all). That's enough from me, enjoy. :)


Chapter One: Death Isn't a Walk in The Park

I am dead.

I know this is a really strange way to introduce myself, however it is the unfortunate truth. If you think you're surprised about all this, imagine what it was like for me one day opening my now pewter gray eyes to find myself like this… an animated corpse, or as the Living like to refer to us, 'zombies', however this word carries grave political implications in the Undead community so we try to avoid it. Oh yes, I know what you're thinking. How can these brainless stiffs have any kind of coherent structure to their society? Just remember we were Living once, just like anyone else and though we struggle to communicate now it doesn't mean we're stupid by any means.

Being dead is no walk in the park, but I'm slowly getting used to it… and I mean slowly. Have you seen how slow zombies walk? Given my frame I can deduce I wasn't at the peak of physical fitness, but even taking that into account I'm sure in life I moved way faster than this… anyone could. I just have to grin and bear it. What else am I supposed to do? Scream and cry about how unfair this all is? I no longer have the bodily fluids necessary to cry and I have no words to articulate my distress. I don't think words were my strong point in life, so I have no hope now. It's not like anyone here would really care about my whining anyway. We are all in the same boat after all.

I'm trying to figure all this out, how everything happened. It's all a blur. Sometimes if I focus hard enough, I can see…

People screaming… gale force winds… a flash of blue.

That's it, all I remember. For a while I tried, I stood motionless for what seemed like eternity, trying to rack my brain… along with the brains of several others to catch even a glimpse of the world we all left behind. I have long since given up trying. There is no point in dwelling on it, it doesn't help me now… you can't change the past.

I can't remember my name, but I think it began with an M… yet another ghost of a memory. I spent the entirety of my life forgetting other people's names, so the irony of my situation is almost laughable. Maybe it's Karma? My best friend, K, finds it hilarious. I found her pretty early on in my travels and we've stuck together like glue ever since. I have to wonder if I knew her in life from somewhere as she seems vaguely familiar to me, particularly the gold cross dangling from her scar covered neck.

I think death has treated me kinder than most. Given, none of us are going to win any beauty contests, but at least I still vaguely resemble a human. Others… are not so lucky. I think it has something to do with your mentality. Those who resign themselves to their fate quickly lose any sense of humanity they once possessed, both in appearance and behavior. I vowed from the very beginning to never let myself deteriorate, that I would fight until the bitter end to regain some essence of who I used to be. Judging by my appearance I would guess I was a photography student, at least that's what the slightly torn gray hoodie and battered camera would suggest. As I wander this new world I often find myself speculating the ex-roles of my fellow corpses in Living society. You were a janitor, you were a cheerleader and now… now you're a corpse.

The only other possession I have is a slightly crumpled photograph I found in my hoodie pocket. It shows who I assume to be me with another…

Wild eyes, a sly grin, blue hair, "Come on slow poke".

For some reason unbeknownst to me I am attached to it. It's stupid to be so fond of this after everything that has happened, but I can't help it. I'm such a sentimental sap. I wonder where this girl is now. Is she like me, a rotting corpse full of nothing but a voracious hunger? Or has she managed to escape this cruel fate? To be honest, I'm not sure which fate is crueler, becoming a corpse or having to survive them. Both are pretty dismal.

Even if she has escaped she would probably shoot me on sight. That is what the Living are conditioned to do… not that I blame them, we do look pretty terrifying. There is a reason we never look in mirrors. To them we are no longer human, just mindless killing machines… the irony being that the Living can be the most brutal and merciless killers of all. While I can't deny that I have done things I regret, I had little choice. My mind is trapped in this slowly decaying cage of flesh with no escape. The moment I open my mouth to release the words I so desperately want to utter, all that come out are a torrent of incoherent groans. On occasion, we do manage to communicate with words such as 'hungry' and 'city', but even these scraps are formed due to the imperative commands of our hunger. We are united in this aspect, the insatiable lust for human flesh. Part of me finds this habit of ours disgusting, however all morals fly out of the window when I actually partake. I wonder if the others are as conflicted as I am. Am I just sensitive?

A few of us gather together ready for the hunt. We wander aimlessly down the dilapidated streets, searching for the slightest scent of life, the one thing we crave above all else. The food we used to eat no longer satisfies us, leaving us feeling emptier than before. We can no longer eat for pleasure… only out of necessity. For the first few days after my re-awakening, I didn't understand what the feral beast inside me demanded. It clawed at my insides, threatening to consume me if I didn't sate it. Everything I tried made me vomit the moment it reached my stomach, my body violently rejecting it. With no guidance on what I was supposed to be eating, I had all but given up hope. That was when I discovered the one thing that pacified the overwhelming hunger… human flesh. The taste of it is vile, but it is the only thing that we can devour.

After an excruciating amount of time, we locate the source of the smell. A run down building stands before us, overbearing and imposing. I stumble forward, leading the group of vacant faces inside and down the hallway. We follow the scent all the way to a door at the end. I peer cautiously through its small cracked window, seeing a small group of teenagers huddled together. They can't be much older than I am… well was. Age doesn't really mean anything in death. We have already expired, so there is no need to countdown the years anymore.

We stand there patiently behind the door, waiting for the right moment to strike as their muffled voices carry down the long, eerily quiet corridor, "Ok guys, remember that we are looking for supplies. This is not a field trip, so Warren, can you please stop playing Call of Duty and take this seriously. Grab anything you can, especially food and medicine. We get through so much."

An exasperated sigh echoes down the hallway, "Fine, fine, be a damn dirty ape."

A higher pitched, condescending voice pierces the air, "Who put you in charge anyway, Rachel? It's obvious I possess the best leadership skills. I am a Chase after all."

"Well sorry princess, but rules are rules. I don't make them."

"I am hardly a Princess, I am at least a Queen, if not a Goddess."

A new slightly pissed off sounding voice enters the fray, "Oh please."

"Peasants must ask for permission to speak in front of their Queen," the condescending voice scoffs, "You should know that, Price."

"What the…?"

The first voice jumps in, sounding equal parts amused and tired, cutting off the escalating argument, "Ladies, no fighting now. Save it for the zombies."

I long to be able to open my mouth and talk to them about everything and anything… to go back to how things used to be. This thought is only fleeting however and soon the beast inside takes over.

"EAT, EAT, EAT!" it screams inside my mind, pushing my legs forward. I obey without delay, bursting into the room with the rest of my companions. I hang back, seeing some of my fellow corpses get mown down in the crossfire as they bound over to the group. I go to lunge forward and join them, but my body freeze. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the flash of blue… the same one from the fragments of my shattered mind. It brings mixed feelings of familiarity, comfort and confusion.

One word, one uncertain word resounds off the walls of the room, "Max?"


Have an awesome day guys and I'll see you in the next chapter.