Welcome! This is my first story I have ever written on here, so I hope you enjoy! I'm an aspiring author, so I hope you can support me in any way possible! Please note that the Prologue will have less character interaction, but I promise you will see more of your favorite characters in the next chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own "The Walking Dead". Ownership strictly belongs to Telltale Games and... the other people. Enjoy!

I always found it hard to tell a story, especially when it's my own. I never know if what I'm saying is right or if I am getting my point across. I sit here trying to figure out where to begin and end. These in my opinion are the most important parts of a story. However, in this story everything is important.

Ow, my head hurts from all this thinking. I reach up to rub my head but instead I feel a warm liquid that covers my face. How did this happen again?

Another fact startled me. I was holding a gun. Whose was this again? Are they still alive? Where is everyone? And why is it so hard to remember? I can see the station in front of me. Or is it Savannah? Everything is so blurry right now. I want to stand up, but something on my lap is preventing me. I look down to inspect the source and realize my eyes have become blurred by tears.

I rub my eyes and glance at the familiar soft head resting on my lap. As I stare into those big dead eyes, I realize why I'm here, where my life is headed. I finally figure everything out right there, while the body lying on my stirs.

My story – our story – begins months ago, at the end of the world.

. . .

My dad locked us in his bunker the day things went down. He took it from his job years ago when they tried to throw it out. He brought it home expecting me to be as excited as him. Frankly, I wasn't thrilled. Now I was thankful that he prepped. We had enough food to stay here for months. We needed it.

I was in the corner of the bunker, looking out a small hole at the… monsters lurking outside. My dad was trying to use the radio, frustrated from the lack of response.

"Hello? This is Mark Bonewitt from the US Air Force. I am located outside of Macon, Georgia with my daughter. Do you copy, over?" He repeated himself until he went off in a cluster of swears. I tried my best to block him out.

One of our neighbors made his way over in all his undead glory. His left arm was gone, and his white shirt was drowned in blood. I think the thing sticking out of his gut was his intestines. Either way, he was dead. But he was still walking, and hungry for human flesh.

Yep, zombies. Who'd think that's how we were destroyed Mindless, hungry, smelly monsters. I think about mom, wondering if she is trying to crawl her way out of the ground, and shudder.

"Rachel, get away from there. It's dangerous." My dad stared at me, at what I was doing, with fear plastered all over his face. I looked back at his eyes, eyes so much like mine, and smiled.

"I'm OK Dad. They can't get us." But how true is that? Sure, it's a small neighborhood and there's not much local dead guys wandering about, but how much does it take to get through our small, barrier?

"I'm just worried. I mean, they threw this thing away for a reason, but I still can't find out why." He gave me a reassuring smile. "Don't listen to my negativity. Everything will be alright now." I frowned at him. "What?" I huffed and made a dramatic hand gesture.

"What happens when this food is gone?" I asked.

"Hopefully we won't have to wait that long." He moved back to the radio, and that was that.

. . .

It was almost a week after things went down. Darkness was filling my peephole, and the footsteps of those creatures could be heard from all angles of the bunker. Dad was fast asleep, but I was having trouble. There was a scratching sound near my peephole. I wanted to sleep and forget about it, but I also wanted to relieve my curiosity. The scratching sound grew louder and I finally sat up to inspect the sound. Creaking that sounded like indoor plumbing filled my ears.

Then it was on me. That boy from across the street that always creeped me out. Tyler, I think. He was on top of me, snarling, trying to get a bite out of my neck. I pushed it, hit it, kicked it, and finally screamed.

"Rachel!"

"Dad, help me!"

Everything moved so quickly. My dad smashed Undead Tyler's head in with a brick and dragged me to my feet. He was shouting something, but the sounds of those monsters drowned him out. Finally he shoved me towards the ladder that led to the top of the bunker. I climbed it quickly, my father following.

"Now what do we do?" I looked around the bunker, which was now surrounded by seven dead guys, not to mention those that got inside. Speaking of which... "How did they get INSIDE?!"

"Your guess is as good as mine." We both were panting, panicked. Neither of us called out in hopes no more zombies would come our way.

I growled to myself. "All this food and you didn't get a gun?"

"Oh right!" Dad grinned and ran towards the roof latch. "My gun!"

"How are you expecting to push past all those zombies to get it?"

"Oh, right."

We were trapped, dead. That's it. The end. My life ended here, stuck with my dad of all people.

H'mm, if you were paying attention though I'm against a tree telling this story, not a bunker.

And that's when the first gunshot was heard. We couldn't see the source, but this was a gift from heaven - a miracle. One by one the things fell down, bullets burying themselves in the rotten skulls. The zombies from inside the bunker made their way out when they heard the sounds, and they were shot down as well. We were saved by the mysterious gunsmen.

Two men came running towards our bunker. They made their way around and within minutes they were alongside us. Both held guns. One was tall and dark with worry in his eyes. The other was a bit shorter, paler, and didn't seem too enthused to see us.

"Thank you," my dad sighed, "I thought that was it for us."

"It was no problem," the taller man replied.

"I'm Mark, and this is my daughter Rachel."

"The name's Lee, and this is Kenny."

"Where'd you come from?" I asked, wondering every possible place they could have come from. Lee answered me. He said they were set up at a motor inn with a few other survivors.

"You two are welcome to come along if you have nowhere to go," Kenny said. "Lily might not like it but-"

"Our bunker is filled with supplies," my dad exclaimed. "We can hook it up to the truck and go there!"

The men seemed pleased by the offer and by daybreak we were off to the motor inn. There was two other childeren there, younger than me, but it was something. I liked kids. Some woman, Lily, screamed at Lee and Kenny about bringing us until we mentioned the supplies. She seemed to be more calm, but took our supplies somewhere without our knowing. That night my dad tried to lecture me about the future.

"No matter what happens," he began, "You treat these people like family. God forbid anything happens to me, you'll have them for support."

I wasn't hearing him. "Nothing will happen to you, ever." I quickly turned around to fall into slumber and ignore him. I heard him get the last word in, though I think it was to himself.

He sighed, "I hope so," so sadly, it sounded like he could cry.

I hope so...

I hope so too. Dad would never die, no matter what reality showed.

Thanks for reading! Please give me you opinion on it! Anything helps!

Lee: Wait, I'm not the main character?

Me: Uh, no.

Lee: That's bullshit. :(

Clementine: Lee!

Lee: Oops, sorry... ^^'

Clementine: It's ok :D

Me: ANYWHO... As a rule I think is fair, I won't continue this story unless I get at LEAST 1 comment on this prologue. I think it's only fair. Why continue if nobody reads it? Anonymous comments are enabled!

PLEASE COMMENT! :D HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!