So I really like the idea of this fanfic, so I decided to post it on here, too (instead of just Instagram.) So, here it is!

The Walking Dead is not mine, only the OCs that you don't regonize from the show are mine.

CHAPTER 1

I came to terms a long time ago that being alone is better. Ya can sneak in quieter, get what ya need, and get out. I found an old farmhouse after I escaped the people I thought I could trust. I went inside to find an actual bed. It pains me that I'm overjoyed because I can sleep in a bed for a night. But that's just the way things are now. Everyone says that they could be able to survive the zombie apocalypse. Heck, I said it. I used to watch those movies and think the survivors were the most stupid people ever. I would yell at the screen to not go into that house, but they would, as always. Bye bye, survivors. I got kicked out of the movie theaters for screaming at Tallahassee on Zombieland. But there's a huge difference in thinking you can survive the zombie apocalypse and ACTUALLY surviving the zombie apocalypse. I found that out the hard way.

"I can board up those windows and actually live in this place for a while..." I said out loud. Maybe there is a downside to being alone. I really wished I had someone to talk to besides myself. I've been alone for about a month, and it's kinda driving me insane. But being with a group is dangerous. Rather talk to myself than get killed talking to other people. Well that's my opinion anyways. "Not very much supplies here." I noted as I searched the kitchen. "Seems like I need to make a run to the town 'fore it gets dark." I grabbed my crossbow, put my knife in my sheath, and tucked my gun in my back waist-band. Better safe than sorry. I went and hopped in the truck. I started it and sped out of the driveway, headed towards the town.

"Fast, Carter. In and out. Don't waste time gawking at dead people or anything." I reminded myself. I parked the truck a mile away from town, so I don't attract the unwanted. Walking there, I became thirsty. "There better be some water bottles in this town." I said, wiping sweat off my forehead. I opened the door to a pharmacy. There was a cardboard sign that in the window that said 'YAKE WHAT YOU NEED AND GOD BLESS'. Talk about southern hospitality. I walked to the 'Feminine Hygiene' area and grabbed some tampons. I moved to get a first aid kit that was behind the counter, and grabbed some ibuprofen. I'm not going to loot this place dry. Take what I need, it said. I walked across the street to a dollar store and got my bow ready, just in case. I stepped inside and went straight to the back, where it had been unscathed of the looters. There was a walker, but I took my machete out and sliced it through its head. All good. I grabbed some boxes of canned food, some water cases, and was on my way. It was quite a heavy load, but I made it to the truck without trouble.

I unloaded my supplies when I arrived back to the old farmhouse. It wasn't a very bad run, I thought. But I need more food. The canned food won't last forever. I need to go hunting.

"Gotta eat something." I told myself as I grabbed a can of beans. I'm really not a fan of beans, but that seemed to be the only thing I had. I turned to the mirror. "Gross." I hadn't had a shower since right after all this happened. I sat my food down and grabbed a rag to wipe my face off. There was some dried walker blood on my cheek. I grabbed my last pair of clean clothes. It was a white tank-top, bra, and some jeans. I guess I'm going to have to find a stream or something to clean my filthy clothes in. I stripped my shit and bra, and was latching my bra when the front door swung open. I latched it in record time and turned with my gun cocked and loaded in a matter of seconds.

"Holy shit woman! Got some clothes on!" A man yelled, covering his eyes. I kept my hands on my gun, not worried 'bout him seeing me in a bra. I just didn't want this stranger to hurt me or anything. "Ya decent?" He asked after a minute. I still hadn't moved.

"What do ya want?" I asked suspiciously. He peeked through his hands and saw that I still wasn't dressed. I almost laughed at the sight of this rough and tough redneck peeking through his hands to see if I was 'decent', but I decided not to, considering the situation I was in.

"Not answering until ya out yer shirt on." He said stubbornly.

"Then git out. I'm not taking my hands off this gun." I told him. I then noticed his crossbow slung across his shoulder. He took it off and sat it on the ground.

"There, now put the damn shirt on." He faced away from me so I could put my shirt on. In lightning speed I had my shirt on and my hand back on my gun.

"What do ya want?" I asked again.