Hi guys, this is the first real story I've written in a long time, so any comment, no matter how small, Is massively appreciated. What can I say, The Last Of Us is amazing, and since it has the potential for so many brilliant stories, I felt like I had something to say. Indeed, the main character will grow up to become Ellie's biological father. How or why this will come about, I guess you will find out in the not too distant future. Expect suspense, twists and some good old OMG moments you loved so much in the game. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this fanfic, and if you did, Many thanks for leaving a comment. Thank you, and enjoy this introductory chapter.


Chapter 1: Arrival

The madman bit my brother's arm at the airport around 3 o' clock.

Around half an hour earlier, me and my family were busy collecting our rucsacks, giving them to their owners, as we prepared to leave the plane. My Dad told me the first time flying is always the hardest, as the slightly nauseating feeling of takeoff, plus the strange sensation of observing clouds below you, took a little bit of getting used to.

Naturally, I took out my phone, trying to concentrate on my app, resisting the urge to glance out of the window and freak out in front of my 17 year old brother. He was a nice guy most of the time, but had that odd mischevious streak about him which most older siblings can sometimes posess. If he caught me hyperventilating thousands of feet above sea level, he would never let me live it down.

It wasn't even my first time flying. When I was two years of age, My parents, without warning, left our cozy semi-detached house in Ealing, and took us with them to the place of my birth, Richmond, Virginia, to visit my rich grandparents. My mother was American, my dad British, and they first met when my dad accidentaly spilled coffee all over her, working in a London restaurant. My guess is they took it from there, and eventually managed to produce three sons. Mark, 17, Me, Jake, 15, and more recently, Felix, who is 3 years old.

13 years after my first flight to Granny and Grandad, I had completely forgotten what it was like to fly, and was fairly nervous. The last few hours were the worst, as I was anticipating touching the ground again.

After the rollercoaster ride that was the landing process, the pilot's voice chirped: "Ladies and Gentleman, Boys and Girls, we have now arrived at Richmond International Airport. The time is 2:22pm, 26th September 2013, and we have ourselves some lovely, sunny weather."


I was relieved to feel the jet-black tar as i stepped out of the plane. For the first time in a long time, I was utterly reliant on my Mum and Dad to tell me where i was going. It was a cozy childhood feeling, and I took a moment to appreciate it. The plan was to exit the terminal as quickly as we could, so we coud hopefully get to our grandparents in time for dinner.

Prior to our journey, anxious as I was to board a plane there, the kid in me gave a leap of excitement. For years, my mum had told me about the USA, it's history and places, and I had then found my great interest. My grandparents would no doubt be ready to answer any questions I had about their life, I thought, and my mother told me some of the greatest views in America could be found in Virginia.

So you'll forgive me if my humble British mind kept me awake at night, thinking about Virginia, it's towns, it's hills, and my awesome relatives. A place to call my home, and I was only too excited to be there at the airport.

After we had shown our passports at the gates, always with that odd, lingering feeling that you've done something wrong, we entered the shopping area. I looked at my brother. His expression wasn't as obvious as mine, but I could see the glint of excitement on his eyes. Everywhere I looked, people were busily ambling their way through shops, restaurants, even an overpriced bookstore. To the left of what I could only describe as a hall, I saw a giant window, exposing the gigantic jumbo jets on the runway. The architecture of the hall made the place feel futuristic, but it felt overdone, like a cake with too much icing.

I turned to my brother again, ready to speak. "Do you remember being at Granny and Grandad's at all?"

Mark scratched his beard, a phenomenon I was still trying to get used to. "Erm... yeah, actually." He briefly looked into the distance, smiled, then turned back to me. "I was only about four at the time, but I remember them being really funny, hilarious even." He looked at me with his trademark "Just you wait" grin. "From what I can remember, and from what mum tells me, they're great people."

He turned to Mum and Dad. "Alright if I get some lunch?" He pointed to a nearby McDonalds. I suddenly remembered turning down food at the Heathrow terminal. As much as I tried to stop it, I had felt sick with nervousness at the airport. At the time, the mere sight of food was enough to further my stomach pain. I remembered barely being able to manage a piece of toast back in our house. Now that my fears had subsided, I couldn't be hungrier. "Can I go too?" I ask. My Dad handed us each an unfamiliar note. I half-expected the face of Elizabeth II on a 10 pound note, but instead I found Alexander Hamilton looking back at me. It was then I truly realised just how far away London was.

"Here. Don't be having too much though. We're gonna have tea in a few hours at your grandparents." He pointed to a KFC. "Those are better tthe crap at McDonalds."

I nodded in appreciation, and joined the queue. I ordered a lunchbox meal, which was essentially a small box of chicken nuggets and a packet of chips. I downed them eagerly, my hunger awakening from it's troubled slumber. My brother sat opposite me, taking his time. I suddenly needed to go to the toilet. "Hey, um... Mark."

"Hmm?"

"I Just need to go to the men's for a minute, do you remember where it is?" He looked at me and nodded. "Sure, I'll come with you, just in case you, er..." He pulled his right hand away from his first finger. "Take off before you're on the runway." He stared at me and grinned boyishly.

I looked at him in confusion, then realised the joke. "Congratulations, dickhead, you made a funny in a different country!"

He then laughed, a big ,hearty laugh that made me laugh too. Luckily, he has the exact same sense of humour as mine, otherwise we'd have almost nothing to relate over.

I scoffed down the rest of my lukewarm chips and followed my brother to the toilet. My brother must keep some sort of notebook that lists every embarrassing thing I ever did. The particular episode Mark was relating to happened years ago,in primary school. Mark opened the door. And there he was, in all his glory. I can still remember it . The colour of the walls. the sligtly cracked mirror. The eyes.


Mark went in first, and treaded more slowly when he sensed something was amiss. I followed him, keeping a light step. At the same time, we both caught sight of the figure on the other side of the room. He was facing away from us, and his back was arched, the way a child might do if he were eating something and keeping it from his parents view. I noticed he was whimpering sofly, and his arm gave the odd twitch now and again. I opened my mouth to speak, maybe the poor guy was uncontrollably upset, but Mark put his fingers on his lips, and walked forward instead.

"Hello, sir, are you alright?"

The man swivelled round. There he stood, arms outstretched, then gave a howl of garbled rage. I however, was pinned down by fear, unable to quite believe what I was seeing. His eyes glowed bloodshot yellow, thick veins were strewn across his face. I could make out yellowish spots on his left cheek. Worst of all, his mouth and arms were literally gorged with blood.

He threw himself onto Mark, and I realised with looming horror his teeth were gnashing wildly. If Mark hadn't put his hands up against the lunatic's neck, I swear it could have been a very different scene.

The madman looked down where Mark was shielding himself, and, with a blood-curdling roar, bit his arm. The sound of teeth crunching against flesh was enough to make me puke my KFC right back up, With his free hand, he punched the madman across the face. While the madman was stunned, Mark brought up all the force he could manage, and kicked him in his he was just beside the door. The man gave a cry of pain, then stopped for a moment. He brought his face up, as if sniffing something. He then sprang up with incredible force, and threw himself out the door.

I turned round to Mark, flabbergasted. and he turned round to me.

He looked down to his arm, dripping blood, then looked up to me. "What the fuck?" he gasped.


And there you go! Like I said, don't worry about the length of this chapter. Expect more soon!