This stories existence came about purely because I made one stupidly obvious realization. I think you all have probably guessed it judging by the characters, but for those who don't know…let's just say this story is crazy.

Hope you like it!

Chapter One:

The Doodie Hits the Proverbial Fan

You ever watched Citizen Kane?

Well, what I am about to tell you will probably be on the same level as that movie when it comes to weird shit. At least, I think it will, I've never seen that movie. The last movie I saw before this shit started was The Matrix, and I thought it was pretty sweet. My cat loved that movie. I wonder what the hell little old Zeus is up to? Probably eating what was left of my carpet, cute little bastard.

Whoops, got a little off topic there, sorry about that. Anyway, my name is Omid, pleased to meet you. I am a Cancer and my ideal girl is someone with a sense of humor and, this is kind of important, they have to not want to want my flesh. Sorry walker ladies, this handsome specimen is already taken by a woman who likes the look of my face without having the urge to bite it off. Sorry, rambling again, Christa's always telling me I have a bad habit of that.

Before I let loose with all of my juicy details, let me tell you a little bit about numero uno here. I grew up in San Francisco, never really moving around unless my dad saw some slick new house he wanted to check out, which happened a lot. My folks always urged me to get into the housing business for some reason, probably hoping I could get them a better deal or something when they decided to buy their dream home. Me being the momma's boy I am, I decided to get into history instead, leading my parents to kind of disown me. Then one day after graduating from college, I ran into the girl of my dreams. Well, more like waddled into her after being kicked out of a bar for pantsing a guy. She must have fell for me immediately cause she offered me a ride after I told her my license was suspended, for reasons I would rather not say. After about seven months of dates, she was all mine and we planned a big road trip. The all American road trip, to be specific, so I could see all of the fucking awesome historical sites, especially things related to the Civil War. Christa mostly went to keep an eye on me, or so she says. I think she was just as much of a nerd as me at heart.

So we packed up, left a few bags of cat food for Zeus, and headed out. Our first destination was Vegas, not for any kind of historical reason, but because, well, it was fucking Vegas. Who in their right mind wouldn't stop there? When we got to Barstow, well…something happened. I don't really remember what, but let's just say I slept in a puke filled dumpster while it was pouring the rain. I think I may have said something not so polite to Christa when I was drunk or something, but I'll never know. Every time I ask her about it she just laughs. Clever girl.

About a month into our country wide adventure, we met some guy on the highway just outside of Georgia. He was screaming about being bit and his arm was pretty much covered in blood. Me being the nice guy I am, I stopped to pick him up. But, as always, Christa started nagging me about how it was not our problem and that we should just keep driving. Before I could think about how selfish that was, the guy was already in the car and groaning in pain. Christa shot me a dirty look and started to dig around in her purse for some napkins to stop the bleeding. I asked for the guys name and, in between his gasp, he said his name was Martin.

Well, too bad me and ol Martin never got to exchange more than a few sentences, because when we were about thirty minutes from the nearest hospital, we got caught in a fucking huge traffic jam just outside of Troup County. I swear it must have been an hour before we even moved an inch. Then, as if on cue, people started getting out of their cars and began yelling at whatever they felt like, mostly at other people who dared to look at them.

Then came the moment when everything turned to shit.

I was sitting there, bored out of my mind and halfway to dream town, when Christa shook me awake, her voice panicky. Christa never lost her cool, keep that in mind. I take one look toward the direction she is pointing and see a few people swarming around this one guy. I thought maybe they were kicking his ass or something, but oh boy, was it much worse than that. They were literally tearing the dude apart and…eating him. The shock took over and, before my conscious made me want to jump out try to save the guy, I heard a low moan come from behind me. Christa screamed and I turned around.

The first thing I saw was his eyes. His soulless, white eyes locking onto mine. Well, more like locking onto my tasty face. He lunged at me, grabbing my shoulder and leaning forward, his mouth opening and his teeth baring as he got ever closer. It was all so shocking that I barely moved. Thank God Christa was there to scream at me and punch the guy in the face, waking me up from my stupidity.

We got out of the car, managed to worm our way past a few more walkers and screaming people and just…ran. It felt like we ran about five miles before we stopped to catch our breath. I was the first to question what the fuck just happened and Christa was there to give me a nice, calming smack in the face. A few more dramatic months later and we met up with Lee's group, just in time for another tragedy and, best of all, I hurt my leg while trying to jump on a train. Sounds fun right? We took a little ride on the Fun Express and made our way to the land of milk and honey. More like the land of pissed off invalids and creepy guys on radios called Savannah.

Fun fact, did you know that Savannah is the oldest city in the state of Georgia? Plus, it has a bunch of Confederate sites that are fucking awesome to a nerd like me. You don't want to hear that though do you? You want to hear about all of my dramatic struggles and hear me angst about how I'll never see the world the same way again. If you want that stuff I think you might want to talk to Clementine.

Poor Clementine…

Anyway, that brings us up to where we are now.

This is the awesome, yet fucking weird story of how I "died".

"Well, when she said Vegas weekend she wasn't kidding." I said, zipping up my pants. I let out a chuckle and stood patiently outside, both admiring the gorgeous blue sky and keeping an eye out for any curious walkers. I can barely remember when I last stopped to admire the scenery. I think it may have been five minutes ago. I found it kind of weird how Clementine was not out yet; me and Christa had been in there for at least five minutes. Maybe she found a walker? No I doubt it, we would have heard the gunshots if that were the case. As I walk a little closer to the barren road, my thoughts turn back to little Omid. Why in the world would Christa not want to name our baby that? I mean, it literally translates to hope! Who wouldn't want a little bundle of joy that brings hope and laughs everywhere he goes? Oh wait, that's me.

I look down at my watch-less wrist and immediately remembered Clementine, making me turn and walk towards the girl's bathroom that lay directly across from the men's. For some reason, I freeze for a moment as I see the sign, making me laugh a little. It is literally the end of the world with zombies crawling all over the place and I still worry about going into the girl's bathroom. Man, talk about priorities.

"My dad gave it to me."

I freeze just as my hand is on the door. Was Clementine talking to herself? I leaned in a little bit, hoping and praying that she was just going crazy or something.

"Just give it to me!"

Okay, that definitely was not Clementine that time. Did someone sneak in while me and Christa were in the boy's room? Damn it, I knew I should have kept lookout! But of course, I had to be an idiot. Again.

"Junk, junk junk. Look at all this junk!"

Well, no time to stand around and cry. If Clem was about to get hurt then I…that's not going to happen. I'll make sure of it. I take a deep breath and slowly open the door, basically tip toeing inside like something out of a cartoon.

"Shit, shit and more shit."

I keep on sneaking until I round the first stall, coming upon a scene from one of my worst nightmares. A teenage girl wearing a light pink hoodie was holding Clem's gun and pointing it at her, searching through the young girl's back pack. I lock eyes with Clementine, who looks to be on the verge of crying and then look at the blabbering girl, going on about fish or something. Clem looks back at me, thankfully not saying anything as I think of a way to approach this. Do I just jump her and hope to wrestle the gun away? That might work, but I would run the risk of getting shot in the process. I could just sneak up on her and take her by surprise, snatching the gun away and giving her a stern talking to before letting her go. I don't know which one to do! Damn it, why is planning so hard? Why can't I be like Kenny and just make it up as I go?

Taking the second option and hoping for the best, I slowly creep up behind the girl as she continues to blab on about something. As I get closer, I see that she is holding Clem's picture of Lee, talking smack about him probably. Lee was probably one of the coolest guys I ever met. He knew how to be both badass and a total saint at the same time, making me really fucking jealous. My ears are blocking out everything else except my quiet footsteps and my quick breaths. I am about a foot from her and I prepare myself to jump, trying my best not to think about getting shot, which was kind of hard. Then, my entire body went numb as I heard a clang from behind me. Of fucking course, double dumbass points on me for forgetting to close the fucking door.

I quickly turn around; my chest tightening up in pants shitting terror as I look at the door that single handedly doomed my plan. Well, single handle-ly I guess. Get it? Ah, screw you to. Then I hear a loud bang. A very bad bang. Like, gunshot level of bad bangs.

All I felt was a very hot and very painful feeling take hold of my chest, near my heart to be exact. I turn to look back at both the girls, each one looking horrified at what had just happened. I take a few quick gasp of air as I look down, seeing blood soaking into my cloths as I instinctively cover the hole in my chest. Then, I take one last look at both of them, my vision fading as I barely make out their shapes. The last thing I remember seeing was the look on Clem's face. A look that screamed "not again" as her eyes teared up. The last thing I remember thinking about was Christa and how beautiful she looked when she smiled. Dying sure does have a way of making you appreciate the small things like that.

Then everything went black as I hit the floor.

You would think that was the end right? Well, here is when things get fucking weird.

Really, really fucking weird.

You know what's funny? I always thought being dead would be more fun. I thought I would turn into a ghost and start haunting a bunch of places. Always wanted to haunt my high school, I hated that fucking place, always got picked on by some tall dick named Bruce. But apparently being dead is a lot less fun than you can imagine. Besides, if I did turn into a ghost, haunting would be lot less fun since all you could do was mess with the walkers and they aren't a very fun bunch. This totally black environment could sure use some decorations though, maybe a bit of sparkles and some puppy stickers to liven the place up a bit.

Then it hit me. If I am dead, then how am I still thinking? You can't do that, right?

The urge to open my eyes had been present, but ignored because, well, I thought I was dead! When I actually tried it and succeeded, it made me want to jump like a fucking jack rabbit. However, those celebrations would have to wait, seeing as how I had no idea where the hell I was.

I felt myself laying down on something very cozy. It certainly did not feel like any floor I have slept on and I am sure that the pit stop we were at did not have any pre installed cushion floors. If those even exist in the first place. The room I was in looked pretty run down, which basically meant it looks normal in this day and age. The walls were made of brick and it kind of looked like a workshop or something. I slowly rose up, surprised at the lack of pain in my chest from doing this.

Speaking of my chest, when I looked down, my clothes were completely different as well and I noticed the absence of a bullet hole, which made me happy. I was wearing a light grey muscle shirt instead of my usual black one and my black jeans had been replaced with light brown cargo pants. Where in the hell did Christa get these cloths? Hell, I don't even remember packing clothes! I turned to let my legs hang off the side of the bed, slowly rotating my head around to try and configure my position. Damn, I guess Christa is rubbing off on me.

I looked to see a camo jacket hanging on the nearby dresser, dangling from one of the higher handles of the knee high cabinet. Okay, either Christa forgot that I fucking hated camo, or she did it on purpose. Knowing her, it was probably the latter. I sighed and stood up, feeling like I had slept like a baby.

Baby…

Wait, where the hell was Christa and Clementine anyway? If I know them, they would have been by my side the whole time I was out, not moving even if a herd of walkers was coming. Or maybe they left me because Christa did not have the heart to shoot me so I wouldn't turn. No, she would rather shoot me than let me come back as a walker, she told me so herself. I don't know if I could do the same for her, but I would sure as hell try.

Who knows, maybe they went out to find more food or scout the rest of this place out.

Sick and tired of asking myself questions, I groaned and walked toward a wall mirror to inspect my ever handsome face.

"What the fuck?" I said, my eyes widening as I looked at my reflection. For starters, my voice had gone deeper and I was like a whole head taller than before. Maybe when I got shot, the bullet hit some kind of growth organ and my body finally got the message of making me taller. However, that was the least of my worries. My face looked like it had been put in a blender and shat back out by a mutant hippo. By that, I mean my face looked completely different. My eyes were a lighter shade of brown, my hair was scruffier instead of shaved and I looked a lot more muscular. Damn, I need to get shot more often if it does this to you.

"Okay, jokes over, what the hell happened to me?" I asked the mirror, wishing that Christa or Clem would bust in and explain all this shit for me instead of making me ramble about it. Then, as if my prayers were answered, I heard a knock at the door that rested to my right. I felt my head clear and I sighed in relief. If I opened that door and seen Christa holding our baby with Clementine holding a truckload of food and water, I would be the happiest man in the world. But that's like expecting cheeses to leak from the walls. I fucking love cheese.

I walk to the door, kind of unsure how to greet them. I mean, I look like a completely different person and Christa is not a fan of strangers. Plus I highly doubt she would believe me if I told her getting shot did this to me. That's my girl, cynical unless you have rainbows coming out your ass and a magic wand. Another knock raised me from my flashbacks and I took a deep breath, turned the knob and swung it open. Who I saw was definitely not Christa, that is, unless she had gained over a hundred pounds and grew an afro over night. Damn, how long was I out? Can't say I am a fan of the hair though, might need to talk to her about that.

"There you are Troy. Bill says you need to get your ass up to his office, says he's got some kind of mission planned and that you're a part of it." I did nothing but stare at the plump woman. She might as well had dropped her pants did a little song and dance while wearing a sombrero and I would have been just as fucking stumped. So many names all at once, Troy, Bill, who the fuck was she talking about? She must have noticed my confusion.

"Troy, did you hear me?" I shook my head real fast and gained what little remained of my sanity. Then I quickly nodded. I guess my name was Troy now or something.

"Yeah totally, over the river and through the woods to get to Bill's house, got ya." The woman raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. I only smiled back, doing my best not to panic and grab her by the collar so she could tell me what the hell was going on. But I was afraid of doing anything with that AK in her hands.

"Alright then…get dressed. Remember, Bill don't like to be kept waiting." I nodded rapidly as I watched her walk away. I slammed the door and went back to the mirror and just stared at "myself."

Okay. Things have now taken a turn for the shit. Again.

That weird lady who I have never seen before called me Troy, she did not seem surprised to see me and she told me to go to someone named Bill. Alright then, let's not lose our minds here. Maybe Christa gave me to these people and they changed my face, my name and managed to save my life so I could be of use to them on some mission. Yeah, I fucking doubt that. That sounds like something out of a video game or some shit. My mind was racing in every direction other than the one I wanted it to go on, which was realizing what the hell was going on and how to get out of it. But, seeing as how I was only confusing myself even more by thinking about it, I shook it off and looked back up at my false reflection.

"Okay Omid, get your shit together. Christa and Clementine have got to be around here somewhere, all I have to do is play along with this fucking charade and I'll be fine." I said, not calming myself down one bit. The voice I spoke with only made me want to panic even more. I took a few deep breaths and turned away from the mirror, looking at the camo coat that, for some reason, seemed awfully familiar. Great, even camo is growing on me. What next, I'll kiss a walker? Well…okay I need to stop thinking so much; it makes my stupidity seem like an act.

Donning my very ugly coat, I slowly opened the door and poked my head out, being ever cautious just in case this was some kind of trap. I may not be as clever as Christa but…yeah Christa pretty much outclasses me in every field. Except a sense of humor that is, I have that down pat. I cautiously stepped out and looked down the long hallway for any sign of either walkers or a person who had a bad haircut and a moustache. That usually meant they were a bad guy every time.

Knowing as much about this place as Gandhi would an army base, I headed to the left and crept my way down the quiet hall. I could hear what sounded like people yelling and stuff being moved around all over. Was this some kind of factory, a community maybe? Whatever the hell it was, I was not going to take any chances of running into anybody. Usually I am a trusting guy, something Christa bust my chops for all the time, but I am like a wet cat on a surfboard in shark infested lava right now, no clue how I got there and not too eager to do anything that may result in me getting killed. Lady Luck seemed to laugh at me when I thought this, seeing as how when the thought passed, the door I was walking towards at the end of the hall opened up. I stopped on my heels and quickly leaned against the wall, hoping that whoever it was would just pass me by. I turned my head toward the other end of the hall and started to whistle as innocently as I could, staring at the multiple doors that rested along the corridor. Please don't stop, please don't stop, please don't-

"Troy?" Ah damn it.

I slowly turn my head and flash a nervous grin to the stranger. It was a brown haired woman, a little bit shorter than me. She had short brown hair, brown eyes and looked kind of confused at the moment. Oh yeah, and she had a freaking AK as well. Does everyone in this place have a gun but me?

"Hey…you?" I said, darting my eyes from her to the door she came through. I could just walk right past her and, being the nice girl I am sure she is, I am sure she would not mind. However, my conscience would assault me with a year old chicken leg if I even moved a single step. It sucks to be a good person sometimes. The short woman raised an eyebrow.

"You okay?" I quickly nodded, noting how suspicious that makes me look and how stupid I probably looked when I did it.

"Yeah sure, I was just heading to Bill's. I think." I scratched the back of my head and continued to eye up the door that rested a few feet away. Her confusion faded away and was replaced by a small amount of fear for some reason.

"Oh, uh, alright then, sorry I kept you." She then bolted past me in a quick walk, leaving before I could even say a thank you or something like that. I stood there for a moment, confused. I guess this Bill character is either a real piece of shit or maybe…nah that would be stupid. But what if I… Ah damn it, I hate it when things start to line up the way I think they will. If I am right then maybe I am dead. Maybe, for some fucked up reason I can't even begin to comprehend, I was somehow placed in this Troy guy's body when I got shot and supposedly died. My brain may be eating itself thinking about it, but it kind of makes sense. I wake up in a place I have never seen before filled with people I have never met, Christa and Clementine are nowhere to be found and I look completely different.

This shit is too trippy to think about right now; maybe if I go see this Bill character things will finally make sense.

But I highly fucking doubt it.

Crazy idea? Oh heck yeah, but is it fun to write. Let me know what you guys thought about it!