Notes: Okay so I started a new playthrough of SOD and decided to just play as Maya. I started making up a back story and then...this happened. I'm only publishing this because there are so few fanfics of SOD to begin with and to keep me motivated to keep writing lol. But I'm just doing this for fun, no other reason! This fic will have pregnancy, swearing, graphic sex, gore, violence, attempted non-con, and other potentially triggering themes. Hey, it's the zombie apocalypse! But it's mainly a romance fic, so ye be warned. It sort of loosely follows what happened in my playthrough, so some game spoilers. But for the majority I am making a tonne of shit up. A TONNE. I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING. I just like playing with stuff. All survivor names are ones I came across in the game. Maya/Mickey pairing.


Maya Torres gazed despondently down at the group of zombies clustered at the base of the granary where she was perched. They were so badly decomposed she couldn't tell if they were male or female, all that was left of the people they once were was the tattered remains of shirts and uniforms. A mechanic, a police officer and a waitress might have been what they were in life, but in death they were just zombs, hungry for Maya shaped meat.

She debated firing at a few but knew they'd lose interest shortly and wander off; it was wiser to save what bullets she had for when she needed them.

It had been three weeks since she had joined up with Marcus and Ed, and found out about the end of the world. Since then Maya had helped build up a community of eighteen survivors, all holed up in an old farmhouse they had fortified with lumber and spare parts. Ten women, eight men. It had been Maya's idea to move to the farm, reasoning that keeping away from the town's infestations would be wiser. She had kept them safe, teaching many of the survivors how to shoot with what guns they had, how to fight hand to hand and survive in the new harsh world.

The army had all bugged out. Last she had spoken to Sgt. Tan, he was coughing up black goo and raving about leaving the valley. She had no doubt that the man was dead now, and she spared a brief thought of grief for him. He'd been an alright guy, and his military knowledge would have been useful.

But Maya knew leaving the valley wasn't the answer to their problems. If a place like Turnbull county was hit this bad, then it would be even worse in the populated cities.

Maya frowned, swinging her legs. The wood beneath her creaked, but the zombies didn't care, already beginning to lose interest and shuffle away. Her rifle was resting across her knees, the same rifle Colton had given her as a Christmas present last year. It had served her well, though it hadn't been enough to save the man himself.

No, they were in this for the long haul. Months, years maybe, who knew. She had done well so far but it was time to start looking to the future, to start planning what she was going to do. Maya was a survivor above everything else, but soon she'd have something else to worry about.

Her period was late.

She'd always been like clockwork, to the point of the boys in her squad using her monthly cycles like a calendar. Now she was out of sync, and while some of that could be blamed on the whole apocalypse thing, Maya knew better.

Her knuckles turned white where they gripped the rifle. She just hadn't been careful enough. The hunting trip up to Turnbull county had been a spontaneous one; Colton and Strand had wooed her over with promises of a whole two weeks with nothing but the fresh air, deer and lazing around a lake. Like a fool she had let herself be drawn in by their twin smiles, and now look at the mess she was in.

Her relationship with the two had been anything but conventional. A ménage à trois they probably called it in polite circles, but whatever, it had worked for them. But then Colton and Strand had died up there by that lake, and Maya was left to fend on her own.

"God, you guys must be laughing your asses off wherever you are," she muttered, casting a glance at the blue sky. The sun beat down on her, making sweat prickle along her brow. "Well ha-fucking-ha, you assholes."

In a few months she'd be a liability instead of an asset, and the group had precious few of those to begin with. In the past week alone Maya had been called on to get her fellow survivors out of all sorts of scrapes, and those were the ones who actually had some sort of shooting experience. None of them would be able to protect her and a child, let alone a newborn who would be squalling night and day, attracting all sorts of freaks. They were good people, but weak. Maya had been carrying them all, and already she was feeling the strain. What would it be like in a few months when her belly swelled and her back started to ache? Sure, the men would try and help, but they weren't like her, weren't trained in the art of war and survival.

As much as she wanted to believe in her group, she knew deep down that she couldn't trust them. Not with something as huge as this.

That left her with few options. She could leave the group, try and survive on her own holed up somewhere and hope not to draw any attention to herself. It was a terrible idea, and one she had dismissed as soon as she thought of it. She cared for the group, and wanted to still help them, she just needed to ensure that she and the baby were protected somehow, that if things went to shit and the group was attacked, that there was a way out.

They could try leaving the valley, but that didn't appeal either. Colton and Strand had died in this godforsaken place and call her sentimental but she wanted to stay, to keep a piece of them alive however she could. Besides, who was to say that the outside world was any better? From what Maya could see, this was the world now. The army had come, and failed. The Law had tried to prevail, and it had failed too. The Judge was long dead, and Carl, the nice sheriff Maya had helped time and time again, torn to pieces alongside her. Nice didn't cut it in this world. Nice got you killed.

Which brought her back to the group. Of the men, only Marcus had any real idea of what he was doing, and though a good friend, Maya couldn't see him as father material. He'd pity her; give sympathy and kind words where she needed action, hot steel and live rounds. The women would rally to her sure, but she faced the same problem. When she got to be big and round, unable to run from zombs and fire a weapon, could she trust them to watch her back? What if one of those big fat ones got in and charged? Would anyone be at her back to put it down when she couldn't?

Probably not.

Maya gazed out across the plains, inadvertently looking in the direction of option number three, the one she had been rolling around her head since coming to the outpost that morning, evaluating it from all possible angles and still coming up frustratingly blank.

The Wilkersons.

She sighed, shocked she was even still considering it. Maya had kept on their good side, running some interference for them that she judged to still be morally sound. She didn't ask questions about what they were doing, just turned a blind eye and did what they asked within reason. Everyone had to survive somehow, and Maya had done her fair share of distasteful things to keep her own group going.

She thought briefly of Alan, of how she had taken him out to an empty field and put a bullet in the back of his head. All over a cough. No-one had wept over him, but it was still murder.

Yeah, she had done some shit too. She couldn't exactly throw stones.

The Wilkersons were the real power in the valley. As the police and army failed, they stayed up there in their crumbling fortress, and they persevered. It had made sense to stay on their good side, though Lily didn't approve and often told Maya so, voice disapproving like a mother's over the radio. But she was still just a kid, who saw the world in clear black and white, while Maya saw it in shades of grey.

Any new survivors Maya came across spoke of the Wilkersons with awed and frightened whispers, and Maya had seen first-hand how the Wilkersons ran off any rival gangs hoping to move in on the territory. Three weeks may not seem like that long, but in this new world it was like a lifetime, and the Wilkersons were settling in for the long haul. Everyone else could either join them, or die.

So far the only other group to rival their survival rate and size was Maya's, and that was by busting her ass 24/7 to keep them all alive.

She wouldn't exactly say the brothers were friendly with her, but they weren't unfriendly either. She had been the one to put the youngest Wilkerson out of his misery so he wouldn't reanimate, had been the one to defend their hideout when one of the huge ones tried to get in. They owed her respect at least, and they gave it begrudgingly, and it was better than being on their hit list.

Mickey had even complimented her shooting a few times, though she wasn't sure 'Tex' was a good nickname or not. Mickey was the oldest, and probably the more explosive. He had a mouth on him, and a temper, but beyond their first distrustful meeting, Maya had never really seen any evidence of it. She had a feeling he was more bark than bite, but it worked for him.

Job Wilkerson was the one that unsettled her. He was educated and soft spoken, even friendly-ish when she first met him, but since then she had seen a different side to him. Where Mickey was considered the brawn, Job was the brains. It was him who had planned out the shakedowns on fellow survivors coming through, Maya knew. The only soft side she'd seen to Job had been when Eli died, and even that wasn't much.

The Wilkersons were thugs, no two ways about it. But they got shit done. They persevered where others didn't, and Maya could respect that. Could admire it even, though she didn't think she could ever become as ruthless as they were. At the end of day Maya would help anyone she could, no matter the things she had to do.

But Job Wilkerson scared the crap out of her. She had done a small job for the Wilkersons only days ago, escorting a group of three survivors to meet them at a secluded location. Job had sent her away like some sort of obedient pet, and when she returned later to check on things, she'd found three dead bodies where three people used to be.

Maya had stared at the corpses a long time, before turning and getting into her truck and driving away. This was the world they lived in now, there was no use trying to hide from it. Lily spoke about taking the Wilkersons on, to stop the shakedowns, but that was a fool's dream. If they wanted to keep their peaceful part of Turnbull, then they had to play along with the powers that be, even if that meant doing distasteful things.

With new life stirring inside her, Maya needed the Wilkersons more than ever. She needed their protection, as well as the hefty weight of their reputation behind her own name. So far none of the other enclaves had offered her group much trouble, but it was only a matter of time. Eventually supplies would begin to run out, and then Maya knew things would go to hell.

Desperate people did desperate things. But even desperate people thought twice about tangling with the Wilkersons.

If she was going to make it through this, as well was the fetus cooling it's heels in her belly, she was going to need the hillbilly brothers. And the only way she could see her getting them on her side was convincing one that the baby was theirs.

She was going to have to seduce one of them.

Maya shuddered at the thought, rubbing her arms. Job would be her smartest bet, he was the scheming one, the one who probably wielded the true power. But try as she might, Maya just couldn't bring herself to go through with it. Every time she tried to picture how the scenario might go, she saw three dead faces staring back at her accusingly as Job told her in a soft voice to get, like a master to his dog.

She could do a lot of things, but Job wasn't one of them. And that left her only one remaining Wilkerson.

She didn't know much about him, admittedly. The few survivors she had spoken to told her about how though Job got Mickey to deal out some beatings, Mickey was also the one who often stopped them before they went too far. He had a temper, liked shooting things, but Maya remembered the way grief had choked him as she had turned her rifle on his dead brother that proved he was human.

He even reminded her a bit of Colton, though taller. For a moonshine swigging hillbilly Mickey Wilkerson at least had all his teeth, and she couldn't argue with his shooting skills; he was the best shot in the whole valley. She remembered him picking off zombies as they tried to hold the downstairs of the Barrett house, whooping like a kid at a carnival every time he nailed one. He never missed a head shot.

Maya groaned, hanging her head in her hands. She couldn't believe she was still contemplating it but out of all the ideas she'd thought of, this was the most sensible. It was cold and calculated, but then again that was what she had to do these days. If she could convince everyone that she was carrying Mickey's baby…

She just might live long enough to give birth.

Maya frowned. Of course that meant she'd have to…seduce him. And soon.

"What a fucking mess," she muttered again, smoothing a hand down her still flat belly. She had contemplated telling Lily but decided against it almost immediately. She loved the girl, but Lily was a blabbermouth, and lives depended on this going according to plan. If the Wilkersons found out she'd been lying about everything…

No, she'd have to play this close to the chest, with as few people aware of the truth as possible. In fact, no-one could know. Not even Doc Hanson, though she was sure he'd suss out that the timing would be wrong eventually. Still, what was a couple of weeks difference? With no sonograms to see development, they couldn't prove how far along she was or wasn't.

The group wouldn't take it well though. Marcus especially, who had become a close friend. She knew there were those in the group who had set their sights on her as well, Gage, Patrick, Raul, even Marcus himself had made a few friendly passes. There would be many a hurt pride at the thought of her passing them all over for a Wilkerson.

And what if they didn't let her stay with the group? What if the Wilkersons dragged her away and treated her like some broodmare to be protected until she gave birth? She had to be prepared for that, but she knew that even if that happened, she'd do it. If it meant keeping the baby and herself safe, she'd do a hell of a lot.

Like sleep with a Wilkerson in the first place.

Maya peered between the wooden slats, seeing that the zombies had finally lost interest. That was her cue to leave.

She was done thinking. She had planned, mulled, and talked herself in and out of a dozen scenarios. Truth was, Colton and Strand were gone, and she was stuck with a baby she couldn't protect. Either she did something now, or she did nothing at all, and possibly doomed herself and the baby to an early grave.

Maya Torres didn't take life lying down. Never had. Back in the real world she had been just another grunt in uniform but in this world, she was the fiercest bitch in this town, and that meant she needed the fiercest dog at her side.

Mickey Wilkerson was going to be the father of her baby.

"God help us all," she muttered, getting to her feet. Slinging the rifle over her shoulder she swung herself down onto the ladder, checking that all her zombie admirers had truly left, leaving only their stench behind. She needed to get back to the farmhouse, grab some supplies, and then somehow get herself over to the Wilkerson place tonight, all without arousing too much suspicion from her fellow group members.

"Easy peasy," she said out-loud, climbing into her beaten up truck and shifting it into gear. "And to think I thought this might be hard."