For eight years the city of Zootropolis has been abandoned after a mysterious viral outbreak turned it's population into walking corpses, among these walkers though is a half dead survivor within the confines of the city. Longing for a partner he ventures out, will he be able to help find a cure for this virus with the help of his new partner, and a certain fox and bunny?
Dead and Unburied
By A Laughing Wolf
DISCLAIMER: this is a Work In Progress, released to the public for informational purposes, please be patient with additions and future chapters.
Comments and feedback is greatly appreciated.
And this is technically a fanfiction, only with most characters being original.
Zootopia, Nick Wilde and Judy Hopps belong to Walt Disney, not me, no copyright infringement is intended and this is simply a work of fanfiction, all other characters are my own.
Chapter One- Walking Dead
As dusk began over the abandoned city all was quiet, not even a chirp of a bird could be heard as the once bustling city of life was silent once again, as it did so for eight years before. Now whatever remains of its residents are brainless terrifying corpses.
There were no survivors of the mystery infection that ravaged the country, or in the city at least, there was and continued to be an unending silence filled with nothing but the moans of the dead. Unless . . .
In the midst of the silence was an arctic wolf, laying on his stomach, waiting patiently, a significantly large 50 caliber rifle laying in front of him with its 20x scope only inches from the slitted, savage and seemingly zombified eye.
The wolf considered himself as a delicate killer, a lone wolf per say, and on his neck layed a bite, his zombified appearance would give anyone the notion that he was a 'walker' mindless, brainless drifters, looking only to clamp down on the flesh of the living.
The only problem was that the wolf definitely had a brain, and was definitely not planning on devouring anyone anytime soon, but rather hunting . . . Hunting for walkers like himself, one would clearly observe that he had a shimmering tone to his fur, a shine to it and that wasn't coincidental.
He was what many call a "savage" walker, though "savages" were far from an average walker. In the instance a zombie goes long without 'food', the virus mutates extensively and rapidly, turning the previous walker into a horrifying creature. He considered it as the worst kind of zombie to go up against, he had hearing that could pick up the slightest sounds for miles upon miles, immense strength that was enough to lift a small car, incredible speed and reflexes, in fact almost all physical attributes of savage walkers were mutated drastically, and there was still many more abnormalities about them.
Though he had every one of these attributes, he could jump over two stories high, he could smell the decaying smell of hordes miles away, he could hear the groaning, he could indeed lift a small car with ease, and he had an almost bloodthirsty desire for the iron taste of blood almost always in the back of his head. He also knew that killing walkers like him was something that needed to be done, and he had been doing so ever since the thought came to him.
As much as he hated to admit it though, the wolf sympathized with his targets, knowing that they had their own conscience, thoughts and somehow valued their miserable lives, being one himself he truly understood having the unending urge to feast on living flesh, though his point remained firm. Even if he was one of them, he still had a pulse, although it was very very slow, but he definitely had one, meaning that the walkers would definitely try to feast on him, he wouldn't let that happen.
The wolf held his breath at the sight of his target, a savage bear, currently growling at anyone and anything that moved around it, these types of walkers were always like that, he was as well.
Ever since becoming infected with the mysterious infection he realized that he was very easily angered, too much and too often for any living mammal. His thoughts went blank as he closed his left eye, zeroing in on the mammals head. All it took was a single surgical shot, piercing through its skull and digging into the wall beside it, the fifty caliber round hit its mark perfectly, emitting an echo of the loud crack of the rifle that persisted for over a minute.
Chambering his brass, the sniper pumped his fist in a satisfactory shot, however his day had only just begun. For a sniper of his rank and branch of the military, the wolf was a bit egotistical, even when he was fully alive he always wanted a way to make a name of himself, competing in championships in his early years in the military that most of which he lost, though he was never the type to hold grudges. Despite being in the military, it was mainly for sport.
Getting onto his feet, the wolf's eyes wandered across the streets below him that were currently filled with the undead, after scouting out the area he sought to reach his nest, an unfinished room on a construction site now fitted with sandbags and an array of rifles with a clear view of the area below and ahead of him.
Because of his somewhat egotistical personality and the current state of society, he's made quite the name of himself back home in the burrows for in the year he's been stuck in the city he's saved about 50 scavenger teams from the Burrows, though being proud of the act he knew that if the mammals saw him they would shoot immediately from his appearance, which unlike the state of his mind, was anything but remotely clean or distinguishable, not to mention living.
Being half dead meant that most of the less essential parts seemed to just fall off over time, his once luxurious white fur was matted and even completely gone in some places, it was matted as it was untended to for months on end considering without proper maintenance of power lines and water, none of which were available to him.
His face constantly looked like he was baring his teeth, as they were fully exposed in some parts of his muzzle, the seemingly ripped off chunks of his lip didn't help either, exposing the poorly kept, cavity ridden teeth of the canine. The once pure white fluff below his neck was still there however it was blood stained and appeared almost ten times darker, making it a very dark gray.
His paws were cut, having been roughed up through use and his foot paws were even worse, they were very calloused, giving them a worn and rough texture that was no doubt a symptom of his infection, making them ideal for pouncing, running and grabbing onto things, though most walkers couldn't do any of that if they wanted to, having been rotting for almost a decade. Wolford considered himself lucky in that aspect.
The only distinguishing feature of him that was left relatively well was his eyes, upon looking into a mirror he recognized that his lovable and personal favorite hazel colored eyes had turned into an ice blue, a shade that was so bright that it even managed to appear in the dark when the moonlight reflects off them, as if he were a large feline, though they were never just eyes to him, they were tools, and now very enhanced tools.
He roughly estimated that his eyes had more power than a 7 times scope on a traditional sniper rifle. It was only a rough estimate but he knew it from experience, not only that but they now acted as built in night vision goggles, but instead of a persistent green tint everything was just as it was during the day, despite this it did give him a kind of innocent look.
One of its most notable features however, was his pupils, instead of being round and normal, his were slitted as if he were a feline, he himself considered it a bit frightening and only adding truth to the statement that he looked more like an overpriced Halloween decoration than an actual zombie . . . Only in a sense. The wolf smiled to himself as the thought crossed his mind.
Wolford stepped back and away from the wide window, soon clicking his tongue in boredom as he made his daily routine.
His abode could hardly be considered as such, a high up apartment room that he theorized was a luxury room long before he came along, a big bay window and a wide kitchen facing the edge of the building and an old tv with a very worn couch placed a few inches in front of it, and a doorway behind it leading to a single bedroom.
He didn't consider his current resting spot as the best of beds but who is he to judge, he can rarely sleep; because of the luxurious aspect of his current home, he improvised by beginning a hobby he never thought he'd pick up, beside his bed lays a wooden desk that is illuminated by a makeshift lantern above it meant for a tee light. Sitting on the desk below it are a variety of books, most of which regarding medicine, guns, cooking and survival tips.
As the wolf sat at a rough table with a bowl of stale cereal in front of him, he began to discuss with himself his plans for the new day. He had been planning on doing something that his living self would ironically laugh at him for, Wolford wanted to gain a partner, a survivor or scavenger primarily, but to do that he first had to look non threatening, something that he knew was completely and utterly impossible.
He grunted as he stood up, rethinking it all in his head as he silently argued with himself on whether he was signing his own death warrant, unfortunately his lonesome side got to him, he would hit a nearby hospital that was fairly popular for its big scores of medical supplies and oddly enough, ammunition, he was hoping he'd find a living predator there to convince and eventually tag along with but he would be delightfully surprised.
