Chapter One
It was like the cul-de-sac party from hell for suburbia. Doors were kicked in, crimson stains coating the grounds. Toys and lawn care equipment were strewn across the ground. A few lawn mowers were stripped of their engines, the husk of the machine being the only thing left. Whatever windows weren't boarded vigorously now stood shattered and broken, much like the rest of the world was. Those who had not prepared for the storm of the apocalypse were shattered and turned into the walking dead, leaving those who were prepared or could prepare quickly enough to fend for themselves against the dead and each other. It was hell on earth, literally, and those who couldn't cope got capped, or worse.
It was in this world that a lone figure turned the corner of Elm Way and Weatherly Street. A baseball cap was worn backwards over his head, only being removed occasionally to wipe the sweat from his short, dark hair. A gray shirt, tinted dark with moisture, sat on his torso while dark blue jeans rested over his legs. A large backpack rested on his back as he quickly adjusted its position, making sure the straps were comfortably placed. A five iron spun around in his hand, keeping his mind busy as he scanned the streets before walking further down the sidewalk. Shawn had already been picking this street over for the past week, so he knew which of the houses he'd already plundered or had been plundered before he got to them, and which he had yet to investigate.
He arrived at one of the latter houses and eyed the front door. Nothing was barring it, and everything seemed peaceful on the inside (at least there was no violent banging or gunshots coming from inside, so it was as peaceful as anything could be right now). Shawn approached the door, club solidly in hand as he tried the door. Stuck. Shawn shimmied the knob harder, trying to force the door open as quietly as he could. Still nothing budged. Shawn eyed around him, checking to see if anyone was in sight and earshot. Seeing nothing, Shawn took a step back and kicked the door with some serious force. The door budged, but still didn't come open. Shawn kicked and kicked again, each time getting the door to open a slight bit further. With one final kick the lock busted, swinging the door open wide.
Cautiously, Shawn stuck his head inside the door, taking a look around. The house looked peaceful for the most part. Nothing was upturned or broken really, aside from the odd window. There was no indication from the front door view that anyone was camping out here, so Shawn slowly made his way into the house, club held in front of him for protection. He went into what looked like the living room, and walked around a heavily used couch to peek into what looked like the kitchen. Shawn cautiously entered, making sure no one was in, before he opened what looked like the pantry door. His eyes flew wide open, his mouth fell slightly.
Inside was the most stocked pantry he had ever seen. Canned goods, crackers, jugs of water, even non-food essentials like batteries, matches, lighter fluid, coolers for storage, even a duffle bag; there was so much here that Shawn doubted he could get it all in one trip, and he certainly wouldn't be able to keep it all without stashing it somewhere. Shawn grinned slightly, shaking his head. If finding a place to store all of the food he found was his biggest problem, then he was doing alright. The man set down his backpack and opened it up before grabbing the duffle bag and opening it as well. If he was going to loot this place, might as well have plenty of ways to carry it. He began loading up both bags to the brim, saving the food items for the duffle bag and the non-food essentials for the backpack. By the time that he had both bags loaded up, the pantry was only half depleted. Another grin settled onto his face for a moment. Today was a good day. With all of the food and supplies he found, he would be set for weeks without needing to go scavenging again, if not for months. The prospect of being able to kick back and rest for longer than a few hours was almost too good to believe. Shawn got back up and settled the backpack and the duffle bag onto his back, getting ready to search the rest of the place for anything useful.
Creak.
Shawn froze. His breathing slowed as he made as few noises as possible.
Creak.
Shawn picked up his golf club slowly, turning around and peeking his head out of the pantry. He didn't see anything moving.
Creak.
But something definitely was moving around. Shawn moved out of the pantry, slowly making his way out of the kitchen and he found himself in front of a staircase as well as one of the most horrifying sights he had ever seen. From the back it looked human. At least until you noticed the missing arm, lopped off at the shoulder joint, with pieces of bone and sinew hanging out of the stump. The hilt of a knife sticking out of the thing's neck made it look less human than before. As it turned around on the stairs, any thoughts of possible humanity vanished instantly at the exposed ribcage. With its face partially burned to the bone and the bottom half of its jaw having gone MIA, it was truly a grisly sight to behold. Even as far as walkers go, it was one of the worst that Shawn had ever seen, and it was something that Shawn didn't want to mess with.
Shawn turned around and bolted back out of the door and back out onto the street, only to be greeted with the sight of more walkers making their way to him. He wasn't as alone as he thought he was. He cursed at his stupidity of kicking down the door like a drunken fool and bolted down the sidewalk, trying to put as much distance between himself and the walkers as he could.
At least that was the plan until one lunged at him from the side, knocking him down onto his side. He rolled out of the reach of the zombie, scrambling to get back onto his feet. Just as he was about to take off again, an undead hand grabbed his foot, trying to pull it closer and closer. Shawn yanked back, trying to free himself from the grasp of death, but to no avail. Shawn whacked at the hand holding him with his golf club, but it might as well have been with a teddy bear for all of its usefulness. The rest of the walkers were starting to catch up, the shuffling of feet registering as loud as thunder to the lone survivor. He kept yanking and yanking his foot, but the arm had him rooted in place. He couldn't make it let go. It had to let go.
Some of the walkers had finally gotten to closing distance. Shawn turned his attention from the arm that held him to those approaching him, slamming the head of the club into the head of an approaching walker with all of his strength. It wobbled but kept coming. Hit after hit fell down onto it, but it kept coming. It was all useless, it couldn't end like this.
A gunshot rang out. The nearest walker's head exploded in a shower of blood and gore. Another shot rang out into the day, and another walker fell.
Shawn didn't have time to register what was going on before hands gripped him from behind around his waist, pulling him back. "Come on, man. Yeh gotta yank harder!" a voice encouraged me. With both of our combined strength, I was able to wrench my foot free of the grasp. The hands were on Shawn's back now, shoving me away from the horde. "Go on, git! Let's git outta here!" Not hesitating, Shawn followed his instructions, running through a front yard toward an open gate. An aged man stood there, hunting rifle in his hands, clearly the shooter. "Don't just stand there, come on! Let's get going!" he yelled at Shawn, taking another shot before turning and going through the gate himself. He followed behind, and heard the gate shut behind him. The second man, now identified to be a younger man than the first, had shut the door and locked it with a padlock and chain. "There, t'at should hold 'em fer a li'l while." He said, his words being coated with a thick southern accent. Shawn turned to the man with a rifle to thank him, but instead saw the same rifle that saved him from death aimed straight at him.
"Bite check. Strip, now."
Shawn was wide-eyed in shock from what the old man just said. He just saved him and now he's threatening him? What was going on? "Look man, I'm not bit. They didn't get me." Shawn attempted to reason, only receiving a shrug from the man in response. "Then you shouldn't be afraid to show me." Came the counter-logic. The locked gate began to pound: the walkers had caught up. "Is this really the place to do it?" Shawn questioned. The old man looked at the gate, then back at Shawn and shrugged. "It will be if you hurry up and get it over with. Come on, let's get a move on."
Shawn rolled his eyes and began taking off his clothes, exposing his skin to the sun for the first time in a while. There were bruises, scrapes, and all sorts of other minor injuries. But no bites. Shawn stopped at the underwear level and gave the old man a dirty look. "If you want to give me a colonoscopy, I'll just head the other way." Shawn said, clearly not willing to go any further. The old man chuckled before slinging the rifle over his shoulder. "Young'un, you don't have the right to make fun of that until you've had one. Get dressed. You got a place to stay?" the old man asked as Shawn re-dressed himself. Shawn shook his head. "I've been roaming around for the past few weeks. I was planning on picking the rest of this neighborhood before moving on. You offering a roof?" Shawn asked. He received a nod in response. "We have a camp a few miles to the east of here. We have a bit of food, but we came out looking for some more, as well as medicines and whatever else we could find." The old man spoke.
Shawn grinned, opening the duffle bag and his backpack. "In that case, I come bearing gifts." The two other men looked in and smiled. The younger man laughed and jumped in place with joy. "Hot diggity, we's eatin' good t'night!" he chuckled, trying to contain his excitement. The old man simply nodded. "In that case, you're more than welcome to stay with us, provided you're willing to share, of course." Shawn simply nodded, picking up his bags again. "Sharing is caring, after all." He replied simply. The gate took another big hit, snapping them back all to the present situation. The old man was the first to react. "We should get moving. Come on, the camp's this way."
A/N : : Well that's chapter one! With the story-telling out of the way, let's do a bit of house-keeping.
I plan on trying to keep this story fairly variable toward what you as the readers are looking to see. Think the plot's moving too slow! Tell me to kick it up a notch! Think I'm blazing through things and I need to slow it down? Tell me to chill out a bit! I'm writing this for you guys, of course, so I need to know what you guys want me to write!
Also, while right now I just have a pure OC cast planned, I'm not against the idea of introducing some of the canon characters into the story at some point. If you think that's a good idea, tell me! Prefer I keep things strictly OC for now? Let me know, then!
As I'm a fairly inexperienced writer, I would love to hear how you guys think I'm doing! Drop me a review and let me know what you think of my story so far. I'd love to hear how good I'm doing (even though I know you're lying, it's okay you can say I suck ^-^), or just yell at me for how much of a trash writer I am (it's okay, I know I suck).
And that's about it. Anyway, until the next chapter, adios!