Episode 1 - A New Day - Part 1


Author's Note: I was going to cover 'A New Day' in a single chapter, but I still need to complete the farm/pharmacy segments, progress on which has been slow because of life bullshit. I've had this segment written up for a while and decided that instead of sitting on it, I should share it and see if there's any interest in a project like this.

I'm an amateur and do this shit as a hobby, but feedback is appreciated.


The interior of the treehouse was cramped, one corner dominated by a stack of empty cans and plastic containers, another by pillows arranged to serve as a bed, topped with a blanket of red plaid fabric torn from one of the walls. The floor was uneven, the ceiling low, and it smelt strongly of tree sap, a sickly sweet smell that tickled the back of the throat with each inhalation. For an adult, being inside the treehouse for an hour or two would be an unpleasant experience and living in it would have been unbearable, bordering on torturous. However, it was perfect for the eight-year-old girl hiding there for almost three days.

Clementine regarded the jar of pickled eggs with a pout, debating whether or not to open it. She had never liked them; the brine burned her nostrils, and the taste made her queasy, but the alternative of starvation wasn't any more palatable.

The backyard was quiet, as it had been for the last two days, the tarpaulin sheet that covered the pool rustling softly in the wind while the old tire swing creaked and groaned as if trying to guilt Clementine into riding it just one more time. Popping the jar open, Clementine moved to the treehouse's entrance, pushing it open as she fished an egg from its briny prison and, with a shiver, popped it into her mouth. It was cold and slimy, and as she chewed, she began to wonder whether or not the bark of the tree was edible. The thought made the girl smile, even as she pushed another brine-soaked egg into her mouth. The smile faded just as quickly as it'd arrived as the girl's attention was drawn elsewhere, to a dark shape that swayed at the glass sliding door that led into her house, illuminated only by a blue glow that originated from the living room, the TV Clem reasoned. Sandra had seen better days, the slackjawed teenager's skin rotting on the bone, her forearms marred by deep wounds, her brown hair greasy and wild, pale eyes bulging in their sockets, reminding Clementine of a fish she'd once seen at an aquarium.

Sandra was one of them now, a zombie.

Using a word like 'zombie' felt silly, but the girl couldn't think of any alternative titles for the creature that now occupied her home, a rotting corpse driven by a hunger for human flesh. Clementine knew little about zombies, but she knew enough about them to know a zombie when she saw one, and over the last three days, she'd seen many of them stumbling in the streets or breaking into homes, eating whoever or whatever they found. There were fewer of them in the neighbourhood now than three days prior, trapped in houses or too damaged to walk, decomposing reminders of the massacre that had turned the quiet suburban neighbourhood into an abattoir. Sandra had become one such reminder. As she turned away from the door and stumbled deeper into the house, Clementine wondered if the teenager remembered anything about her former life.

The girl's lips twisted into a thin sneer as she closed the treehouse door, placing the jar of pickled eggs aside as she moved towards her makeshift bed. Clementine hoped Sandra remembered what had happened to her three days ago because she certainly did. She wasn't an average child, a fact known only to her parents and a few specialist doctors. Still, even they didn't know everything, Clementine having been careful to conceal certain aspects of herself from others, aspects that Sandra had become all too familiar with during her final day as a living, breathing being. Biting her lip, the girl settled down amidst the pillows, closing her eyes as one of her hands drifted southward, running along the fabric of her dress before finally slipping beneath it, her mind wandering.

"So, what are we going to watch?" Sandra called from the kitchen, the rhythmic sound of a knife hitting a cutting board accompanying the teenager's question. Clementine was in the living room, resting on the couch while idly flipping through channels on the TV as she feigned an attempt to find a show or movie. It was a routine that Clementine was all too familiar with, though as she flipped through the channels, she couldn't repress an excited smile as she patiently waited for what was to come.

"I'm not sure! It's hard to decide..." the girl called back, biting her lip as she slowly rose from her seat and placed the remote aside, allowing some cartoon she had no real intention of watching to play as she made her way towards the kitchen. Sandra had her back to the girl, tapping a foot against the tiled floor along to the rhythm of the knife as she prepared some snacks, slicing an apple into bite-sized slices before sliding them onto a plate and repeating the process with another. Movie night was a tradition whenever Sandra babysat Clementine, and the younger girl genuinely enjoyed it, though not for the reasons that Sandra had come to assume. The snacks were nice, and the movies were fun, but what Clementine enjoyed the most was how close she could get to Sandra without rousing the teenager's suspicion.

But tonight, she wanted something more, something real.

The anticipation was almost palpable as the girl slid off her shoes and slowly began to close the distance between herself and her prize, moving silently across the tiled floor. Within moments, Clementine was mere inches away from the unaware teenager, and unable to restrain herself any longer, she struck.

Sandra blinked and stiffened with a shrill squeak as she felt two small hands grope her ass, the knife falling from her hand and landing with a clatter against the cutting board. "Clementine! What have I to-" she then began, assuming that her young charge had wanted to scare her, as she often liked to do, but her words trailed off as she felt those small hands tighten their grip, squeezing her ass and spreading her cheeks, the fabric of her pants straining while Sandra froze, her throat going dry.

"Shut up," Clementine spoke, her voice uncharacteristically cold and devoid of emotion as her hands toyed with the older girl's ass. "If you move or say anything, I'll scream, and you can tell the neighbours how a sobbing kid assaulted you. I'm sure that'll go over well."

Sandra felt her throat go dry, her mind going blank as she attempted to make sense of what was happening. Part of her wanted to turn around and slap the girl, to storm out of the house and never look back, but she knew that she wouldn't get very far before Clementine started to scream, and the neighbours stormed over to see what was going on, and in such a situation, she had no doubts that they'd believe whatever lies the eight-year-old span. Her life, everything she'd worked for, she'd lose all of it in an instant.

Tears began to drip down Sandra's cheeks, the teenager sobbing quietly as the realisation of her helplessness in such a situation dawned on her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to focus on anything other than the sensation of Clementine's hands as they groped her.

"You've got a great ass. The boys at school must drool over you," her attacker teased as, without warning, she yanked Sandra's pants down, exposing the teenager's bare ass to the cool air of the kitchen, "And no panties? Ha, colour me shocked!"

The groping resumed, Clementine kneading and squeezing that soft, malleable ass-fat, feeling the warmth of bare skin beneath her palms, a sensation that provoked a moan of anticipation from the girl. The whole thing was exhilarating, her heart thumping in her chest as she toyed with Sandra's bare ass while something stirred in her loins. She wasn't a stranger to sexual situations, at least she had thought she wasn't, the girl having consumed an unhealthy amount of pornography that'd make any pervert blush, but the real thing was something else.

Licking her lips, she tightened her grip and yanked Sandra's cheeks apart, the older girl letting out a pitiful whimper as her puckered asshole twitched. The sight caused Clementine's cheeks to redden, the girl leaning down slightly to get a better look, watching that muscle spasm. Biting her lip, the girl closed her eyes and suddenly leant forward, placing her face between Sandra's ass cheeks, her nose pressing against the girl's asshole as she inhaled deeply. Sandra was clean and cared for herself, so the smell wasn't unpleasant, but it'd been a hot day, and she'd worked up quite a sweat, not that Clementine cared, a soft moan leaving her lips as she inhaled again and then again, steadily snorting that dank sweaty ass smell.

Sandra felt repulsed, a hand covering her mouth as she tried to stifle her sobs, the other tightening its grip on the kitchen counter to the point where her knuckles began to whiten. She wanted to vomit, the bile boiling in her stomach, but she couldn't, unable to do anything but tremble and sob as she was violated.

A full minute passed before Clementine stopped snorting, the girl leaning back with a huff of approval as she squeezed Sandra's cheeks. "Fuck, your ass smells great," she snickered, "I bet that's something you never thought you'd hear, huh? Well, I guess you never thought this would happen, so maybe that was a stupid question..."

Licking her lips, the girl leant forward again, this time opening her mouth and extending her tongue, the tip curiously probing Sandra's asshole. This caused the teen, much to Clementine's amusement, to let out a strangled gasp. Taking her time, the girl traced the teen's asshole with her tongue, the tip moving in small circles, smearing the sweaty and twitching muscle with warm spit before finally, she pursed her lips and pressed them firmly against that tight opening, quite literally kissing Sandra's ass then and there. It had a strange, almost gamey taste. Still, it wasn't entirely unpleasant, the girl moaning against her victim's twitching hole as she deepened the kiss, the tip of her tongue poking and prodding against the teen's sphincter before, much to Sandra's surprise and horror, it slipped inside.

Sandra lowered her head, eyes finally opening as she stared at the kitchen counter. Her face was reflected back at her in the glint of the kitchen knife she'd been using, her bleary eyes bloodshot and wide, her skin pale. The teenager wanted to say something, to do something, but she was frozen, unable to comprehend what was happening to her as Clementine's tongue wriggled and pushed its way into her. Moaning, Clementine began to thrust her tongue back and forth while she slurped and sucked on the teenager's asshole, saliva dripping down over her chin only to fall to the tiled floor, where it began to form small sticky puddles. The girl kept this up for another minute before she pulled away with a wet pop, wispy strands of bubbly saliva connecting the girl's lips to the teenager's spit-shined and spasming asshole. Clementine took a moment to admire the sight before finally releasing Sandra's ass cheeks and wiping her lips with the back of her sleeve.

"I am so doing that again the next time you babysit, and there's going to be a next time," the girl huffed before giving Sandra's ass a rough slap, the teenager crying out in response, the bile that'd been bubbling inside of her finally rising to burn her throat. Without a word, she pushed back against Clementine, the smaller girl letting out an angry yelp as her ass met the floor. However, before she could make good on her threat and start screaming bloody murder, she watched as Sandra threw herself towards the kitchen sink, where she promptly vomited. It was over in a few seconds, the teenager coughing and sobbing as she watched the greenish fluid vanish down the drain.

"Please, God, just stop..." she then begged hoarsely, either unwilling or unable to look back at Clementine as she spoke, "Just let me go home, and I swear to God I won't tell anyone, please. I just want to go home, I-" she continued to babble, begging as she reached down to try and pull her pants back up.

"Are you crazy? We're not done not yet!" Clementine spat, rising to her feet and once again closing the distance between herself and Sandra, slapping the older girl's hand away before she gave her ass another harsh slap. "I'll let what you did slide, but if you do anything like that again, I'll scream, you understand?"

Sandra didn't respond, watching the last of her vomit vanish into the drain before another slap caused her to cry out. "I understand, shit, I understand!"

"That's better, now..." Her attacker sneered, kissing Sandra's red ass before she stepped back and gestured to the centre of the kitchen. "Get on your knees, right there."

Slowly, Sandra did as the girl instructed, her knees pressing against the cool kitchen tiles, the teenager closing her eyes again as she tried to envision herself anywhere else. Then, she felt Clementine's palms come to rest against her wet cheeks, and before she realised what was happening, the girl kissed her. It was a rough and clumsy kiss, and as Sandra opened her mouth to protest, she inadvertently allowed Clementine to slip her tongue into her mouth. It tasted of sweat and ass, a foreign combination that made Sandra gag, her hands rising to loosely grab Clementine's wrists as the girl took her time and explored the teenager's mouth. It wasn't a long kiss, and though Sandra tried not to think about it, she couldn't help but liken it to being caught off guard by an overly affectionate dog, the girl's tongue stabbing and prodding at the interior of her mouth with no real rhyme or reason. Warm saliva wetted their chins, and when Clementine finally released the teenager's face and pulled away, all Sandra could do was gasp and sputter, much to the girl's amusement.

At that moment, as Sandra finally opened her eyes and turned her gaze to the floor to avoid Clementine's own, the teenager noticed something that made her pause. Her mind went blank as she tried to make sense of what she saw. The humiliation, dread, and fear she'd been experiencing were replaced by bewilderment and disbelief.

"You see something you like?" Clementine asked, snorting as she lowered a hand to grope the bulge that the teenager had been staring at, a slight hiss of elation escaping her sneering lips as she did. It was small, but it was there, and that simple fact was enough to dumbfound Sandra, who watched with wide, unblinking eyes as Clementine lifted her dress with one hand and, with the other, yanked the front of her leggings down, exposing her junk.

Clementine's penis wasn't big, barely pushing four inches, but it was almost as thick as a soda can, and the more Sandra stared, the more questions began to fill her reeling mind.

"What the fuck, ho-" Sandra began to ask, but before she could finish, a small hand pressed down against the top of her head, the teenager letting out a garbled bark of surprise as Clementine's uncut chode was forced into her gawking mouth, Sandra's nose and lips pressed firmly against the younger girl's nearly hairless crotch. The girl didn't say a word as she began to thrust her hips, clumsily face-fucking the gagging teenager, saliva dangling from Sandra's chin in thick, bubbling strands while tears streamed down her cheeks, her nails scraping against the cool tiled floor as she was orally raped by the same little girl who not even an hour ago she'd helped with her homework. Clementine's toes curled, and her back stiffened as she tossed her head back, wide eyes staring at the ceiling as a shaky, drawn-out moan of joy left her trembling lips. It was unlike anything she'd experienced before, the hotness of Sandra's mouth, the softness of her tongue as it squirmed and writhed against the underside of her sweaty cock, the sticky sensation of the teenager's saliva dripping down over her plump balls. It was almost too much for the girl to handle, her body moving as if it'd been possessed, the kitchen filled with the sound of her crotch smacking Sandra's face, the teenager's frantic choked sobs, and her own squeaking moans.

And then, it happened.

Clementine let out a short, almost startled cry as she came inside Sandra's mouth, both her hands grasping fistfuls of the teenager's hair so that she could push her head down, the tip of the girl's chode stabbing Sandra's tonsils while at the same time glazing them in her sticky seed. Bowing her head, Clementine opened her eyes and stared down at the top of the teenager's head, her tongue hanging over her chin while her legs quaked and jerked, threatening to give out as she humped Sandra's face. "Can't stop, can't stop..." was all she could mumble, her cock throbbing as it spat down Sandra's spasming throat.

The whole thing had lasted barely half a minute before Clementine released Sandra's hair and stumbled back, watching with perverse fascination as her cock slid out of Sandra's mouth. Immediately, the teenager doubled over, hands clutching her stomach as she retched and jerked, clear, viscous liquid streaked with Clementine's cum splashing against the floor as she vomited. She didn't notice as Clementine lowered a hand to firmly grasp her still erect cock, the girl feverishly stroking herself as she walked around the broken, sobbing teenager, stopping once she was greeted by the sight of her bare and reddened ass.

Licking her lips, Clementine raised a foot and delivered a harsh kick against Sandra's lower back, the teenager yelping as she fell forward, one side of her face resting in her warm vomit. She tried to get back up, but another kick sent her back to the floor, and this time, she stayed there, bloodshot eyes staring at a cabinet as her body went lax.

She was tired. She was so tired.

She barely flinched as she felt Clementine lay down against her back, a hand pawing at one of her asscheeks while another rose to grip a fistful of hair. "I'm going to rape you now," was all the girl said, and when Sandra didn't react, she snorted and yanked the teenager's hair, "Guess you couldn't handle it, huh? I hoped you'd cry some more or move around a little, but I can work with this, too. Just try not to vomit again because it stinks."

Without another word, Clementine pushed herself into Sandra's sticky spit-shined asshole. The lukewarm saliva acted like lube, though it still took some effort to stuff her cock into that tight hole. Once inside, she began to move slowly, clumsily, humping Sandra as she tried to find her rhythm, the girl thinking back to the countless videos she'd watched. Sandra's body stiffened slightly, the teenager groaning as her eyes bulged in their sockets, pain shooting up along her spine in waves.

"So tight, holy shit..." Clementine huffed and puffed between squeaky moans, the kitchen filled with wet squelching noises and the unsteady sound of the girl's sweaty balls slapping against Sandra's bare ass as she raped her babysitter. It was then that a new smell caught Clementine's attention, and as she raped Sandra, she couldn't help but laugh, the girl once again yanking the motionless teenager's hair, "Did you just fucking piss yourself?" She didn't get an answer and didn't expect one, cackling to herself as she doubled her efforts, her crotch smacking harshly against Sandra's ass with each thrust, the scent of piss doing little to dissuade Clementine as she focused on having fun. Sweat dripped from her brow, her entire body feeling like it'd been lit on fire. Before she knew it, her cock erupted inside Sandra's stretched asshole, the girl's eyes rolling back as she let out a drawled moan of pleasure, her entire body shaking atop the teenager's own. Sandra remained motionless, face red and eyes wide, unable to do anything but stare into space as the girl had her way with her.

With a sticky pop, Clementine pulled her softening cock out of Sandra, the girl rising to her feet before taking a moment to admire the scene before her. Sandra was resting in a puddle of dark yellow piss and a pool of translucent vomit, her asshole gaping and oozing with the girl's spunk.

"Guess that was a first for both of us," Clementine teased, tucking her soft cock away before wiping her face with the back of her hand, the sweaty girl still riding the high of losing her virginity, "We're going to have so much fun before my parents get back, I want to try so many things!"

All Sandra could do was sob.

A gasp escaped Clementine as she came. She was resting on her knees in the centre of the treehouse, one hand working her cock while the other covered her mouth, attempting to muffle her squeaks and whines as she painted the uneven floorboards with streaks of pearlescent girl-cum. Once she'd finished, the girl released her cock and fell back onto her makeshift bedding, staring at the ceiling as she thought about what had happened to Sandra afterwards, how she'd watched her clean up the mess she'd made, how she'd spent the rest of the evening reeking of piss and vomit, and how she'd died. Clementine had been in the backyard when she'd heard Sandra scream, and by the time she'd made it to the sliding door, Sandra had already collapsed in the kitchen, convulsing, both her forearms slathered in blood. At that moment, the girl had no idea what was happening, but once the shooting and screaming started, she caught on pretty quickly. After hearing someone knocking, Sandra had obviously opened the front door, only to be greeted by a zombie that had taken chunks out of her forearms after she'd opened it. The fact that the zombie hadn't followed her inside meant she'd managed to push it away before closing the door, only to succumb to shock and blood loss afterwards. And yet, as she'd watched Sandra die, convulsing on the same floor where she'd been raped, Clementine only wondered whether or not Sandra was thinking of her as she died, if she'd be the last thought that had run through the teenager's brain.

The thought made her smile. It excited her.

A booming sound caused Clementine to yelp, the girl sitting bolt upright and raising a hand to clutch her chest as she glanced towards the treehouse door. It was a gun, and though she didn't know what kind, it'd been close. Pushing the door to her treehouse open, she peered outside. Sandra was at the sliding door again, bloody palms smacking against the glass, her jaw opening and closing, and though Clementine couldn't hear her from her perch, she knew that whatever noises were coming out of the undead teenager weren't pleasant. Clementine then turned her attention to the woods behind her house, trying to see anything or anyone that might've been out there. When nothing emerged, the girl frowned, hurriedly tucked her cock away and climbed down from her hiding spot. The backyard was safe or, at the very least, safer than the surrounding neighbourhood. The gates were locked, and if the other zombies were like Sandra, the girl wasn't worried about them getting in anytime soon. Still, Clementine wasn't about to start drawing unnecessary attention to herself, so she stayed silent as she crept towards the fence. Moving along the fenceline, Clementine paused once she'd reached a loose fence board, the girl pushing it aside to reveal the woods. It was strangely peaceful, though Clementine knew better.

Sighing slowly, she crept through the gap and entered the woods.

It didn't take long for her to track down the source of the gunshot, and the scene she found surprised the girl. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting to find, but a crashed police cruiser certainly wasn't it. She didn't want to get too close, so she kept her distance, observing the scene from atop a small. Two people were a short distance from the car; one sprawled on the ground while the other sat across from him. The evening light made it difficult to make out details, but Clementine could tell that both people were men and that one had shot the other with some long-barreled gun. Then, as she stood watching, the sitting man looked up from the corpse of the other and seemingly spotted her, raising a hand and waving at her as he called out.

"Help! Go get someone! There- There's been a shooting!"

"No shit..." Clementine muttered in response, nibbling her lower lip as she thought about how to proceed. Then she saw the zombies. First one, then another, and another, emerging from the undergrowth, jaws snapping and arms outstretched as they approached the man. She didn't stay to see how things would play out, spinning on her heels before she took off back towards her house, moving quickly but silently, listening as the bushes around her rustled, as low hanging branches were snagged and snapped, to the droning, breathless groans of the dead as they marched in the direction of the police cruiser and its unlucky passengers, drawn to the gunshot as if it had been a dinner bell. They didn't notice her, and before long, she'd returned to her treehouse, where she took a moment to consider her situation more carefully. She knew things were bad, but it had become apparent that she couldn't stay in her treehouse forever. She had very little food and water, and the treehouse, though it had kept her alive so far, would become uninhabitable when winter came. She'd freeze if she didn't starve, and neither option appealed to the girl. But where could she go? She wouldn't get too far on foot, and going at it alone was a death sentence. As if to answer her unspoken musings, the sound of something hitting the fence outside caught the girl's attention. Clementine's eyes widened as she pushed the treehouse door open just a crack so that she could look down into the backyard as a man, one of the two she'd seen by the totalled cruiser, the shooter, clambered his way over the fence, landing on his ass before scrambling back toward the porch. The zombies chasing him emerged from the woods, palms sticky with congealing blood slapping against the fence as they tried to follow their quarry, jaws opening and closing robotically, glassy eyes unfocused and empty, driven by a solitary instinct.

Feed.

Then, something else caught their attention: a series of gunshots from somewhere back toward the highway. Losing all interest in the meal they'd been chasing, rotting tongues lolling past cracked lips as they spun and stumbled back into the woods. Once the last of the walking corpses vanished, Clementine turned her attention to the man sitting in the backyard below, his back to the porch as he drew in deep, frantic breaths. He was a black man who looked about the same age as her father, sporting a beard and a bloody gash on his right leg, which made his escape all the more impressive. He didn't look like a cop, and as the girl watched him, she wondered what exactly he'd done to end up in a police cruiser. Licking her lips, one of Clementine's hands reached out to grasp the rubber handle of the hammer she'd brought up into the treehouse when things had gone to hell, squeezing it as she tried to decide how best to handle this new situation. Zombies were one thing, but a convict? She was in no hurry to be discovered, so as the man rose to his feet and dusted himself off, she retreated further into the treehouse, closing the door as silently as possible. Sitting cross-legged in the centre of the singular room, she listened as the man moved around the yard, occasionally muttering to himself as he did so. For a moment, the girl wondered if he was a mental case. As this thought crossed her mind, he called out from below the treehouse.

"Anybody up there?"

His voice was slightly raspy, yet soft at the same time, hardly the voice of some violent schizophrenic or a career criminal. Creeping closer to the door, hammer still clutched tightly in her hand, she listened as the man moved about below her, saying something about bourbon when it became apparent that his question would go unanswered. She briefly considered dropping the hammer on his head, though she decided against it when she realised that missing or failing to knock him out would end badly for her. He lingered beneath the treehouse for a moment more before finally turning his attention to the house, and as she listened to the man climb the porch stairs, Clementine pushed the door open to watch as he approached the filth-smeared sliding doors. She had expected to see Sandra charge out of the gloom and attempt to reach the man. However, when the undead teenager failed to make an appearance, the girl felt her body stiffen, eyes glued to the scene as the man pressed himself against the door so that he could get a better look inside, knocking as he did so.

"Hello? Anybody home? I need a little help," he called softly, and when he didn't get a response, he opened the door with some effort and stepped inside, vanishing from Clementine's view for a moment, though she could still hear him. "I'm coming in, don't shoot, okay?"

If he continued to call out, the girl didn't hear him, as he closed the door behind himself. A minute passed, then another, before he finally reappeared in the kitchen, only to unceremoniously fall and vanish. For the briefest moment, Clementine thought that Sarah had ambushed the man, that he hadn't fallen but had been dragged to the floor and was now being eaten alive, unable to scream because his throat had been torn out. When the man stood, however, she realised how stupid her assumption had been. Zombies weren't smart enough to ambush people, at least not on purpose. Realising she'd been holding her breath, she exhaled and allowed herself to chuckle, watching as the man looked down at his now bloodied shirt with disgust before searching the kitchen. There was nothing there, of course, though he did find a glass of water that'd been sitting on the kitchen counter for the last three days, which he drank without a second thought.

"Better than pickled egg juice," Clementine muttered to herself, the taste of brine still fresh on her tongue as she watched the man set the glass side and resume his search, opening cupboards and drawers before pulling something out that caught the girl's attention.

A walkie-talkie.

Blinking, Clementine retrieved its sister from beneath her pillow, weighing it in her hand as she returned to the treehouse door and looked at the man in the kitchen. He didn't seem all too dangerous, at least from what she'd seen, and the more she watched the man, the more she realised that he really didn't know what had happened to the world. Looking back at the opened jar of pickled eggs, she scrunched her nose and came to a decision then and there. Clearing her throat, she pushed the button on her walkie and spoke.

"Daddy?"

The response was immediate, the man in the kitchen raising his walkie to his lips.

"Hello?"

"You need to be quiet,"

"Who is this?"

"I'm Clementine. This is my house," she paused, trying to stop the smirk on her lips from spreading to a grin as she watched the man limp his way from the kitchen back to the sliding door, "Or it was."

"Clementine? Well, I'm Lee."

Lee. It wasn't what she'd expected.

"You're not my daddy,"

"No, I'm not."

"Where are your parents?"

"They took a trip and left me with Sandra. They're in Savannah, I think. Where the boats are."

"How old are you?"

"Eight."

"And you're all alone?"

"Yes. I don't know where anybody is. How old are you?"

"I'm, uh," he paused, much to Clementine's amusement, "...37."

"Okay."

For a moment, neither of them talked, the only sound being the crackling of the walkie-talkies. It was Lee who broke the silence.

"Are you safe?"

"I'm outside in my treehouse. They can't get in."

"That's smart."

She didn't need him to tell her that, though it tickled her pickle that he had. Biting her lip, she decided to finally reveal herself, pushing the door to the treehouse open and leaning out so that Lee could see her from his spot at the door.

"Can you see me? I can see you through the door," she began, waving to the man, who smiled and waved back. Then, she finally noticed Sandra, the teenager-turned-corpse, shambling out from the gloom of the living room behind Lee. Clementine found herself lost for words, only able to let loose a startled cry of alarm as she retreated into the treehouse to retrieve the hammer she'd put down during her conversation with Lee. Before she knew it, she'd scrambled down from her treehouse and reached the sliding door, pulling it open with a slight grunt. Lee had kicked Sandra off himself, thick strings of congealed blood oozing from a fresh gash on her forehead, pale bone visible beneath the torn pallid flesh. This was the first time she'd seen Sandra up close since she'd been turned. Though Clementine realised she should be revolted, all the girl felt was a strange curiosity, fingers squeezing the grip of her hammer as a faint heat began to radiate from her loins, cheeks tinged red as she watched her former babysitter snarl and hiss, rotting jaw snapping at the air as she began to close the distance between herself and Lee, who delivered yet another kick to the teenager's face. Shaking her head and cursing silently, she held the hammer out towards Lee, finally speaking up as she did so, "Here!"

He took it and, in one smooth motion, struck Sandra on the forehead, the sound of splintering bone and tearing skin filling the air as Lee reversed his and Sandra's roles, the man straddling her, one hand clutching the collar of her shirt while the other raised the hammer and brought it down a second time, and then a third, and then a fourth, reducing her face to a mess of pulp and splintered bone. Blood pooled beneath her head, creeping towards Clementine's feet as the girl took a few steps back.

"Did you kill it?" It was hard for Clementine to mask the satisfaction in her voice as she spoke, watching as one of Sandra's eyes slowly oozed out from its socket.

"I don't know. I think so."

"Sometimes they come back."

Slowly, Lee climbed off of Sandra and knelt before Clementine, smiling slightly as he tried to put the girl at ease, blissfully unaware of who he was talking to.

"Have you killed one?"

"No. But they get shot a lot."

"You've been all by yourself through this?"

The girl nodded, gazing at the floor, her cap hiding the smirk that spread across her lips as she spoke, putting on the most pitiful voice she could muster.

"Yeah. I want my parents to come home now."

She heard Lee sigh, his tone softening as he replied.

"I think that might be a little while, you know?"

"Oh."

She looked up as Lee moved closer.

"Look, I don't know what happened. But I'll look after you until then."

And just like that, she had her ticket to freedom. All she had to do was keep up the act and stay close to Lee, and she'd be safe, at least until she could figure out what to do next.

"What should we do now?"

"We need to find help before it gets dark."

Glancing at Sandra's corpse, Clementine nodded.

"Yeah, it's not safe at night."

Slowly, Lee rose to his feet and took one of her hands, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"Let's go. Stay close to me."

Following the man outside, she took a minute to look back at Sandra as she closed the sliding doors, admiring her for a final time before following Lee out of the yard and towards the gate that led to the street, taking care to stay a few steps behind the man as they went, making sure that she wouldn't be the first to be chomped if things took a sour turn. The street was a mess, with abandoned cars resting on the road and trash strewn across the sidewalk. There were pools of dried blood and mutilated remains, too, evidence of the chaos that'd ensued three days earlier. They'd barely left the yard when two men emerged from behind a wrecked car, one looking as if he'd eaten one too many desserts in his time while the other was skinny as a wire.

"Aw, man..." The fat one sighed, kicking the bumper of the wrecked car with a slight grunt, "I ain't never getting home to Mama at this rate."

"This sucks." The skinny one replied, rubbing a hand over his chin as he glanced back at a truck, the engine still rumbling faintly.

"It's hot dish night."

Neither of the men had noticed them, though Lee quickly made himself known, raising a hand and taking a few tentative steps towards them.

"Hey, man!"

Both men spun to face him, the fatter of the two looking like he'd shit himself then and there.

"We're not gonna hurt you," Lee reassured them quickly, and after a few moments of silence, the skinnier man spoke up.

"Phew, thought for a second that you and the little one were both gonna give us the chomp."

"We need help."

"Are you trying to get outta here? Because you should be. Those things are all over the damn place. I haven't seen anything as gnarly as this neighbourhood since downtown Atlanta, fifteen miles back."

Pausing, the skinny man blinked and let out a short laugh before extending a hand towards Lee.

"I'm Shawn, Shawn Greene."

Lee took Shawn's hand, shaking it firmly as he introduced himself and Clementine.

The fat one then waved to Clementine, introducing himself as Chet. The girl tried her best to hide her disgust behind a smile, waving back at him. Fat women were one thing, but fat men? That was a whole other can of worms. Shawn continued.

"We shouldn't be out in the open like this. How about you help us clear the way, and we'll take you and your daughter out of here and down to my family's farm. It should be safer there."

"I'm not her dad. I'm..." Lee paused, glancing at Clementine, "...a neighbour. Her parents are out of town."

"Let's get going. Staying put for too long is a mistake."

As if to prove Shawn's point, a series of groans caught the group's attention. Zombies were clumsily making their way up the street towards them. Chet went pale, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the approaching corpses.

"Them monsters comin'! We gotta go!"

There was little time to debate their options, and before Clementine knew it, she and Lee were helping Shawn move the car while Chet hid behind the truck. Once the car was out of the way, they piled into the truck and peeled out of the street. Chet was in the truckbed, much to Clementine's delight, the girl thankful that she wouldn't need to smell the man during the ride to Shawn's farm. She sat between Lee and Shawn, leaning against the former as they drove. She'd escaped her neighbourhood and found someone she could manipulate with a well-timed pout.

Things would get much more interesting if she had her way, which she inevitably would.