Mike got out of the house and proceeded to strap on the holster and knife on his leg.

"gut was jetzt? Wo bin ich überhaupt? Warum hätte es nicht prag werden können?" He said frustrated

(good what now? Where am I? Why couldn't it been praque?).

He decided to follow some street where he noticed a sign to some farming area. He went there in hopes of shelter.

But like everything in the last day disaster struck and the street was blocked by walkers, a lot of them and cars.

"Fuck." He said as he noticed that the walkers noticed him.

Panicked he ran into the forest nearby and tried to hide there in hopes of rescue in a month or 2

when the military comes. Little does he know that out of 2, he waited 4 months with no rescue.

4 months later

"So was hab ich jetzt? ehm, 3 konserven dosen, 4 flaschen wasser, 34 kugeln, 6 pfeile und einen Bogen und natürlich diese "hütte"."

(so what do I got? Uh, 3 times canned goods, 4 bottles of water, 34 bullets, 6 arrows, a bow and of course this "house").

He knew he had to go, in the last time more and more walkers appeared and it was harder with each time to kill them all and the nights were getting more cold by each night too. He also wanted to just sleep in a bed under a roof not on leaves under some sticks.

"Ach fick das hier, ich muss weg." He said frustrated (ugh fuck this, I need to go now).

He packed up all his things in his backpack and

went off into the distance.

A few hours later he came to a sign, it said "West Georgia correctional facility."

"Hm ein Gefängnis, könnte sicher sein oder noch laufend." he said to himself (hm a prison, maybe it's safe or still going).

after 1 or 2 miles he heard a car or a few cars he didn't know, so he jumped in a ditch at the side of the road. Out of cars he saw coming out a pregnant woman, a asian man with a pretty woman, a boy with a sheriffs hat, a middle aged man, some redneck guy, a black man and a few others.

"Scheiße was jetzt?" He said but too loud and the boy with the hat heard him (shit what now?).

"Who are you?" The boy asked in an agressive tone while holding him at gun point.

"Nice gun mate, Barreta M9?" Mike asked.

"Carl!" The older guy called, pulled out his revolver and ran over to him.

"Could we just chill out and let me get up?" Mike said scared.

"Allright get up! Slowly!" The man commanded.

"Holy shit!" The black man said as he noticed Mike's 8 fingers.

"What happened to you? Where you bit?" This Carl kid asked.

" No I wasn't bit damn it! I got stuck and cut them off! I just came here in hopes of medicine

and shelter, my wound looks pretty bad."

"Rick I think the kid is harmless and he needs medical attention, let Hershel atleast look at it" The redneck guy said.

"I don't know Daryl, He could be dangerous." Rick said.

"He's a goddamn kid Rick! You think he is so dumb to attack us!?" Daryl said.

"If I may add some-." He tried to say.

"Shut it!" Carl cut him off.

"No Carl let him speak." Rick scolded Carl.

"Thank you, Rick right? Good, ok, so I was in Atlanta when this shit happend and my family died there, after this I found a house full of guns, I could show it to you, then I lived for I don't how long in a forest. Then I ended here. Mike explained.

"You wanna join us? You seem ok." Rick asked.

"Yeah after such a warm welcome I couldn't ever reject."