World Gone To Shit (A Walking Dead Love Story)

Chapter 1|| Patient

Before beginning, I'd like to say that this is indeed following the episodes of the original AMC series The Walking Dead, if you hadn't figured that out. I do not own any character except Victoria, so, enjoy!

"Love her but leave her wild."
-Atticus
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Victoria's P.O.V. ||
Ever heard the phrase "The shit hit the fan"? Well, in this world, you can apply that literally. Its only been a few days since the beginning, but I already know how to survive. I always have known how to survive, always. The people always said the world would end in glory, trumpets playing and sun shining and all that. Let me tell you, it was the complete opposite. It started slowly, originating in Miami. The CDC here in Georgia had no idea what it was, causing everyone to fall into a sort of chaotic panic. People were dropping dead, literally. The thing about it though, in as little as eight hours, they were back on their feet again. Half the world was infected, causing a world-wide chaotic state. That's not how everyone went though. Figure it like this, half the world dies due to the sickness, a fourth of it dies due to those sick people who had died, reanimated, and bit whoever was within reach. You see, the reanimated people carry the disease within them, if you are bit by a "walker" as I call them, you become one. Sick world, right? Now if half of it died to sickness, a fourth to being bit, then what about the other fourth? That's right; we're still alive. I just know they are. Definitely alive, but just barely. There's no electricity, no running water, and the dead are everywhere. People don't know how to survive these conditions, but you just have to learn. You have to be logical, and know what you're doing. It's the twenty-fourth day since the sickness was announced, and I still haven't seen anyone alive. Keeping low in a surburban house has kept me alive, each day working on my skills with the katana. My katana is the only thing tying me to my past, I may not want to remember it, but it keeps me sane. Each night I lay awake, afraid of what sleep brings. I count the lines on my palm, the number of moans I hear from outside. My sanity is slipping, I can feel it, I have one thread left. That thread is the hope of finding someone, anyone, that's alive.

The sun shines brightly through the window, and birds chirp out a happy song. In this new world, it's almost funny. You'd think the day was normal, until you step outside. I wish I could be as happy as those birds, flitting around, not afraid of the monstrosities below them. I slip my katana into it's sheath on my back, and begin pack my things. The hospital is my next hope, and quite possibly my last before I become insane with the solidity. As quietly as I can, I slip out the window on the first floor of this house, attracting the attention of only one walker. I slip the pocket knife my mother gave me out of my chest pocket, and push the tip into the temple of it's rotting flesh. The moans instantly stop and the thing falls to the ground. I make my way to the street, avoiding walkers as I go. I can survive, but I doubt I could hold off walkers for long. I walk slowly across the street, hoping not to draw any attention to me. I place my bag in the basket of my newly found bicycle and start pedaling to the hospital.

A rank smell infiltrates my senses as I near the hospital, I don't think I've smelled anything worse in my life. The bike stops near the tree line and I place fallen branches over in the slight chance anyone were around to steal it. I pull my katana higher up on my shoulder and trek up the hill to the parking lot. Reaching the peak of the hill, I couldn't breathe properly. I began inhaling through the mouth in an attempt to avoid the smell. Thousands of bodies lay in the large parking lot, covered by white bags. I slide my katana out of it's sheath, in case any weren't shot. The military did this, judging by the tanks near the hospital entrance. Carefully, I slither my way through the body bags, katana at the ready. Miraculously, I make it to the hospital entrance without a walker coming after me even once. I pull open the front doors, and a loud squeaking sound echos through the hallways. I step inside, and stare at the mess. Bodies lay everywhere, bullet holes in their heads. Light fixtures hang from the ceiling, wires swinging. I furrow my eyebrows, why would the wires be swinging? I look down the hallway to see a walker in a hospital gown, blood showing through the abdomen area.
As silently as I can, I make my way up behind it, and raise my katana. Apparently, I wasn't quiet enough. It turns around and I gasp at what I see. Not a pair of glassy, bloodshot eyes, but clear blue ones widened in fright.
"What the hell!?" He yells, stepping back into the wall. My mouth hangs open, I found somebody. I found someone. I feel the threads of sanity lacing back together, tying themselves into knots.
"A-are you actua- actually alive?" I stutter. He looks at me in confusion, nodding slowly.
"What's going on? I woke up and nobody was there, and there's all these dead people and no electricity. Please, tell me what's happening," he sounded frightened, and honestly, I would be to.
"The apocalypse, that's what happened. There are dead people everywhere, you can't kill 'em unless you hit the brain. You're the first person I seen alive, the dead people? That was the military trying to kill everyone so the apocalypse wouldn't begin," trying to explain what is happening to this world was a lot harder than I thought it would be. His eyes shown with fear, but his face was set in a blank fix.
"Come on, I'll get ya outta here," I say. He nods and walks behind me as I lead the way to the front doors. I push them open and hear him gag, more than likely from the smell.
"The military, they thought they could contain it if they killed the sick people, but it didn't work. Obviously," I explain, picking my way through the bodies. He keeps quiet, probably trying to absorb the information he's being given. I approach the tree line I parked my bike at, and push the handle bars over to him. He looked like he was about to decline the offer but instead he climbed on it and slowly began pedaling. I jogged after him, keeping up with the pathetically slow pace. I jog up ahead of him, to lead him to "my" house.
Things were nice and quiet until I hear the bike tires skid to a halt. I stop and turn around to see him staring at a walker. Half of it's body was gone, and it's teeth we're snapping at the man with a hunger. He looked at me and then back to the walker, putting the pieces together.
"This is what the world is?" He asked, I think I may have heard a voice crack. I nodded solemly, and turned back around. We continued on until I, again, heard him come to a stop. I sigh and turn around. He was gazing up at a house.
"Is it yours?" I question. He nodded, not looking down at me. I trudge up the hill to porch and place my ear at the door, hoping not to hear moans. I knock on it, attempting to wake any walker inside. Again, I hear nothing. I open the door slowly, and step inside. The man comes up behind me, closing the door softly. He looks around the living room before he begins yelling.
"Lori! Carl!" Repeatedly, opening and closing doors. I feel myself slightly deflate, he had a family. I don't know why I was upset, why I had this small knot in my stomach, but I did.
He walked into the living room and put his head in hands, rocking back and forth.
"Hey," I call. He looks up at me with red eyes. "It's gonna be just fine," I say. He doesn't reply, just stares at the black television screen. He gets up and walks into the bedroom, which I assume is his. He doesn't come out for a few minutes, but when he does he looks slightly less hopeless.
"They're alive," he says.
"How do you know?" I question.
"Lori, she took the photo albums, and all the clothes are gone," he informs. I nod slowly, feeling the knot in my stomach tighten ever so slightly.
"Come on, I'll take you to my house," I say.
"Let me change real quick," he says before rushing back into his room. I glanced around the room, spotting framed pictures on the wall of his family. The woman, who I assumed was Lori, had light brown hair framing her face and chocolate brown eyes. The little boy, Carl I guess, had freckles covering his nose and cheeks with cropped brown hair and eyes like his father.
"Ready," he called from the door, making me jump. I walked over to the door knob as he gave the house one final glance over. I swung open the door and came face to face with a walker. I cried out and kick with all my might, sending it stumbling backwards. I unsheathed my katana and sliced through it's head before it made it's way back to me again. I began the process of slowing down my breathing as I swiftly cleaned the blood off the blade.
"That was amazing," he commented. I nodded and walked out into the street.
"My house now, Sheriff?" I questioned, looking at his police uniform. He grunted his agreement while he was checking the bullets in his pistol. I began walking down the street, looking for the house with boarded windows. It didn't take long to find, considering I had picked a house on the corner of the street. I motioned to the house and he nodded, glancing around at the walkers. We made it to the front yard of the neighbor's house before I heard a loud bang. I gasped and turned around to see the sheriff falling and a shovel coming towards my face. I cried out and saw a glimpse of a little boy before blackness.