A/N: Well, here's my first attempt at a fan fiction. Sorry if it sucks! I don't own The Walking Dead, because if I did, it would be so messed up you'd think it was South Park (which I don't own either) nor do I own any of the songs that pop up anywhere in the story. I do own Scarlett however!
The Zombie Survival Guide
1. If You Want To Get Out Alive, Run For Your Life
Hello, my name is Scarlett. I'm an unlikely survivor of the zombie apocalypse. To keep my sanity, I'm writing a zombie survival guide, since most people would need it.
In order to survive in this hell, you need to be one of the three things:
1. A cop of some sort
2. A person who has played CoD their entire life
3. A redneck
If you aren't one of the following, then find a blunt object and learn how to use it. Preferably a baseball bat or something heavy and made of metal. If you do however find a gun, then please, do not shoot at everything that moves. Unless you somehow have a silencer, then zombies are going to hear the blast.
If you have nowhere better to go, then go to southern Indiana. That's where I'm headed. I could use the company.
Well, this is the first of many survival guides. If you happen to find any more, then good job at surviving this far.
Godspeed, Scarlett
I tore the sheet of paper out of my green spiral bound notebook and nailed it to a wooden telephone pole with an arrow. I wrote it in orange ink, so somebody should notice it. And yes, I know that was a total waste of an arrow, but hey, I don't have any nails so I had to improvise.
Picking up my bow, I started to walk down the street. Yes, I was killing zombies with bows and arrows. It's quiet and effective. Plus, I really don't like guns. Plus,I was on the archery team for a reason.
Atlanta was the new definition of hell. The city was pretty much burned to the ground and zombies were pretty much everywhere. It's crazy, I swear. This is how I survived: I locked myself in a closet for about two days. After that, I found the nearest weaponry shop, grabbed a bow and like three hundred arrows, a survival knife, and booked it out of there.
So here I am now, looting whatever food and drink I can find, and getting about six hours of sleep a day. If zombies don't kill me, then malnourishment sure as hell will.
I am so alone. I haven't used my voice in forever. I wonder if it's still there. Hopefully I'll still have my voice when I talk to other survivors!
...Who the hell am I kidding there are no survivors. Everyone's dead, literally and figuratively. There's no point in trying to stay alive.
I slapped myself.
'Listen to yourself! Stay optimistic damn it!' my inner voice yelled.
While I was having this internal conflict, I failed to notice the growing crowd of zombies approaching me.
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"Look at all of those Walkers!" Glenn announced, hiding behind a busted up truck. He was pointing to a group of growing Walkers, obviously going after something.
"We better be gettin' the hell outta here," Rick said, holding onto his police hat.
"Is that…a girl?" Glenn questioned, looking at a figure that wasn't blood soaked or moaning.
"Holy shit, it is," Rick muttered. The main question was: how did the girl not notice all of the Walkers behind her?
After a few moments of contemplation, the imaginary light bulb went off above Rick's head. "I have an idea," he announced.
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'But there are no survivors!' I argued with myself. Look what I've been reduced to. Arguing with myself. If the world ever comes to, I'll be put in an insane asylum for sure.
A loud whistle broke me from my thoughts. A…human…whistle. I'm not alone? Looking for the source of the sound, I noticed the growing group of zombies behind me. How did I not see them?
"Shit," I grumbled. I pulled out an arrow from the pouch on my back, nocked it on the bowstring, pulled back the 70 pounds of resistance, and aimed for the nearest zombie. I released the string, and the arrow was propelled forward, going straight through a zombie's eye. I pulled another arrow, nocked it, and ran. I pulled back the string, pivoted around, and released. The arrow struck a zombie in the forehead.
Nocking another arrow, I turned and let go of the string. It went through a zombie's neck. Well, that one's not dead. I growled as I loaded another arrow. I fired, and I didn't bother to see where it hit.
I pulled another arrow, and continued to run. Damn these things were persistent. Attaching the arrow to the string, I jerked the string back, and fired at a zombie that somehow ended up in front of me. It went right between its eyes. As I ran past the now-dead undead, I yanked the arrow out of its brain, and loaded it back into my bow.
So many zombies, so little arrows.
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"She's doin' pretty good with that bow," Rick commented. The group was waiting up ahead for the girl who was holding her own against the mob of Walkers.
"Here she comes," T-Dog said.
Before she could ran past the group of men, T-Dog grabbed her arm, and pulled her into the alleyway. She screamed, a natural reaction, but then noticed that they were human.
"We're here to help," Rick told her.
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Several things were going on through my head right now. Things such as: holy shit other people, holy shit I'm about to get eaten, and rape.
The black man released my arm, and out of instinct, I drew my bow, and pointed to the policeman who just spoke to me.
"Put it down," he told me calmly.
My grip tightened on the curve of my bow. They did just save me from the zombies, but the group was also composed of just guys. One can only guess the outcome.
I'm pretty sure that the men saw that I wasn't going to put my bow down. I heard a click and my eyes wandered off to my left. There was a crossbow aimed right at my head.
At my momentary distraction, the policeman grabbed the curve of my bow, and pushed it in a different direction. The suddenness of the action made me release the grip of the string, and the arrow went flying into a car door.
In the same moment, the weapon was taken from me and I was pinned to the ground. And here's my thoughts on that: Rape,rape,rape,rape,rape,shitrape,fuck,fuck,fuck,shitfuckpiss,rape,rape,rape,damnitall,fuck,feedmetozombies,shit,fuck,rape!
"Get off of me!" I screamed. I don't care if I attracted zombies; I really wasn't in the mood to be raped.
"We aren't going to hurt you," Rosco reassured me. Yeah, policeman is now Rosco. You know, from the Dukes of Hazzard. Anyway, continuing on.
I struggled underneath Rosco. Damn this guy was strong.
"I'm going to let you up. We promise we aren't going to hurt you. We just want to help. Will you please calm down?" Rosco reasoned.
"Whatever," I growled in response. True to his word, Rosco let me up. I didn't attack him and the guys in the group didn't attack me.
I looked around for my bow, and the guy with the crossbow had it slung over his shoulder.
"Can I have my bow back?" I asked. I held out my hand for it, but he shook his head no.
"Don't want you shootin' us," he answered.
I let out an airy laugh that held no humor. Apparently he didn't notice my duffle bag full of arrows. I could just say, stab him.
Speaking of my duffle bag, whereinthebloodyfuckinghellisit? Oh some Asian dude was going through it. Whatthefuck?
"It's full of arrows. You aren't going to find anything else," I told him. I took it from him, zipped it back up, and threw it over my shoulder.
"Why arrows?" the black man asked.
"They're reusable. Unlike guns, you can pull an arrow out of a zombie and use it again but with a bullet, that doesn't really work out too well," I answered. Well that's one reason why anyway.
"We didn't catch your name," Rosco said.
"Scarlett," I responded.
"It's nice to meet you, Scarlett. I'm Rick, that's T-Dog, Glenn, and he's Daryl," he told me, pointing to each in turn.
"Ditto," I replied.
"I'm just going to make this quick. Would you like to join our camp? There's other survivors living there, and the more people we have, the higher our chances at survival," Rick (fuck it, I'm calling him Rosco), explained.
"Why not?" I shrugged.
"Now let's get the hell outta here," Rosco told the group.
We made a mad dash out of the alleyway (well for me it was more like a jog) and we were apparently headed for a car or something. We turned a final corner to find nothing.
I tuned out their conversation. If we were going to walk to camp, I'm going to be pissed. Very, very pissed.
I was brought back to reality by Glenn, who nudged my arm. Shit, we're walking. More like running. Fuckthat.
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So, Rosco had a bad feeling about the camp. It turns out he was right. There was a gunshot, and a scream, and the camp was being overrun by zombies. Just another day in the life of Scarlett.
I took my flatbow back from Daryl, and shoved about thirty arrows into my quiver, nocked an arrow, and shot a 'Walker' as Rosco called them. I nocked another, and released the string. The arrow flew forward, going straight through a zombie's head, and struck the one behind it in the eye. Am I good? I'm good.
"I. Hate. These. Things!" I mumbled, shooting a Walker in the cheek. They're blood soaked, and smell like rotting flesh. Along with the grotesque faces and half-eaten limbs, they make me want to puke.
Twenty-two arrows later, all of the Walkers were finally dead. I was busy pulling my arrows out of their heads while the rest of camp was burning zombie bodies. Apparently, some people from camp were killed. Well, that's not my problem.
Glenn came up to me while I was trying to yank an arrow out of a zombie's eye socket. The thing was stuck in there pretty good. I gave him a quick sideways glance before I went back to arrow retrieving.
"Hey…thanks for helping," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
"It was a humane thing to do," I replied. I jerked on the arrow again, but it broke in half. I half-screamed, half-mumbled a loud fuck before kicking the deceased body in the head.
"You're a really good shot. I mean, with your bow and all," the Korean commented.
"Thanks," I responded, going on to the next body.
"Might be better than Daryl. But don't tell him I said that."
I glanced up with him and smirked. "Are you scared of him?"
"Kinda," he answered.
"Don't be. Daryl probably wasn't loved as a child," I smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder. I hated being short. I really did. Even for an Asian, Glenn was taller than me. Sad face.
Glenn smiled, and then went back to body burning. I went back to pulling-arrows-out-of-zombie-heads. Let me tell you how fun it is. It's like watching paint dry. Or cutting grass with scissors one blade at a time.
I wasn't properly introduced to the camp, so some just stared at me but didn't question why I was there. I didn't really feel like going up to them and being like, "Hey I'm Scarlett. I was brought here to see your camp getting overrun by zombie fucks. Mind if I stay for awhile?" Yeah, no.
I walked around camp looking for any arrows that I might've missed. I found one lodged in a Walker's throat, and went over to retrieve it. I put my foot on its chest, and reached down to rip out the arrow. There's just one tiny thing I missed. It wasn't in its head.
It was still alive.
The zombie moaned and grabbed for me. I let out a short scream, and jumped off of the thing, but it grabbed my ankle. I fell to the ground, and the Walker climbed on top of me. It bent its head down and tried to bite my neck, but I held it back.
Screaming again, I tried to kick the Walker off. It didn't budge. The arrow was still in its throat. I reached for it, and began to pry it out, but since I was only using one arm to hold the zombie back, it tried to gnaw at my arm.
"Get the hell off of me!" I screamed. I freed the arrow, and stabbed the Walker right in the temple. It moaned before falling on top of me. I crawled out from under it and repeatedly stabbed it with the same arrow.
"Motherfucker!" I yelled, "Stay fucking dead!"
Alright, so I was on the verge of crying. Zombie brain matter and blood was all over my arms, chest, neck, and face. I was almost bit. Hell, I was almost eaten.
Panting, I shoved the arrow back into the zombie's mutilated skull. The thing could stay there for all I care now. Can't believe I was almost eaten over an arrow.
"Scarlett, are you alright?" T-Dog asked, kneeling beside me. Where the fuck were you three minutes ago?
"I'm fucking perfect. Just fucking perfect," I growled. I stood, and stomped on the arrow that was sticking out of the Walker's head.
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T-Dog watched the young girl storm off into the woods.
"What happened?" Rick asked, motioning towards Scarlett.
"I guess she almost got bit," T-Dog answered.
"That explains the screaming," Rick mused.
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'If someone else was screaming their fucking head off, somebody would come running for them. But not me. Oh no, I'm not important at all. I'm expendable. Just somebody that knows how shoot and how to kill a zombie quietly. I'm probably going to be a fucking babysitter; protecting those goddamn kids. Fucking useless, that's what they are. I can survive better on my own. Even though the world's gone to shit, men think they can fucking boss me around. Fuck that. I can pull my own weight. I can protect myself. I don't need to help anybody. Nobody bothered helping me,' I thought angrily.
I pushed a tree branch away from my face and continued stomping on through the woods. That's bullshit. Nobody came to help me until after I was almost eaten alive.
Fuck that camp. Fuck the people in the camp. Fuck zombies. Fuck the world. And fuck me up the ass with a fucking broomstick! Fuck.
"Motherfuckers should all get eaten," I mumbled, kicking a tree. As I see it, I'm just somebody to distract zombies while they all run away like pussies.
"Are you jus' gunn' stand there an' wait to be eaten or do you wanna come back to camp?"
The sound of the voice made me jump. I pulled my knife and prepared to stab something. Oh, it's just Daryl.
"Fuck that camp," I grumbled.
"I don't like 'em either fer leavin' my brother handcuffed to a roof," Daryl said. Wait, what?
"He's a strong sumbitch. Sawed 'is own hand off," he continued.
"I'm…sorry," I muttered, not knowing what else to say.
"I can understand that yer mad since no one came to help ya when you almost got eaten."
"I'm pissed the fuck off!" I yelled, stabbing a tree with my knife just at the thought.
"They fuck up a lot. But everyone does," Daryl told me. For a redneck, he makes some pretty great points.
"If I go back, I might end up killing one of them," I sighed, pulling my knife out of the poor tree I pierced.
"'S fine. Might deserve it anyway," Daryl responded. I let out a small laugh.
"A'ight, let's head back then," I smiled. I went back the same direction I came from, with Daryl following me. Before I even made my tenth step, Daryl grabbed my arm and pulled me back. A Walker emerged from the trees.
Daryl shot it with his crossbow before it could come any closer. Ew. The arrow went right through its forehead and the tip came out the back of its cranium. Double ew.
The redneck pulled the arrow from the zombie's head, and loaded it back into his crossbow. I should think about getting one of those things.
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After the incredibly long walk back, I realized just how far into the woods I went. And why did Daryl come after me? Rosco probably told him to.
So, the bodies were all burned and everyone was packing up. We're leaving? Awesome. Not really.
"Hey, Glenn! The fuck's goin' on?" I asked the Asian. He turned at the sound of my voice.
"After the geeks invaded, Rick and Shane decided to move on," he explained. Who the fuck is Shane? Probably the other policeman.
"Where are we headed?" I pressed on.
"The CDC," he answered.
The Center for Disease Control? Hm, seems logical enough. I nodded, and went to go find Rosco.
He was talking to a woman who I took to be his wife. I really need to start learning names here. She nodded at what he was saying, and then walked off.
"Hey Rosco!" I called. He didn't react. Oh right, Rick. I rolled my eyes. "Rick!"
"Yeah Scarlett?" he asked.
"Are we seriously leaving?"
"Yeah. It's not safe here anymore."
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. So much to contemplate over.
"Sorry about letting you almost get eaten by a Walker," Rosco said.
"I'm still alive, so don't worry about it," I replied.
"Oh, and did you call me Rosco?" he smiled.
"Yeah. You know, from the Dukes of Hazzard?" I laughed.
He just shook his head with an amused grin. "Can you go find Carl?" he asked, going back to whatever he was doing.
"Carl?"
"My son. Short, dark-ish hair, blue eyes," Rosco described.
"I'll try," was my answer. Yep, I'm a fucking babysitter. Great.
I found Carl a few minutes later sitting on a rock, talking to a young girl. I approached quietly, trying not to disturb their conversation.
"Carl?" I asked. The boy turned to me, and it was easy to tell he was wary of me asking for him. Well, he didn't know me, at all, so I don't blame him.
"Who're you?" he asked.
"Scarlett. Your dad dragged me along from Atlanta. And speaking of your dad, he wants to see you," I responded.
"Oh, okay," he said. He leapt off of the rock, and ran in the direction I came from.
"I like your hair. Is it naturally that red?" the little girl spoke up.
"Thanks," I laughed, "And yeah, it is. That's why my parents named me Scarlett."
"Pretty name. I'm Sophia."
"It's a pleasure to meet you," I replied.
She smiled. Her mom, I guess, was calling her name, so she ran off to her. Even though the world's gone to shit, the kids still were obedient. Inspiring.
I stood by and watched the camp pack up. I really had nothing but my duffle bag full of arrows, my bow, and my backpack that had my clothes and other things stuffed in it. I didn't have a tent, I didn't have a car, and I didn't have anything that was cumbersome.
Glancing down to make sure my knife was with me, my attention was drawn to the tattoo on my hand. Aeternus. Forever. It was written in calligraphy down half of my index finger and down to my thumb. I felt tears form in my eyes, but wiped them away.
My best friend had semperwritten in the same spot but on the opposite hand. Mine was on the right; hers on the left. We were going to be friends forever and always. I wonder if she's still alive.
I glanced at my left arm; there was a Celtic cross, almost exactly like the one on the back of my neck. The only exception was that the one on the back of my neck had AngelusCustosMeus on it. MyGuardianAngel.
Tears ran down my cheeks. "Fuck," I muttered, using the back of my hand to wipe them away. It's funny how a simple phrase can bring up such a sad memory.
"Sumthin' wrong?"
I jumped at the sound of Daryl's voice.
"Shit, you scared me," I whispered.
"Are you…cryin'?" he asked, leaning in closer to see my bloodshot eyes.
"N-no, I just have something in my eye. Like dirt, or a twig, or a branch, or something," I mumbled, rubbing my eyes with my palms.
"What's aeternus mean?"
Just hearing the word made more tears spring up. "Nothing," I mumbled before running off.
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Well, there's chapter one of the ZombieSurvivalGuide! Hit the little review button and type in something please :D I don't care if it says pie; I'd just like some feedback. Flames are welcomed, hell they're encouraged! And sorry for all of the cursing, but if it were you in the zombie apocalypse, would you really be saying crap, screw you, darn, or gosh? Nah, didn't think so.