Undead - The Walking Dead Fanfiction

Chapter 9 -The Inner Argument

Chapter 9 - The Inner Argument

Here I am, fighting the disgusting Undead, stabbing them in the head and beating myself up for not stealing a gun before I left. Most, though, I was angry with myself for having to go back. I guess seeing a baby for the first time since the world went to hell was a sort of miracle. I couldn't just leave while Judith's at chance of starving.

There were getting to be more and more of them, ones I hadn't killed on my way to the town. They were adding up quickly, and I had to resort to sprinting - I might be faster than them, but they didn't need to catch their breathe. There wasn't any way I could stop and kill a few; it would only cause the others to catch up, and I wouldn't be able to defend myself that way.

One of the Undead emerged from the forest in a dead run. He was fast, and he was headed straight toward me. I couldn't help but notice that he had on a backpack that was nearly exploding with its contents. That could be useful, if only I could get it off of his back...

I mentally slapped myself in the face. That would be the worst possible thing I could do with all of these creatures following me around, trying to get a taste of my flesh. Though, it could help me, considering that I was about to be back on my own for the first time in the last week or so.

"Screw it." I whispered to myself and raised my knife into the air. I swerved toward the Undead body, and watched as he lunged at me, his had barely missing my stomach. He's a gabber, be careful, Eden.

I shoved him with my free hand, and felt my bag of baby formula swing on my back. I almost screamed because of the movement, thinking that the others had caught up. I didn't have time to check, so I stabbed him between the eyes, twisting the knife and pulling it out. The black blood pooled from his skull, dripping down the blade onto my hand. It used to disgust me, but there was nothing that could do that to me anymore - I had seen too much.

Moving swiftly, I flipped him onto his stomach and tore the backpack from his corpse that was finally at peace. It was heavy, and I struggled to swing t over my shoulder.

Behind me, I felt a cold hand. One that was boney indicating that it had been a long time since it had last fed. That would mean it was the most agressive, hungry for flesh. Here I was, a hot meal, sitting at the side of a road that far from anywhere. I had to be about exactly halfway from the prison to town, and calling for help was beneath me now.

The weight of all the supplies was slowing me down, my reaction was painfully distracted. I stumbled, falling to my knees. Suddenly, a wash of nausea washed over me - it hadn't happened in months.

I had a bad heart, that was why I needed to stay calm under all situations. Back in the normal times, I had pills to take for it to control my attacks, but now the only way I could prevent them was to not get too excited, or too frightened. Also, it wasn't great to do a ton of physical activity, but that wasn't realy something I could avoid anymore.

I shoved the Undead back, gasping for breathe, and trying to hold down the canned meat that Hershel had issued me. It was crawling up my throat in a hot storm, burning me and making me cry out. 

Oh God, not now. Of all times, not now.

I had freaked out, and now I was going to pay my price. I couldn't defend myself when my heart was too busy skipping beats, I had to focus on breathing. 

I turned to face the Undead, readying myself to shove it back with my feet to try and delay my fate. I didn't want to die - not when this is the world where I belonged. In this world, I only needed to fear the things that were attcking me, not the people who were supposed to protect me. At least the Undead didn't back-stab me...

They had me surrounded, and I wanted to scream, I wanted to fight harder than ever. But I was frozen, not wanting my last moments to be filled with morbid curse words and fists flying. I wanted to go out with at least a little bit of dignity.

I shut my eyes, ready to die.

*****

Bullets rained down in sheets, taking out Undead like a video game. I watched as they slumped to the ground, feeling some as they dropped down onto me. Blood was splattering, a continuous spray that misted the air.

I layed still, pretending to be dead so that whoever it was, wouldn't loot me of all my supplies. If I was going to live, I was going to get the formula to that baby. 

"You get bit?" I heard a voice asked. Whoever it was, did not sound very threatening. They had sounded a little concerned, but mostly just doubtful. 

I pulled myself up, knowing that the voice knew I was here, and if I wasn't going to answer they would probably come over and check anyways. In all honesty, the situation had me very nervous. 

I couldn't help but gasp when I saw who had rescued me. He stood there, smiling the friendliest smile I had seen in quite a long time. He took a few steps toward me, and I eyed him with caution, noticing the gun he held in his hand. 

"Uncle." I mumbled, my voice barely audiable. "No bites."

He was right beside me when he decided to take a knee. He sat with his face right next to mine - so close I could smell his breathe, which was fresh and minty like he had just brushed them. Whoa, it had been a long time since I had had that luxury.

"Good." he whispered, narrowing his eyes, but keeping his creepy grin. "You'll be coming with me."

With that, he rose to his feet and walked to a large truck. 

I know what you're thinking - why didn't I run while he had his back turned? But he had a few other men in the back, all of which had a gun pointed at me like I was the threat. It was almost a laughable concept, had I not been the one on the recieving end. There wasn't an escape route - it was to the truck or die. 

Reluctantly, I followed, regretting ever finding the stupid prison.