You and Me Vs. The World

Chapter One

-5 months later-

I trudged through the trees, dragging my feet across the ground. at this point, there really was no difference between me and those walkers besides that I was alive and they weren't. Sometimes though, I would think that I didn't want to be alive. But I didn't think that too much, I had to keep going. For dad.

At this point, I was tripping over things and stumbling. I would get dizzy, and I've had a headache for about what feels like 20 years now. I knew it was dehydration, but what could I do? I couldn't just make water magically appear my hopelessly empty bottle.

As I was walking along, I tripped over a fairly large root that was just jutting out of the ground. I tumbled about two feet, and landed at the base of a tree. I leaned against it, and not having the energy to get back up again, closed my eyes. "Well," I said aloud. "This is it. This is how I die. At least I can be with my dad again..."

Suddenly I heard feet dragging somewhere. I drew my knife, I barely used my pistol. Sure enough, four or five walkers came out of the shadows to eat me alive. With my exhaustion, there was no way I could get these. and I couldn't use my pistol, because that would just attract more of them. "So this is really it," I said, tears rolling down my cheeks. "This really is the end. What a sucky way to die. Outnumbered, surrounded, and exhausted. I just wish, there was something more I could have done."

I threw my head back against the tree and waited for the walkers to start eating me. I heard a gunshot, another one, and about three more. I looked up. I saw a boy, wearing a sheriff's hat and holding a pistol. He saw me leaned against the tree and walked over, crouching beside me.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, examining my body with his eyes.

"No, but I'm thirsty as hell if that counts. I might have twisted my ankle tripping over a root but that's not as important."

I heard calling voices, as they got closer I could make out what they were saying. "CARL? WHERE ARE YOU?"

"Over here dad!" he called back, standing up.

A moment later, two other men came running through the trees. One, wearing a police uniform went over to Carl and knelt in front of him. "Carl, are you okay?"

"Yeah dad, I'm alright."

The other, wielding a pretty big crossbow, noticed me. "Who's this?" he asked, pointing his crossbow at me.

"My name's Lexi," I said nervously.

"Hi Lexi," the one wearing the police uniform said. "My name's Rick. This here is Daryl, and this is my son Carl."

Daryl put the crossbow down. "Where's the rest of your group?" he asked, looking me over.

"I don't have a group. I'm alone."

Daryl laughed. "You can't expect us to think you survived this long on your own."

"Well, I wasn't always alone," I said, wiping my face. "I had my dad. But he got bit, so for the past five months it's just been me."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Rick said. "Listen, we've got a group back a little ways, and if you want, you can join us. But first, I have to ask you some questions." He turned to Daryl. "Why don't you take Carl back, and I'll meet you there later?"

Daryl nodded and he and Carl left. Rick came over and knelt by me. "How many walkers have you killed?" he asked me.

"I lost count, it's been so many."

"How many men have you killed?"

"I don't kill the living."

Rick stood up, and stuck his hand out. I took it, and he pulled me up. "Come on," he said. "Camp's this way."