Survive: A Walking Dead Fanfiction {Carl Grimes x Fictional Character} (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 1

THANK YOU FOR READING THIS FANFICTION!!! *softly sobbing and hugs*
I hope you enjoy, yes, mature content will be in further chapters. This will be a boyxboy story!
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~Carl's POV~

"Stay in the house Carl. Don't do anything stupid, Carl. Stop being disrespectful, Carl, blah blah blah." All they do is think of me as a distraction, like I get in the way... Ugh! Now I'm talking to myself... I hope they're devastated when they find out I'm gone. Or they won't even fucking notice!

Kicking a crushed soda can, I held the old duffle bag across my back, my right hand on my pistol and my left on my belongings. It was getting a bit late, the sun was slowly setting on the distant horizon. It's light made waves of color on spilt oil I noticed as a puddle. I felt a gust of wind, the forceful air almost blowing the sheriff's hat I wore, looking down so the wind hit down against it, forcing it back on securely on my head. The foul stench reached me before the lifeless groans could be heard.

"Walkers...", I whispered, by reflex, I moved the duffle bag down, the strap resting against my chest and right shoulder, both hands moving to hold my gun upright. I brought a full case of bullets, about 50 in total, not counting the ones loaded into the pistol.

Hrrrghh
Crrhhhh
Ghhhhh

The recognizable groans were obvious, even from some distance. An infected woman stumbled towards my direction, it's face decayed and half of the skin was gone. Revealing it's dead flesh, no eye lid to cover the eyeball that scanned the area before it. Clothes ragged and bloody, it's teeth were the same, dirty with plague. In order to avoid unwanted attention by a possible walker horde, I picked up a nearby rock and lightly flung it towards the street near the advancing walker.

Hissing at the noise, it turned towards the sound of the stone and stumbled down the path. I silently sighed in relief, smirking at the idiotic walker that... Well.... Walked away. I hadn't realized the sound of the rock I had thrown would attract others... The 'idiotic walker' returned with a small group of walkers. "Great", I muttered in disbelief, now I had to shoot them, and possibly attract more of them in the process.

Out of reflex, I dove silently behind a trashed car, it's broken windows making some nice holes to peer through at my targets. "I'm still not regretting running away", I stubbornly muttered to myself. Their lifeless corpses kept advancing until I noticed them begin to struggle with something on the ground around it, and began to notice more walkers struggling as well. They were caught in something. They began to make their signature shriek, darkened blood seeping through the quickly appearing wounds on their legs. The blood that held no oxygen rolled down the unliving skin attached to their rottening body.

I suddenly heard a kind of screeching noise. Not human, or a walker screech, but more of a metallic sound. Looking through the glassless windows, I witnessed black spearlike poles stab through the walker bodies, the black spears having been attached to chains and retracted. The now, for sure, dead walkers being dragged away to the place where the spears appeared from. Assuming it was safe, I jogged over to the wide alleyway between two tall skyscrapers, stopping at the right moment to keep myself from plunging into a dark abyss.

A hole about 4x5 feet lay before me, a separate sewer system held countless bodies, I assume, of those walkers. The black spears had returned to where they came from. A wall of different materials, mostly metal, held multiple holes with the black spears. The "spears" looked like to be cut from those kinds of metal fences put up around apartments. "Traps...?", I again spoke to myself. I wasn't the only survivor in the city.

Turning around, I saw what the walkers struggled in were wires that looked like thorned vines of rose bushes, wires put over prison fences. The wires triggered the spears if a struggling pull was felt on them. Jumping over them with caution, I made my current goal to find the local survivors. Fixing the sherrif hat on my head, I wiped away the sweat that had been released during the recent encounter.

•°•°3 hours later°•°•

"God damn...", I cursed, my stomach rumbled angrily without the presence of food in it. I had gotten myself to about the middle of the city, the buildings were taller and the streets were wider. No walkers had interrupted my path so far, I was beginning to think a fuckload of traps surrounded the center of the city, making my hopes grow on a possible survivor group. God, I'm really hoping there's someone my age.

Spotting a sign that pictured a steaming bowl of soup, Ramen, I think that's what it was called. I began to chuckle at the thought if Glenn ate that kind of thing everyday before the apocalypse. I sprinted towards the restaurant, not really a restaurant, more like a small tower of food courts. I open the door and hear the ring of the bell. I froze at the sound of it but reminded myself danger wasn't near.

An array of circular tables with circular benches surrounding the metallic form of the tables covered the restaurant floor. Dead flowers were the center pieces of each one, probably beautiful when they had colorful life in them. I moved over to the walls, murals that held stories in them. A child with raven hair held a small white figure in it's hands, the child surrounded by more children, all of them made from bright, cheerful colors. I touched the picture, an unexpected cool feeling met my fingers. Now I was sure someone was here recently.

Wiping my finger on my jeans, I proceeded to the back of the cooking area, metallic trays covered the floor and old objects accompanying them. I drew my pistol out of caution and continued, spotting walls that had big freezers against them, I knew what they held, hopefully. Food. I run over to them, my desire to eat taking over me. I hadn't realized I was being watched. Feeling the awkward sensation of a pair of eyes were on me, I turned to the area I felt it come from and pointed my weapon.

A slim boy that could easily be mistaken for a girl, looking about 15, sat on the metal counter. Black hair was pulled back into a small ponytail, bangs covered his eyes and forehead in a "scene" style. Dressed in mostly all black, the only bright color on his figure was the flannel-patterned scarf around his neck.

"Evening, Sheriff...", he spoke.
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I really hope you enjoyed this!!! I'm already working on Chapter 2 and it will come out soon! Thank you for reading this fanfiction!!! *hugs intensely*

I'll update as soon as I can!!!

- Robynn