The WALKING DEAD: Rewritten

Chapter 1: Days Gone Bye

Everything was quiet.

That was the main thing standing out to the man when he stepped out of the car; he'd been driving for a while by that point, thus making the motor humming feel quieter than actual silence. It was hardly an unusual feeling — hell, there was even a phrase coined to capture it: "deafening silence", they say...

...said...

...but it was even more prominent than usual. In the new world that he'd quite literally woken up to find himself in the middle of, everything was quiet. Obviously, it was a very new feeling, and just as unsettling, so it'd be a while before he was anywhere close to used to it. In fact, he swallowed hard... unable to help wondering if he'd ever get to that point. But he pushed such thoughts far, far aside — he had other concerns that came first.

As for the man himself? Richard D. Grimes — although he always preferred going by Rick — was 37 years old, sported blue eyes, brown hair, and a fairly handsome clean-shaven face. At that moment, he was dressed in his usual police sheriff uniform. He didn't realise it, of course, but the image of himself as this clean icon of peace and order posed a comedic contrast against the aftermath of chaos and destruction he was walking through at that moment.

Rick walked around to take his sheriff's hat and a gas canister from the trunk. Upon placing the former atop his head, he left the car — a police cruiser labelled 'SHERIFF' along the side — to instead approach the gas station he'd stopped driving for in the first place. As Rick walked across the road, he noted the vehicles strewn about — abandoned, broken, rusted, some even overturned. It was quickly becoming a common and unremarkable sight, a realisation that disturbed him, but he continued navigating between them nonetheless.

He travelled across the grass, coming across a deserted area formerly inhabited by survivors. Not only were there more abandoned cars but also tents, garbage, children's toys, clothes... and corpses. Rick glanced inside one of the cars to find a rotting carcass comfortably stationed in the front seat, not to mention the swarm of flies keeping it company. Rick pulled away, appalled by the smell, and kept on moving.

He reached the gas station, only to find a handmade spray-painted sign hanging, which read 'NO GAS'. He sighed and shrugged — figured that if he'd come this far, he might as well find out for himself... only to stop at a nearby sound.

Rick ducked behind a nearby car, placing his hat on the ground so he could look underneath to see whether anyone else's feet were present. Sure enough, a small pair wearing soft but dirty bunny slippers trudged past. Rick quickly got up and cautiously approached the little girl, who was facing away from him.

Just like he was an icon of order, the little girl was an icon of innocence - and the scenario of a police officer helping this lost little girl was a very pure and classic kind of idea... almost clichéd.

"Hello?" Rick gently called out to her, trying to get her attention without frightening her. "Little girl? I'm a policeman — don't be afraid, okay?" With no reply, he called again, "Little girl?"

This time, she took notice — the girl slowly turned around to face him... only to reveal that her eyes were bloodshot... that her lips and right cheek had been torn away, exposing the teeth and bloody muscle underneath... and what was left of her skin had become rotten and decayed.

Rick's face fell. She began snarling, walking towards him, slowly picking up in volume and speed respectively. He staggered back, keeping his distance while reaching for the Colt Python revolver he always had holstered. Upon drawing it...

BLAM!!

The undead girl was thrown backwards as the bullet ripped through what was left of her head, spurting out a small explosion of blood and brains as her body thudded on the concrete below. She'd been holding a small teddy bear, which escaped her grasp and was sent rolling away... lost, just like her innocence.