I Am Hungry || The Walking Dead

1.

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Laughter escaped through gasps of breaths as Ambrose halted his running, chest heaving. He turned around, a grin on his lips, "..Come on, you slow pokes. It ain't any fun if you can't catch me." The only response that he got back was a bunch of snarls from the undead herd that was following him for a while.

He could easily just get rid of the herd, but he was bored out of his mind. The price of freedom was an eternity of loneliness, but it wasn't like anyone wanted his company anyways, even when the world ended, the people left in the cruel, unjustified world were just people who wanted him dead to steal his stuff.

The undead was the only company Ambrose had. The undead were the only ones seeking him out, wanting him, and sure, they wanted to tear him apart, wanted to eat him, but truth was, Ambrose didn't care. He sought them out as much as they did.

It was fun to mess around with them. It was fun to kill them in the many ways he could think of. He built traps just for them. They made him become creative, and he honestly didn't think it was possible for someone to be that creative.

The loneliness wasn't exactly a new thing for him. From the moment he was born, he was alone even surrounded by people. His parents abandoned in an alleyway during the winter. He would've died that day if it weren't for someone tripping over him. Most days, he would think it would've been better if he did just die that day.

After being found, he was handed to a social worker, who only tossed him into foster homes, who just tossed back him back like a little game of dodge ball.

As he grew, children just avoided him for being covered in bruises and cuts, which wasn't entirely his fault. Adults hated him, and they showed him how much they hated him with their fists and legs.

As he got even older, the foster homes stopped, and the orphanages started. It was the same as the foster homes. He was just being tossed around cause nobody wanted him. They deemed him too violent. To reckless, too much to handle.

It wasn't really his fault that he was tossed against cop cars cause he simply looked too suspicious. Yeah, sure, he did a couple of things that were against the law, but it was just harmless things. People were just too uptight about their laws, well used to be. Now they're all dead, there's no laws to break anymore, no more adults too unstable for this world.

Ambrose pulled out his knife from his knife holster. The blade was sharp, and it glistened underneath the sunlight. He twirled the knife in his hand as he waited for the undead to approached him.

Being inpatient with how slow the dead were. Ambrose walked forward, approaching the first undead that was the closest to him.

He violently thrusted the knife into the undead skull. The sickening crunch of the knife being pulled out from the skull didn't bother him anymore. It used to, but Ambrose had gotten used to the noise.

Blood dripped from the tip of the knife, and he turned towards the rest of the undead. He took a step forward, but he paused as the sound of distant gunfire echoed throughout the woods. Birds scattered from their trees due to the sound.

The undead turned away from Ambrose, making their way towards the sound of gunfire. Ambrose frowned as the undead attention was torn away from him.

He decided to see who was ruining his fun. He placed his knife back in his holster before he started running in the direction of where the gunfire came from, running ahead of the dead.

The snarls grew distant as he continued to run, and the sound of gunfire grew louder.

He stopped shortly, crouching down, hiding behind a bush, breathing heavily. His eyes were trained on the group of men in front of him. It was only four of them, all of them middle-aged.

The guns they had were what caught his attention more than they did. He wasn't really a gun expert, but he liked collecting things. He hasn't collected those types of guns before.

Hearing the snarls of the undead herd approaching, he hid behind a tree, watching as the undead walked past him.

The sound of gunfire and screams filled his ears. Taking his chance, he pulled his knife out again, stabbing the undead in the back of the head, killing them one by one. It was only at least a dozen of them.

By the time he was done, he was covered in blood of the dead. He approached the men who were torn apart by the dead, even with their guns. They were idiots.

A gurgle caught his attention, and he saw one of the men still alive, choking on his blood as the flesh from his neck was ripped out. He approached him, crouching down beside him, staring down at him.

"..Yikes." Ambrose smiled at him, "Don't worry, man. I got you covered." Ambrose violently jammed the knife into the dying man's eyesocket.

He pulled his knife out, standing up, but the sound of a click and something pressing against the back of his head made him let out a deep sighed.

"Drop your weapon." Ambrose turned around, a playful grin playing on his lips.

"What if I don't want to drop it?" Ambrose questioned. The man eyed the knife wearily. Ambrose took the chance to snatch the gun from the man, kicking him back and pulling the trigger before the man could react.

Ambrose lowered the gun before stringing the strap around his shoulder, picking up the rest of the weapons.

Killing people didn't faze him anymore. It was kill or be killed, and he didn't survive all that he's been through just to be killed by some asshole with a gun.

The first time he killed someone, he actually felt some kind of guilt, but that guilt quickly vanished as the hours ticked by. That lady was trying to steal his stuff and was trying to kill him to do so. He was nice, he was kind and she betrayed him. She deserved it. Just like these men did.

"..Don, come in. Don." Turning his head towards the sound of the voice. Ambrose saw a radio in the man's belt that he had killed. He walked over, grabbing the radio.

"Don, you asshole, answer the radio." Ambrose brought the radio up to his mouth, holding the button down. He was going to say something, but he decided against it.

He turned off the radio and placed it on his belt. The sky was slowly darkening, and with a deep sighed, he began his journey back to the place where he lives.

☆
1158 words

First chapter!
Not exactly my best.

Thoughts?