The Walking Dead: Blood

Chapter 1: A Long Road Home

Chapter 1: A Long Road Home

It was a brilliant day outside. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping and the summer breeze was blowing gently. I always loved a nice summer day. However, this particular summer day, I happened to be stuck in the back of a police car, miles away from home with my wrists cuffed to each other. The sentence I was heading to serve at the Georgia state prison was indefinite. Today was not the highlight of my summer.

I grimaced into the floor. The officer in the front seat seemed to notice and adjusted the rear view mirror to meet my eyes. His gray hair suggested he was in his sixties. Redirecting his attention to the road, he said, "Well, I reckon you didn't do it then."

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"Y'know, I've driven a bunch a' fellas down to this prison. Lord knows how many. It's usually about now I get the 'I didn't do it.'"

"Not from me."

"'Cause guys in your position already said it enough?" I chose not to answer that question, and he seemed to accept that.

The console of the car produced a small amount of static and started to speak words that would only make sense to a police officer. It did, however, sound important. It must not have been because the old man reached down and turned it off.

"I followed your case a little bit, bein' a Macon boy an' all." I grew up in a small drug store in Macon, Georgia. My parents ran the store and my brother and I helped out as much as we could. When I left to become a college professor at the University of Georgia at Athens, my brother was running the prescriptions. I wondered how they reacted to my life sentence.

My name was Lee Everett. I was a 6'2" African American with short black hair and a matching beard. I used to teach history at the University before this whole mess happened.

"So you've got an opinion then?"

"Wouldn't say that. I go in for that innocent 'til proven guilty thing. They didn't even say who you killed." He raised his finger in the air matter-of-factly. I looked to the left and saw a group of police cars driving in the opposite direction.

The console spoke up again. This time, I knew it was important; I made out the words "medical personnel." But, the officer proceeded to turn it off again. It started to bug me. "Any of that seem important to you?"

"All of it, but that box never shuts up. Sit in this seat and pay too much attention and you'll drive yourself crazy." He decided that we'd been dwelling on the subject too long. "I got a nephew up at UGA. You teach there long?"

"Goin' on my sixth year." I replied.

"You meet your wife in Athens?" He asked, striking dangerously close to home. I stared to the left for a minute as painful memories seeped into my mind. Some wife she was... "You want to know how I see it?" The old man asked.

"I got much choice?"

"Sure don't." I stared at him angrily through the rear view mirror. I didn't want his opinion on my mind. "Regardless, could be you just married the wrong woman." I had half a mind to say something really nasty to the man, but I couldn't roll it off my tongue.

The console began talking again. This time, I picked up the words "riot in progress." The officer smacked the dash with the palm of his hand. "That box just won't shut up!"

I looked out the left window again and noticed a police helicopter flying by the other way. I started to get concerned about what was happening back there.

"So I'm driving this man once. He was the worst one. He kept going on about how he didn't do it. He was an older fella. Big, soft eyes behind a pair of smart folk glasses. He was wailin' back there, says it wasn't him. Cryin' and snottin' all over right where you're sitting." I ran a hand under my seat to make sure it was dry. "Then before long he starts kickin' the back of the seat, like a fussy baby on an airplane. So I tell him he's gotta stop. That that's government property and I'll be forced to zap him otherwise. So he stops and having exhausted all his options he starts cryin' out to his mama. 'Mama! It's all a big mistake! It wasn't me!'"

"Maybe he was innocent."

"Innocent? They caught the f***er red-handed! Stabbin' his wife, cutting her up as the boys came through the door. He sits in my chair screaming bloody murder it wasn't him. I think he actually believed it. It goes to show, people will up and go mad when they believe their life is over."

That's not true. My life was over and I was anything but mad.

"Oh, I got another good one for ya. This one's a little bit less depressin' and a little bit more hilarious." As the officer kept talking I made out a figure a hundred feet in front of the car. As we drew closer to it I realized it was a limping man. He had one arm.

"Look out!" I screamed at the old man. He had his head turned though to tell me his story. He saw the man too late.

I clutched the seat and prepped for death.