The Walking Dead Game One-shots

Gunpoint (Carl x Clementine)

I'm starting with CarlxClem because why not ^^ enjoy!

"Shit." Carl muttered to no one in particular, the groans of the dead behind him echoing through his head, making his mind think of the herd of twenty walkers behind him surpass more than sixty.

He fought to keep his breathing as stable as possible. Sweat poured down from his forehead, turning his gray flannel damp and a shade darker. The nipping cold of winter holds no favor to his situation, adding only a tiniest bit of suffering from his neverending run.

He veered to the right in attempt to scatter the clustered walkers. It'd be easier to take them on when you're not expecting one to bite you from behind. He slipped off his utility knife from his belt, stabbing an incoming walker on its forehead. He eased of the blade from its brain, letting it fall limp. He took steady steps backwards to keep a safe distance, and continued to pierce walkers in the head. Once he thought he took out a decent amount, he began sprinting away.

He saw the remaining daylight fade from the summit of pine trees surrounding him. He chanted curses under his breath. He needed to find shelter or else he'll die from pneumonia. Not a very honorable way to die, so that wasn't an option to go. He thought to himself.

In the distance, he saw a wooden cabin. It was boarded with wooden planks with screws coming off the edges, looking like someone took it off and put it back using their hands. Easier for him.

He sneaked a glance over his shoulders. Since he was at least forty steps ahead, he lost at least half of them while running. Heaving a sigh, he picked up his pace and unintentionally slammed his hands onto the wooden boards of the cabin.

His head perked up in surprise when he heard frightened whimpers of a child inside the supposedly abandoned structure.

Ignoring the faint groaning of walkers a few feet behind him, he calmingly knocked on the door obscured with wooden planks.

"Hello, is anyone in there?" His breathing hitched, occasionally looking back behind him. More whimpers, this time it sounded more muffled.

He wasted no time and desperately tried to tear off the planks of wood, his hand felt like it was burning and was soon covered in splinters. He took out the gun from his holster and aimed it at the walkers just a few feet in front of him. Inwardly debating whether to shoot or not, he decides not to and uses his knife instead. Too much sound and too much of a waste.

With a fallen plank, he charged through a group of three, knocking them down. He took the opportunity to dig his knife into their skulls one by one. He gave the nearest walker one last smack in the head before running back to the cabin. He dug his nails into the loose screws and frantically wriggled them out. Pulling out the the wooden boards, he lunged himself to the locked door. He stumbled in his feet, a nearby metal shelf catching him in the most painful way possible.

He ignored all the pain and staggered to his feet. He unleashed all his weight on the broken door as the walkers did the same.

He heavily panted and did his best in focusing all his strength on the door. He took a deep breath and inwardly comforted himself. Nothing can get worse than this.

Click!

Carl froze. He cautiously craned his neck to the side, facing a shaking pistol being held by a kid no older than five.

He had brown curly hair, dark skin, and brown eyes filled with fright. His lower jaw was shivering as he did his best to keep his hands steady and be as threatening as possible.

"Y-you have to get out." He squeaked.

"Hey- hey, kid, calm down." The door opened, hands clawing in from outside. Carl twisted his heel and forced the door shut by squeezing out the hands.