As I'm walking threw the woods I hear a sound behind me that I have become way too familiar with. The groans and hisses of a hoard. A hoard is what we call it when they all get together and roam around until they find something to eat... Or someone. The infected. Zombies. Biters. Whatever you wanna call them. We call them walkers.
I turn around swiftly and swing. The crowbar I've been using gets lodged in its head. Oh shit. I reach for my weapon and yank as hard as I can but its not budging. With one final tug I manage to pull the crowbar up except it has a head on the end. Oh well. I take out an old man walker then sprint away from our camp.
"Once I lose them i'll head back," I think to myself. I was looking for edible plants when I was attacked. Our camp has been low on food for a while. My brother (the leader of our group) has been doing all he can to keep everyone from starving. "Aw shit," I say because I dropped my crowbar when I was first attacked. I turn around and the hoard is still following me. I load a precious arrow into my bow just in case. I continue running until I can't see the walkers anymore. I go left for about a minute then go back towed the camp.
YOU ARE READING
Hopeless
ActionA fan fiction of AMC's "The Walking Dead" but with my own characters. Thank you so much for reading.