New Sheriff in Town

Chapter 1 - "After Dawn"

Takes place after Season Five: Episode 8 after credits - Reminder that some things are changed and these are not spoilers so don't freak out if there are changes in this book. Hope you enjoy! Please vote, comment and follow!

Also - I will be posting every friday. HIGHLY recommend that you finish most recent comic to read my fanfiction. All characters and settings except a few of my own belong to AMC and Robert Kirkman.

My eyelids flipped over and I immediately inhaled a breath of oxygen with a tint of dirt. My head ached in pain as I went to touch it but only felt a soft fabric against my finger tips. My head was patched up and I could feel wetness against the cloth. Blood.

I looked around at my surroundings; which wasn't a lot. I was trapped in an enclosed space. Why was I buried? I don't remember laying down inside a coffin and I sure as hell don't remember wrapping this bandage around my head or bruising it.

My eyes grew open as I realized that I was buried alive. My heart pounded in my chest.How could I be buried alive? The last thing I remember is Daryl giving me the news that Zack was dead. Wait, maybe if I pounded hard enough than Daryl or Maggie could hear.

"Maggie!" I held my hands out infront of me and kicked against the flimsy wood at the end. With my hands, I pounded and screamed above my face. Both the front and back had been flimsy, as if it was a makeshift coffin. It seemed like the only thing keeping the top on was a lock in the middle.

"Daryl!" I continued screaming for help. My panic and fear grew as I started kicking my legs harder and harder into the wood. "Daddy! Help me!" Where was Daddy and why wasn't Maggie here to help me? I was scared. I needed help and noone was around to do just that.

My palms slapped against the front, my front toes kicking into the back. I stopped when I heard the faint crack of wood splitting. I looked down at the end and noticed small, tiny minerals escaping the box. I was buried underground with what looked to be like dirt slowly falling inside. I knew I needed to make a daring attempt to escape or it would be over. My god. Daddy is probably worried sick right now. I looked around the box and noticed a nail sticking out. I needed to climb my way out.

I grabbed the hems of my yellow, dirty shirt and yanked it inside out to keep it just underneath my chin, I rose my hands over my head and tied the shirt into a knot so it was used as a bag to prevent myself from inhaling the dirt. I felt my ankles covered in dirt and my breathing continuing to grow heavy. There was hardly any oxygen left in the coffin from all the screaming and breathing that I've done.

I took one last deep breath and pushed my palms above me. I could hear the slight sound of the wood breaking and the way the wood felt like it was bending. As soon as I knew it the wood cracked and the dirt spirled in, landing on my yellow shirt. I could feel the dirt's weight on my face.

I screamed and sat up in the coffin, speckles of dirt had made it's way through the knot and fell to the bottom of the shirt which tickled my chin. I got on my knees and pushed myself up, my hands in a diving position, as soon as I was far enough up through the dirt, I managed to get on my feet and push against the wood and stick my hands out to reach for the sky. As soon as the heavy dirt had made it's way past my fingertips I could feel the warm air against my hand. I must've only been dug within a foot of two down under.

I reached my other hand above and too felt the air on my left hand. I planted my fingers in the soil and pushed myself out from the dirt. I quickly untied the shirt and let it drop on top of my white under shirt which was almost black from the dirt collapsing on it. I coughed and took a nice gasp of air, thankful to be alive. There had been a choppy design of a cross above where I has been buried.