WARNING
There is mature language and gore in this book. There may be slightly sexual scenes as well. If you do not like these things then I highly recommend that you DO NOT read. Thank you <3
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Due to a power failure, some infected escaped a high-s...
Charlotte emptied her lungs with a scream, unable to take her eyes off the monster in front of her. Could she even call it a monster? It was her father after all. But when was he bitten? Surely it would have taken longer than a day for the infection to spread.
It had been almost a year since Ryan left. No call, no letter, nothing. They didn't know if he was dead or alive, and that pained them the most. Their town was abandoned, and so was most of the country. The only survivors had made groups and found shelter.
The being that could no longer be called her father towered over her, dripping saliva onto the carpeted floors. Charlotte's emotions started to mix together, forming a feeling of anger, sadness and fear as she pulled the gun out from under her bed.
The next few moments were a blur to Charlotte. The only things she could remember were a bang, a white flash, and seeing her fathers dead body limp on the floor, disfigured from the infection.
Still in shock, she quickly ran around the house, shoving whatever she may need into a few bags before throwing them into the back of her dad's black Ute (utility vehicle, picture below). A few guns, water, food, a tent, a water purifier, extra ammo, spare clothes, hygienic products, and anything that she would need on a day-to-day basis.
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Before she left, she decided to change into black yoga pants and a black top with some black nike joggers. If she was going to leave, she wanted to blend in with her surroundings as much as possible.
On her way out, Charlotte grabbed the pistol from her dad's belt, holding back her tears whilst trying not to gag. The blood was soaking into the carpet and spreading even further whilst she grabbed a belt with a holster out from her cupboard.
"Huh, all those years of cosplaying paid off." She laughed nervously, trying to lighten the situation for herself as she tied the belt around her waist, sliding the gun in.
As she walked out to the garage where the car was, she picked up an old axe that was lying against the wall.
"Okay, let's go." Charlotte muttered, turning on the car to drive out into the night. She had to leave everything behind. Her life, her childhood, and what was left of her family.
After a few hours of mindless driving, Charlotte pulled over to the side of the road so she could sleep. It was almost midnight.
That's when the realisation of what happened caught up with her. The tears just kept coming. Her expression stayed neutral, but her emotions and thoughts were raging inside of her.
An hour of crying later, she finally fell asleep, unaware of the day ahead of her.
Charlotte jumped awake, a bang interrupting her slumber. She quickly looked around and her eyes locked on a walker, banging its fists on her window.
She screamed and rolled her window down, pulling out her gun to put 3 bullets straight in it's head. It flopped back, some of it's brains spilling onto the ground.
Charlotte leant back and sighed, putting her hands on her head.
That was a person
They may have had a family... kids.
Don't think about it, Charlotte. It was suffering anyway.
She shook her head and started driving, wanting to get away from the rancid smells of the dead corpse.
Over the next 6 months, Charlotte survived by herself. She came across a few families and groups, but she refused to stay with them. She even came across a group of teenagers that called themselves "the misfits". All she needed was herself, and that's how she liked it.
Charlotte's personality didn't change - it was just masked by her tough independence. She put her walls down for no one, and trusted no one. Walkers didn't even phase her anymore, and she started having fun instead of fearing everywhere she went.
As she drove down an old country road, Charlotte sighed and rubbed her forehead, exhausted. As she was nearing an hour of driving, something - or someone - caught her eye.
A group of walkers were surrounding some guy who looked a little older than her. His ginger hair stood out to her before his tall physique.
Usually, Charlotte doesn't rescue people, but this guy had something familiar about him that she couldn't shake. She felt like she had to rescue him for some reason.
"Alright. Let's go then, lads." She muttered to herself, pulling the car over quickly before grabbing her handgun and axe.
