Dead Man Walking

by L0S3R_B0Y66

Summary:

Andy, an 11-year military veteran with combat and medic experience, is invited to Atlanta, Georgia by one of his old military buddy's for an airsoft tournament, not even two weeks into his stay, he gets thrown into the chaos of the zombie apocalypse. its going to be alright, he knows can survive another war.

Notes:

That summary sucks buts that's okay, ill probably change it soon. Anyways, i wanted to get a few things out of the way first, i am making a webtoon of this story, so updates may take longer than wanted, that mixed in with school as well. I will try to make the chapters long, so that updates are at least enjoyable. This will be cross-posted onto a couple other websites, but if you see a user that isn't the same as on here alert me immediately. i do want feedback on every chapter, and i encourage it! anyways, Enjoy, Vote, and comment!!

Chapter 1

Summary:

Andy's past just loves to bite him in the ass.... just like how the walkers want to hehehe

"ANDY!!" a voice called out, sounding of fear and apprehension. "ANDY!! ANDY PLEASE!!" the voice continued to shout, quivering, almost shaky, "ANDY!! c'mon man.. snap out of it.. HE'S BLEEDING OUT!!!" The words that sounded far away, were suddenly closer, bringing me back from the darkness that was my mind, and now i can see clearly, I can feel the room almost closing in, feel the lights blinding my sensitive eyes, its making my head pound, its making me more aware to the fact that i can feel my legs going numb, feel my heart pound in my chest, and my breathing get quicker.

Being much more aware now, I look over to the stranger, he's holding something… no, no he’s dragging something.. Awe fuck. its another fucking body.. Fuck.. fuck. Fucking god damnit. I watch a few seconds longer as he continues to drag the body across the floor, the man's full combat gear on, and his blood staining the dirty floor. The once camouflage green of his uniform, now dark with the browns and reds of his own blood and the dirt from outside.

I feel my body move, grabbing the nearest empty stretcher right from the side of the room, I feel my mouth moving, telling the man where to place his fallen comrade, I feel my mouth moving, it's moving but I can't hear myself talk, my ears fill with the sound of running water, and then they just start to ring, almost getting louder and louder, doing nothing but making me wish I was dead. It really makes me wish i didn’t have to see all the blood and gore of everyone that's fallen, its a truly horrific sight that i don't even wish upon my worst enemy, oh fucking damnit they don't deserve this, they don't. I wish they could just go home. That they would just go home and be with their loved ones. And once again I find myself berating them for having the guts and stupidity for being here in the first place.

I awake with gasping for air, i shot up sitting with my eyes wide and frantic, trying to assess my situation, trying to show myself that I'm not there anymore, I'm not in that grimey old med tent breathing heavily silently listing everything around me, “coffee table, not a gurney, old coffee cups not a blood pan.. This is a home not a tent.. This is a home not a tent, home, not tent.. Not a tent..” he kept muttering to himself, reassuring that he was not drafted, that he hasn’t been in 3 years.

The shit that happened in that tent he doesn't wish upon anyone, saving, losing, fucking amputating people. No.. nope, nothing, not there anymore, he knows that.. He knows. But fuck People, real people with family’s, with wives, children, still living parents, out on the battlefield one second… and in the next... they’re with me, hoping, praying to be saved. They’re hopeful to not feel the terrifying pain of getting his or her leg blown off, or the shot to their chest.

That fucking place, its a place that death has become both my enemy and my best and only friend.

But there's none of that, no med tent, no gory wounds, and nobody screaming in his face in agony, or anger.. just silence, or as silent as it's gonna get. The un-dead, or better yet the rotter's are everywhere, searching for their next meal, one I definitely am not.

Getting up, I did another basic check on my surroundings, though this one a lot less frantic, quietly taking note on what might have changed in the few hours I was sleeping, the room has brightened as the sun had risen to the middle of the sky, showing that it was now around noon, there where less rotter's walking about outside the small house, but otherwise my stuff had stayed where i had left it, telling me that nobody has made their way inside. my tactical pack is still filled with all my gear and rations, thankfully my crossbody is still filled with my BB's and ammunition. I strapped on all of my holsters, the ones on my legs and much smaller ones on my arms, these ones holding a hatchet, throwing knives, and a small handgun. Across my back lays my pack with my shotgun hanging on the left side of it, and a quiver filled with arrows within reach strapped to the other side of my pack. All that leaves is my longbow, once I swung it on my shoulder I paced the house doing another check for supplies.

Once i reached the bathroom i am equally surprised and delighted to find a couple rolls of toilet paper, “fucking hell its been days since I've found goodies like this” i chuckled to myself putting the rolls into my pack, and making my way out of that trashy house.

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed my first chapter, sorry it's super short, it's just finishing it off to where he was leaving the house felt to perfect not to pass up, the next chapter is in the works and will have more words, but please let me know what you think, please rate and review

Chapter 2

Summary:

we all want to know what's going on in the present... but what was Andy up to before the pandemic???

Notes:

I got a beta reader, so there was a few changes made to the first chapter, nothing big mostly just spelling mistakes, but i am working on my character sheets and all that would you guys like me to post them or would you like to imagine them how you want to??? anyways i hate how short this chapter is, but I've been trying to write it for like a week and have had no ideas, so im just gonna post as is lol. please comment, and don't forget to leave kudos if you like this chapter!!!
(recent edit to this chapter was made because i made a mistake when copying the story from my docs, it is now fixed, it was a slight mistake but important one)

Beep… beep… bee.. The alarm was not getting any quieter and telling Andy to get his ass out of bed, he knows he has shit to do, he knows and he's dreading even moving more, “fuck’n Chris, ya stupid fuck’n asshole,” Andy grumbled finally stepping out of bed dressed only in his boxer shorts.

 

Slowly and surely Andy got himself dressed and into proper clothes, still grumbling at the fact of waking up too god damn early, like fuck he aint no nun why does he have to get up at the ass crack of dawn, “fucking Chris, im gon’ fuck’n beat ya when i see ya” Andy grumbled some more, yawning as he made the first cup of coffee of the day. When he finally sat down to enjoy his cup he started to make a mental checklist on what to bring with him to Atlanta, ‘hmmm… clothes, check, bathroom shit, check.. Tact gear, almost check.. Bb’s, check, bb guns, also check, yep sounds good to me’ he mentally checked off in his head, shaking his head all the while chuckling.

 

Finishing up his second cup of coffee, he starts getting up to finish packing, grabbing his bb guns and a regular shotgun for whenever he feels like hunting, but knowing that he's going to be gone awhile he packs all the perishable food he has into coolers and starts loading everything up into his vehicle. He absolutely adores his XV, it was a parting gift from the military, a armored SUV, complete with a full artillery, the only thing missing was ammunition, which he carries in separate cases in hidden compartments under the seats. This SUV is his baby, he would never let anything happen to it, never wanting anybody else to even touch it, he makes sure to do his own repairs, even when they’re rarely needed.

 

Now officially hitting the road he’s off to Atlanta. The radios played a random mix of country and rock, keeping the atmosphere calm and relaxing, despite his hands clenching tightly around the steering wheel, making his knuckles white from his tightening grip. The once loud radio, now sounding like static in his mind, thoughts of what he's had to do to keep himself alive during his years of service lingering hauntingly in his mind, he hasn’t seen Chris since after he got discharged, as much as he was his best friend on the field.. He was an absolutely terrible person, a right fucking prick, going to visit him is just making Andy feel like he's just a bitch, a dog at his owners beck and call. He's only going so he could play airsoft in a bigger arena than what he has at home, and he knows he needs more social interaction. Andy's found doing these sorts of tournaments have helped with any and all lingering PTSD he has from the military, although knowing its not actually life and death has been a great help whenever he struggles to remember where exactly he is, it helps him breath knowing he's not killing more people, and that every shot to himself is not a trip to the infirmary.

 

Andy was now pulling up to a long winding driveway that led to his friends place, letting out a long exhausted sigh, he prepared himself for the rest of this godforsaken day, that he wishes would just end already.

 PRESENT

Despite it being boiling hot outside, I cannot help the chill I feel up my spine… There's somebody watching me.. I know there is. Taking my next steps carefully, I walk around the building slowly, keeping to the shade that has built up against the wall as the day grew older, quickly tucking myself into a space behind a dumpster. I sit there and wait for the stranger to either pass, or come up to me.

 

 

“Fuck.. where did he go, he was just here” a rough voice loudly exclaims. His walking slowed to a stop.

 

“I don't know, do you think he knows we're following him?” a softer feminine voice responds, the gravel crunching under their shoes as they start to walk around the small alleyway, looking for possible places that i could’ve hidden. I silently and carefully got out from behind the dumpster, keeping low and as noticeable as possible, I slowly took my handgun out of my thigh holster and pointed it in-between the two people.

 

“Who the fuck are you and why are you following me?” I said sternly, watching and observing them as they turned around. The girl i thought i heard earlier wasn’t a girl at all, it was some Asian dude, who had a big knife, and the man beside him has almost shoulder length hair and a crossbow in his hands. Deciding Mr. I'm tough because I have a crossbow, as the bigger threat. I moved slightly to train my gun on him, while also keeping the other man in my line of sight, looking out for sudden movement.

Chapter 3: Author note !!PLEASE READ!!

Summary:

!!PLEASE READ!!
AUTHORS NOTE

Hey everyone! I know it's been a couple months since I updated, I had the next chapter halfway written out, and then got major writers block, I had no idea what to write and then honestly forgot about this fic, and also fell out of watching TWD.
Anyway why I'm making this is because I read over it with fresh eyes, and I honestly feel like it could be a lot better, anyway as I re-watch TWD in order, I want to re-write, but I also want everyones opinions, ideas, whatever, or if I should just keep going where it's at all my ideas are still written out, even if I don't like them anymore.

ANYWAY, Yea just lemme know!!

Notes:

Another option is that I can re-write in as a different fic, and continue the path this one is going simultaneously.