|The Softer Dove
Author: LittleEnglishLass PM
"Here kiddo, maybe that bat will come in useful if you find yourself surrounded by zombies!" He laughed. Oh, how ironic a statement would be in a few years. Chenoa is a survivor of Atlanta. She intends to get out of the city and find her parents, but apparently fate has other plans in store. Destiny takes the shape of a man named Lee Everett and a little girl called Clementine.Rated: Fiction T - English - Family/Horror - Chapters: 3 - Words: 12,950 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 6 - Follows: 9 - Updated: 04-05-13 - Published: 12-08-12 - id: 8776351
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Why hello there! *smiles a HUGE smile and waves* Thanks for taking an interest in my silly scribblings! (should that be typings?) Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!
All my other stories have been TF, and I've had this one in my 'Random Junk I Don't Have a Name For' file on my computer for a while. I was going to make this a Walking Dead/Transformers crossover, but I gave up and changed it back. I am planning on a crossover, so stay tuned if you're interested in it!
I love, LOVE Telltale Games adaptations of The Walking Dead. I love them more than any other game. (Apart from TF games. Transformers is my drug. *wink*)
To me, there are far too few emotional horror games out there, and way too many BOO! I SCARED YOU! ones. I love the characters and the story. This is kind of a novelisation but with an added OC, maybe I'll add a few more as the story develops. Some people hate them, but I think OC stories are interesting, because it makes you think about all the different ways the story could have gone, and how the other characters would have dealt with the situations you, the writer, can put them in.
My OC was inspired by the 'mysterious figure' (who incidentally, looks a hell of a lot like Clementine) that Lee sees after he shoots that police officer zombie. I thought Hmm. What if... and this is the result! It plays out a little differently, but the main story is still the same for the most part.
Basic Info on OC
Name; Chenoa May Hudson
Nationality; Native American/English
Enjoy, my little zombie friends. Aw you're so cute! Yes you are!
The Softer Dove
Chapter One; Bloodstained Sunshine
"Come on you dumbass sons of..."
Chenoa's whisper trailed off as she ran. Thankfully, the walking corpses seemed more interested in the car alarm that was ringing out with its ear-splitting whine than her retreating figure.
She grasped her trusty cricket bat for comfort, silently thanking her good ol' dad for getting her it for her sixteenth birthday after she'd coveted it as it sat in the sports shop window, gleaming and tempting her. She remembered how he'd actually joked she could use it in case she ever got caught in a zombie apocalypse. She remembered her mother laughing at how daft an idea that was.
The irony was delicious.
She had only needed to use it in that way a few times, preferring to skirt around the groups of dead people that now freely roamed the place. It was easy enough to do really, especially if you knew the streets. They were the walking dead, not generally genius hunters by nature. You could practically outrun them by walking away from them. Turn a few corners, and they would lose interest altogether.
Chenoa stopped running when she reached a high brick wall. Scrambling up it, she managed to sit atop it, smacking her knee against it in the process. She paused for a few moments, rubbing her throbbing knee, seeing a few of the dead wandering aimlessly in a garden a few houses up the road. As she took in her surroundings, she let her thoughts wander.
The day shit hit the fan, everything had seemed...normal. Chenoa had got up for work as usual, and drove into the city to the travel agents she worked at. She'd passed a fair few accidents on the way, but hadn't thought it was suspicious. It was as if her own mind had been setting her up the whole time.
She hadn't even checked the news, like she normally did on a morning. She'd overslept, so she hadn't had the time. She hadn't realised there was something wrong until she got up the next morning and saw some of the dead devouring a guy, and her neighbours dragging their rotting arses across her driveway.
What if I had realised? Chenoa thought as she watched the dead roaming about. What would I have done then? Stayed at home? Gone to work? Went straight to help my...my parents?
Her parents. Were they okay? She'd gone round to their house immediately, but it had been empty. That could be one or two things. Either they found a way out of the city, or they...they had become...them.
Chenoa suddenly wanted to beat the living hell out of the dead she could see in the garden. She felt a terrible barrage of hate and fury at everything dead or dying. But she didn't move a muscle, instead she clenched her fists around the handle of the bat. Her mother had taught her better than that.
The dead might be dead, but they were once people. People who lived, who laughed and cried. People who died. There was no point pinning the blame on whoever she saw fit.
The street was empty when she looked back. The loud slam of a door had attracted the attention of the dead to a house a few streets away. Knowing she only had a few minutes, Chenoa stood and slowly made her way down the wall, keeping a sharp lookout for any stragglers that might be wandering about. She mentally planned ahead, thinking she would go home and rest up for tonight, then tomorrow, she would take her car and go...well...anywhere really.
Staying in the city isn't a good idea. Chenoa thought, picking up her pace as she heard the telltale sounds of the returning dead. More people equals more zombies. I need to get out into the countryside, where there are less people. Hole up in one of those tiny towns that have, like ten people at max living there. Maybe the military has a survivors camp or something. If my parents are going to be anywhere, that's surely the best place to look.
Chenoa took a breather. The air was silent. No dead people to be seen. That was a good sign, right? She sighed and began walking through the small patch of woodland that was between her and home. Normally she didn't take that route, the woods weren't the best of places to travel in at the best of times, let alone with the dead roaming about. But the streets she usually took were occupied by a small...herd? Hoard? Group? Pride even? Whatever the proper name was, she wasn't about to put herself at risk for a quicker journey home.
After a few minutes of walking, she heard distant sounds of yelling. Stopping, she tilted her head around, trying to pinpoint the location. If there was someone alive in these woods, then she sure as hell wasn't going to just leave them. Turning left, she ran through the thicket of trees, hearing the voice get closer and closer with every step.
"SHIT!" a male voice panicked. "What the hell are you?!"
Chenoa sped up, until she was flat out sprinting. She heard a shot ring out, deafening and close by. Panting, she jogged up the small hill and blinked at the sight that confronted her.
A good looking, dark-skinned man was backed up to a wrecked police car, with what had clearly been a zombie only a few seconds before, now minus the head, it's too dark blood slicking over the short grass. A discarded shotgun lay on the ground a few paces away. The man caught sight of her and waved frantically.
"HELP! Go get someone!" he yelled. "There-there's been a shooting!"
Chenoa grinned a little. The man was obviously panicking. Maybe he thought he would get in trouble for killing a police officer or something equally as daft. She ran up to him, seeing his terrified face smooth over at the sight of someone who wasn't going to eat him.
Lee could feel his heart beating so fast under his blue shirt, he thought it would spring out of his mouth and land on the ground with a splat. What the hell was going on?! A dead guy had just tried to...to eat him?
He looked up as the figure approached. It was a woman. Young looking, quite pretty with her large brown eyes framed with messy black hair and coppery skin. She definitely had some Native American in her.
"H-hello?" he said, his deep voice now full of uncertainty. "Who are you?"
She knelt down. "I'm Chenoa. You?"
"The name's Lee."
"Nice to meet you Lee. Shame about the circumstances though."
Lee nodded, wincing as he moved his leg. The cut was deep, but it didn't look infected, thank god. The woman-no, Chenoa glanced at his wound, dark brown eyes filling with concern as he tried to move his leg further up.
"Ah, goddamn it!" Lee could hear his voice cracking a little, he guessed he'd been out a while. He was thirsty as hell, and his stomach ached with hunger.
"That looks nasty." Chenoa said, nodding to the cut on his leg. "How'd you get it?"
Lee nodded at the car wreck. "That's how. We hit a...whatever it was and...and then that's the last I remember until I woke up and a dead guy tried to kill me!"
Chenoa gave a humourless smile. "Yeah. Trust me, I know how you feel. I woke up one morning to see a group of the bastards eating a screaming guy right outside my window. Talk about waking up the wrong side of the bed huh?"
Their conversation was cut off by loud rustling. Lee saw Chenoa freeze, her face showing dread mingled with horror. He felt a sense of foreboding fill him. Surely, there wasn't...more of those things? He watched, horrified, as two corpses walked out of the brush. Lee saw Chenoa offer her hand, he took it gladly and she pulled him up.
"RUN!" she said, taking off, dragging him along too.
Chenoa could feel Lee's clammy hand against hers. He couldn't go very fast because of that damned cut on his leg. She cursed under her breath when she saw more of the dead stumbling towards them in the gloom under the trees. She and Lee skirted around one of said trees when they saw a corpse sitting there, jawless and one hand chewed off, the yellowing bones sticking ghoulishly out off the rotting, green skin. It reached out to them with a sickening, gargling growl. The duo didn't exactly stop to say hello. Their hearts pounded as they ran, minds imagining gruesome fates at the hands of the dead. Like an answered prayer, they saw a fence, ivy crawling lazily up it, so close they might just make it.
Lee stumbled but managed to somehow summon the strength to get up and carry on. His limp was getting worse with every step, and his breath came in pained gasps. Chenoa jumped on to the fence, her after school gymnastics finally starting to pay off, and helped Lee over, just as the dead began to pound their rotting hands against the orangey wood that separated them from their prey. Chenoa and Lee slowly retreated on their backsides until they hit the wall of a raided patio. For a few tense seconds the only sound was the inhuman snarls of the dead, and the short, fear-filled breaths of the living.
A volley of distant shots rang out, and the dead slowly began to lose interest and follow the sound of the gun, their stumbling footsteps growing quieter and quieter.
"That was close." Lee said.
"Way too close." Chenoa agreed.
The duo sagged in relief as the last of the snarls faded into the distance. They stood up, and walked into the middle of the garden, not wanting to get caught off guard by any dead that might be wandering near them.
The grass was short and well kept, a red play wagon sat dejectedly in the middle, the colour matching the tiles around a curved pool covered by black sheeting. A treehouse towered above them, the gnarled roots of the thick tree curling into the grass, where a child's tea set was set up next to a faded red garden chair. Chenoa saw a small pillar of smoke rising in the distance, and she wondered what it was for a few moments, before pointing to the treehouse.
"We could hide out in there until tomorrow." Chenoa suggested. "It's going to get dark soon, and there are always more of the dead hanging around on a night."
She walked up to it, wanting a closer look. It seemed sturdy enough. A sun peeping out from behind a fluffy white cloud was painted on the door. Chenoa smiled, but her face fell when she realised the ladder was broken.
"No ladder." She said.
"I'm not getting up there anyways." Lee said, joining her by the tree. "This leg being the way it is."
"No, I guess not." Chenoa nodded. "D'you think anyone's up there?"
"Only one way to find out." Lee replied, before calling up to the treehouse. "Anybody up there? We need some help!"
Silence greeted his words. Lee looked to Chenoa, who shrugged.
"I guess not." He said, before limping towards the house.
Chenoa followed him, looking at the oddly placed pots and pans that were sat beside the door. She blinked, but then thought that maybe the little girl who lived there played with them.
Lee knocked on the glass doors. "Hello? Anybody home? We need a little help."
Again, silence greeted them. Chenoa shrugged this time, and helped Lee open the door, as it was a little stiff to open.
"We're coming in okay? Don't shoot." Lee called through the house. "We're not intruders...or like them."
The duo walked in slowly, not wanting to startle anyone who might be in the house. Chenoa shut the door behind her. She didn't think it was a good idea to leave it open. What if the house was empty, but some of the dead got in when she and Lee were busy. She shuddered. Now was not the time for an overactive imagination.
The scene in front of them didn't fill them with much hope. A few chairs were toppled over, the TV displayed a blank blue screen that created a eerie glow in the gloom of the house. Worse still, Chenoa nudged Lee and pointed, there was a large patch of blood on the floor leading into the kitchen, and some smears on the wall.
Lee's shoulders slumped.
"These people might need more help than we do." He said, a heaviness on his voice.
Chenoa watched some of the dust particles fly about in the blood red glow of the sun, that was just beginning to set behind the distant, ghostly shadows of the woodland branches.
Next chapter, we meet Clementine and arrive at Hershel's farm.