The Walking Dead: A New Day Gone By
Chapter 1 – Days Gone Bye
Disclaimer: I do not own the TV Show, the comic books or the game of The Walking Dead.
Hello guys, I am back with a brand new fanfic. I'm gonna explain it real quick, it's a mix of the two universes – the one of the game, comics, novels, and the one from the TV Show all in one. Enjoy!
Lee Everett's past was now nothing but days gone bye, because he was living the day that would end his life.
The pain perforated into his stomach and was pumped throughout his midsection like the blood coursing in his veins. Aside from the agony, he felt the cold concrete pressed hard against his body. The honks and roars of bustling vehicles on the street tuned out of frequency and he listened to his heart pounding on his chest, along with his dragged breaths that he struggled to draw in. A shadow rushed by him, thumping on the ground. The mugger seemed like a towering giant, quaking the ground with each footstep as he fled from his victim, one hand clutching a bloodied knife and the other one holding the wallet he took from the hurt teacher.
The blood was pooling beneath Lee, cold chills going up and down his spine to even out the warmth of the oozing blood. Lee tightened his hand into a fist, as if it would help him hold onto his life. He couldn't die, he didn't want to. He had not outlived his purpose in this world, there was still more to tell in his story. But the darkness of the alleyway evolved into a penumbra as his eyelids fluttered closed, a botch of stars sparkling in the obscure background.
He drifted away, and there was nothing but darkness.
The darkness faded away.
Through his shuttered eyelids, a sickeningly clean, pale light was cast onto him. His eyes cracked open like an old, rusty chest that hadn't been opened in a while. The light scorched his pupils and he blinked repeatedly, as his vision grew accustomed to it. His ears were clogged and he only heard abstract mumbles and screeches coming from somewhere distant, along with a periodic beeping. Was he dead? Was he in his maker's realm? No. That white light had nothing angelic about it. He was in a hospital. He flicked his eyes through the room, but he was seeing double and his retina blurred any images. Perhaps this was just a dream induced into his mind seconds before death. His consciousness slipped from his grasp and his whole body was benumbed, as if his brain was disconnected from its shell. He had no control over himself and his mind was a jungle of thoughts running wildly and randomly, reaching no conclusion at all.
He shut and opened his eyes, struggling to keep them open, drifting on and off.
Echoes of roaring machine guns and high-pitched screams drilled his ears. Lee spanned his eyes, his vision becoming clearer, but he was still light-headed and couldn't move, a soreness ailing his torso. IV tubes pierced his skin. What the hell was going on? He opened his lips, but the words got stuck on his throat. He put all of his efforts into saying a single word, shoving the words out of his system with the little strength he had.
He drooped his head to the side, which fell on the pillow. A vase with colorful flowers decorated his bedside table. There was a card. You weren't awake. I hope you get better. Deborah.
A get-better gift? Now that was a surprise, after how shaky his relationship with his wife had become. She worried about work. He wanted a family. And ever since their conflicting ideals showed, a breach grew between them.
Someone burst through the door. Lee darted his eyes towards the individual. He was a burly man, a star badge pinned to his beige shirt and a sheriff hat on his head. The man with black hair shut the door as quickly as he could, but in a split second, Lee saw muzzle flashes and blood splatters outside. The sheriff turned to Lee, marching towards him.
"Holy shit! Look, man, my name's Shane Walsh, and there's no time. You seen a man named Rick? Dark hair, blue eyes, a sheriff like me?!"
Lee shook his head with a rusted neck, his eyelids wide open.
"Alright. Listen, it's hell out there, and I gotta go. Take this." Shane fished into a holster underneath the edge of his trousers, and put a small revolver on the bedside table. "I'll barricade the room so you'll be safe."
"Look, sorry, man, I gotta go!" Shane said, rubbing his head compulsively as he thundered out the door.
A tide of panic flushed through him. What could possibly going on? Gunfire? Screams? Blood? It was something chaotic, that was certain. Lee lifted his chest an inch, before the pain overwhelmed him and he dropped back on the mattress. Lucidity leaked from his body and his eyelids were weighed down. Once again, his consciousness vaporized and he entered the darkness.
Lee sprang onto a sitting position, forcing a large breath into his lungs.
The noise had ceased. There was nothing but an oppressing silence. The heart monitor was quiet. The IV bags chained to him were emptied. The hung clock on the wall was stilled. The flowers next to him were withered. He felt ill-at-ease, wondering where everyone had went and what had happened after the chaos he witnessed…how much time ago? It seemed like an eternity had passed ever since that gunfire and that sheriff came into his room. But at least he was better now. The pain in his body had eased and he was fully lucid.
The door creaked. Lee sprang his head towards it.
There was a man. He walked with bent legs, while clutching his side. His curly, raven hair waved down his skull and his crystal eyes fixated him with a glow.
"Hey! Can you help me?" Lee said.
"Who…who are you?" He asked, limping towards Lee.
"My name's Lee Everett."
"I'm…I'm Rick Grimes." Rick stripped off the tubes plugged into his skin. "Did…did you mention someone named Shane?"
"Yeah. I think…a few days ago…this guy came by, called Shane Walsh." Lee said, causing Rick to widen his eyelids. "Know him?"
"He's…he's a friend of mine. Me and him, we were partners. Do you know where he went?"
"Not a clue. Sorry." Lee shook his head.
"Damn." Rick mumbled, wrapping his hands around his ribs.
Lee slid off the bed and onto his feet. His legs wobbled and he almost crumbled, had he not grasped onto the bedside table. His femurs, joints and kneecaps cracked loudly. Lee grunted, all that time in a hospital bed surely made him rusty like old steel. He headed towards a nearby chest of drawers, where his clothes were. A white t-shirt, blue shirt, brown trousers and his shoes.
"Do you have any idea of what's going on?" Lee asked. "Few days back, I heard gunfire. Blood. A lot of stuff went down."
"I don't know anything." Rick rubbed his hair. "I woke up from coma just a few minutes ago…and found out the hospital is empty. Saw a few corpses outside. And then I heard a noise coming from here."
"Perhaps we should go find out."
Rick waited for him at the doorpost. Lee stepped towards him, but halted. He was forgetting something. He turned back to the bedside table. He picked up the revolver and stuffed it in his belt. Something dangerous was going on, and it was better to be prepared. Even though he only had a faint idea on how to use a firearm.
"Think that might be necessary?" Rick asked.
"Let me have it. I'll know how to use it."
Lee agreed and passed him the revolver, as they exited onto the hallway. Hospital beds were thrown around the room like the obstacles in a pinball game. Rotting corpses littered the floor, carved holes in their foreheads and torsos, and their blood smeared on the walls like graffiti. Lee's stomach knotted around itself, forcing him to cover his mouth and nose with his hand. The two dragged their feet across the building, avoiding looking at the massacre.
"How'd you end up in here?" Rick asked.
"I was mugged. And stabbed." Lee said.
"I was shot. Me and Shane, were in the middle of a crossfire. Was this guy, firin' at us. We tried to pull a move, but it went bad. And then I got hit."
"And-what the hell?"
Rick and Lee halted, their eyes stuck to what stood before them. There was a set of doors, the handles barred with a wooden plank, and a clear message sprayed on them.
DON'T OPEN DEAD INSIDE.
Lee quirked an eyebrow. What did it mean? Was the room beyond the door some kind of massive cemetery for dead bodies? The possibility chilled his spine.
"Should we go there?" Lee said.
"I…I don't know. But it might give a clue on what happened."
Lee removed the board and opened the doors. Like they foresaw, there was a multitude of cadavers, mixed in genders and age groups in what appeared to be a cafeteria. But they weren't dead. They were walking around. Or more precisely, shambling around, growling with milky eyes barren of iris or pupil. The two men froze with gaping jaws, as if they were staring at something from a science-fiction film. The nearest walking corpse snapped its gaze towards Rick, lunging at him.
Ten cold, crispy fingers clawed Rick's shoulders. Rick grasped the corpse and propped it a few inches away from its face, as it battered its drooling jaws, its putrid breath invading Rick's nostrils and nauseating him. Lee struck the head of the man with the plank, making him stagger back. But then the pain howled in his midsection, and arched Lee in two as he caressed his injury with a wince.
Rick backed away from the corpse, aiming his revolver at him. The dozen more rotting corpses inside the canteen shuffled towards them.
"Fuck! What are these things?!" Lee said.
Rick signaled Lee towards an emergency exit. Without thinking, the two burst through the door, and slammed it shut. The moaning became muffled by the door. The two men leaned on their knees, drawing heavy breaths.
"What the hell…was that?!" Lee said.
"Don't know! But we gotta keep movin'."
Rick and Lee paced down the stairs, their hearts returning to a regular rhythm. There was another door once they reached the bottom level, which would probably lead to the exterior. Lee pushed open the door, imagining the relief of fresh air into his lungs. But all he received was a warm, stench oxygen that he engulfed with his airways. The two men stared down at the apocalyptic landscape unfolding in front of them, paralyzed.
There was an ocean of dead bodies stretching for several meters, all of them cloaked with sheets that were stained with blood and dirt. A helicopter had violently crashed in the woods, taking down a few trees and burning most of the grass nearby. Military crates were omnipresent among the corpses.
"Jesus Christ…" Lee whispered.