What is a Q Shot? Well, it's a small snippet about one of the characters in the story who goes by the name of Q. I will not be writing the Q Shots, my friend Dante does because the character is based on him. Q will be a main character of the story, and will be involved in the next chapter. Enjoy the back story of yet another survivor.

Q Shot.
Utah Sucks.

"You find anything in there?" A voice asks from a small blue walkie-talkie, laying comfortably upon the checkout counter of a Super America gas station. Next to it sat a dark skinned male, no more than 17 years of age. He wore a simple pair of dark blue jeans and a black hoodie over a Deadpool t-shirt, lit cigarette wedged between his lips. He takes a long drag before he goes to pocket an open pack of Marlboro Smooths, Sliding off the counter to go and search the back shelves for more smokes to claim as his own.

"Hey Q, you there?" The voice asks again. Q continues his search for spoils still, blatantly ignoring the calls from the walkie.

"HEY Q!"

Without missing a beat he snatches up the walkie with his thumb pressed against the transmit button.

"I'm right here, keep it down; daddy needs his smokies and he can't work if you go off letting every deadhead know I'm here."

"Oh come on man, again?" The voice asks, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "What?" Q answers back. "I'll share...maybe...possibly...eventually." The radio falls silent. Q chuckles to himself as he imagines the voice on the other side banging their head against a wall. "Ah don't worry, I already looked around; the shelves are all stripped of food, nothing left but work gloves, motor oil, that sort of thing." He looks over to the shelves as he answers. He'd be right if it weren't for the bags of Cheetos and Lays lining the front counter.

"Just...just finish up and get out of there. No point hanging around if there's nothing there, plus there's more deadheads crowding the streets." Having snatched a couple of cartons up from the shelf he goes to load up the black gym bag, making sure he loaded up on some of the junk food from the shelf so the others wouldn't be too sore for his self indulgence.

"Hey Q?" "Yeah Gabe?" He asks, zipping up the bag as he readies to call it a day. "Get me a Carton of L&Ms would ya?" Q pauses and laughs quietly to himself, getting onto his feet and circling around to the front counter. "Knew you'd come around bud." He answers back, grabbing a carton of the menthol's. Gabe hated menthol's. He kneels in front of the bag, opening it up just enough to slip the new acquisition into the bag.


The sound of a fallen pipe echoes almost painfully through the otherwise silent store. Without missing a beat Q was on his feet, whipping a 357 CO2 revolver from his belt and pointing it towards the door to the back storerooms. "Dammit Gabe you were supposed to be watching!" Q whispers harshly into the walkie, slowly inching towards the door, his foot dragging the bag back with him. "I am man, everything looks good out here." "Yeah out there genius, one of'em must've gotten in from the back..."

The pipe in back rolls across the floor, now accompanied by the sounds of shuffling feet and low groans. "Alright dude don't panic, I-" "A little late for the don't panic part." Q cuts Gabe off, aiming down the sights of the 357 at two walkers emerging through the door. The first pauses and looks his way, blood drooling from its lips and its jaw twisting and turning in way to suggest partial fracturing. The walker tilts it's head back and lets out a loud and lengthy groan.

"For fucks sake..." Q says to himself, pocketing the radio and snatching the bag from the floor as he bolts for the door. It was alerting others to his presence.

He charges through the doors, not bothering to check what was around him, only concerned with getting out into the streets and back into the safety of the Marriott hotel just three blocks to the left. He only made it as far as the third row of gas pumps before he was grabbed and pushed to the ground by yet another walker. Instinctively, Q drops the bag and braces his forearm underneath the walker's chin as he proceeds to beat the creature upside the right of it's head with the but of the 357. All the while the walker thrashes and squirms to get to him. It's breath was putrid, unlike anything he ever smelled before...save for a stink bomb he set off in the girl's locker room sometime ago before the world went crazy.

He strikes frantically at the walker that has him trapped, growing more desperate as more begin to crowd around him. In the back of his head the horrific thought crept into his mind that he just might not make it out of this one. Maybe those smokes were a bad idea after all. The walker, finally wising up as to why it couldn't reach its meal reaches for his arm and pins it down to his side.

"Fuck man, not like this-shit-fuck-fuck-fuck -fuck-FUCK-FUCK-GAAAAAAAABE!" He shouts aloud, praying that Gabe,or anyone for that matter would come to his rescue. The walker lurches back, mouth wide open and lunges in for his neck.


A gunshot echoes through the streets, the walker atop Q seizing up before falling off to the side.

"You know ya love me bro" Gabe says from over the walkie. "Kayla and Mike are on their way out to help out, get your ass back here." Not being one to ignore a generally good idea, Q gets back onto his feet, gun and bag in hand and makes a break for the street again. Just as Gabe said, Kayla and Mike were already making their way down the street, guns blazing.

"Hey you alright Q?" Kayla asks as Q fires off a few rounds from the air soft 357, managing to drop three of the walkers as he rejoins his group. "You weren't bit were ya?" Mike queues in after.

"I wasn't bit, I'm fine aside from almost pissing my pants and I still can't believe this thing works now let's get the ever living fuck out of dodge!" He spits out as quick as he could, running ahead with the others following suit. As he breaks left towards the Marriott he notices a lone figure standing on the rooftop, shots sounding off and walkers dropping dead in their tracks. Q slips his gun in between his belt and retrieves the walkie from his pocket. "The hell took you so long on that shot Gabe?"

Gabe laughs to himself from the other end of the walkie. "That's for getting me Menthol's; again." He answers back. Q falls silent, still racing for the Marriott before he presses his thumb to the receiver. "I'm not apologizing but I'll share one of mine with ya." There's a pause of silence as Gabe takes another shot and Q pockets the radio to throw the bag past the hood of a wrecked squad car, leaping through the air and doing a Kong off of the vehicle. All those lessons were finally paying off. "Dude, you picked up smooths again didn't you?" Landing on his feet, he snatches up the bag again and pulls the walkie out of his pocket. Kayla and Mike pause to drop a few more walkers pursuing them before they circle around the car after Q. "...I love you." Q answers. "No homo bro." Gabe answers back.

Q makes it over to the revolving doors first. The other doors had long since been boarded up and all that had to be done to stop up the revolving door was to shove a couple of full luggage carts into either side. He takes up a defensive position at the right side, picking off any walkers that got close to cover Mike and Kayla. The two of them manage to pick off a few more along the way but despite that their numbers just kept piling on. The walkers were coming from out of the wood works; from underneath cars, out of broken windows from other buildings, from several blocks down the road.

"C'mon you guys hurry it up!" Q shouts, his air soft gun going off but no more shots firing. He struggles not to swear out loud. He was out of ammo and it took way too long to reload. Near the revolving door, Kayla trips over herself just a few feet from the door. Mike stops and starts to turn to go get her.

"Mike wait!" Q shouts as he runs out and shoves the gym bag into his hands. "There's too many of these things, go inside, I'll grab Kayla!" With the situation growing too dire to argue, he takes the bag and disappears into the hotel. The one carton of L&Ms slips out from the bag and into the street behind him. Q goes and picks up Kayla from the ground. "No time to talk, get inside and stop up the door' now!" He shouts to her, pushing her towards the door. Watching her as she goes he notices the carton on the ground, running over and snatching it off from the floor before he breaks right, pushing past a thinner gathering of walkers before he takes off down the street. Crazy as it seemed he -refused- to leave empty handed.

"Christ Q, what the hell are you doing?!" Gabe shouts out from over the walkie. Q pulls it free from his pocket, his left hand no longer burdened by the goods he raided previously.

"There's way too many of'em at the door, they'd have slipped in if I tried to follow Mike and Kayla back in just cover me til I can get outta here!" he shouts into the walkie. Without another words shots begin firing from the rooftop again, Q focused solely on not becoming Monday's special as walkers drop all around him, either from a failed dive for him or from one of Gabe's shots hitting their mark. He manages to make it four more blocks down the road before he began to become winded. Q knew he wouldn't last much longer like this.

He looks around frantically, walkers still hot on his trail, looking for some means of getting the hell out of dodge before his lungs finally give out on him. Just a little further down the way he spots a lone maroon Blazer parked haphazardly on the side of the road; still in good condition to boot. Q resolves himself to take a chance and breaks into a sprint towards the vehicle. At this point it was either the thing drives or the horde of freaks behind him would be picking him out of their teeth later on. Without a second thought he opens up the front door, unable to be thankful for fact that it was left unlocked as another walker lungs out of the drivers seat after him. Q nearly trips and falls as he steps off to the left to avoid it.

Q, in answer, bounds into the air and plants both of the heels of his boots into the walker's skull before he dives into the front seat and closes the door. It didn't matter to him right now if he killed it or no. He drops the carton he held onto into the passenger seat and goes to look for the keys. Glancing down at the transmission, he couldn't help but pause and smile slyly to himself.

"Must be my lucky day after all." He muses to himself. His moment of triumph was cut short as one of the pursuing walkers slams itself against his door. Nearly jumping out of his skin (reassuring himself that he didn't shriek like an eight year old girl just then) he reaches for the transmission and turns the key that was left behind. The vehicle revs up and then roars to life. With a shout of victory, he slams his foot onto the gas and takes off, throwing the walker that was banging at his door onto its backside as he takes off.

He barrels down the road and breaks left to avoid the oncoming crowd. There were clear streets ahead leading up towards the highway overpass. With one hand he fumbles in his pockets and pulls out the walkie. "God damn, that got hairy pretty fast huh?" He asks. The walkie crackles to life, Kayla and Mike asking about his well being while Gabe tries to calm them down. "Yeah it did man, you alright."

"Yeah I'm fine, but I don't think I'm gonna make it back to you guys. There's too many of those deadheads out there to make it back safe." "Good point bro...what're you gonna do now man?" Q falls silent, now making a right onto the highway overpass. With none of the walkers in sight on the highway and those who were previously after him giving up the hunt he stops the car in the middle of the road; the vast road stretched out before him. "I don't know man. Those things'll be hanging around for awhile...I'm thinking I might go out and take a drive; see if I can't find anymore supplies to bring in or anymore survivors to come help." "Q are you out of your mind? We don't know what it's like out there!" Q sighs to himself and shakes his head, thumb on the receiver again. "But we know it's too dangerous here. There's too much heat out there and you know we're all boned if I try to slip in now."

"Where you gonna go?" Gabe asks. Q glances towards the road signs over head, making note of the interstate signs. A smile begins to creep up onto his face as he readies his walkie. "I dunno, was thinking Illinois sounded good." "ILLINOIS ARE YOU OFF YOUR FUCKING ROCKER?!" Came Gabe's voice blasting from the speaker; loud enough to get a high pitched squeal from it and, to Q's dismay, nearly burst his eardrums. "Hey calm down and just hear me out man; it's getting too dangerous here and we're running out of supplies to collect here. This place is just about tapped out and it's too dangerous to justify staying. I'll go on ahead, just keep that radio on you and check in if you guys decide to leave." As good an excuse as any to hide the fit of wanderlust he was feeling.

"Dammit Q can we at least try to talk abo-" He tunes the voice from the walkie out as he tosses it into the passenger side seat next to the carton of smokes, turning on the CD player and turning up the volume full blast. Someone left a Nightwish CD in there; maybe things were looking up after all. He slams his foot on the gas again and takes off for the open road. With one hand on the wheel he reaches for the carton to claim his hard fought for prize...realizing to his horror that he snagged the L&Ms instead.

"...MOTHER FU-!"