The Dead Walking

(You all know the story of the Walking Dead. This is a different version of the walking dead.) I lost my family at the beginning. Been alone ever since. Till one day I stumble across a group. A group that changes my life. My name is Isabella, but I prefer Izzy. I wish I could say I am the same person as I was a year ago, but that would be a lie. I wish I could say walkers are the only things I have killed. I wish I could say a lot of things, but none of them would be true.

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2. My Room

               The rest of the day is spent touring the camp. I met Maggie, Glen, Beth, Hershel, and plenty of other people that I cant remember the names of. They were all very nice. I even got to meet Carl's sister. My room or cell is beside Carl's in the children's section of the jail. Rick leaves me in my room and I sit on my bed and look around. There really isn't much, but my bed has a pillow and a blanket, I have a roof above my head, and I have a door to close when I go to sleep and that is more than enough. The jail is cooler than outside. I pull out my black sweatshirt a put it on over my blood stained tank top. I take out my picture of my family and put it between the bars and the mattress of the top bunk. I pull out my locket and can of ravioli and set it on the small table beside my bed. I put my sword and my empty pistol under my bed along with my empty book bag. I lay on my back and stare at the picture. It was taken 3 years ago on my 11th birthday. My brother was 9 then and my parents were 32. It is the only picture I have of them. I close my eyes and prepare for sleep.

                 There is a knock on the steel door and I sit up fast. "Its just me. My dad sent me here to give you this," Carl throws a medical bandage and tape. I catch it at the last second and lay it down beside me.

                  "Are you sure? You guys might need it later. I'm fine. I don't really need it," I say pushing it towards him.

                  "You do need it. We aren't going to let you sit here and bleed just so we can save some bandage," he says sarcastically.

                  I pick the stuff up and wrap it around my foot. "Can you rip off a piece of tape?"

                  Carl walks over and rips a piece of tape off. I grab it and tape the bandage in place. "So what do you think of the place?"

                  "Its... amazing. There is so much space for people," I say In awe.

                  "Yeah."

                  "Well tell your dad I said thanks. I'm probably going to take a nap. I've had a rough day," I laugh.

                  "I can see that. If you ever need anything just remember I'm right next door. Oh... here," he pulls out some bullets from his pant pockets and hands them to me. "Some bullets for your gun."

                  "Thanks," I count the bullets. 1, 2, 3... 20. 20 bullets. That's more than I had before.

                  "Goodbye Izzy," he waves.

                  "Goodbye Carl," I wave back.

                  I pull my gun out and load 6 bullets in the chamber and put the rest in my back pack. I lay back and close my eyes. I lay there for a moment till finally sleep engulfs me.

 

                  The zombie tackles me to the ground. I hold him off with one hand while I search for my sword with the other. The others are closing in. I have to stop them. I cant die. I don't want to be one of them. I search and search, but my sword is nowhere to be found. Its like it disappeared. I feel something sharp bite into my hand. Look over and see a zombie biting the flesh off my right hand. I scream as another one bites my leg. I try and squirm away, but the zombie on top holds me down. My and more zombies bite into me in different places. My neck, my leg, my hand, my arm, my stomach. Everywhere. I scream and scream, but no one comes. I am alone. I am dying.

 

                  Someone shakes me and my eyes flutter open. My eyes are wet tears and my throat burns. I've been crying. "Whats wrong?" Carl demands.

                  "I-I had a b-bad dream," I stammer.

                  "Are you okay?"

                  "I'm fine. It just scared me."

                  "What was it about," he asks curiously.

                  "Well... I was in the field and the zombie tackled me like before, but you guys didn't show up. I got bit... everywhere," I shudder. "It just scared me. Don't worry about it. I'm fine."

                  "You always say you're fine. I can see you're not fine," he sighs.

                  "I am. You don't have to worry about me. Just go back to whatever you were doing."

                  "I was reading. I don't really want to go back to reading," he shrugs.

                  "Well I'm sure you have better things to do than see if I'm okay because I had a bad dream."
                  "Actually my dad told me to keep an eye on you and make sure you're okay. So technically I am doing something important," he jokes.

                  "Don't use reverse phsycology on me," I joke back.

                  "Is that your family," he points the picture.

                  "Yeah. It was taken a couple years ago on my 11th birthday. 3 years ago actually."

                  "You look like your dad. Your brother looks like your mom," he tells me.

                  "Yeah. I miss'em a lot. They died a couple months into the appocollypse. They tried to save me and my brother, but only I got out."

                   He doesn't reply for a moment. "So you're 14?"

                   "Yeah. I think my birthday was a month ago. I cant really keep track anymore."

                   "Me either. Is that ravioli?" he asks with wide eyes.

                   "I found it at the last house I was at. You can have it if you want," I smile.

                   "Hold on," he holds up a finger and sprints out of the room. He comes back a minute later holding 2 spoons. He hands me one and keeps one for himself. He grabs the can and opens it up with his knife. "How about we share?"

                   I grab a noodle and swallow it whole, "Mmmm... yeah that'll work."

                   We take turns eating a bite out of the can on my bed. When we finish off the can he sets it on the floor by the door. "Its been so long since I had ravioli. I practically live off of grown food," he moans.

                    "That must suck. But at least its food," I point out.

                    "Yeah."

                    Just then Rick stops in the doorway. I look at him suddenly silent. "Hey guys."

                   "Hi," I say shyly.

                   "I see you guys had ravioli," he smiles. "I'm glad you guys are friends, but its late. You should get some sleep," he instructs.

                   Carl gets up and walks toward his dad. "Night Izzy."

                   "Night," I say and he walks back to his room.

                   I lay down and cover up with my blankets. I look at my picture and again and I am able to go to sleep. For once in a long time I have a full stomach.

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