Chapter 1: A New Tomorrow
Chapter Text
He had killed Lee Everett, that pathetic excuse of a man. It was all his fault, he attacked him first, he should’ve gotten a self defense charge.
The followers he had acquired as state senator didn’t even do protest for him, he was following the right steps to power. Pandering to the poorly educated, focusing on social issues that frankly didn’t matter. Everything he had done, all he had sacrificed for nothing. All the people he had stabbed in the back, betrayed, he couldn’t have done it for nothing.
The world couldn’t turn their back on him and leave him behind, he was fucking Sam Sandoval, the senator of the people.
“I guess you didn’t do it then.” The officer interrupted his train of thought.
“It was self defense, I shouldn’t be here.” He announced, the officer’s words had given him hope. If enough useless voters riled behind him then he wouldn’t even spend a month in jail.
“Is that so senator? Cause your own lover testified against you, she said you didn’t have to stab him, he was already down.” The officer mocked.
Silence was the best option, he would remember this. Swearing that one day he would get back at this officer, destroy him for embarrassing him when he regained his political power once more.
“Maybe you choose the wrong lover.” Snarked the officer.
“Fuck you.” Bitterness in his voice.
“You know I never thought I’d be driving a state senator to prison. Usually just normal men crying and snotting right where you’re sitting, no one is going to bail you out of this one.”Disclosed the officer.
“My people will come for me.” He stated proudly, all the sheep he had gathered would come to his aid soon.
“Your case wasn’t televised.” The officer revealed.
“What..?” It had left him speechless, it meant, it meant….
“No one is coming for you. The government made sure of that, especially since you’re already known for inciting riots. By the time they’ll hear about it you’ll be long gone.” The officer declared, the voice of the people in his tone.
It was so over for all of these fuckers. He would destroy every single one of them, he would use every tool he could to make sure they crumbled. Even if it meant destructing himself in the process.
“Let me tell you something….” The officer began to monologue, causing him to roll him eyes.
The officer noticed, looked back at him for a slight second to look him in the eye. He was distracted for a second, a woman had walked in front of the car on the freeway.
‘Fuckin’ Hell.’ His last thought as the car derailed, throwing him around in the car as if he were a hamster being thrown around by a child way too young to have a pet.
He saw himself, hanging from a tree. Noose tightly around his neck, his face bloated from how long he had been hanging.
“Tell me, where are your friends? Human beings have friends Sam. Where the hell are yours?” His body spoke out to him, angry at him.
He opened him mouth to protest, but he found no answer. You can’t answer, you don’t remember that last time you had a friend.
“Do you remember the scent of your childhood? Do you remember your lover’s hands on your face? Do you remember the warmth of her thighs, between her legs and in her mouth?” His voice asked, tone devoid of all life.
“It’s all gone. Nothing is ever coming back, you wanted to have everything, and in that you had nothing. You failed. You failed me.” His voice accused.
“You failed when you had everything you ever wanted in your hands.” The voice cried out.
“You really dropped the ball Sam. 11 million people, and you failed every single one of them. You really fucked up.” The voice admitted, become quieter with every word until it was finally devoid of noise and laughter.
He was awoken by warmth of the sun hitting his face, his body aching at every inch. Resting on the roof of the overturned car, glass shards all round him.
The officer was still in the front seat. Dead, blood dripping from his face. He had gotten what he deserved.
The window had already been broken for him, he just needed to crawl and use what he had already been given.
The forest around him was quiet, the sun was beginning to set. Just how many hours had it been since their crash? Surely someone would’ve come immediately once they realized it was him who was being transported.
The body of the woman who had freed him was meters away from the car. Body mangled, blood pooling underneath her. What a useless tool, surely one of his followers.
Items were scattered across the ground, thrown out of the car when they derailed. The keys to his freedom had to be around here somewhere.
He searched endlessly to no avail, until he turned his gaze back to the woman’s body. The keys had landed coincidentally right next to her, a low price to pay for salvation.
He had his freedom back in his hands in a matter of a day, he commanded it so to the world as he was being dragged away by the police. And so it had happened.
He had been to focused on his newfound freedom to notice the woman moving next to him, beginning to reawaken.
He was taken aback when he heard her, she was alive, standing up as the bone of her arm stocked out of her body, her skull cracked, bite mark on her shoulder.
Her eyes were milky white, just what had she become?
Simultaneously the officer behind has had began to awaken, he had assumed he was dead. But he started to call out in pain.
“Please help me!” He the officer pleaded behind him, the notice diverting the attention from himself onto him.
The woman staggered over to the officer. He had heard about this, a new disease spreading, how hard they had tried to cover it up. The empty promises of having it under control, soon the woman would kill the officer and eventually turn back to him.
The officer’s pistol lay on the ground in front of him, he had never shot a pistol before, and he wasn’t going begin shooting now. He didn’t want another murder charge on his hands.
He grabbed the pistol and began to run, in the direction he believed Atlanta was in, screams of agony behind him as the walker finally reached the officer.
The noise seemed to awaken all the undead that were hidden in the forest, coming from every corner, around every busy.
He wasn’t going to die like this, not after everything he had done for this goddamn country.
He saw his salvation less than 30 feet away from him, a fence. He would climb over it and be in the world of the living again.
He threw himself over, walkers following closely behind. Banging on the fence as he crawled backward until he hit the patio of the house.
The walkers were drawn away, there was shooting close to him, less than a block away.
He stood up and looked around the backyard, deserted and devoid of life. The street outside filed with abandoned cars and discarded items, people had left in a panic.
For the first time in a long time, he was afraid. What if the disease couldn’t be beaten, the same disease congress ignored. Without it what would he have? What would he have gained? Nothing.
All the power he had given everything for, all the people he stepped over, his influence. It wouldn’t matter. No anymore.
He needed to find a place to hole up in, get his thoughts together. The house in front of him was the only option.
Chapter 2: State Of Union
Summary:
After the crash, Sam seeks to take shelter in a house. Only to find out the situation was way worse than he ever expected, forcing him to accept the harsh reality of what the world has become.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
His body recoiled as he opened the door and realized the smell of death coming from within the house. Every inch of his body telling him it was a bad idea as he stepped inside.
The house was in full state of disarray, as if protestors had come through the place, throwing furniture around, breaking everything in their path.
There was a small pool of blood in front of the door, it was too small to have come from an adult. A child had died here. Hiding from the walkers perhaps? Or maybe attacked by a person? It didn’t matter, the only thing that mattered was getting help.
“Hello?” He called out cautiously, but there was no answer.
Every cabinet in the kitchen had been opened, the place had been ransacked, the only thing that remained was a bowl full of rotting fruit on the counter.
Someone on the fridge caught his attention, a drawing made by a child. It depicted a little girl holding onto her parents, ‘best parents in the world!’ Written underneath the drawing in a purple crayon.
“Three new messages.” Came from an answering machine in the middle of first floor, drawing his attention.
It wasn’t any of his business to listen to the messages, but his curiosity got the best of him.
“Hey Sandra, this is Diana. A lot of incidents have been happening all over Savanah, everyone’s freaked out. The police started a lock down, we might have to stay a few more days. Thank you so much for taking care of Clementine! I promise we’ll be back before spring break.” The first voice message stated, he had taken the opportunity to walk around the house while he listened to the voice messages. The front door was barricaded with a book case, and the room was being dimly lit by a TV that was only showing static.
“Oh my God! Finally! I don’t know if you’ve been trying to reach us; all the calls are getting dropped. They’re not telling us anything about Atlanta. They’re forcing everyone to move to a place called Crawford for safety. Please, please, leave the city and take Clementine with you back to Marietta. I’ve got to get back to Ed, please let me know that you’re safe.” The voice message stated, panic in the woman’s voice, he searched the entire first floor, finding nothing useful.
“Clementine… baby if you can hear this. I love you… I love you….we love you….” The voice abruptly ended, bringing his attention back to the phone. Whoever this was, it didn’t sound good. They never stood a chance if Savannah was hit that early.
He was now dialing desperately, he had political allies that would send help. That would benefit from having him at his side, they would have to save him.
Footsteps came from the stairs before he could finish entering his colleagues phone number, they sounded unnatural. The steps uneven and elongated, he froze in fear. Stepping back from the phone, and closer to the staircase.
“Hello? I need help! I’ve just been in a car crash!” He called out to the person.
Her yellow dressed covered in blood made him want to throw up, with a bite mark across her neck. It was the girl from the drawing, the one they were referring to in the voicemails. She was one of the monsters as well.
He wanted to run, he would’ve if it was under any other circumstances. He felt a strange sense of guilt about her death, but he couldn’t place his finger on the actual reason. He was drawn to her, staring at her as she got closer.
It was just another child, not any different than the children that had starved to death, or been killed in foster care by the policy’s he had voted for.
He bolted for the run, what he felt didn’t matter, the only thing that mattered was survival. He was at the door in less than five seconds, the adrenaline making him forget about the pool of blood.
He slammed his head into the glass door, now covered in blood. It felt like an eternity that he took to regain his sense, but in reality just a few seconds had elapsed.
The walker was now at his foot, climbing on top of him to kill him.
“Get the fuck off me!” He yelled, struggling to push off the little girl with unnatural strength.
“HELP ME! SOMEONE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.” He yelled desperately, as he grappled with the walker. Still dazed from the fall, seconds away from her teeth biting nto his face.
“I’m sorry.” A girl cried out, out of his view. The only thing he saw was a hammer come down onto the back of the walker’s head. Stunning it slightly, giving him enough time to push it off him.
He sprung to his feet, the girl who had saved him in front of him with a terrified look on her face from what she had just done.
He pushed past her, causing her to fall backwards as he ran to the front door and away from the walker.
“NO CLEMENTINE!” He heard her scream as he got to the front door, still barricaded by the bookcase.
He started lifting it, trying to move it out of the way so he could escape. Throwing glances at the walker every now and then so he knew he how much time to escape.
"AAAAH!” The girl let out a scream, as he finally moved the bookcase enough to open the door and shimmy out the house. Her scream clawing out of your chest as if it was just broken in half. Her voice filled with pain and grief as she bashed in the walkers face in with her hammer until it stopped moving.
The last thing he saw before shimmied out of the house was the girl’s face, full of anger. At herself? At him? At the disease? He would never know, and now he hoped to go as far away as possible from the city as he could. Hoping to never see her again.
He only made it a few steps out into the street before he heard her, rushing out of the house behind him. Her hand was on his shoulder before he could react, forcing him to turn around before she slapped him as hard as he could.
“I JUST SAVED YOU. HOW COULD YOU JUST LEAVE ME!” She yelled, grief in her voice.
“You would’ve done the same thing, there was a killing machine in there with us. It would’ve killed both of us.” He rationalized, disgusted by her bloodied hands on him.
“She wasn’t a killing machine, she was a girl. She had a name!” She angrily yelled, eyes bulging from her anger.
“Does that matter?” He asked arrogantly.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She said completely disgusted by his actions and statements.
“I guess no one ever taught you how to be a real fucking man.” She insulted.
It was the only comment that made him look at her and meet her eyes. Her expression had caught him off guard, it was full of strength mixed with a big amount of grief she was concealing.
It was the first time he had actually gotten a look at her, she was no older than 15. She had light brown skin, and medium length auburn hair. She wore a white blouse, and a blue knee length plaid skirt. Red sneakers contrasting her white glasses, which her intense eyes were hiding behind. There was something searching in her eyes.
Fear.
“What are you faggots yelling for? You want to attract every goddamn pig our way?” A boy snarls behind him.
He turned around, discovering that there was a man and a boy behind them. The man a bit overweight, wearing a stained white t shirt with jeans.
While the boy was scrawny and wiry with orange buzzed hair sticking out in weird angles, his every movement twitchy. He was young, no older than 13.
“Devon!” Reprimanded the man in disbelief for what he just called them.
“What? Devon said what he saw? These fuckers are gonna attract every walker to us before we can get the fuck out of here.” Argued the boy.
“You have a way out of Atlanta?” He questioned.
“Yeah my truck, I’ve been trying to get out Atlanta for hours. All these abandoned cars are hard to move on my own.” He shared.
“Where are my manners, my name is Chet.” He introduced himself.
“I’m Sam.” He stated coldly.
“And your daughter?” He asked genuinely.
“I’m not his daughter, and he certainly isn’t my dad. I’m Sandra.” She introduced herself, bitterness in her voice with every word.
“Shit! The faggots have come for us.” Yelled Devon, pointing at the horde of walkers turning into their street.
Chet immediately got to pushing the last car that was in his truck’s way, both Sandra and him wasting no time to join him. It was either helping him or getting eaten by the walker horde.
It only took a few seconds to push out of the way with all their strengths combined, even the Devon has joined in.
It felt as if the walkers were right on them as Chet got into the driver seat, Sandra and Devon squished into the middle, while he sat shotgun.
Chet pushing past the a lot of the cars, driving desperately to escape the city.
He stared at the horde of walkers for as long as he could, in horror about the situation. Reality had kicked in that this was real as they drove out of the city , this would now be his life now.
Notes:
In case anyone’s wondering who Devon is. He’s the kid Shawn mentioned he saw getting shot in Atlanta :).
Chapter 3: The Party Line
Summary:
Sam surrounded by people lower than him, he has no choice but to conform to the group. Struggling to empathize with them, not being able to understand their motives for their actions.
Chapter Text
The ride out of Atlanta was long and awkward, they were four completely different people that would’ve never interacted if it weren’t for the circumstances.
The distant light through the cornfields was his only salvation of getting away from these people, he couldn’t stand staying in the car with them any longer.
In that moment he missed his luxurious apartment, the hot tub, the food that tasted like shit but he still bought to flaunt its price.
“I’m hoping Hershel will let us stay here for the night, the trucks overheating and Shawn isn’t with me.” Chet said, worried, as he was pulled into the Greene Farm.
“Who’s Shawn?” Asked Sandra.
“My friend, went into Atlanta with him. We got separated…” he explained solemnly.
“Chet…? Where’s Shawn?” Who he assumed was Hershel asked Chet, a hopeless look in his eyes.
“We got separated in Atlanta, things went south. I can explain inside, I’ll tell you everything. He was fine last time I saw him.” He shared, panic in his voice.
“The rest of yall, there’s room in the barn if you need to rest, Chet we need to talk.” The old man has ordered firmly. Both of them walking inside, leaving them to stand outside in the cold.
“What the fuck are you guys waiting for? Do you want to freeze to death? The barn is calling my name.” Came from the Brat. In other words, he was scared to go into the barn alone.
“They’re going to be in there a while, might as well get some sleep while we can.” Sandra stated, reassurance in her voice, trying to soothe Devon.
The floor was hard and itchy, but it was better than sleeping outside like some low quality homeless person.
The silence of the room was terrifying, he wondered what his thoughts would tell him in the dark once he was left alone. He could never admit it, but he often held his breath until he passed out to fall asleep quicker.
“Get up, you lazy fat fuck!” Abruptly awoke him, it was the wiry kid, he couldn’t even remember his name.
“What do you want?” He groaned.
“Devon just wanted to be nice. Everyone’s up and you’re still sleeping. It’s already the afternoon, but fuck Devon for wanting to something nice right?” The kid had responded.
He just gave the kid a look, something was definitely wrong with him. Why did he refer to himself in third person? What a weird little nut case.
“Why do you talk like that? what’s wrong with you?” He bluntly asked.
“Devon talks however the hell he wants, you ain’t Devon’s dad.” The kid protested, running off into the distance, leaving him alone to his silence once more.
The sun blinded him for a few seconds as he stepped out the barn, the countryside was surprisingly beautiful despite being uncivilized.
The kid had sat with Sandra, and they Botha actually looked relaxed. Devon wasn’t screaming, nor cursing. Sandra was smiling.
He could see Chet in the back, working on the fence. And finally Hershel, coming out of his house and walking in his direction, to the barn.
“How’d you get out of Atlanta?” Hershel had asked, catching him off guard.
“I was babysitting the girl, we both ran for it once we saw Chet outside. Hoping to get out.” He improvised.
“Is that so?” The old man questioned.
“Yes.”
“Cause the girl tells me you came out of nowhere, leaving her to fend for herself until you ran into Chet here.” The old man confronted.
“How about you mind your business old man? You know how rebellious teenagers are, she was lying.” He fought back, wanting to put the old guy in his place.
“Can I give you a piece of advice?” The old man offered.
“I don’t need to hear anything from you.” He bitterly responded.
“Look, I don’t know who you are or what you’ve done. But you gotta become a better liar and fast. Because if people see through you as fast as I did then you won’t stand a chance.” The old man shared, informing his request.
“It won’t come to that, I don’t need anyone to watch over me like I’m some snot nosed child.” He voiced, full of arrogance.
“Well…then you really are a lost cause. You’ll have to become a better man eventually if you want to survive.” The old man declared disapprovingly.
“Well in that case I don’t want to get better, I want to get worse.” He revealed, finally causing Hershel to stay quiet.
He walked out of the barn, approaching Chet, The only person who could get him out of here with his truck.
“The old guy is fucking crazy.” He laughed, approaching Chet as he was working on the fence.
“Hershel?” Asked Chet.
“Do I really need to answer that? Do you see any other old guys around here?” He rhetorically asked.
“No, I don’t.” Chet replied.
“Do you have a cigarette by any chance?” He asked, he had been getting way too anxious lately. He needed it.
“Sure man.” Chet complied, handing him a lighter and his box of cigarettes before continuing to work.
“You know I was thinking maybe you could give me a ride to Macon after this?” He tried to ask as nonchalantly as he could, lighting the cigarette and inhaling deeply before letting it all go.
“I don’t think I can, I gotta see if my momma is alright. Though I thought Hershel might let you folk stay here.” Chet replied, focusing all his attention on the fence, something that Hershel’s son should probably be doing instead.
“Then why are you fixing the fence when it should’ve be his son doing it?” He asked smugly, leaning against the tractor to continue smoking.
“I’m just trying to help out man, stop with the third degree.” Chet had finally defended, causing him detach himself from the conversation and focus entirely on his cigarette.
The world has gone to hell, and now he was stuck with two kids, an old man, and Chet. The old man was the worst of them all, Hershel, acting like he knew everything about him. What did he think he knew anyways? That he was a bad person? Anyone could’ve guessed that, being a politician comes with a lot of sacrifices. A lot of people you have to step over.
His thoughts had distracted him from the walker slowly approaching behind him, Chet too focused on the fence to notice the small horde of walkers silently approaching.
He had dropped his cigarette on the ground, yelling in surprise as the walker grabbed him from behind.
“Momma? Shawn?” had whispered Chet in disbelief.
In his desperation, he pulled a lever in the tractor, trying to grip anything to stop him from getting devoured. But that just caused the tractor move. Chet was yelling, his foot had been ran over by the tractor.
To their surprise it wasn’t Hershel who had come to help them, it was Sandra and Devon. Sandra locking in horror at the situation, while Devon pulled out his sling shot.
“Motherfucker!” He yelled out as the rock Devon had aimed at the walker hit him straight on his forehead.
Sandra ran to help Chet, he had predicted she would do so. She despised him.
Chet was surprisingly saved quickly, the tractor was pushed by Sandra enough for Chet to pull his foot out from under it.
They were about to run, leave him behind. When Chet turned around, hesitating to help him.
“Sandra help me get Sam!” He yelled.
She hesitated for a moment, Devon still throwing rocks at his face, before she ultimately decided that she was better than him. She wouldn’t leave him to die.
Chet pulled on him, while Sandra hit the walker’s hands with her hammer. One of Devon’s rocks had finally landed, hitting the walker in the face, stunning them.
It was just enough, the walker let go of him, both Chet and himself dropping to the ground.
A shotgun rang out right ad the walker’s burst through the fence, it was Hershel, shotgun in hand.
“My boy…. My sweet boy…” came from Hershel, Shawn was in front of him, still alive in walker form. His legs had been shot, rendering him unable to move.
“YOU. GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!” Hershel redirected his attention and anger to Chet, who was still staring at his mother.
Chet looked devastated, his mother and best friend had died. Now he was being kicked out of the only place he had left.
They all walked to their truck slowly. They weren’t any better than him, and he wouldn’t pretend like they were. Just because they saved him, it didn’t mean anything. They couldn’t be better than him.
“It’s okay to cry Chet.” Surprisingly came from Devon, which seemed to hurt Chet even more.
Chet started the truck, the kids getting inside the front, he hopped over to the back of the truck. The road trip was long and quiet, until Chet eventually burst out in tears, Sandra saying something he couldn’t quite make out to him.
BetterThanBrainiac on Chapter 1 Mon 07 Apr 2025 12:49AM UTC
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orphan_account on Chapter 1 Mon 07 Apr 2025 01:16AM UTC
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