Cap 1

POV Narrator

Ahh, I don't have much time then, so this is the abridged version of the story. The world is over. Zombie apocalypse, natural disasters, humans, blah, blah, blah, blah, anyway. I'm here to tell you what happened next. After I was thrown into this world. After the end of the world. And a bit of my journey during it.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

POV 3rd Person

In the suburbs of Atlanta, a normally quiet place, now a place full of confusion. People were running in the streets, others were leaving in their speeding cars and creatures, similar to humans, but with gray skins and lifeless eyes, were crawling through the streets.

But this story won't focus on that for now, but on a relatively luxurious house on this street.

In one of the rooms of this house, there was a young teenager lying on the floor and on his forehead there was a cut from which a lot of blood was oozing, forming a small puddle underneath him.

Suddenly, the boy let out a small moan, announcing that he was waking up. His hand went to his head and touched the wound, but he instantly pulled away and opened his eyes in pain and confusion.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

POV Dean

When I wake up, my eyes are still closed because of the enormous headache I'm feeling, and on top of that I feel weak. Like worse than if I were sick.

And why does it feel like I'm on the ground? With as much strength as I can muster, I bring my hand up to my head, but pull it away immediately because of the pain it causes, making me open my eyes immediately and sit up quickly.

But this proves to be a mistake as the world spins, but before I can pass out, I take a deep breath and concentrate on staying awake. I slip into something behind me and sit up straight.

"Wait, where am I?" I mutter, my voice a little hoarse. Instead of being somewhere familiar, like school, home or work, I was in a rich teenager's bedroom. The kind I could only dream of having on Pinterest.

Before I could question myself further, I felt something slimy running down my forehead and into my eyes. Very carefully, I bring my fingers there and bring them to my sight only to see a red liquid fall between my fingers to the floor.

Blood. It sends a shiver down my spine. Fear makes my heart hammer and tries to make me panic. But I remain as calm as I can.

"That explains the pain." I speak out loud, but still relatively low and hoarse. Saying things out loud helps prevent panic. Not that it stops my heart from beating more slowly.

Looking at my fingers again, I realize there's something different. And it's not the blood. These hands. They're very soft. Unlike the calloused hands I usually have.

With difficulty, I lean on the chest of drawers I was leaning on and pull myself up. As soon as I manage to stand up, I notice that there's a little blood on the edge of the dresser.

"And that's how I got the wound." After analyzing the reason for my migraine, I headed for the open door that led to a bathroom, using the bedroom wall for support.

As soon as I walked through the door, the first thing I noticed was a mirror and a semi-known face looking back at me.

What was reflected in the mirror, and therefore my reflection, was not my familiar appearance. It was a well-known actor. Jensen Ackles. I looked like his teenage phase. If there was one thing that was different, it was that I had a more muscular body.

"What the hell?" I almost screamed as I brought my hand, or the actor's, to the mirror, feeling the cold temperature emanating from it.

My head was throbbing now. Whether it's the bruise or this whole strange situation that's happening right now. I know it's not a dream. The pain makes that clear. What 's going on?

"No. Stay calm. Let's treat this wound first." Looking around, I start looking for something to treat wounds. I start rummaging through the drawers and cupboards in the bathroom, until I find a red first aid kit.

First, I'm going to wash the blood off my face. And what better way to do that than to put my head under the tap?

As soon as the water hit the wound, a burning sensation and pain spread through my body. But I endured it. After making sure that all the blood had been washed away, I began to treat it. Alcohol, cleaning the wound and some bandages to close the cut.

It still hurts, of course. But better than nothing. Still struggling a little, I return to the bedroom and sit down in the chair in front of the computer. It's time to find out what the hell is going on and where I am.

The computer looks old. I vaguely remember getting this kind of computer before. When I turned it on, I had to wait patiently while the bar loaded.

"Argh! Old computers. How did people live with these?" I ask myself as I get up from the chair and go to the bedroom window to look out onto the street, while the computer loads.

The street was deserted, except for a single person in the middle of the road. He had his back to me, but from what I could see, he was injured, as there was blood on his clothes and he wasn't standing still.

Just as I was about to open the window to talk to this person, a loud sound of metal falling spread across the street. Before I could wonder what had happened, the person in the middle of the street started to move in the general direction of the noise, which allowed me to see his face.

A pale face, dead eyes and a wild appearance. Basically a reanimated corpse.

"Zombie?" I was surprised to see such a scene. Still doubting what I was seeing, I kept looking until the zombie moved out of my field of vision.

Stepping back from the window, I go back to the computer, which finally, after two minutes or so, loads up on the main screen. The first thing I look at is the date. Which surprises me for the fifth time, I think. I stop counting.

The date is August 24, 2010. I quickly go to the browser and start browsing the latest news.

China, Japan, Mexico, Canada, Paris, Spain, Germany, Russia, Brazil and the United States. These are just a few countries that have news about people attacking others in the middle of the street.

Most of the news stories are heralding it as a disease and others as crazy people.

Zombies, 2010, waking up in another body, it all reminds me of something. Controlling my breathing, I search for the latest thing to confirm my situation. Current location.

Atlanta, Georgia.

Of all places, of all worlds, why? Why did it have to be The Walking Dead?

"Son of a bit…"