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Sojourn with the Walking Dead

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Summary: It's all fun and games until you chase someone through an Interdimensional Portal. Might contain elements of black comedy, inappropriate jokes and trace amounts of peanuts.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Television > Walking Dead, TheHimuradonoFR18443,167156612,6959 Aug 1313 Dec 13No

Chapter One


Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead, they belong to Robert Kirkman, Tony Moore, Charlie Adlard, Skybound Entertainment and AMC. Xander Harris and other characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer; belong to Joss Whedon and ME productions. I don't own it. I claim no rights to any copyrighted material. Not for profit.

Time frame: TWD: Before Rick joins the group. BtVS: After Africa and after the comics. No Death of Magic.


Xander swung his battleax and cut the Strom's demon head in half. “Mirele, go after that yahoo!” he shouted to the slayer who just finished off another Strom demon by decapitating it with her broadsword.

Mirele, a fifteen years old blonde, ran after the warlock trying to escape.

Xander pulled his battleax from the Strom's head and took a deep breath. It was to be an easy job. Go in, find the warlock. Capture him and bring to Willow, so she could bind his mojo and make him vanilla mortal. But no, there had to be Strom demons here. Why they served that piss poor warlock he didn't know, but knowing it were Strom demons, it probably involved human internal organs.

He hefted his ax and followed after Mirele. His heavy boots thudding on the wooden, dusty floor of the old, abandoned department store.

He found them in the back of the store. He almost swore when he saw what was going on.

The warlock was chanting. The skinny little thing waved his arms in what he must have thought were grandiose moves.

Mirele was fighting more Strom demons and one just decided that it would take its chances with the one eyed brunet with the ax rather than the slayer.

He almost smiled when he saw that. Now Mirele only had to deal with three demons. Piece of cake for his slayer.

“Come here ugly,” he said grinning. “I've got a nice bit of steel for you. Come get some.”

Predictably the demon charged him. Barring sharp teeth in its red skinned face.

He swung his ax aiming for the things grasping right arm. He missed, only a quick step back saved him from getting tackled by a demon. Which would probably earn him another scar. He swung the ax again, this time hitting the demon in the jaw and cutting it off.

Mirele already dealt with two of her demons and now was in the process of dismembering the third.

The jawless demon charged him again, enraged by all the pain, it moved faster than before and took him to the ground in a tackle.

“Oh man, invest in some tic-tacs,” said Xander with a grimace to the demon who slobbered on him.

The demon punched him in the face on the side where he was blind in reply.

His vision in his remaining eye swam for a moment. He couldn't reach his gun so he reached under his leather jacket and pulled his trench knife from its sheath under his right shoulder. He stabbed the blessed, steel and silver alloy, blade in the demon's left side. Again and again. Until the demon stopped moving. He pushed the dead thing off of him and rolled to his feet, grabbing his ax that fell from his hands when the demon tackled him.

He straighten just in time to see Mirele get hit with some kinetic strike spell that flung her against the wall opposite the warlock and, yes, his opened portal.

“Pal, you just got yourself a dead sentence for that,” he told the warlock seriously. “No one hurts my slayers and lives.”

The warlock fled through the portal.

Xander wanted to check on Mirele and see if she was okay. But he couldn't let the warlock run. He knew what had to be done.

“This is going to suck,” he said to himself, and with his battleax in one hand and his trench knife in his other, he run towards the closing portal of violet and pink energies.

As he crossed into the portal he heard Mirele calling his name, “Xander!”

He smirked, his girl was alright. There was no way some stinking third rate warlock could kill her with a bit of jedi push trick.

For a moment the time stilled and he was surrounded by flashing pink and purple vortex. He gritted his teeth as he felt the pressure rise. As if he was diving deep in a pool. His ears started ringing and he had problems taking a breath, and then he was hurled forward.

It was early morning on the other side of the portal. He landed in a roll on a field of green grass. On his right were trees. On his left, well he would have to turn his head to know what was on the left, but he knew who was in front of him. The warlock.

“Hey there,” he started conversationally with a smile on his face. “You, my man have a hot date with Lucy,” he raised his battleax to show it to the warlock. Faith gave him no end of shit for naming his ax. But Lucy was the first slayer that died under his command. Naming his ax after her was the last he could do. That, and then killing the vampire who killed her.

The warlock tried some spell but it sputtered out, barely giving a spark.

“It looks like your mojo juice ended,” he told the warlock.

The warlock looked at him and then at his ax. Turned around and run.

Xander sighed. Hefted his ax for a better grip and then threw it at the warlock.

It took him some time to learn how to throw axes with only one eye but now he was a master at it.

The ax tumbled through the air and hit the warlock in the back between shoulders. The warlock fell to the dew covered grass.

Xander walked over to him and checked for pulse just to be sure. The warlock was dead.

He put his right foot on the body for leverage and pulled his ax from the body with a squelch. He wiped the blade on the warlock's clothes and then did the same with his trench knife, cleaning both of blood.

He looked back and saw that the portal was long gone.

He turned back to the body of the warlock and kicked it. “You had to open a portal, didn't you? You could have taken the window, but nooo! Had to be a magic portal.” He kicked the corpse one more time. “Had to be a showoff.”

He sighed and closed his eye for a moment. When he opened it he looked around. He was standing in a grass field. There was a forest on one side. Mostly hardwood trees with the occasional coniferous tree sprinkled here and there for variety.

He looked at the sky. The stars were still visible, if barely in the light of raising sun.

He frowned, the stars were familiar. Very familiar. Heh, maybe he was just in another state and not different dimension. It looked like he was in North America.

He sheathed his knife in its shoulder holster style sheath, passed his ax to his left hand and made to go north in search of some phone when he heard a groan behind him and shuffling steps.

He turned around and saw that there were people coming from the forest, seven of them. Something was wrong with them though. Wrong with the way they moved. The light was still a bit poor but he managed to get a better look at their faces.

“Holy Batman,” he swore. “Zombies.”

A gust of wind coming from the direction of the forest hit him. He gagged a little, smelling the distinctive 'fragrance' of rotting corpses.

He hefted his ax and went towards the zombies. They were slow, not exactly snail pace but normal walking speed with a bit of shambling thrown in the way.

He gripped the shaft of his weapon two handed and swung it. The blade bit in the head at forehead level. Sinking to the eye of the ax. The zombie stopped and fell to the ground. He pulled his ax free and allowed the nearest zombie to come his way. It was once an obese woman, still wearing her nightgown. Now stained with blood of her and others. Half her face was eaten away.

He hit her with the ax, splitting her head in half. Two down, five to go. He made few steps back and to the side when the other five tried to circle him.

He was once in Haiti to deal with a zombie raising demon. As long as you didn't allow the zombies to encircle you, you were golden.

He killed two other zombies in short order, leaving him with three more.

“Come here, come on,” he said to the nearest zombie walking his way. “Good zombie. Come to Xander.”

He smiled and cut the top of the zombie's head with his ax. “Attaboy.”

The next two 'rushed' him for lack of better words. One got near, while the other slipped on the dew covered grass and fell.

Xander almost laughed at that as the zombie broke its rotten leg and couldn’t get up.

He cut down the one near him and then walked to the crawling one and cut it in the back of its head with his ax.

“Dammit,” he muttered looking at the truly dead ex-zombies. “I don't think USA had a zombie problem back home.” He walked to the warlock and kicked it the third time. “Zombie dimension, you twit. You opened a portal to a zombie dimension.”

The warlock's corpse started to stir, causing Xander to blink his eye and groan. “Oh, come on.”

He took a step back and watched as the warlock rose up. Eyes colorless and only a dark dot in the middle of the red veins covered eyeballs.

Xander spit on the ground, then swung his ax and put down the zombiefied warlock for good.

He heard more shuffling and saw more and more zombies emerge from the forest. At least four dozens by a quick count.

He drew his Springfield Micro Compact from his waist holster and shot the nearest zombie in the head. The .45 round splattering half the zombie's head on its shambling neighbors.

Xander kicked the warlock's corpse for the fourth time. “You idiot. You opened the portal to Zombie Apocalypse dimension.”

Xander holstered his compact handgun and run away from the zombies. Heading in the opposite direction to the forest and zombies.

One look back told him that they were still following him but he was leaving them behind. He shook his head at the zombies and run forward.

“I'm getting too old for this shit,” he huffed to himself. “Maybe I will take Giles's offer for a desk job at the Academy.”

Hours later found him in a suburbia. Abandoned, half burned and crawling with zombies suburbia. Well, there were eight zombies that he could see.

“I'm really in a Zombie Apocalypse dimension,” he said. “Andrew is going to be so jealous.”

The little geek was one of those people who were actually waiting for a Zombie Apocalypse.

He entered the nearest house that was unburned. The door was not only unlocked, it was opened. He pushed it fully open and entered the house, ax 'Lucy' in hand.

He swore as he saw a kiddie zombie coming his way. She was maybe six when she was zombiefied. One swing of his ax later and she was history. He found another female zombie in the hallway. Another swing of his ax and another zombie less in the world. He checked the rest of the house. Room after room and closet after closet, including the basement and the garage.

He made sure that the doors and windows were locked. After that he sat down in the kitchen and took stock of the situation he found himself in.

'Okay Xander,' he thought. 'You are in some Zombie Apocalypse dimension of America,' he took a look at the newspaper. The headline spoke of dead walking in the streets and eating people. The date in the newspaper was from May 2. He stood up and went to the corpse in hallway and checked the digital wristwatch. 7:17 am, May 15.

He adjusted his own wristwatch and went back to the kitchen. 'You don't know how long it will take Willow to pull you back home.'

He put all his things on the kitchen table. From the pockets of his leather jacket he pulled one loaded spare magazine for his handgun, a small LED flashlight, a Leatherman multi-tool. He pulled his holster with his Springfield Micro Compact and put it on the table. From the pants pocket he pulled a Zippo lighter with the slayer scythe engraved on it and his wallet.

He opened the wallet and looked at the laminated picture of Dawn, and swallowed seeing her smiling face. He pulled the picture from the wallet and turned it. On the other side were the Scoobies. Buffy, Willow, Giles and him.

He put the picture back in his wallet and pocketed it.

He pulled his shoulder holster sheath with the trench knife in it and added it to the table. Lastly he put his ax, 'Lucy'. He left the sheath for the ax attached to his belt.

Lucy was styled after old German war axes. It had a two feet long haft that was wrapped with leather from the bottom up way to the middle of the haft for better grip. The blade was wide and half circular at one side and the other side had a long spike. Willow enhanced it so that it would always remain sharp and night unbreakable. Lucy served him good in the last few years. It would serve him well here too, until Willow located him.

“You should have left the warlock alone and not follow him through the portal,” he said to himself as he put all his things back on his person.

A week later Xander sat in his newly acquired orange Ford 150 Raptor and looked at the house he was about to break in.

The house was on the same suburbia he found his way to the first day he landed in this dimension. It was a two story building with dark green roof tiles and white walls. A half torn flag of United States of America hung from a pole attached to the porch.

He was worried. Very worried. He spent the first three days in this world waiting in the house he found on the first day. Patiently waiting to be pulled to his home dimension by Willow or other witch employed by the Council. Nothing happened.

On the fourth day in this dimension he ventured outside and started killing zombies out of sheer boredom and to keep his mind from dark thoughts. He knew that Willow would find him. It was just a matter of time.

Unfortunately, doubt appeared in his mind. What if she didn't find him? What if he was trapped here with all these zombies? What happened with Mirele?

What about Dawn?

He missed her already. He looked at his left hand and the wedding band on his ring finger.

Whenever he started getting depressed he got out and put down few of the zombies. By the end of his first week here there was not even one zombie on the streets of this suburbia. Going after the undead kept his mind busy and far from thinking that he might be trapped here.

While he took care of the zombies he found the pickup and a bit of searching in the house by the pickup yielded the car keys.

He got out from the car and went to the house. It would be the fourth he would break in. He mostly searched for food and water.

Xander couldn’t kick down the door. It was reinforced and with some first class locks.

He went to the back and quickly found out that the situation was the same there when it came to door.

He broke one of the windows overlooking the porch and entered the house only to be immediately assaulted by five zombies.

He swung his ax and killed one of them. With his left leg he pushed the coffee table into the middle of the four shambling corpses and cause three of them to fall to the floor.

He took a step forward and axed the one still standing and then the three that tried to get up.

Fun fact: zombies were hilarious when they tried to get up on their feet.

He looked around the house and tried not to breath to deeply. The whole house stunk horribly of decomposing corpses and feces.

He moved into the kitchen to look for some unspoiled food and almost threw up. There on the floor by the fridge, was what once was a human but now was an eaten up shell. It looked like someone took a great scooping spoon to a human body and used it thoroughly.

He turned around to leave the room and the house in general and that was when he saw solid door in the wall of a kitchen wall.

He went to it and checked the handle. Locked.

There were three locks in the door. He scratched his head thinking how to get inside. And he wanted to take a look what was behind the door. Three locks. Must be something good. But to get the door open he needed to either get a shotgun and blow the locks or find the keys.

Xander turned to the eaten corpse and checked its pockets.

“Bingo,” he said with satisfaction, pulling a bunch of keys. He started checking them on the locks. Lady Luck was with him. Three of the five keys were the ones he needed.

He pushed the door open and used his small flashlight to illuminate the basement.

“Hello Prepers,” he said appreciatively, looking at the room.

It was a hybrid of gun room with a personal bunker. He found a camping lamp and turned it on, fully illuminating the whole room.

On one wall were rows upon rows filled with preserved food. Canned vegetables and fruits. Powdered milk, pasta, beef jerky and so on.

There was a cot in the corner and even a folding toilet seat combined with a faucet, like the ones they used in prisons.

But it wasn't the food that really grabbed his attention. It was the stock pile of weapons and ammunition cans.

He thought about the eaten guy in the kitchen. “Was he planning to start a war or what?”

He looked at the weapons rack.

In the end he took an AR-15 variant with a scope and retractable stock. It came with a fitted on suppressor. So that counted for something. He also picked a handgun that had a threaded barrel and suppressor laying by it. It was M&P S&W 9mm.

He fitted on the suppressor on the handgun. Picked a holster for it and put it on his belt. His compact 1911 went to the small of his back.

He looked around and pulled a large empty plastic box. He started grabbing ammunition cans and loading it to the box. A thousand rounds for each gun. He reasoned, that if he needed more, then he was doomed to stay here for the rest of his life. He also collected the magazines for the weapons and put them with the ammunition. He pushed the box to the side of the room and grabbed another plastic box. Loading it with pasta, beef jerky, and what food he decided to take with him.

His back and knees screamed in protest when he picked the box containing ammunition and magazines.

He wasn't as young as he use to be and all his injuries over the years decided to make itself known right then.

With careful steps up the stairs he made it to the kitchen. Then came back and carried the box with the food.

He laid it by the box with ammo and huffed a breath as his knees throbbed with dull pain.

“Where is a slayer when you need one to carry something heavy?” he asked no one in particular.

So imagine his surprise when someone answered him.

“Well, I'm no slayer, but I always said one had to help the old and infirm,” said a soft voice he knew very well.

He looked up hoping against all hope that he wasn't going crazy.


“Hey there husband,” she said cheekily. “Need a helping hand?”

He rushed towards her and scooped her in a bear hug. “What are you doing here?”

She winked when he set her down. “Willow sent me here. We have some serious problems with getting a solid hold on your location. So she's going to use my blood connection with Buffy to create a bridge portal to pull us back to our home dimension. Mirele sends her love and wants her Watcher back.”

He looked at her with disbelieving eye. “Dawn, this is the frickin Zombie Apocalypse Dimension.”

She grimaced. “Yeah, I noticed,” she replied with a look at the eaten corpse. She then smacked him on the arm. “What possessed you to go through that portal?”

“I was actually hoping Willow would get me back to home in no time. But spent a week here and nothing. I was getting really worried,” he admitted.

Her blue eyes widened in panic. “A week?!”

Oh, he didn't like that expression on his wife's face. “Yeah, I have been here a week.”

“Xander, it was only eight hours ago that you jumped through the portal,” she whispered as she took a seat at the kitchen table. “Oh by the Goddess. We will be stranded here for...” she scrunched her face and though hard. “Ninety weeks.”

“What do you mean ninety weeks?” he asked as he took seat opposite her.

“Willow will need to wait for the same moon phase to get a portal that would allow us to get from here to our home dimension. But time moves differently here. Eight hours back home corresponds with seven days here. So three weeks here mean one day back home,” she explained.

He massaged his forehead. “Willow has to wait thirty days to pull us back home. Three weeks here multiplied by thirty. Ninety weeks.”

“Well, this will be an adventure,” said Dawn. “Man, if I knew there would be a zombie Apocalypse here, I would've totally grabbed the Zombieland* DVD.” She shook her head. “Andrew's going to have kittens when we tell him about it.”

He laughed at that. The first laugh in a week.

He reached across the table and took hold of her hand.

His wife was here. He wasn't alone. Things would work out.

“I love you,” he said, looking into her eyes.

She gave his hand a squeeze. “I love you too.”

In the end they grabbed another AR and handgun for Dawn. Added more ammo to their stock, since they were to spend some twenty months here.

“Is this all you brought?” he asked, looking at the large backpack she left by the pickup.

The backpack had a broadsword strapped to the side. It was a viking style sword and as enchanted as his ax.

She pushed the last plastic box on the bed of pickup. “I was planning to stay here one month not twenty. You know, see the sights. Score some sexy time with a my man in another dimension. Go home and be awesome.”

He chuckled and put the backpack on the backseat and quipped, “Gosh you must just hate the Temporal-flow right now.”

“It's a great disappointment, yes,” she replied with a posh sniff and an arrogant tilt of her head. “Alas, I will persevere.”

“Ick. Babe, whenever you start speaking like some old British governess you give me the willies,” he told her, seriously. “If you had glasses and started cleaning them right now I would be running for the hills.”

“Oh, you big baby,” she laughed as she got in the car.

He started the car and pulled back from the driveway.

“So what's the plan?” she asked curiously as she watched the burned houses of the suburbia.

“Right now, we go for my current staying place,” he told her. “Tomorrow, I was planning to go for Atlanta and check the CDC.” He made a swiping gesture with one hand over the dashboard indicating all the abandoned houses outside. “It can't be like that everywhere.”

“How far to Atlanta?”

“Some sixty miles northwest,” he looked to the right and saw a zombie crawling on the overgrown lawn.

He stopped the car. “Want to go 'off' your first zombie in this dimension?”

She pulled her smart phone and gave it to him. “Give me that ax of yours and take pictures, I want to show off to Andrew when we get back.”

Xander shook his head but took three pictures as Dawn drove the ax in the zombie's head. “Clean the blade.”

“God, it stinks,” she said as she finished wiping the half circular blade of the ax on the zombie's shirt.

“Were you expecting them to smell of lavender and vanilla?” he asked with a grin.

“Our zombies don't stink that much,” she pointed out.

“Our zombies tend to be dried up rather well,” he said and then bounced his eyebrow. “These here are pretty juicy.”

“Yuck,” she summed it up.

As they put more and more miles behind them the atmosphere became more somber in the car. Each abandoned house they passed by, each shambling zombie that tried to follow them, each burned down house or building, hammered down the point how hard this world was hit by their Apocalypse.

“How the hell could it happen?” she asked almost disbelieving as they stopped for a lunch, which consisted of power bars and a mug of hot coffee from a thermos. “I mean, humans are resourceful, fast, adaptive and vicious. How could they get their asses kicked so hard here.”

She just had a hard time believing that these zombies killed so many people.

“Maybe they just all fell sick like in that book The Stand**,” he offered his theory. “Those who died became zombies and those who survived were only less than a percent of humanity.”

“In that book when people died, they stayed that way.” She gave him a searching look. “Have you seen any survivors?”


Later that evening they made their way to an abandoned farm. An old if well preserved house, surrounded by green field and pens for animals, which weren't in them.

They planed to stay the night here.

He put on his leather jacket and slipped his handgun with the silencer in its holster. “You ready?”

Dawn put on her belt with sword and slipped the holster with her handgun on it. “Almost.”

Xander took his ax and went to the door of the house.

He opened them and waited to see if anyone would come to welcome them. Dead or alive. He hefted his ax and hit the door few times with it to make some loud noise, and almost immediately they heard shuffling and moaning.

“Move back,” he said to Dawn. “Let's draw it or them outside.”

“Aye, aye, Captain Obvious,” she teased as she drew her sword from the scabbard. It was an enchanted blade. Sharper than any mortal forged sword.

One and then two more zombie exited the house, following him and Dawn down the porch.

“Oh dammit Xander,” stated Dawn with disgust, mixing with sadness. “It's a family.”

He only nodded and took a swing at the 'kid' while Dawn stabbed the 'dad' in the eye with her sword and quickly pulling it back she cut off half of the 'mother's' head.

“Well that's that,” she said looking at the three dead zombies.

They checked the house and found it empty of any other undead. Dawn found a cat. It was black and had yellow eyes.

“I don't know its name, so I named it Tallahassee,” she informed Xander as she petted the cat who curled itself on her legs.

Xander face-palmed. “I think the cat counts as finding a survivor.”


“Tallahassee agrees,” Dawn said with a sagely smile.

The next day they worked on their shooting skills. Dawn knew how to use a handgun and learned pretty quick how to use the AR. The scopes on their rifles made aiming pathetically easy. The problem was figuring how to clean the rifles. Xander's experience with assault rifles began and ended on a Kalashnikov he used in Africa. But in the end, between the two of them, they figured how to disassemble and then put the rifles back together after cleaning and oiling them.

“So you are telling me, these weapons we took,” she pointed at the two rifles and two handguns. “Belonged to that eaten guy?”

“Yes, which simply must have sucked for him,” commented Xander as he fitted on the suppressors for the ARs. “I mean, the guy was obviously a 'Preper' and then got eaten in his own kitchen, while he had a basement full of food, guns and ammo.”

She shrugged as she petted Tallahassee. “Maybe he wanted to help his neighbors, give them a save heaven from the zombies and got eaten by them in exchange.”

“Ouch, talk about life screwing you over.”

“You think we should have taken all his weapons?” she asked, looking at him.

“Nah, a handgun and rifle for each of us is enough,” he reasoned. “There is really no sense to lug around an armory and we would need a solid SUV to haul all those weapons and ammo. We have few thousands of rounds for each weapon. I mean, if we need more, then we will find it and at worse we will return to that suburbia and stock on ammo once more. We locked the basement and I have the keys for it in the car.”

Around noon they packed back into the Ford 150 and pulled the truck tonneau over the bed of the pickup. The tonneau was in the same orange color as the rest of the truck and made sure that some zombie didn't make a home for itself in the bed of their truck.

They had to push few cars to the side as they made their way to Atlanta.

“This doesn't look all that good, Dawn.”

They looked at one lane of the highway that was packed with cars.

“Maybe it really was some virus that killed them all and then turned into zombies,” she ventured with a theory.

“We will have a hell dimension all of our own for the next twenty months.”

She gave a sharp laugh at that. “I think it is great that representatives from the Council of Watchers and Slayers are here and will be able to observe this dead world. We could make our own journals about our time here.”

Xander snorted at that even as his mouth pulled up in a grin. “Oh, I know how mine would go: Journal of Watcher Xander Harris. Second week in the Zombie Apocalypse Dimension. I killed five zombies today. Ate a can of Spam. The world is still dead. End of today's entry.,” he gave her a fond look. “Only Andrew would read the journals.”

Tallahassee 'meowed' from the backseat. “See, even the cat agrees with me.”

“Oh please, you taught the cat to meow when hearing Andrew's name,” she said. And the cat did in fact meow at the mention of Andrew.

“I didn't,” he insisted mulishly.

They left the car behind the gas station on the outskirts of Atlanta.

“So we gonna sneak in, take a look and then what?” she asked as Xander consulted the map of Atlanta for the precise location of CDC.

“And we will decide what to do next. If we keep moving or set shop somewhere and wait out the next twenty months until Willow pulls us back home.”

He looked at the cat prancing around their legs. “What are we going do with Tallahassee? He can't go with us.”

The cat hissed and tensed all up with hackles raised.

A zombie emerged from the gas station. Xander looked at the cat and then at the zombie. “Think Tallahassee can smell them?”

Dawn drew her sword and went to kill the zombie with a stab through the eye. “Spiders can sense earthquakes in advance. Maybe cats can sense zombies. Historically speaking, cats were always considered magical.”

He crouched down to the black cat. “Well furball, it looks like you are coming with us then.”

They armed themselves in their firearms and went to the city of Atlanta.

“I feel almost like a ninja,” whispered Dawn as they continued sneaking from alley to alley.

“I feel almost like a potential zombie chow,” Xander replied. “Do you have any idea how many people lived in Atlanta?”

It was to be a rhetoric question but Dawn had a knack for remembering numbers.

“Some four hundred thousands people,” she informed him with a sunny smile.

He felt himself pale a bit. “We definitively don't have enough ammo for this kind of numbers.”

Sure, zombies were slow and sneaking around them wasn't that difficult but few hundred thousands of them would be a problem.

“It had to be some kind of flu that did the population in,” he stated confidently. “There is no other way these undead yahoos offed the whole city.”

“In our LA, the zombies would be culled down by one gang or another,” chimed in Dawn.

“If it wasn't the flu then maybe the people here have some strange religion that forbids them killing the undead,” he ventured with another theory as they waited for another horde of shambling corpses to move away.

“Maybe they were just pacifists,” offered Dawn.

Xander snorted and pulled at the strap of her assault rifle to make a point. “I doubt a pacifistic population would approve of so many guns in the hands private citizens. Nah, it must have been a flu. Killed everyone and the turned them into zombies. Maybe it did it in turns. I mean they did send military in the streets and they were printing newspapers about the zombies eating people. So it couldn't have just happened overnight.”

Dawn cleared her throat uncomfortably. “There is another option. Maybe this people here just failed as a species. Got infected and then eaten out by zombies. I mean, come on, can you imagine something like this happening home?”

“Nah, our home is too scary and the people too mean. If there was a zombie outbreak somewhere we would have people from around the world volunteering to go to that place and kill zombies for free. Just for the heck of it. It would be all over the Internet and someone, somewhere would start a movement to save the zombies and put them in a reserve. Of course, by that time all the zombies would already be dead for good and the problem would be solved.”

“There is no way we will make it to CDC before nightfall,” Dawn said as she looked down the street.

Xander smacked his forehead. “I'm an idiot. We just have to take a look at the CDC to know if they are even working or if there are some people there.” He pulled a map from a small backpack and looked at it. “See, here we are and here is a skyscraper that looms over that part of the city. If we get to it and then high enough we can take a look at the CDC.”

“Or we could take the sewers and go there underground,” she said with a long suffering sigh and then looked at him askance. “Why didn't we take the sewers from the beginning.”

Xander floundered for a moment and then whined, “Sewers are so pedestrian.”

She looked at him through squinted eyes. “You haven't though about the sewers, have you?”

He blushed so hard she could see the blush even through his thick, black beard. “I forgot about the sewers, alright?”

She snickered and scooped Tallahassee in her arms and then looked from Xander to the sewer top in their current alley. “Well, what are you waiting for? Pull it open.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Dawn started to really hate zombies. They stunk, they moaned funnily. Worse of all, they had disgusting grabby hands.

Their journey through the sewers of a dead city officially made it to the list of things she absolutely didn't ever want to do again.

Without electricity, the pumps to pump water from the plumbing system didn't work and the sewers were packed with shit.

So right now as they stood outside the CDC and Xander was shouting at the moving camera, she was gunning down approaching zombies with her rifle.

Aim. Pull the trigger. Head goes 'splat'. Repeat.

Thank God for suppressors fitted to the weapons or they would have the whole city bearing down on them by now.

“I know you are there!” Xander shouted waving his ax at the camera. “Open the security blinds. Come on, people. We, the alive folks should stick together.”

“Stop waving that ax around,” told him Dawn as she took a look at him before returning to killing zombies. “It makes you look like some deranged psycho. You probably make anyone there by the controls too nervous to open the blinds.”

He let his ax rest by his leg and snarked, “Oh, I'm so sorry for waving my ax at your camera. But could you please open the blinds. Pretty please.”

Dr. Jenner looked at the eye-patched lumberjack from hell waving that ax of his. Then he switched the camera angle to the tall brunette calmly gunning down the undead while a black cat sat by her side.

Now he knew that his decision to 'opt out' was the right one. He wanted to wait for another week or two but these crazy people convinced him that there was nothing he could do to save this world.

He reached for a microphone and turned the speakers outside on. “There is nothing here for you. I can't help you. We are all infected. The bites just causes the lethal fever that kills you faster. But in the end we all are already infected. I'm going to activate the Self-Destruction Protocol on this facility. You should move away.” He took a deep breath and then spoke once more. “I'm sorry.”

Xander looked at the camera with clear disbelief. They could stay inside the building, that's what the man inside could do for them. He was sure that they had a stockpile of supplies inside. But no, the guy decided to go 'boom' with the whole building.

“Umm, Honey, shouldn't we be like running away?” she asked.

“Yeah, we should,” he looked around the CDC and spotted a Humvee. “Let's grab that car. I don't want to ever again go down to the sewers.”

“Amen to that,” she scooped up Tallahassee and slung her rifle on her shoulder.

The keys were in the ignition.

“See, I told you it had to be some zombie flu,” crowed Dawn.

He run over a group of zombies. “He also mentioned bites and lethal fever.”

“Oh yeah. Did I heard it right? We are all infected?”

He nodded as they drove over another group of zombies. “Probably some airborne agent that reanimates your corps when you die.”

“Bummer. We have to find a way to contact Willow and tell her about it so she can prepare some cleansing rituals when we get back.”

“Will they work?”

She petted the cat. “Oh they will. Believe you me. They will. We once tried one on a vampire. It cleansed him so much that it dusted him.”

Xander chuckled at that. “Sounds like a really roundabout way to dust a vampire.”

“And a pricey one. One cleansing ritual costs about five thousands Euros in ingredients alone.”

He whistled at that. That's a lot of money.

“Okay, stop here,” she said pointing at a Mall. “We need new shoes and pants after that trip through the sewers. We aren't bringing that filth to the pickup.”

Like all wise married man, he learned early on that the best way to a happy and calm married life was just to go with the flow and listen to the wife. He had a theory that Pubs were initially invented so that all men could meet far away from their wives and congregate in holy, manly peace. Have a beer, watch a match in a quite brotherhood of wise married man. He made once the mistake of sharing that theory with Buffy, who just laughed and told him that he was whipped. To emphasize her point, she made the sound of cracking a whip every time he passed her in the corridors for the next week.

That's why he just nodded and pulled by the side entrance to the Mall.

“You think we will find some survivors here? I mean now we know that there are other people alive here.”

He pointed his AR at the lock and fired several times at it and then kicked the door open. “I don't know, but if we do, they will be angry that we just shot one of their doors to hell.”

As she passed him by she said, “You shouldn't be so pessimistic.”

Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by a massive explosion.

“There goes CDC,” he observed as a pillar of smoke rose high in the distance.

They found new pants and boots easily. The Mall was empty, just few Security Shamblers that were taken care off in short order. After, it registered with Dawn that she had the whole Mall all to herself and decided to make use of it.

Xander just knew they would be taking a lot of baggage back with them when they left the Mall. In the end he decided to find a set of walkies-talkies for them.

He was just reading on the specs of some of the radios when Dawn showed up.

“Ta-Da!” she singsonged with arms spread wide and doing a twirl. “Well whatcha think, Mister. You like?”

Xander swallowed heavily as he looked her up and down. She was decked from head to toe in tight black leather pants and jacket. It looked great. Really great on her.

“I like,” he said with suddenly dry mouth. He swallowed again. “You look great. You have the Road Warrior look down pat. You should totally wear leather from now on. Always.”

She giggled, did another twirl and flounced back from where she came. “I got to try few other things.”

Few minutes later he picked the best walkies-talkies he could find and put batteries in them. He was just leaving the electronics shop when someone slammed into him. He heard a thud and then a high pitched scream.

Glenn was on one of his excursions for supplies for the group outside the city. He heard the explosion earlier today and wanted to go check what it was, but he couldn't get close enough because of the walkers. But he found something else. A Mall with a military Hummer right next to a side door that was shot open.

He was walking around trying to find some people when he slammed right into someone. He literary bounced from the guy and fell on his ass.

He looked up and got a good look into who he walked in.

A scary looking, large, bearded, eye-patch wearing guy.

Glenn screamed and pissed himself a little. He started crab walking away from that guy.

“Hey, chill out,” Xander said to the guy and bent forward to grab him. The Asian guy screamed again.

Dawn came running up, her rifle already in hands. “What's going on?” She looked at the guy on the floor. “Hey, you found a survivor. Good job Xander.”

Glenn was going to die. He knew it the moment he saw that guy. Then the leather wearing chick with a rifle came. The woman made a step towards him and he screamed again until he felt a large, calloused hand clamp over him mouth.

“Be quiet,” said the guy, from less than ten inches from his face.

Glenn got a really good look at the guy and up close he looked positively evil. He only prayed that these two didn't turn out to be cannibals.

“We aren't going to hurt you,” said the woman with a smile. “I'm Dawn and this is my husband Xander.”

He heard a meow from his left and looked to see a black cat.

The woman, Dawn, scooped the cat up. “This is Tallahassee.”

He lost it right there and then. “You named a cat after a character in a movie about zombies? Are you people crazy?”


AN:** The Stand was written by Stephen King. Go to your library and check out this book.
AN:* Zombieland from 2009 and distributed by Columbia Pictures.

AN: I don't know if this will turn into a story or stay as a One-Shot. If this will turn into a story, it will be a black comedy most likely, that won't treat itself seriously. Tell me what you think about it. Read and Review.
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