Walking Dead Graphic Novels & Stories

He puts his front paws on my thighs as I scratch his ears. "His claws," Death says slipping his hands under my arms and pulling me up I look at my thighs and see his claws pierced through my jeans and into my skin where blood was spilling. My thighs heal within seconds and I look at Death who looks surprised "We have things to do tomorrow, so your friend has to go home soon," he tells me I nod and Mika and I go inside his room. Cerberus lays his head on my lap and Mika and I talk about things.

Dozens wounded. Luca limped, his arm bloodied, leading the collection of fallen bodies. Two of the wolves shifted back to human form only to collapse. The healers arrived late, faces pale with grief. Crystal stood over the last scout’s corpse. Its cloak had fallen back, revealing a twisted mark carved into its throat. The same glyph. Burned into flesh. It pulsed faintly, even in death. She turned to Edwin as he limped forward, his steps uneven from an old injury now worsened by battle.

Create myths. I provide truth. Exact. Detailed. Undeniable. 7:18 AM - Wolf fighter (W-22, name: Sarah Klein). Throat torn by Cormac's enforcer. Bled out in forty seconds. 7:19 AM - Vampire hunter (V-34). Staked by Valentina Corvino. Turned to ash. 7:21 AM - Dragon mercenary (D-03). Holy water attack by Tom Cracksman. Burned from inside. Died screaming.

I stopped walking. My entire body went still. Shock rooted me in place. The scene before us looked less like a fight. And more like a massacre. Bodies littered the ground. Seven. No. Eight. All vampires. All dead. The first lay crumpled against a container wall. A wooden stake protruded from his chest. Directly through the heart. The second had suffered the same fate. The third was missing its head entirely. I stared. Unable to process what I was seeing.

Is our era of peace really over? I slammed on the accelerator, pushing the car to its absolute speed limit. The drive took nearly thirty minutes before I finally arrived at the scene. An ambulance was parked outside with flashing lights. Dead bodies were lined up on stretchers, their faces covered with white sheets. “Any survivors?” I questioned the attending guard. “None, Alpha.” I pulled back the sheet covering one of the bodies. The flesh was torn beyond recognition—not even a wild werewolf would butcher someone this viciously. What exactly are we dealing with?

I call out to the tense redhead with pale skin and a shaky trigger finger, "It's me, Hyacinth. Hyacinth James." At the sound of my voice, the gun slowly lowers. "Dr. James!" she squeaks. "Oh thank the Goddess! I thought you might have been one of those wolf-bies" As she comes closer she crinkles her nose at the smell of the rank mud smeared all over my body. "Let's get you cleaned up." "Wolf-bie?" "Wolf zombie," she clarifies. "Have you seen them out there 'patrolling' the town? They are more like the undead than the living the way they have no will of their own."

“Besides… we could—” I raise my hand, making her halt. “How did you know it was bitten by something?” “It’s very clear… I mean, not to you guys, but it’s easy for me. His body is pale blue, his veins reddish-green, and he looked stiff, like he had been frozen before death. That’s not how humans die.” She pulls out an iPad from her coat. “Take a look at this,” she hands me the device. I roll my eyes. “Glad you got it,” she whispers, snatching the device back from my hand.

He watched their healers do the same to others—they had to try something—anything to save them. “There’s no use. They’re gone.” Walker held the little girl in his arms and felt her warmth against him. She looked like a miniature Roxie—and he felt this child could have easily been a replica of what his beloved looked like when she was a little girl. “She’s dead, asshole,” Evans snarled, “You’ll help us with them.” But he breathed into her—somehow there was a light thud in her neck and as a vampire, he could see right through her to the vein.

com' I clicked on it, a photograph of a wolf who had been directly injected popped up, invading my laptop screen. The man was dead. He had lost blood from his eyes, nose and ears. His eyes were sunken into his head like a zombie and his hair looked like it had fallen out in patches. His skin was blotchy with white patches all over it, and it looked like giant scabs. All of his fangs had fallen out and his claws, too. I read the caption below it;

Audrey and a small team of Smoke-Walkers—whose wolf-blood provided a high metabolic resistance to the pheromones—had to crawl through the city’s secondary ducts, which were already being choked by white, spider-web-like fungi. In the dark of the vents, Audrey encountered a "Drowned" man—a Glass-Walker who had been taken by the forest weeks ago. He stood in the ventilation shaft, his skin replaced by thick bark, his eyes glowing with a soft, bioluminescent amber. He didn't attack; he just stood there, a living statue.