Walking Dead Graphic Novels & Stories

she said, sniffling as I gently patted her back. I took one last look at my mom, Grandma, Angela, and then at the children, wives, and pregnant women. I nodded and then headed out. The air outside was thick with the smell of death, and the sky above was a swirling mass of darkness, even though it wasn’t nighttime yet. The ground was scattered with the bodies of werewolves, witches, and vampires, all lifeless. My heart ached as I walked past them. Taking a deep breath, I focused on finding that one person.

To say I was surprised that I wasn't put in a cell for what I was, was an understatement. I was surprised and embarrassed. The Skinwalkers I fought ended up using their venom at some point when we fought, so I wasn't healing as fast. The Gamma's mate had to help me wash myself, since I could barely move without feeling sharp shooting pain. Skinwalker venom was dangerous and could cause a lot of pain, but if used in the right way could be used as a pain reliever, or paralytic agent or if mixed properly could be used as an anesthetic, or heat suppressant.

Not even a single try. “What does it say?” I asked, brows furrowing as I rubbed both of my palms to create warmth. The cold had been much cruel today ever since we arrived at the healer’s cabin. I encouraged myself to look at the drawings instead; the art style is pretty much gothic, if not ancient. It wasn’t inked. Hues of black and white were embedded on the golden brown pages of the material. I saw the graphics of a human and a werewolf. They were doing something strange… some sort of a ritual. Elliot did not flip the pages further so I ended up guessing that that was it.

A husband, a wife and their only son. Colours, black and white. It was all black and white. Black and white meant death. So only two things held colour. Only two living things in the painting. Himself, and the fire. Ashleigh left Damien to himself for a few minutes. She knew the healing was not up to her but up to him. She was looking at some of the other awareness posters and some paintings around. After a while Damien approached her. "Ready to try again?" she asked him. "Yeah."

I jerked off when the other military wagon behind us is currently shooting those people with a body of a dead. I wanted to scream loudly but instead, I felt the impulses of vomiting surging from my stomach. Gross to think, but I badly needed to eject and puke this out in my mouth after noticing some people walking with an enormous crater in their womb, and others are surely having a great time screwing their eyes out. Oh, fuck! "People who got saturated with the rain earlier will become like that. We called them walkers and they're already undead. Zombies, they say. And if you got bitten by them, foresee that you'll gonna be one of them in less than an hour."

Soon there were some vampires all around them. “I don’t want to hurt you guys.” spoke Wade. A vampire ran closer to hurt them but Wade rapidly picked him up and threw him away. Wade’s eyes turned more golden and his skin changed color to white. His teeth grew sharper and he looked fiercer than ever. The vampires around them started to scream. These were some low pitched horrible screams with very high frequencies. Dara held her ears because she couldn’t take those screams anymore. William also couldn’t hear the screams. He held his ears and laid on the ground.

A creature, laying on the floor, clearly dead. I clenched my jaw and looked around the room, finding no signs of anyone having been there. I walked towards the dead body. It was a werewolf this time. She had been one of the few creatures that helped with medical related situations. She was the one that made sure to update me on how the pixie I woke up had been.

In which case, watch your back. Taking the Glock from its holster, it's a comfort to hold, but means that I have to choose between the phone or the handkerchief for the other hand, and I'll not get far without some light. Both weapon and torch aimed forward, I walk on. Holding my breath against the rank air, I pick my way through the bodies, watching all the while for any of the lost and the lonely that is more than he appears. But the living dead remain prone on their stinking pallets. I pass through unmolested and without incident.

He groans faintly, eyes half open. “Stay with me,” I whisper. “You’re okay. Just stay awake.” He tries to speak but coughs blood instead. His skin is pale, his breathing shallow. “Damien’s here,” I tell him softly. “He’s got you.” But when I look back up, it’s worse. More Wendigos are dead now—at least twenty. The last few hesitate, backing away slowly. Even Marcus looks shaken, wiping the blood from his mouth, his confidence finally cracked.

Grey chuckles. ‘We should go and check it out. It could be serious.’ I tell Leo, to which he nods and picks me up. We reach the training area few minutes later, with me glued to Leo’s front and Grey walking beside us in silence. Once we’re there, everyone’s eyes turn to us. Well, almost everyone’s. One of the Deads is snarling and growling furiously at a male warrior from Leo’s pack. The Dead is in his wolf form, with blood dripping from his stomach, and the warrior is breathing heavily with scratch marks all over his naked torso.