We Are Walking Dead Novels & Stories

The rescue We have been on the road for almost a full day now. Though we are vampires and most vampires can teleport, our gifts are somewhat limited in a way. We cannot teleport to a place where we have never been. Our destination is New York City and we have never been there, so we walked.

It was surrounded by those 'walkers', stumbling around like they were in a trance. "What are they?" He breathed out, staring in disbelief. He chugged some water, letting out a sigh of hydrated relief. "They call them walkers." She pointed the screen down slightly to allow him to see easier and switched to the website she was reading. "There's information on them, finally." As Adam read, she watched his expression change from confused to terrified. "This is like an actual zombie movie." He spluttered, barely able to get his words out. Behind them, a stirring caught their attention.

Walking on all four was such a bizarre feeling. "It's weird at first. Just take one step at a time." Pete is now next to me. His deep brown and black wolf stares at me as he speaks to me through our mind link. I nod to him, shaking out before taking another step. It was like learning to walk again. After a few more wobbly steps, I started to get the hang of it. Lora nuzzled against me. Her sandy blonde wolf nudging me as she spoke through the mindlink.

The world should end on a Monday. There’s something honest about that. Brutal, yes, but clean. A Monday already has the emotional texture of damp socks and unpaid bills, so adding zombies feels less like a cosmic betrayal and more like management escalating a complaint. Unfortunately, the world chooses Thursday at 6:17 p.m., while Maya Rodriguez is standing barefoot in her kitchen, trying to decide whether expired sour cream is a negotiable concept. “It smells fine,” Dex says from behind her.

The smell of blood still clung to my skin, even though none of it was mine. Nobody spoke. Not even hoodie guy, who up until now seemed incapable of shutting up. We were just a group of survivors walking through the fog like ghosts, too shell-shocked to breathe too loud. I counted four of us left. Out of about ten. Ten people got on that bus, and now—only four. A gate appeared ahead of us, tall and rusted, half-bent like something had rammed into it before. Beyond it was a faint light blinking but steady. My pulse quickened. It looked almost… safe.

The door swung open, and there stood Chester, who was supposed to have been a fixture in the morgue for the past two weeks. I nodded at him, my face a blank slate. "It's been a while!" The relatives froze, their exchanged glances screaming silent panic. "Ah!" "He's alive!" "I said we shouldn't visit the morgue after midnight, but no, you had to see for yourselves!" "All this for a few bucks from selling their organs? It's not worth dying over." My aunt, gripping Theodore's arm and shaking it, wailed. I let out an icy laugh, lifted my hand, and gave Chester a slap that left a red mark blazing on his cheek.

“It feels like we’re making a video exploring a haunted house for our YouTube channel.” “That’s a great idea,” said Elora. “We should have brought a camera.” No one laughed at the other’s jokes. They both walked down the hall. Ridiculous, Elora thought. Two werewolves, one an Alpha and the other a super-powered werewolf, stepped timidly into the darkness. As if nothing could be more deadly than them.

"We heard the call. We came. We fight." Erebus phases in beside him. Flickering between here and elsewhere. "We're broken. But we're yours. And we won't abandon family. Not again." Relief floods through me. "You came back." "We never really left." Zephyr's voices echo. "Just needed time. Needed to understand. Needed to accept what we are now." "What are you?" Luna asks gently. "Death walkers." Erebus flickers. "We exist between life and death. We can see both. Touch both. Fight in both. We're the perfect weapon against void. Because we're already halfway there."

I let out a warning growl, but Tayler seemed frightened. “They say the dead are walking,” Taylor added, backing away. “Not all of them, but enough. And not as ghosts. As weapons. There is blood being sacrificed, a lot of blood. There is fear and anger. There are screams, there are whimpers. But neither one of them makes sense. Everything just seems to hold its breath.” Ethan’s breath hitched. “This doesn't make sense. Why would they be walking? What is it that they want?”

The only thing mayo belongs in is potato salad. We arrive at the meeting point about 30 minutes early. Kai, Micah, Tomas, and I sit under a tree, tearing through the snacks we grabbed at the last gas station. Fast food doesn’t do much for a werewolf. It’s all empty calories. Gas station sandwiches and apples? Surprisingly better. “What exactly are we walking into?” Micah asks. I laugh dryly. “Picture the worst gods and goddesses you’ve ever heard of—all in one place. Bloodthirsty. Pissed. Ancient. That’s what we’re walking into.”