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Rebekah King Rebekah King
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The Walking Dead: A New Day - Part 1


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For Fools

This writing contains explicit content and is only for adults. You have been warned.

This is my narrative account of my experience with Telltale Games "The Walking Dead Season One" series.


Episode One – A New Day


He sits, shoulders down, head down staring at the cuffs around his wrists, slumped in defeat. The trial had weighed on him like he never thought it would. The long, agonising weeks, months, years before they finally accused him of what he knew he’d done. Lee isn’t a bad man, but he’d done a bad thing. He knows he deserves to be where he is now – in the back of a Police car headed to Macon State Prison.


He lifts his head up to stare through the windshield. The highway stretches long ahead yet, and he knows this will be the longest trip of his life, and feel like the last. His eyes drift up to the rear-vision mirror to study his own expression, but the cop in the driver’s seat happens to look in the mirror at the same moment. The cop locks his eyes with Lee and Lee puts on a hard expression. The two stare at one another for a short while before Lee turns away.


The cop’s eyes stay focused on Lee’s face in the mirror, studying the lines and contours. The tired, anguished eyes and hardened demeanour. He feels the air of regret that seems to surround Lee.


“Well, I reckon you didn’t do it, then,” The cop says, returning his attention to the road.


Lee keeps his head turned away, surprised and even vaguely frustrated that the cop is talking to him.


“Does it really matter?” He raises an eyebrow, his tone borderline sarcastic.


“Nah, not much.”


Lee looks up at the mirror briefly once more, having nothing more to say.


“Y’know, I’ve driven a bunch ‘a fellas down to this prison,” The cop continues. “Lord knows how many. Usually is ‘bout now I get the ‘I didn’t do it.’”


Lee shakes his head. “Not from me.”


“‘Cause guys in your position already said it enough?”


Lee has no response to that. The cop’s thought process is logical, but he can think up whatever logical explanation he likes. Lee knows the truth, as everybody else thinks they do, too. Lee stares out of the car’s windshield at the highway stretching ahead and there is a short moment of silence before the car’s radio pipes up.


“We’ve got what looks like a 10-91E near Peachtree Exit of 285. All cars asked to keep on the lookout for a 91V in the area.”


Lee doesn’t have a clue what any of this means, but the cop doesn’t seem too worried. There is another momentary silence before the cop glances into the rear vision mirror once more and continues.


“I followed your case a little bit, you being a Macon boy and all.”


“You’re from Macon, then,” Lee observes.


“Yep. Came up to Atlanta to be a city cop in the seventies. Always wanted to work a murder case, like that senatorial mess you got yourself mixed up in, with all due respect.”


The quiet conversation is interrupted by the sound of an approaching siren, but the cop ignores it, being used to such sounds, and keeps talking.


“A real shame, that is.”


Lee isn’t listening, however, as he turns his head towards the side window to watch another police car come screaming past – lights flashing and siren wailing – on the other side of the highway. Lee wonders briefly about where it could be going in such a hurry, but his thoughts are soon interrupted by the driver’s continued speaking, and he turns his head back to the front.


“Hell, the whole family used to be regulars at your folks’ drugstore right in downtown. Still there?”


Lee’s parents had been running the drugstore for years, with the help of his younger brother. He’s glad the cop is civil enough to mention it and can’t help a small, proud smile cross his face as he replies.


“Sure is.”


“Good.”


Lee gets to thinking about his family for a moment – regretful, but also hopeful – before he is inevitably disturbed by the radio’s constant chattering.


“Be advised of medical personnel on the route to Hartsfield. Various 10’s and 20’s coming in.”


Again, the cop ignores his fellow.


“I got a nephew up at UGA. You teach there long?” He asks through the mirror.


“Going on my sixth year,” Lee replies, wondering if he might have known the officer’s nephew.


“You meet your wife in Athens?”


This question pulls Lee up short, and he looks down from the mirror before turning back to the window. Not feeling obliged, nor prepared to discuss the subject. As Lee tries to focus on the passing scenery to distract himself, the cop persists, much to Lee’s vague annoyance.


“You want to know how I see it?”


As Lee thinks of how to reply, he sees four more police cars and a SWAT van speed past with their lights and sirens going. As Lee racks his brain for reasons why, he mutters an evasive answer to the driver’s question, hoping it will get him to drop the subject.


“Not really.”


“Well, too bad,” The cop continues. “It’s my car. You might have the right to remain silent, but it don’t mean I gotta be.”


Of course, Lee thinks. His frustration growing, Lee gives the mirror a steady warning look just in time to see the cop meet his gaze, open his mouth to speak, and then close it again. The cop is the first to look away and seems to rethink what he was about to say.


“Regardless, could be you just married the wrong woman.”


This pisses Lee off slightly and his eyebrows mash together as he glares at the mirror. ‘Or she married the wrong guy,’ He thinks to himself. He wants to say this, but decides there is no point in arguing the case, since here he sits, so he merely grumbles in discontent.


“Riot in progress. All officers are available for incoming 217’s. Rolling calls and dispatches to all locations.”


“Any of that seem important to you?” Lee asks, changing the subject.


As he does, he sees a helicopter fly overhead, quite low over the roof of the car, before another four police cars and two more SWAT vans follow it. He thinks there must be something big happening back down the way they came, what with all the mayhem on the road and the radio not shutting up.


“All of it, but that box never shuts up. Sit in this seat and pay too much attention and you’ll drive yourself crazy.”


Lee agrees with this, at least.


The cop pauses for a moment, before adding. “You’ll have to learn to stop worrying about things you can’t control.”


There’s another moment of quiet as the sirens fade, before the cop continues on his earlier tangent.


“I’m driving this man once, h-he was the worst one,” He says. “He wouldn’t stop goin’ on about how he didn’t do it. He was an older fella. Big, soft eyes behind a pair of smart folk glasses, and he’s just wailing back there, says it wasn’t him. Cryin’ and snottin’ all over, right where you’re sittin’.” He gestures to the backseat with his thumb.


The radio continues its chatter “All officers are available for incoming 217’s—” before the cop finally shuts it off altogether so he can continue talking uninterrupted. Lee doesn’t think that this is a good idea, but he won’t be the one to tell the cop his business.


“And before long he starts kickin’ the back of the seat, li-like a fussy baby on an airplane. And I tell him he’s gotta stop, that that’s government property, and I’ll be forced to zap him otherwise. So he stops, and havin’ exhausted all his options, he starts cryin’ for his mama, ‘Mama, it’s all a big mistake! It wasn’t me!’”


Lee listens and watches the cop’s animated face in the mirror, expecting him to continue. When he doesn’t, Lee’s curiosity gets the better of him.


“So did he do it?”


The cop glances in the mirror again. “They caught the fucker red-handed! Stabbin’ his wife, cuttin’ her up as the boys came through the door! He sits in my car screamin’ bloody murder that it wasn’t him! I think he actually believe it himself.” The cop shakes his head and huffs a sigh. “It goes to show, people will up and go mad when they believe their life is over.”


Lee thinks this is a pretty accurate assessment of the story he just heard. In fact, most of what this cop has said seems pretty spot-on to him. Such wisdom could only come with age and experience. It seems to Lee like this cop has seen more than enough of the world.


“Oh, I got another good one for ya,” He continues on, turning his head towards the backseat. “This one’s a little bit less depressing and a bit more hilarious if I do say so...”


Lee blocks out the cop’s voice as he stares out the windshield. For, not far ahead, he thinks he sees a figure, maybe a person standing in the middle of the road. As the car rapidly approaches the figure, Lee is able to focus on it and finds that it is, in fact, someone. His eyes widen.


“OH, SHIT!” He calls out, not having time to say anything else.


The cop does not return his attention to the road, oblivious to the danger, and they hit the person as they wander square into the middle of the car’s path. The person’s head makes contact with the windshield, dark blood splattering everywhere and the car spins out of control, crashing straight through the barrier on the side of the road, and rolling end-over-end, side-over-side down the hill. Lee sees nothing but shattering glass and twisting metal and the shrubbery flashing by the windows as he’s thrust against the dividing wall, the doors, the floor, the roof, again and again, before finally blacking out.


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