Below is the complete Chapter 1 of The Walking Dead: Fight to Survive. Reviews and thoughts are welcome in the comments.

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Just run. That's the only thing you need to do. Just run for your life.

Twelve-year-old Sophia Peletier kept running the words in her mind, pushing herself onward. If she gave up even for ten seconds, those...those things - the walkers - would be upon her. She just needed to press on and return to her friends and family back at the camp.

Every slight rustle in the leaves caused Sophia to jump. If she heard the sounds just a week or so ago, she would've just shrugged it off as an animal on the loose, like a squirrel or a rabbit. Maybe even a deer. But now, on this day, the slightest noise may be the slightest hint towards a walker roaming the woods.

Sophia tugged the doll she had in her hands - a gift from her friend Eliza - closely to her body. The only thing she had right now that reminded her physically of her friends. The only other slightest pieces of remembrance to her loved ones were memories.

And among those memories were the sights of her late father, Ed, flinging his fist about at her mother, Carol. The occasional crack it made against her jaw or arm. Those were the times that made Sophia dislike her father. But, overall, she couldn't hate him. He was, after all, her father, and she grew up loving him, no matter the cruel deeds he did to her or her mother.

She longed to see her mother and her friends again, at least just once more. I just wish I could see Mrs. Lori, or Mr. Rick. Or Mr. Shane. Or Mr. Daryl. A smile flashed across her face, recalling the time that Daryl had encountered her once when she was scribbling in her journal. When she called him "Mr. Daryl" - she used the "Mr." or "Mrs." title before everyone's name - he tried to make her call him by his first name only. Look, Sophia, just call me Daryl. Forget that damn "Mr." stuff.

She decided to do so. It was only one man that she would drop the "Mr." title on it, so it wouldn't be that big of a thing to do.

And Daryl. And Mr. Dale. And...

Suddenly, the one person that she realized she missed more than all the other ones - maybe even her mother - was...

Carl. If only I could see Carl once more, then I'd...I'd...

But she wasn't able to finish her thought. Just as the sentence finished in her mind, the cold grasp that wrapped around her shoulder only allowed for her to let out a cry of fear and worry.

- - -

Rick Grimes, former Sheriff's Deputy, snapped his head around at the sound of the scream.

"That was Sophia! I know it was!" The excited voice of Carl, Rick's only child, trailed off as the twelve-year-old boy darted in the direction of her shouts. "Carl! Hold on!" Rick yelled out, drawing his silver Colt Python. He turned to the trio of survivors that stood at his side. "Shane, Daryl, Glenn. Come with me."

He looked over his shoulder to two other survivors, the dark-skinned, muscular man T-Dog and the pretty, young Andrea Harrison. "T-Dog, you and Andrea go back and tell the others we've picked up on something." He held up an index finger. "Just do not let Carol go off. If we find Sophia..."

He struggled for the last word: "...dead, then she'd panic and possibly even die. Just let us find her and we'll come back with either good or bad news."

T-Dog nodded soberly. "Understood." Quickly, he and Andrea trotted off towards the direction of their group's camp. Rick turned back to Shane Walsh, his dark-haired, solemn law enforcement partner, and nodded. "Let's go." As marksman Daryl Dixon, with his sleeveless shirt showing his bare arms, notched a bolt in his crossbow, Shane shoved his shotgun into one hand. "What about Carl?"

Rick turned to look at Carl, letting out a sigh. "I guess he'll come too. He's the one that wants to find Sophia the most, I believe." Shane nodded, placing a hand on Carl's shoulder. "Well, come on, young Mr. Grimes. Let's go find your girlfriend."

In quick retaliation, Carl jumped away. "Huh?! Girlfriend!? Where'd you get that from?" Shane and Rick merely chuckled as they led the way to Sophia's direction, hoping and praying that she was still alive.