The apocalypse ruined his life.

He knew that, because he lost half of his family and friends, everything he ever knew, fought to just get through another day, and he really never thought he’d be in a position as such. Regulus was once happier with his deranged family than he was with roaming around empty towns, and when they weren’t empty, they were full of walkers. He obviously didn’t know what was worse, considering he could either run into walkers and deal with the putrid smell of them trying to tear his flesh, or getting shot at by others that were alive and had turned on everything that breathed.

So when Regulus, Barty, Evan, Pandora, Sirius, and Remus managed to make it into a different state — one that was mainly full of the countryside, a place that he somehow grew fond of even when it was against his own will since he grew up in a rich household and the countryside to him when he was younger was just the epitome of lower class, he wasn’t sure what to think about it. The cities were bare and empty except for a few walkers rushing in from forests or populated places when a mere noise was made, making it easier to grab the necessities, the sun was harsh as hell on his pale skin, the smells were not so good, but he had grown used to them, and just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, a hoard of walkers came bustling in.

Just his luck, right?