Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Deputy Rick Grimes, a youthful man in his mid-thirties was casually inside the police cruiser, his clean-shaven face reflecting the calm demeanour of someone accustomed to maintaining order. His uniform was crisp, the badge on his chest gleaming in the sunlight that filtered through the windshield. With one arm draped over the steering wheel and the other resting on the open window frame, he exuded a relaxed confidence.

Next to him, his partner: Deputy Shane Walsh, sat with a more imposing, masculine build, exuding a quiet strength that filled the small space of the cruiser. His broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his uniform, and his muscular arms rested heavily on his lap, the veins slightly visible beneath his skin.

“What’s the difference between men and women?” Rick questioned. Shane quickly responded with “I never met a woman who knew how to turn off a damn light. Honestly, I swear they’re just born thinking that they only go one way (brief pause) on”. Rick glanced at his partner and chuckled at his answer, as they both sat eating some questionable chips bought from a nearby food truck. Shane carried on with his answer by saying, “I swear, I’d come home and the whole house would be lit up, so then it’s my responsibility to walk through every room and turn off every single light that this chick left on”. Rick Grinned and asked, “is that so?” Shane smoothly responded by saying “yeahhh baby, that’s right. Then this same chick, will bitch to me about global warming. Now this is where I wanna make my point, about how if her and every other pair of boobs in the world could just figure out that the light switch goes both ways, maybe we wouldn’t have so much global warming”. Rick raised an eyebrow at Shanes comment and asked, “you really say that?” Shane grinned and waited briefly before saying, “well no, I choose the polite version and yet that still earns me this face, like I’ve just slapped a damn puppy dog in the face. That brings out her exorcist impression, telling me, YOU SOUND JUST LIKE MY FATHER!” Rick laughed at Shanes demonic impression then Shane wrapped up his point by saying, “This bitch really been hearing the same thing her whole life, and yet she’s still too damn stupid to learn how to turn off a damn switch.” This results in the pair giggling at the conclusion to the story.

There was a sudden drop in the laughter after Shane meekly asked, “…how’s things with Lori man?” Rick sighed and replied by saying, “It’s liked she’s pissed at me all the time, and I just don’t know why. It’s like anything I say makes her impatient when I try to fix things.” “Shit man. It’ll pass,” Shane cautiously said. Rick Responded to this by saying, “last thing she said to me this morning was she wonders if I even care about her and Carl anymore. She said that Shane, right Infront of our ten-year-old son. Difference between men and women? I would never have said something like that Infront of Carl.”

Chatter from the radio broke the silence in the car, when the officers received the call about an armed robbery in progress at a local jewellery store, only a few blocks from where they were parked. Shane immediately leaned out the window and dumped the chips into a nearby bin, then accelerated the car, sounding the siren as they sped down the busy streets of Georgia.

“Hold on!” Shane Exclaimed as they both exited the vehicle, handguns drawn. “Backups on the way man, don’t go charging in like that… Lori would kill me if I let you rush in there alone without a vest on.” Rick paused and scrunched his mouth impatiently. Suddenly several gunshots were heard from inside the store. Shane stooped behind the car while Rick advanced and crouched outside the Jewellery store. “Shane, go round the back, see if there’s another way inside,” Rick ordered. “Shit man… don’t screw this up” Shane huffed, as he reluctantly stood up and scuffled around to the side of the store. Meanwhile Rick stood up from his crouched posture and adopted an authoritative stance, his index finger clutching the side of his gun, away from the trigger. The glass door set off a slow jingle as Rick advanced into the store. This sound alerted the Caucasian armed thief to turn his head away from the petrified store owner as she shakenly filled a duffel bag with a variety of necklaces and rings. “God dammit little brother, you were supposed to keep watch,” the looter grumbled under his breath with a distinct Georgia, redneck accent. Rick fixed his aim on the thief’s chest and rooted his feet in place then stated, “Sir I’m going to have to ask you to lower your weapon.” The looter raised his arms in a surrender with the handgun pointing at the ceiling and chuckled, “sure thing Officer Friendly… but only coz you asked so nicely.” Rick seemed hesitant to approach the thief but progressed regardless, ensuring his piercing blue eyes remained fixed on the crook. Suddenly, a second, less raspy, redneck voice was heard calling out from the back exit to the store, “MERLE, move yo ass now! There’s more of them on the way.” The thief gave a light-hearted smile, then without hesitation fired several shots at Rick. The first two missed and struck the glass door behind the deputy, causing it to shatter. However, the third, shot the deputy clean through his chest, causing blood to splatter over what remained of the door. Rick collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, while his eyes bulged as a result of the shock and adrenaline.

Meanwhile, Shane drew his firearm and had his sights on the younger crook as he crept around the side of the jewellery store. The younger thief had short, shaggy hair that was of a dirty blonde colour, and he was waiting on a custom-built motorcycle with a black handkerchief covering his mouth that had been fashioned into a mask. “King-County Sheriff’s Department, step away from the vehicle now!” Shane ordered. That’s when he heard the gunshots from inside the store. “Shit!” Shane exclaimed, quickly abandoning his post as he charged into, the now empty jewellery store to assist his injured partner who was shaking on the ground in a pool of blood. “Stay with me man, I got you brother,” Shane said while panicking. Surrounding sirens could be heard, alongside the muffled voices of the fellow officers, as Ricks eyes fluttered shut and slipped unconscious.

Rick laid in a hospital bed hooked up to an oxygen tank, staring at the ceiling locked in a trance. Rick coughed and wheezed as he called out, “Shane, You there?” The room was eerily silent, not even a beep from a heart monitor was heard. He tilted his face which now sported a shaggy, but short beard to look at a vase of wilted flowers by the side of his bed. He reached out a shaky arm which had a medical tag secured around his wrist and then rustled the crispy petals which dropped onto the pile of dead flower-heads on the table. “Shane?” Rick called out again, as he pulled himself up-right and attempted to stand up, removing the oxygen mask. His legs were frail due to his muscles atrophying and he fell to the ground with a hard thud, pulling the IV drip he was connected to, down onto the floor with him. “Nurse, help!” he spluttered as he tried to stand back up, noticing the clock face which had frozen at quarter past two. Rick pulled the IV wire free from his arm and shuffled towards the door.

As he pulled the door open, he encountered a medical bed barricading him inside. He wheeled it to the side, allowing him to stumble into the dimly lit corridor with admission forms and patient records littered on the tiled floor. Not a single person roamed the clinical halls, just the sound of the flickering lights and Ricks raspy breathing filled the space. He approached the reception desk and attempted to make a phone call, but the line was completely dead. He slowly put the phone down in confusion and rummaged through the desk, finding a box of matches. Rick was dressed in a patient gown with no pockets, so he carried them in his hand as he staggered towards a set of doors.
Rick’s already pale face suddenly got even horrified as he peered through the window as he saw a lady on the ground, her stomach entirely hollowed out and her legs were stripped clean of muscle and skin. Rick trembled in place for a few moments to process the horrific sight and then frantically backed away from the doors, scuffling down a long, dark corridor towards the cafeteria, noticing blood splatters and bullet holes embedded in the walls. Cables hung from the collapsed ceiling as Rick advanced towards the double doors, stepping on broken glass and rubble as he walked. The doors were barricaded shut with a plank of wood slotted through the handles and a chain securing both handles together. He looked at the writing written in black spray paint which read “DON’T OPEN, DEAD INSIDE”. The doors began to slowly open from the other side, just enough for two dishevelled hands to creep through, feeling the chain in an unintelligible manner. Rick’s eyes widened and his breathing increased to a panicked state as he began to piece together the horror he had woken up to.

After stumbling away from the cafeteria, Rick used his shoulder to push open a nearby door leading to a fire exit. Inside was a stairwell leading down two stories into total darkness. He cautiously made his way down the steps, clinging to the railing while his eyes adjusted to the lack of light. As he approached the exit, Rick could hear distant groans from behind him, but instead of investigating them he chose to ignore them and push the door to freedom open.

The stairwell was flooded with daylight, causing Rick to shield his eyes from the harsh change in lighting. It took a few moments for his vision to return and once he stopped squinting, he looked up at a wave of body bags in the hundreds all piled on top of one another, swarmed by flies and other insects like a mass grave kept on the surface. “Fuck. Lori, Carl” Rick muttered to himself as he realised his wife and ten-year-old son could very easily be among the corpses.

Rick managed to pace himself on foot towards his hometown which was only a few miles from the Harrison Memorial Hospital. He had made that journey a few times before, for occasions like the birth of his son, or when he fell off the roof after he and Shane tried to surprise Carl by hanging a bunch of Christmas lights all over the ‘Grimes’ family home almost two years ago. However, this time Rick did not have the luxury of a car to complete the journey as easily as the times before.

Rick was about three Miles from his house when he spotted the sun reflecting on a metal object toppled over in the long grass by the side of the downhill road he was hobbling down. He saw two pink handlebars poking out from the overgrown grass as he got closer, but then he heard a familiar groaning sound, one like he heard from the hospital stairwell and cafeteria.

It didn’t take much to locate the source of the groan, as a young woman laid collapsed next to the pink bicycle with her stomach shredded open with parts of her intestines laid sprawled on the floor. Her lower body was entirely gone and once she noticed Rick, she slowly lifted her decaying head so Rick could stare into her cold lifeless eyes in disbelief. Rick was totally stunned by how she could still be moving in that condition. However, there she was, moving lazily grabbing at the ground to pull herself an inch closer to Rick and chomping down with her rotting teeth between her weakened groans. Rick grabbed the handlebars, lifting the bike upright which caused him to wince in pain from his muscle fatigue. He continued to study how this monster struggled to pull her torso closer to his ankles but refused to let her grab onto his leg. After the pain in his arm subsided, he began pushing the bike back onto the road. He took one last sorrowful look at her before straddling the seat and cycling while still bare foot, the remainder of his journey back home.

Rick Dismounted the bike when he arrived outside his family home, stumbling towards the front door which appeared to be busted wide open from the outside. As he crept inside past the doorframe, he felt shards of glass penetrate his bare feet from the shattered windows. Framed photos of Rick’s life and family hung on the walls, mostly still hanging upright. “LORI!?… CARL!?” Rick bellowed while waiting for any response but was met with a cold silence. He called out a second and third time, his voice gradually becoming more distressed at the reality of them being long gone or dead. Rick then turned into his living room where Carl’s toys laid on the carpet and Lori’s sewing kit was set out on a small table, fixed in the time they were last used. [Whack] Suddenly, a shovel was swung with full force into the back of Ricks head, knocking him to the ground and causing him to fade into unconsciousness. A short, blurry figure loomed over him as his vision faded. “Daddy, I got one, I got one real good,” was the last thing Rick heard before slipping into a deep sleep from the attack.

Chapter Text

Only a few hours had passed once Rick had regained consciousness, though the sun had now set, and Rick was handcuffed to a bed in a dark room illuminated by a candle on the bedside table. "Good, you're awake. I was worried I was gonna have to put a bullet in you," said a deep voice from the doorway as an African American man wearing a blue button up shirt, shifted around the doorframe. Although his head was entirely shaven of hair, grey stubble sprouted from his top lip and chin. Rick estimated him to be around his mid-forties and although he was just attacked, Rick did not feel threatened by the man as he approached the bed. The man pulled a key from his cargo trouser pocket. "Now before I take these off, I need to know what that wound is mister." "I was shot," Rick answered bluntly, still hazy from the head injury. "You sure? You sure it isn't a bite, because I need you to be one hundred percent sure it isn't?" the man asked in a stern voice, pointing the key at Ricks face. "I'm positive. I was shot," Rick said with an assured stare into the man's hazelnut eyes. "Alright then," the man said unlocking the handcuffs. "There's a change of clothes on the dresser, join us downstairs for dinner when you're decent," the man said while disappearing around the doorframe.

Rick stepped down the staircase in a white t-shirt and black sweatpants and entered the dining room to a house with a very similar layout to his own. The dining room was an open plan connecting to both the kitchen and living area. Photos littered the countertops, some removed from their frames which had been used to fuel a small fire in the fireplace. Rick recognised the elderly couple in the photos and stated, "This is the Jeffersons house, they live across the road from us." Rick took a seat opposite the man. "Lived. I'm sorry mister, but they were dead when me and my boy first raided this place." "Me and pa buried them in the garden," a young boy, the same age as Ricks son, entered the room and pulled out one of the wooden chairs out to sit at the table next to the other man. The boy had a short black afro and was wearing a bright red jumper with a large image of Snoopy the dog on the front. "I think it's time we introduced ourselves, my names Morgan Jones and this is my son Duane." "Rick Grimes... I was looking for my family when something hit me from behind." Duane looked at his father with a sorry look, and Morgan responded by saying, "we apologise for that Rick, Duane here mistook you for one of the dead, so he hit you with a shovel. We dragged you back here once we realised that you were still breathing." Rick looked confused by Morgans explanation and asked, "how did you mistake me for a dead person when I was standing up Morgan?" Morgan looked even more puzzled by Ricks question and answered after a brief silence. "...Rick, the dead have been doing a lot more than standing up these past two months." Ricks eyes bulged open, and he shot up from his seated position while exclaiming, "I'm sorry, did you say two months?" Morgan also stood up, gesturing his arms to calm him down while saying in a hushed tone, "Keep your voice down, you'll let the dead know we're in here." "Shit Morgan what the hell's going on? if I've been in a coma for the past two months, I need to know what's happened to my family."

Morgan looked at Rick with a worried look which grew sympathetic as he started to recount the tragic events of the last two months. "We got warnings on all the news channels, that's how it all started. The dead don't stay dead no more Rick. Sometimes you come back after, but not as you, as one of 'them." "We've seen it happen." Duane chipped in, before getting teary eyed at the memory. Morgan hugged his son and continued by saying, "that's right. My wife Jenny, she got bit early on by one of them monsters out there, we call them Walkers, or simply just the dead. Their only goal is to eat you, but a bite is enough to kill you, that's why we were worried about your wound. Once the bite kills you, it brings you back, but as one of 'them,' and the cycle continues." Rick appeared overwhelmed by all this, but pushed on asking more questions like: "I think I saw one. A 'Walker' you called them? on my way from the hospital. She was torn in half, but she still tried to get to me. How do you stop these things. If splitting them in half doesn't do it, then what does?" "A blow to the head seems to be the only thing that stops 'em. We've been using the shovel mostly. A gun does the trick too but that makes a lot of noise, and in this world, noise is a big risk you don't wanna be taking if you can help it." A silence fell in the room, which was disturbed by a grumble in Duane's stomach, followed by him asking "Can we please eat now?" Morgan gestured for Rick to sit back at the table and served three small portions of tomato soup freshly warmed by the fireplace into a collection of floral-patterned china bowls. The boys ate in silence while Rick processed everything Morgan had told him, fearing for his family's safety.

Once morning came, the boys were stood outside discussing an idea Rick produced during the night. "My family would've gone to the city for shelter. I know my wife; I don't doubt that's where they are, so I need to find a way there Morgan" Rick explained. "How the hell are you gonna get all the way to Atlanta on foot Rick?" Morgan responded disapproving of his suggestion. "I won't be, that's the thing. I have the keys to my precinct in my house. With them we can grab some guns, some supplies and more importantly a car." Morgan lifted his head, intrigued by the possibility of the stashed away supplies. "We'd better get going then." With that approval, all three of the boys made their way to Rick's house where Rick changed into his beige sheriff's uniform, accompanied with a brown stetson skyline hat with a yellow tassel strung around the brim. Morgan and Duane gathered tinned goods into a rucksack each and before leaving the house, Rick grabbed the precinct keys from an empty fruit bowl, and the small group soon made way for the police station.

It didn't take long for them to arrive at their destination, and both Rick and Morgan were surprised that the precinct appeared to be mostly untouched from the outside. "Suppose people were too scared to loot a police station, worried about getting locked up or something. Hell, what laws even apply anymore," Morgan said peering through a large window. "I guess that's something we'll have to figure out for ourselves," Rick Sighed as he unlocked the front door, followed inside by Duane and Morgan.

"We'll load up on guns and ammo first, the armoury is just this way." Rick unlocked the door and the metal gate securing the guns in place. Both sides of the room were stocked with twelve-gauge shotguns secured upright, and Glock seventeens and nineteens secured on a wall mount. Rick however had his mind set on his trusty sidearm, unlocking his personal locker and retrieving a six-barrel Colt Python revolver. "Daddy, can I have this one?" Duane said as he picked up a revolver. Morgan took the gun out of his son's hand gently and replied, "you are old enough to have one under the circumstances, but until I teach you how to shoot, you do not touch anything in here, understand?" Duane nodded his head and held open a duffle bag for his dad, as he loaded it up with ammunition.

It took less than an hour to gather up two duffle bags each, of supplies, ammunition, and a variety of guns, which were loaded into two identical Ford Crown Victoria police cruisers. "I'm sorry we're not coming with you Rick; I just feel it's safer for me and Duane here," Morgan apologized as he patted Rick on the shoulder. "I understand, we don't even know if the Atlanta safe zone is still operational. It's a big risk, but I have to find my family Morgan." The pair of them shook hands with a firm grip and nodded in mutual understanding. "I won't forget what you've done for me and my boy," Morgan stated, ruffling his hand into his son's puffy hair. "I'll try to not whack you so hard with that shovel next time I see you mister Grimes." Duane said looking up to Rick with a smirk. "That's alright Duane, just make sure I'm actually a Walker next time," generating a collection of short laughs amongst the group. After saying their final goodbyes, they each got into a cruiser and drove off in the same direction towards Rick's neighbourhood. Morgan parked outside the Jeffersons and waved off Rick who continued his journey in the same direction as the Harrison Memorial Hospital.

Rick slowed his driving when reaching a familiar location. Once the car came to a complete stop, he pulled up the handbrake and exited the car while leaving the engine running. He lifted his feet to trudge over the overgrown grass towards a trail of blood amongst a long parting in the grass where he previously found the bike. After passing the remains of the woman's legs, he noticed she had clawed a fair distance away from where he left her. It didn't take long for Rick to catch up to her withered torso where she began to get riled up at his arrival, lifting her scrawny arm towards him, once again chomping her rotting teeth. "I'm sorry this happened to you," Rick said raising his python to her grotesque head. [Blam] a single shot was fired through the woman's eye, out of mercy. Rick got back in his car and continued his journey to the city.

"Shit," Rick muttered to himself as the police cruiser began to rattle and slow down due to the lack of fuel. It was early in the morning, Rick had spent the night in the car, mostly undisturbed by Walkers. It was less than twenty miles to Atlanta city, the nearest shelter appearing to be a farmhouse tucked away down a dirt path. Rick tapped on a few of the windows, announcing his presence and the need for fuel, but was met with silence. As he approached the fourth window which was cracked open, Rick was blindsided by a foul smell and loud buzz of hundreds of fly's flying in and out of the living room. Rick peered through the window, looking between a spatter mark on the window. "Oh god," was all Rick could say when seeing the half blown out skull of a man, slumped over in an orange armchair, shotgun flopped over his lap, with his finger still on the trigger. Disgusted by the sight, Rick retched and walked over to a large fenced off area to escape the foul smell.

As he was about to return to his car, Rick heard a horse neighing from the fenced area, giving him some hope that this wasn't a wasted trip. He approached the small stable where a large brown horse was feeding on scraps of hay and grass, completely unbothered by Rick's approach. "Hey buddy, I got a proposition for ya. I need some help getting to Atlanta," Rick muttered as he stroked along the horse's face which had a single white stripe of hair running down the middle. The horse lifted his head and exhaled hard enough to knock Ricks hat off his head. "I'll take that as a yes." Rick retrieved both duffle bags of guns and ammo and then climbed up onto the calm horse after saddling him up and with a tug of the reign the horse darted off into a full-blown sprint. "Easy boy, we still got a long way to go, don't wear yourself out just yet," Rick laughed as he set a slower pace for the eager horse.

The clopping of the horses' hoofs echoed loudly on the concrete of the deserted interstate eighty-five. Rick had a bad feeling when he noticed the pile up of cars trying to leave the city, contrasting the totally abandoned entrance that he was pacing down. The city streets were eerily silent, military checkpoints were left unattended and multiple beige Ford GPW's were wrapped around traffic lights or flipped upside down.

Rick continued looking for any form of life, but the horse was becoming increasingly agitated by a nearby presence. Suddenly, as Rick turned into a junction, he was met with over a hundred undead eyes all turning around to notice him, some were dressed in military gear while the majority were in a variety of casual clothing. The groans roared through the streets when the sight of fresh meat riled up every single undead soul which began to stagger towards Rick. Rick had been fortunate to only encounter a few stragglers until now, though his luck seemed to be up, with more appearing around every city corner.

He was trapped, the dead approaching him from every angle clawing at his legs and the horse. The horse became more panicked, lifting its front legs and getting a few kicks off, on a few of the Walkers crushing their skulls. However, it sadly wasn't enough, the horse was dragged down, knocking Rick and both duffle bags onto the ground.

Rick was able to slip away as the swarm of undead civilians tore apart the horse, devouring its organs and flesh, its distressed cries only attracted more to join the feast. Rick, now only equipped with a hatchet he found at Morgans house and his Python containing five rounds, sprinted away from the bloodbath firing two rounds into two nearby Walkers' skulls. This alerted more that missed out on the horse frenzy to Ricks location and began staggering towards him as he sprinted towards a tank. A woman wearing a floral-patterned dress reached out to grab his arm was met with a hatchet splitting a hole into her face, he did this to two more with increased aggression with each strike as he got closer to the tank. He fired off another round into another skull before diving under the tank clawing his way forward. Surrounding Walkers were aware of his location and began crawling under the tank towards him, grabbing at his boots and arms. He fired another shot at a young army recruit trying to take a bite out of his ankle. Understanding he has one round left; Rick held the gun up to his temple, thinking of his wife and son most likely being amongst those trying to eat him right now. As he looked up, finger on the trigger, he noticed the hatch underneath the tank was open. Without hesitation he shook off the weak grip some of the Walkers had on his legs and climbed inside the tank sealing the hatch shut.

Rick collapsed back against the wall next to the former tank operator who had skin as grey as the monsters outside. Rick grabbed the military issued pistol from the holster which alerted the corpse, waking it up. Rick was on high alert by now so with one quick swing of his hatchet the Walker was put down, allowing Rick to collapse and take a few controlled breaths. "Hey... hey you!" Rick looked up at the sound of a radio transmission. "Dumbass... yeah, you in the tank. Cosy in there?"

Chapter Text

Rick tilted his head, bewildered by the voice on the radio. “You still alive in there dumbass?” After hearing the young male’s voice a second time, Rick realised this wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him and immediately jolted upright, banging his head on the low metal roof, grunting in pain and lowering his stance before lunging over to grab the microphone. It was a push-to-talk type radio, so Rick held down the button on the side of the microphone and responded to the voice by saying, “hello? Hello!” then waited for a reply. “Good, you are alive. That makes rescuing your ass a little easier.” Rick was eager to leave the claustrophobic hull, so he pressed on by asking “You’re gonna try to rescue me? What’s happening out there?” There was a brief pause until the voice came through again, sounding concerned. “I’m not going to lie to you… it’s not good. You have one freak on top of the tank, that’s your best exit point. The horse is keeping most of the others busy for now, but that won’t be the case for much longer.”

Rick was dripping with sweat, and he knew that even if this was a trap, this guy was his only way out of his situation. “Right, so what do we do?” Rick said, gaining confidence in the idea of going back outside. “Run… you open the hatch above you and run. You just have to make it about a hundred yards south, away from the direction you came in. Then, I’ll signal you when you get close… assuming you make it that far.” Rick exhaled and asked, “what about the bags of guns, can I get to those?” “Dude, forget the bags! You have anything on you that you can use?” Rick inspected the clip out of the military issued pistol and replied, “I have a pistol with a full clip, one shot left in my revolver and a hatchet.” “Good, but don’t fire any more shots if you can help it, keep it quiet and maybe we don’t end up like your horse.” “Hey, what’s your name?” Rick asked, realising he had no idea who this voice was. “Have you been listening to any of this, you’re running out of time!”

With that warning, Rick let go of the microphone, letting it swing by its chord, psyching himself up to open the hatch. Then, out of the corner of his eye Rick spotted a grenade resting by the corpse’s hand. He steadily picked it up along with a satchel wrapped over the dead Walker’s shoulder and placed the grenade inside. With one hand clutching his hatchet, the other on the handle with a clammy grip, Rick began to psych himself up to make a break for it.

The hatch flung open with a loud bang, alerting the Walker sprawled on top of the tank, but before it had any time to attack, Rick swung the hatchet into his skull with an overhead swing. He slid down the back end of the tank, stumbling when he landed on the ground. The voice was right, most of the dead were still swarmed around the horse carcass, which was now mostly just a mess of bones and torn skin.

Rick sprinted away from the tank, pushing two female Walkers to the ground with a shoulder barge. He soon realised that several more were approaching him from all angles, so he pulled out the pistol from his newfound satchel and carried on running. Ricks aim was hindered by his sprint, firing off three rounds into a Walker blocking his path, two of the rounds pierced its chest and one through the cheek, killing it instantly. The noise only attracted more attention, so Rick continued shooting, putting down five more walking corpses while on the move.

He made a harsh turn down a side alley roughly a hundred yards from the tank. Rick was still on high alert, so when he turned the corner and saw a figure less than three feet away, he pointed his gun at the figures face ready to shoot. “Whoa, NOT DEAD! Come on!” yelled the baby-faced Asian male, he must’ve been approximately twenty years old and was wearing a white button up shirt with a black undershirt underneath. “This way,” instructed the young man as they both quickly scaled a tall fire escape ladder. The following swarm of walking corpses were baffled by their ability to climb, and remained at the ladders base, reaching up towards Rick, groaning as they stumbled over each other.

Both men stood on the high platform, trying to catch their breath. The young man adjusted the red baseball cap on his head and said, "nice moves cowboy. Was you thinking you could just ride in here all by yourself and clean up the town?” Rick was looking over the railing while panting and replied, “cowboy?” The young man looked Rick dead in the eye and said, “The hat, the horse, the revolver. You’re telling me you’re not Clint Eastwood’s stunt double with the shit you just pulled out there?” Rick was a little bit thrown off by the similarities and responded by saying, “I came here to find my family. I thought the city would be a safe zone for them.” The man gave a light smile and said, “Jesus, so you are just a dumbass then. The names Glenn by the way.” Rick then introduced himself and they began climbed up a second, much taller ladder towards the roof of a jewellery store. “Brightside, it’ll be the fall that kills us” Glenn said as they looked over the edge and then added, “I’m a glass half full kind of guy.”

The pair made their way down and around the side of the tall building, and while Glenn was opening a closed-door Rick asked, “Why’d you stick your neck out for me, why not just leave me in the tank?” Glenn replied while opening a second, much heavier door to a carpark by saying, “call me foolish for having hope, but maybe someday if I wind up down shit creek, somebody else might just do the same for me… Or maybe that just makes me an even bigger dumbass than you.”

Glenn pulled out a walkie-talkie from his rucksack and delivered information on their location, as well as the sudden approach of two beefy looking Walkers as they waited on the car parks lowest level. A door suddenly swung open from a connecting clothing store and two tough-looking men charged out towards the walkers dressed in safety vests and jeans. The Caucasian man led the assault equipped with a large crowbar, which he held effortlessly in his left hand. He was a bearded man wearing denim jeans and a grey unbuttoned flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing a forest of thick black hair. He appeared to be a few years ahead of Rick, which was indicated by the sparse collection of greyish hairs that littered the man’s deep brown beard and receding hairline.

The other man had much darker skin and was dressed in a white shirt with an unknown band logo on the front. Unlike his partner, this man’s arms and head were totally void of any hair and he looked to be a similar age to Rick, possibly being in his mid-thirties. He was also armed, but with a metal baseball bat.

They both charged into the slow-paced Walkers, tackling them to the concrete floor. In unison they both swung their weapons repeatedly down onto the monsters, cracking open their skulls and ribs. This distraction allowed Glenn and Rick to bolt it past them and into the clothing store unscathed. “Allen lets go,” ordered the man with the bat before running inside behind the others.

“Thanks Jacqui,” Glenn quickly said as they hurried past a woman with dark skin as she held the backdoor open for the four men, closing it behind them once they were all inside. The lady was wearing a short-sleeved black denim jacket and hugged the man with the bat before they all walked down the narrow corridor towards the shopfloor.

Suddenly, a firm grip snagged Ricks collar as he entered the open space, and he was pushed into the checkout counter with a pistol pointed at his face. “You son of a bitch, we oughta kill you,” said the terrified blonde woman holding the gun. She was dressed in a blue sweater with a collared shirt underneath with her hair tied into a loose ponytail. “Andrea, chill the fuck out,” Allen said calmly. “We’re all dead because of this asshole,” she said lowering the gun and backing off towards the others. “I don’t understand,” Rick said looking at them in confusion. Allen grabbed Rick by the arm and escorted him towards the entrance to the store and angrily lectured, “the key to scavenging is surviving, the key to surviving is sneaking in and out undetected, not blasting a gun in the middle of the street.” The man with the bat jumped in by saying, “every deadhead in the city heard you firing that gun.” They stopped dragging Rick, showing him the glass doors surrounded by Walkers trying to claw their way inside. “You just rang the dinner bell,” Andrea stated with sheer dread as they watched the swarm slowly start to crack the glass.

“T-Dog, help me move this display case. If we block the door it might slow them down when they get through the glass,” Allen said to the man with the bat as they began pushing a heavy jewellery case with their combined strength. [Blam] a loud bang echoed from above the store which caused a few members of this new group to sigh in disappointment. “God dammit, why is nobody watching Dixon,” Andrea said as she and the others hurried up towards the roof.

Rick Followed the group onto the roof, but remained at a distance as they confronted a man wearing a leather vest as he continued to fire a hunting rifle down into the streets filled with Walkers. “Merle, are you crazy!” T-Dog yelled. The man responded with, “You oughta be more polite to a man holding a gun, it’s only common sense.” Rick’s hairs stood on end, as the sound of the redneck’s voice took him back to the moment he was shot during the robbery that put him in the hospital. The argument continued between T-Dog and Merle as T-Dog demanded that he stop wasting bullets and making more noise. Merle scoffed and responded by saying, “If you think I’m gonna stand here and take orders from a n****r like you.” T-Dog scrunched his face in anger at the racial slur, which was only made worse by Merle spitting into his face. T-Dog didn't hesitate to take a swing at the Rednecks stubbled face by striking his jaw. Merle instantly retaliated by thumping the butt of his rifle into T-Dog’s nose, knocking him to the ground. He stood over him and pointed his rifle towards T-dog’s bloodied face announcing, “Since we’re oh so comfortable with giving out orders, why don’t we have ourselves a little vote to see who’s in charge,” Merle stated with a grin on his face as he pointed the gun towards the others as they crouched down to comfort T-Dog. “Come on, let me see those hands,” he said raising his own hand, followed by Andrea and Allen begrudgingly raising their own hands and Jacqui flipping him off as she raised hers.

“That’s quite enough,” Rick said after feeling fed up with Merle’s demonstration. He grabbed his Python by the barrel and used it to pistol-whip Merle in the forehead as he turned around reacting to Rick speaking up. Merle fell onto his back and Rick put his knee across the racist man's chest as he handcuffed Merle to a ventilation pipe. “Who the hell is this prick,” Merle questioned angrily, still dazed from the blow as he started pulling on the restraints. “Officer Friendly. Remember me asshole?” Rick said through gritted teeth as he grabbed Merle’s face to force eye contact. It took a while for Merle to piece together the seemingly irrelevant memory and then chuckled. “Well shit, looks like I’m off the hook for murder,” Merle said before letting out a mischievous laugh.

“You two know each other?” Glenn asked, slightly concerned by Rick holding a gun to Merle’s head. “This asshole shot me just before the world went to shit. Put me in a coma and now I have no idea where my family is,” Rick said as he pushed the gun harder against Merle’s skull. “You won’t do it, you’re too much of a pussy. You didn’t shoot me then and you won’t shoot me now.” Rick cocked the revolver quoting Merle saying, “you oughta be more polite to a man holding a gun, it’s only common sense.” Andrea and Jacqui smirked at Rick tormenting Merle, clearly fed up with his bullshit. Rick discharged his weapon, searched Merle’s vest pockets, and pulled out a small bag of cocaine and checked his nostrils. “Still got some on your nose jackass,” then proceeded to flick his nose. Merle flinched and replied with, “What-cha gonna do, arrest me?” Merle chuckled as he rattled his cuffed hand. Rick threw the small bag off the roof which sent Merle into a frenzy of curse words and heated opinions which Rick ignored as he walked over to Allen. He was stood looking down onto the crowded streets before turning to face Rick and said, “Well Officer Friendly, you got us into this mess, I sure hope you can get us out of it.”

Chapter Text

Several hours had passed when Allen asked, “T-Dog, you checked the radio signal from up here?” T-Dog was sat in the shade while clicking the walkie-talkie on and off. “Yeah, it’s like Dixon’s brain… weak,” he replied glaring at Merle who was still cuffed to the pipe and raised his middle finger to T-Dog. “Who are you trying to contact anyway?” Rick asked. “We’ve got a camp, there’s some folks there that might be able to help,” replied Glenn. “It’s no use, they’re not coming,” Andrea said pessimistically after hearing the static from the walkie talkie. “Looks like we’ll have to find our own way out then, maybe through the sewers or something,” Rick suggested. “Good luck with that, I hear its dangerous around these parts of town, aint that right sugar tits,” Merle joked while looking over at Andrea who was retrieving a water bottle from Glenn’s rucksack. He carried on by saying, “Hey, why don’t you help me out of these cuffs, then we can go off and bump some uglies, we’re all gonna die here anyway.” Andrea looked disgusted at his advances and said, “Yeah and I’d rather,” As she packed up the bag and walked away from Merle.
“You mentioned the sewers Rick, do you really think that could work?” Allen asked desperately. Jacqui was stood leaning over the building and chimed in by saying, “No, it won’t. The sewer systems in this city are fitted with iron gates to keep out any unwanted guests. You’re not getting through those without a blow torch or some kind of power saw.” The group looked surprised by the random, but useful knowledge. She carried on by explaining, “I worked in the city’s zoning office, I must’ve seen those blueprints over a hundred times. My office is just across the street, if a few of us can make it over there, we might be able to use one of the company cars to drive back here into the loading bay and pick up the others.” Rick looked at Glenn to see if he considered this a viable escape plan,

Glenn hesitated for a moment before stating, “ok fine, but we do this my way. No offence, but this was a lot easier when it was just me. The first time I bring a group, and everything goes to hell. I’ll take Jacqui and Rick, that’s it, she knows the way, and Rick I’ve seen how well you can shoot, it would make me feel a lot safer if you were out there covering my ass. Everybody else stays here and waits for the signal.” Merle chuckled to himself and said, “it’s sorta funny how you didn’t wanna take orders from me, yet here you all are taking them from a kid. I Hope the Biters are hungry, sounds like ya’ll are bringing them Chinese takeout, with pork chops for dessert,” glancing over towards Glenn and Rick who remained unamused by the Rednecks crude joke. Glenn quickly responded with, “I’m Korean, you asshole,” then leading the group to the stairwell, abandoning Merle up on the roof by himself.

“Hey, sorry I pointed my gun in your face earlier, I’m not sure you totally deserved that,” Andrea calmly apologised to Rick while the others were packing up some bags. “Totally?” Rick laughed. She responded by saying, “We’ll see if you guys get us out of here in one piece, then you might get the full apology.” Rick nodded in understanding and followed up by saying, “you might want to take the safety off next time though if you’re serious about pulling the trigger.” Andrea inspected her silver gun and Rick showed her how to disarm the safety and said, “we’ll need you keeping these folks safe if them Walkers get through, and maybe once we get back, I’ll show you how to actually shoot that thing.” Andrea gave a puzzled look and said, “Did you just call them ‘Walkers?’ I kind of like that name for them.” Rick replied by telling her about Morgan and how he was the one to explain this apocalypse to Rick and that’s where he got the name from.

“Allen, i'm giving this to you,” Rick said as he handed over the key to Merle’s handcuffs. “I know he’s an asshole, but we can’t leave somebody up there like that, so just be careful he doesn’t do anything else stupid.” Allen pocketed the key and said, “That’ll be a first.” Rick smiled and patted him on the shoulder. Before letting Rick walk away Allen asked, “how are you guys going to get past all those deadheads anyway, you barely made it back here in one piece?” Rick gave the others a concerned look and said, “I have an idea but you’re really not gonna like it.”

“Nah uh, no way! are you outta your godamn mind?” Jacqui protested, as they all stood looking down at the dead Walker they had just dragged inside. “They have to be able to tell us apart somehow, they never turn on each other and it had me thinking… what if it was how we smell,” Rick explained. “It would make sense, they smell dead, we don’t,” Andrea said with some confidence in the idea. “Try telling that to Dixon and his B.O,” T-Dog chuckled to himself as he looked over at an unimpressed Jacqui. “This was your plan Jacqui, we can’t do this without you,” Glenn said in a reassuring tone. She huffed in acceptance, “Oh, just give me the axe so we can get this over with,” Jacqui demanded as she began to chop up and slice open the corpse using Rick’s hatchet. The squelching and oozing of black fluids that started to pool around the group’s feet was enough to make Glenn violently throw up. Andrea rubbed his back and said, “if that smell doesn’t do it, I don’t think anything will.” The three volunteers lined up, holding their breath while the others put on some rubber gloves and got to work.

“Ready?” Rick asked quietly as Allen pulled down the chain to open the loading bay door. Neither Glenn or Jacqui answered him as they both held back the urge to vomit. All three of them were wearing navy boiler suits that were covered in the innards of the deceased Walker. Glenn had a foot strung over each shoulder and was armed with Allen’s crowbar, while Jacqui had a hand and part of an intestine over hers and clutching a steak knife in one hand. Rick had the remaining hand strung over his shoulder and was leading the others slowly out into the open street. Jacqui lifted her arm up and pointed at a tall office building about ten minutes away from their current location. Without saying a word, Rick nodded, and they all staggered towards the building, mimicking how the Walkers roam the streets.

Meanwhile, back at the clothing store, T-Dog was on the roof and had a pair of binoculars fixed on the trio slowly making progress towards the first wave of Walkers. Andrea was moving all the supplies and bags to the loading bay door in anticipation of their quick exit. Allen joined T-Dog on the roof and Merle was still chained to the pipe kicking up a fuss. “Has that asshole gone out there with the handcuff keys?” Merle said as he pulled on his restraints. Allen silenced Merle by showing the key in the palm of his hand. A loud crash of thunder was heard above as large dark clouds filled the sky. “Well, that can’t be good,” Allen said looking down at the street.
Rick led the others towards the first cluster of Walkers on the street, Rick held his breath and stumbled past a small group of them dressed in military uniforms. The monsters turned to look at him with a distant stare, but showed no signs of wanting to attack. Glenn also passed through without phasing them, however Jacqui was letting her nerves get the better of her and holding back her tears as best she could. The nearby Walkers were becoming more aware of her disguise, but she held it together long enough to slip past them like the others did.

That’s when Glenn felt a large drop of water land on his nose and watched in horror as hundreds more started to bombard the pavement. The group looked up at the falling rain, understanding they are now on an even shorter time limit than before. The surrounding Walkers became increasingly aware that there was fresh meat nearby for them and so they became agitated by the group passing by. “This isn’t going to work,” Jacqui whispered, noticing some of the monsters as they turned their heads to trace the group as they moved through the crowd.

“Rick, what do we do?” Glenn asked in a panicked whisper. The group was now soaked head to toe, the blood and guts were now almost entirely washed off and that’s when Jacqui had an old looking Walker turn to finally see her and grab onto her arm. Glenn and Rick spun around to see their cover was now totally blown, and gave each other an understanding look of panic. Rick huffed and grunted as he began swinging his hatchet into any of the deadheads that got close.

Glenn yelled out as he smashed his crowbar into the skull of two nearby Walkers that stood between him and Jacqui who was having a struggle with the monster trying to bite her. She had one arm holding its neck to keep his teeth at a distance while her other arm that was holding her knife was pinned to her side by the Walkers death grip. More of the surrounding cluster noticed her struggle and staggered towards her. Rick and Glenn charged back to her position, striking down as many as they could in a desperate attempt to save her. Then suddenly [Blam] a shot fired through the Walker’s skull, splattering blood onto Jacqui’s face. She looked up in relief towards the direction of the gunshot. She could make out a figure on the clothing store roof holding a rifle, it was Andrea. Two more shots were fired, but did not hit as kill shots. The group used this opportunity to make a run for the office, while smashing, slicing and stabbing along the way.

The gunfire eventually stopped, indicating they were no longer in Andrea’s sight. “There’s a key in the plant pot!” Jacqui yelled to Rick since he was the first to arrive at the door. He rummaged through a Monstera that seemed to be thriving in the current downpour and found the key. Rick flung the door open to the lobby, followed in by Glenn. Jacqui also sprinted inside, just after stabbing a Walker up through the chin as it attempted to block her path. Rick then slammed the metal door shut and the three of them collapsed onto the floor stunned by what they just survived.

“Did they make it?” Allen desperately asked Andrea, who still had her eye focused through the scope of the hunting rifle. “I don’t know Allen, but if they didn’t… we’re all as good as dead.”

Still dripping puddles of water on the floor, Rick slicked back his hair and looked around the modernised office lobby. An empty reception desk with paperwork scattered all over the counter and waiting room chairs, implied somebody leaving in a hurry. “First time I’ve seen those chairs so empty, there’s always someone filing a complaint over property violations,” Jacqui said, standing by Ricks side as she placed her knife in her back pocket. “Makes you think how irrelevant that all is now,” she added after Glenn walked over from inspecting the elevator labelled as ‘out of order. “How do we get to the garage from here Jacqui?” Glenn questioned while looking around at the signs giving directions to the office. “We’ll need to get the car keys first, they’re kept in the Managers office, it’s across the hall from mine on the fith floor,” she said confidently before carrying on saying, “The door to the garage is just there by the lifts, it should be unlocked if people left in a hurry.”

Rick then divided the group by saying, “I’ll stay here and scope out the garage, while you both go and get the keys. If you run into any sort of trouble, you run and you call for help.” Rick felt strange giving out orders to these people he’d only just met, but none of them had questioned his authority this far and trusted the plans he’d come up with.

With the group split up, Glenn and Jacqui trudged up the many flights of stairs. “You’d think I’d be used to these stairs, them elevators never did work,” Jacqui joked before pulling a more concerned face when they reached her managers door. The door was labelled ‘Malcolm Stone’ next to a row of large windows with the blinds disturbed and droplets of blood spattered on the glass. “You sure you wanna go in there?” Glenn asked in a comforting tone as he gently touched Jacqui’s arm. “We don’t have a choice,” she said as she grasped the cold handle.

Rick approached the garage door, labelled as ‘staff only, keep out’ and pushed his body weight into the door without it budging. He huffed and took a step back to examine an alternative route, noticing a side door leading outside. He peered through the glass, looking into a clear strip of road that was fenced off from the main street. He carefully opened the door and closed it behind him quietly. He scouted the area leading up to the garage which was hidden behind three pull down shutters. The gate leading to the road was chained closed and was holding back half a dozen Walkers that had noticed Rick. He chose to ignore them and approach one of the shutters, noticing bloody handprints at the base. Rick put both his hands on the shutter door and lifted it all the way up, creating a loud clanging noise as it latched into place. Five fresh Walkers turned to look at Rick’s sudden entrance causing Rick to stumble backwards onto the floor. There was three female and two male Walkers, all dressed in formal work attire with their throats slit. Their skin was a slight grey colour and Rick noticed the name badges of the deceased employees reading: Susan, Hector, Travis, Cheryl, and Catherine.

Jacqui slowly opened the door with her knife ready in her other hand. As the door creaked open, she could hear a muffled cry coming from the corner of the room. “Malcolm is that you?” she asked fearfully as she saw the man slumped on the floor, his blue suit and tie stained in a horrendous amount of blood. “I had to do it,” the man muttered multiple times to himself, clearly in a state of shock. “Malcolm sweetie, it’s… it’s me, Jacqui. What happened to you?” Glenn held Jacqui’s arm as she edged closer to the man in the small office. “Glenn, the keys are just over there,” she said pointing to a wall mounted case while she advanced further towards the crying man. Glenn opened the box and grabbed two sets of car keys, while keeping an eye on Malcolm as Jacqui crouched down in front of him. Malcolm spoke in a blunt tone, still not making eye contact with Jacqui. “They tried to take it all Jacqui, I had to do it, and I can’t let you take those keys either.” Malcolms eyes darted up, staring straight into Jacqui’s soul. She flinched by the sudden eye contact from her former boss, and he pulled out a blood-stained kitchen knife and took a swing at her throat. “Oh fuck,” Glenn exclaimed as he rushed over to the desk, then throwing a photo frame at Malcolms head. He crouched down to help Jacqui stand up who was in shock by her narrow escape. Malcolm stood up, sweeping all obstacles out of his way, and marched towards them swinging the knife violently. “Jacqui, move!” Glenn yelled, snapping her back into the current situation. They both sprinted out the office door, slamming it on Malcolms face before rushing down the stairwell.

Meanwhile, Rick was now firmly on his feet and taking chunks out of the deceased employee’s craniums. Their skulls were slightly tougher than the deadheads in the street resulting in the axe becoming lodged. This required Rick to kick the bodies away to release his weapon and once they were all put down, he rushed over to the door he tried to get through earlier. He noticed a doorstop was firmly wedged underneath the metal door, indicating Malcolm did not want anybody finding their bodies. He removed the wedge and as he did, he heard frantic footsteps rushing down the stairwell.

“Rick, open the door!” Glenn yelled as they sprinted over to the closed door. Rick pulled the door open and let the terrified duo inside the garage with Jacqui demanding he lock it behind them. Rick didn’t question the urgency and complied by placing the doorstop back where he found it. Before he even let go of the doorstop, a loud thud crashed on the metal door making Rick back off towards the others who were now frantically inserting the keys into a white minivan. The sound of the engine starting was Rick’s cue to stop staring at the heavy pounding on the garage door and jump in the side door, sliding It shut. Jacqui was behind the wheel with Glenn shaking in the passenger seat. Jacqui floored the accelerator sending Rick tumbling back into his seat as he reached up to the grab-handle above him, holding it for dear life as she took an aggressive right turn. Rick cried out, “Jesus Jacqui, don’t wreck our only chance out of here, and what the hell was that back there”? Suddenly, before Glenn could answer, Malcolm charged out from the same door Rick went through earlier, now standing between the gate and the minivan, clutching the bloodied knife. Jacqui looked in the rearview mirror, seeing her fallen coworkers sprawled on the concrete and then fixed her eyes back onto Malcolm. She put her foot firmly back on the accelerator leaving skid marks on the concrete as she hurled the van towards Malcolm. His eyes widened and dove out of the way as the minivan sped past before smashing through the chained-up gate and crushing two of the Walkers trying to get in. Rick turned to look out the back window as he watched the remaining swarm trudge toward Malcolm, unsure of his survival.

“There they are!” T-Dog yelled while looking through the binoculars. “That’s our cue, we gotta move now,” Allen ordered Andrea as she rushed down the stairwell to the loading bay, handing the rifle to Allen before leaving. The sounds of the cracking glass went unnoticed as she rushed through the shopfloor. T-Dog grabbed a backpack and pushed the binoculars inside before following Andrea down soon after, while also failing to notice the glass bending under pressure from the Walkers outside. “Hey, you’d better not leave me up here. This ain’t right,” Merle shouted. Allen huffed before pulling the key to Merle’s handcuffs out of his pocket and freed the redneck before they both rushed down the stairwell soon after.

“Fuck. Look out,” T-Dog yelled to Allen and Merle, as the door finally shattered letting a wave of Walkers stumble over the makeshift barricade. “ARgghh!” Allen screamed as Merle shoved him into an incoming Walker so he could run to the loading bay unharmed. Andrea rushed out to see Allen fighting for his life, with both hands holding back the monster chomping its yellow teeth, inches away from his throat. She pulled out her pistol that she earlier used to threaten Rick, switching the safety off as he had instructed. More Walkers were stumbling towards Allen, so she took the risky shot. The bullet put the monster down immediately, setting Allen free where he joined her in raising his rifle towards the incoming swarm. “This is gonna be a close one,” Allen said in a concerned tone. They both began firing rounds into the skulls of the undead, thinning the swarm while the others waited for Rick’s team to arrive. Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the loading bay shutter. T-Dog pulled down hard on the chain, raising the shutter to see the minivan parked outside with Rick hanging out the wide-open side door. “Come on,” T-Dog yelled to the others as him and Merle grabbed some of the bags stored by the door and jumped into the minivan. Andrea and Allen ceased fire and hauled ass towards the others, grabbing the remaining bags and diving into the car. Jacqui once again floored the accelerator to evade the incoming cluster, driving toward the city entrance.

“What the fuck took you so long,” Andrea said trying to calm her nerves. Glenn turned around with a massive grin. He was wearing Rick’s Stetson and holding one of the duffle bags filled with guns Rick had dropped earlier. “Well, that could’ve been worse,” Merle said with a cocky smile, which was quickly knocked sideways by Allen’s fist. Merle was knocked out cold from the blow, with his head resting on the window. The group looked at Allen with concern before Andrea asked, “that make you feel better?” Allen glanced at her and replied by saying, “Asshole deserved it.” None of the group protested his comment, and the minivan sped down interstate eight-five with Jacqui still behind the wheel.”

Chapter Text

“Somebody wake up Dixon, I’m sick of hearing him snoring,” Jacqui complained after hearing the redneck grumble for the entire ride back to camp. Without hesitation, Andrea flicked Merle’s forehead causing him to jolt awake completely unamused by the hostility. “We there yet?” Merle questioned sarcastically as the others refused to even glance in his direction. Jacqui then turned the minivan down a woodland trail off the main road following a sign displaying a warning of an upcoming quarry. “Hope you’re ready to meet a lot of new people Rick, we even have another cop staying with us,” Allen said excitedly. Merle rolled his eyes and muttered, “Great, now I’ve got two of you breathing down my neck all day long.”

“They’re back!” yelled an energetic woman as her voice carried around the makeshift camp, gathering many individuals to crowd around her in excitement and wait for the approaching minivan.

The survival camp overlooked a sprawling quarry, its steep, rocky walls plunging into still moving waters that shimmered under the relentless sun. Tents of varying sizes and colours dotted the uneven ground, their makeshift nature reflecting its inhabitants’ improvisational skills. A campfire sat at the heart of the camp, encircled by the surrounding tents and vehicles as its smoke curled up into the wind.

Rick watched as Andrea and Allen were the first ones to vacate the car and dive into the arms of their presumed families. Andrea was lovingly embraced by the young woman who announced their arrival to camp, as they both burst out into tears of relief. Allen however, rushed over to bear-hug a sniffling middle-aged woman and two little girls, kissing each of them on the forehead, breaking his tough exterior as he let out some tears. Rick then felt a soft hand on his shoulder, followed by Jacqui politely asking, “You ready to meet everyone sweetie?” Rick nodded in approval, and so she began highlighting individuals around the camp.

“That’s Andrea’s younger sister Amy,” Jacqui mentioned, as she gestured towards the young blonde woman wearing a university-branded tank-top, in the iconic deep red and black colours of the Georgia Bulldogs. The outfit appeared to be perfectly balanced between functionality and style, reflecting both her active lifestyle and school spirit. Over her top, she had a lightweight, zip-up hoodie in a complementary shade of grey. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, unlike her sister’s ponytail, which was now sprouting loose wispy hairs, some of which were covered in specs of Walker blood.

“The pair of them are staying with Dale in his RV, he’s the old fart stationed on lookout duty. Nobody knows if he even knows how to fire that rifle,” she whispered as she pointed at the man perched atop the mentioned RV, his face weathered, marked by deep lines and a lifetime of stories. “Dale rescued them both while on his way into the city, it’s a pretty sweet story that I’m sure you’ll get to hear from him soon enough,” Jacqui said while smiling. Dale noticed Rick’s arrival and tilted his well-worn bucket hat as an unspoken greeting. The hat, a faded olive green, had clearly seen better days, its brim frayed, and the fabric patched in places, but it served its purpose, shielding his eyes from the harsh sun as he watched over the camp.

“That’s Allen’s wife Donna and his two daughters, Lizzie and Mika. You didn’t hear it from me, but donna can be kind of a bitch,” Jacqui whispered, as she covered the spoken words with her hand discreetly. The middle-aged woman was wearing practical, modest clothing: a long-sleeved blouse and sturdy jeans, with a simple silver cross hanging from a chain around her neck. The lighter tones of her hair, once a vibrant golden hue had begun to grey, creating a striking contrast that highlighted her stern features. After the joy and relief in her eyes diminished, she appeared agitated by her husband causing them all a great deal of concern for his safety. Their daughters, one with bright pigtails and the other with a tight sandy-blonde braid radiated contrasting personalities, with the eldest daughter, Lizzie presenting a surprisingly tough composure for an eleven-year-old, by remaining devoid of any tears, possibly taking after her father. However, Mika was a few years younger and far less composed than her sister. Her father softly guided his hand over her pigtails, in attempt to calm her wailing as she clutched onto Allen’s leg, emphasising a timid personality.

“That man sat by the campfire over there, that’s Jim,” Jacqui said with a glum expression. The shaggy-looking mechanic sat by the campfire, his rugged appearance highlighted by the flickering flames. His hair was a wild tangle of dark, greasy locks that fell haphazardly over his forehead, partially hidden beneath a well-worn cap. “Why does he look so sad?” Rick question after seeing how distant the man’s gaze was towards the flames. “Jim’s story is a tragic one I’m afraid. He was inside the city when it became established as a safe zone, but sadly we know what happened there. He was there with his wife and three children… but Jim was the only one to make it out alive. He tends to keep to himself, not much of a talker after something like that,” Jacqui said as she watched Glenn and T-Dog stroll over to silently sit beside him. His hands, calloused and stained with oil, held a metal can filled with coffee as he raised it to his lips taking a large sip. His faded, grease-streaked work overalls had his name sewn onto the pocket, serving as a constant reminder of his job prior to this fucked up world.

The metallic noise of a tent unzipping drew Ricks attention, as a woman with a buzzed haircut emerged from the patchwork tent cautiously, taking one measured step at a time while she scouted the commotion occurring throughout the camp. She wore a simple, dark t-shirt and durable jeans, a choice made prioritizing comfort which heavily contrasted the subtle tension in her posture. “That’s Carol, she usually keeps to herself unless she’s around her husband Ed or their daughter Sophia,” Jacqui stated as they watched a second figure emerge her with a heavier step, his presence looming just behind her. His hair was trimmed with streaks of grey and his face clean-shaven, exuding a well-respected energy. He carried himself with an easy authority, his posture straight and his movements deliberate as he unfolded a chair for his wife to sit on at a distance away from the group. “Doesn’t look like Sophia’s with them, she must be down in the quarry with the others,” Jacqui said, taking a breath, worn out from all the introductions.

“Oh, never mind, here they come now. Rick you’re gonna love this guy, Shane was a cop just like yourself.”

Rick stood frozen, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief, his breath caught in his throat, and just for a moment, the world seemed to stop as the word, "Dad!?" echoed throughout the camp, drawing all eyes towards the ten-year-old boy sprinting across the dusty camp, his small frame moving with a burst of frantic energy and overwhelming joy. His eyes, wide and sparkling with tears, were locked onto the familiar figure of his father. "Dad!" he shouted again, his voice breaking with a mix of disbelief and elation. His worn sneakers kicked up little clouds of dirt as he ran. "Carl?" He muttered as he dropped to one knee, arms open wide, as his son came crashing into him. The boy's small frame trembled with sobs as he clung tightly, his face buried in his father's chest. Rick wrapped his arms around his son, pulling him close, feeling the familiar warmth and weight of the boy he had thought lost forever.

"Carl, slow down... where are you go...ing...(gasps) Rick? Rick!" He suddenly heard a familiar, breathless gasp as he looked up to see his wife appearing from the path leading down to the quarry. her hands were covering her mouth in utter disbelief and her eyes were wide with shock, flooding with tears as they locked onto his. Then, with a cry of pure joy, she broke into a run, closing the distance between them. Her steps were unsteady, driven by a surge of adrenaline and overwhelming relief. Still on one knee with their son clinging to him, Rick opened his other arm just in time to catch her as she practically collapsed into him. She wrapped her arms around both of them, her body shaking as he muttered the words, "I found you."

Chapter Text

The collective hearts amongst Rick’s fellow campmates melted as they spectated the emotional family reunion. “We… we thought that you were dead,” Lori shakily said, while fixing her eyes onto her husband.

Meanwhile, Shane was watching from a distance, internally stunned by the arrival of his best friend and former partner. His usually confident demeanour was now ruined by the tight clench of his jaw and the furrowed brow. Lori turned to subtly look at him with a heated glare, explaining to Rick that Shane was the one who brought them to this makeshift camp and thoroughly protected them in his absence.

Rick marched over to Shane, pulling his best friend into a rough hug, scrunching his fists into the back of his grey t-shirt, unbothered by the damp texture. His handsome face bore the marks of survival—scratches, dirt, and a perpetual five o'clock shadow, Shane appeared suited to this new world, he’d found a purpose: keep Lori and Carl safe, at any cost.

Shane forced a smile, as the other camp members passed by, congratulating the reunited family. Inside, his heart burned with a silent, unacknowledged love and the bitter taste of jealousy. He knew he had to bury these feelings, to continue supporting the camp and the woman he loved from afar, even if it meant enduring the torment of watching her happiness with another.

“Lori, where’s Sophia?” Carol meekly asked, frantically darting her eyes around the camp in search of her daughter she presumed to be under Lori’s watch. Lori looked puzzled and replied saying, “she said she didn’t want to come with us… we thought she went back to you and Ed.”

Carol’s cries for Sophia grew frantic and pierced the air, a heart-wrenching sound that sent shivers down the spines of everyone present. Camp members dropped what they were doing, their faces etched with worry and fear, as they scrambled to organize a search.

“We saw her. We asked her if she wanted to come and play with us, but she said she wanted to play by the trees,” Mika reluctantly said whilst holding her mother’s hand. Shane Instantly felt concerned by the possibility of Sophia wandering off into the unsupervised forest alone and bellowed, “Dale, did you see where she went?” He adjusted his bucket hat, looking down at the distressed group, recalling what he’d witnessed from above, “No, but I did see Daryl go off into the woods by himself not too long ago, maybe he knows something.”

Merle was surprisingly quiet, until Ed marched over towards him, angrily grabbing the redneck by the scruff of his vest, shouting in his face, “If your dipshit little brother has so much as laid a finger on my little girl…” He was promptly cut off by Shane tapping his shoulder, advising him to ease up as Carol was now sobbing into Lori’s arms over her husband’s sudden outburst.

Then suddenly, an ear-piercing scream echoed from within the dense forest, creating further panic amongst the group as their worst fears regarding the little girl just became a very real possibility.

A small group consisting of Shane, Rick, Amy, Andrea, and Ed, rushed into the forest towards the terrified screams. Shane was leading the rescue team, Rick not far behind him as they charged through the low hanging branches. Eventually, the group pushed through the wild bushes into a clearing, the muddy ground was layered with an array of dried-up leaves which crunched under their feet as they spread out into the opening. They all had their eyes fixed on the grotesque figure stood directly beneath a tree sprouting out of the centre of the clearing, its rotting hands clawing upward with unsettling determination. Perched above the monster was a little girl, clinging to a thin branch, her bare feet gripping the rough bark as she called for help.

“Sophia!” Ed bellowed after seeing his daughter in extreme peril. He grabbed a nearby log, wielding it like a weapon as he approached the undead threat with his eyes locked onto his daughter's terrified face. The others watched from a distance, unable to devise a safer plan as Ed marched himself towards the danger, determined to protect his kin. The Walker, distracted by his abrupt approach, turned its decaying head towards him, its moans growing louder. He swung the branch with all his might, striking the creature's head with the log. The monster staggered backwards, but did not topple over, forcing Ed to strike it again on its chest, this time knocking it to the ground amongst the autumn leaves.

During the commotion, Andrea and Amy rushed over to the tree, in attempt to rescue Sophia while the Walker is occupied. Amy outstretched her arms, ready to catch the little girl if she fell, while Andrea calmingly said, “We’ve got you honey,” looking up at her with a reassuring smile. Sophia eased her grip on the branch, shimming towards the sisters, her denim dungarees snagging on the bark as she shuffled backwards. She placed her bare feet into the foot-holes of the tree, effortlessly climbing down towards her rescuers. The sisters collectively reached out in preparation for her dismount, but Amy was the one to grasp her small torso when she was within their reaching distance. Sophia instantly wrapped her legs around the younger sister’s waist, securing her arms around her neck, sobbing into her shoulder. "You're safe now," Amy whispered, rubbing the girl's back in a comforting rhythm.

“Ed. That’s enough!” Shane exclaimed, pulling on Ed’s shoulder as the distressed father carried on hammering down onto the Walker’s shattered ribs. Ed ceased his rage, brushing off Shane’s arm and pushing past him towards his petrified daughter. Sophia placed her feet firmly on the ground, dismounting Amy’s torso, wiping away any trace of her tears. Ed grabbed her arm, pushing his thumb into her forearm as he pulled her away from the girls. Andrea furrowed her brow with concern and calmly said, “Ease up Ed, she’s okay.” Ed completely ignored her and just scoffed, dragging his daughter back through the clearing as she complained of his harsh grip.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Rick asked Shane, after watching the situation get so out of hand. Shane wiped his mouth, frustrated about Ed’s attitude and temper and replied, “Yeah, he’ll be fine. He just doesn’t like me being in charge… or anybody for that matter.” Rick watched as Andrea and Amy disappeared through the clearing, leaving just the two of them by the tree. “These people are lucky to have you Shane… I’m lucky to have you. You took care of my family when I couldn’t, and that’s something I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you for.” Rick placed his hand on Shane’s shoulder as a sign of respect and appreciation, failing to notice Shane’s agitated expression.

Just as they were about to follow the others back towards the camp, a low grumble came from the smashed-up Walker, its beaten fingers still twitching towards the men. “Jesus. After all that, he still didn’t kill it,” Rick said, removing the hatchet from his belt. However, before he was able to approach the Walker shakily raising its head, an arrow bolted through the bushes, penetrating the corpse’s skull, killing it for good. “What the…” Rick muttered, startled by the clean assassination, followed by a dirty figure emerging from the dense foliage. “Ain’t you people learned nothing, you gotta get the brain,” said a much younger looking redneck with a hint of judgment behind his tone. He was wearing a faded flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing sunburned, muscular forearms, and a pair of battered jeans that had seen better days. A sash of squirrels and rabbits were tightly strung over his slim frame. He lowered his recently fired crossbow towards the ground as he sidestepped over the shrubs, using his spare hand to pry the arrow from the Walker’s forehead. “I brought dinner,” he said smugly, obviously inheriting that trait from his older brother. He removed his strung-up prey from his shoulder and disappeared back towards the camp.

“That would be Daryl, and it looks like you’ve met everyone now brother,” Shane said, huffing over the amount of people he’s had to keep in check the past several weeks. “Well… turns out we’ve met those guys before.” Shane pulled a puzzled expression to Rick’s remark but let him carry on saying, “Merle was the guy that shot me back at the jewellery store, I’m guessing Daryl was his ride outta there.” Shane’s eyes grew wide by this revelation, realising he never saw either thief’s face during the commotion. “Son of a bitch,” Shane exclaimed to himself, charging off towards the camp, furious by his own naivety in letting these criminals stay with them for so long.

“Shane, wait,” Rick called, watching his friend march over towards Merle as he was mid conversation with his younger brother. “Dixon!” Shane announced, fists clenched by his side as he fixed his gaze onto his target. “Whoa, who’s put a stick up your dick,” Merle innocently questioned. Shane threw the first punch without an explanation, striking Merle in the jaw, sending a loud thud throughout the camp. Merle staggered backwards, trying to shield himself from a second blow, but the larger man did not hold back. A swift uppercut sent the smaller man sprawling to the ground, dust rising around him as he hit the dirt. The crowd that had gathered watched in stunned silence.

Lori covered Carl’s eyes as she walked him towards their tent, shocked by Shane’s aggressive outburst. Lizzie watched the fight, completely unphased, but her sister Mika begun hyperventilating over the violence. Donna instructed them to, “look at the flowers girls,” as she walked them over to a rose bush near their tent, attempting to calm Mika down.

“Get the hell off him,” Daryl yelled, jumping onto Shane’s back, locking his arms around his brother’s attacker’s thick chest in a desperate attempt to subdue him. The struggle was fierce and chaotic, neither man having control of the fight. Instead, determination seemed to fuel both sides, even as the larger man thrashed violently in attempt to shake Daryl off his back. They stumbled together, crashing into a makeshift table and sending supplies scattering, causing Dale to shout at them in disappointment. They both exchanged equal amounts of punches to one another, leaving their faces bloodied and their fists red raw. The fight was abruptly ended by Rick pulling Daryl off Shane’s back, locking his arm around his throat as he dragged him through the dirt. “Hey! Choke-holding’s illegal,” Daryl called out, annoyed by Rick’s dirty tactic. He released him and Daryl stormed off, spitting a wad of blood onto the floor as he removed himself from the situation.

Meanwhile Shane was towering over Merle, his chest heaving with exertion. His eyes blazed with an intense fury, daring anyone else to intervene. The older brother still laid defeated on the dirt, groaning while attempting to rise, but a swift kick to the ribs from Shane kept him down. “Shane, That’s enough. What the hell was that about man? You can’t just attack somebody like that,” Rick questioned, horrified by his best friend’s actions. Shane glared at Rick with bloodshot eyes and said, “You really want this piece of shit sleeping under the same roof as your wife and son?” Shane protested, droplets of blood dripping from his shattered knuckles. “I might not like it, the guy’s an asshole, but there are still rules about this sort of thing Shane. You can’t just attack somebody unprovoked, criminal or not.” Shane shook his head at his former partners purity, yelling, “Wake up and smell the fucking roses Rick! There are no rules anymore, there’s just us and the dead so, I’m not gonna stand here and listen to you defend this asshole, when he’s the goddam reason you almost died.” “Shane that’s enough!” Lori bellowed, in a stern, pissed-off tone. “You’re scaring the children, and frankly some of the adults too. Pull yourself together and drop it.” Rick was impressed by his wife’s authority, but sensed there was an underlying cause for Shane’s rogue behaviour.

The crowd dispersed, as most people retreated to their tents with the sunset on the horizon. Dale and Andrea positioned Merle’s arms over their shoulders as they dragged his limp body into the RV, Amy followed them inside with a first-aid kit in her hand, closing the door behind her.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the survival camp, Glenn, Jim, Jacqui, and T-Dog sat around a crackling campfire, the flames dancing in their eyes. Glenn, with his boyish charm, leaned forward, poking at the fire with a stick, his face illuminated by the soft light. Beside him, Jim sat quietly, his rugged features etched with fatigue and a distant look in his eyes, the weight of their reality heavy on his shoulders. Jacqui, ever the voice of reason and calm, offered a reassuring smile, her presence a comforting anchor for the group. T-Dog, with his muscular build, sat back, his usually stoic demeanour softened in the intimate circle of the people he considered friends.

Carol softly hummed a lullaby as she tucked her little girl into a sleeping bag, Sophia’s eyes drooping with exhaustion from her traumatic day. Ed was already blacked out, aggressively snoring as he rolled over onto his side, turning away from his wife and child.

In the neighbouring tent, Allen’s family of four readied themselves for bed in a similarly intimate scene. Donna, meticulously arranging the tattered pillows for her daughters, who giggled softly as they settled down. Allen, carefully zipped up the tent flap, securing them against the cool night air. He then joined his wife and daughters, the family huddling together under a large quilt. The girls whispered excitedly about the day’s events until their mother’s forceful shushing encouraged them to rest their eyes.

Daryl stood under the night sky, admiring the display of shining lights that twinkled high above the Quarry’s walls. Holding a smooth, flat stone in his hand, he sent a stone skimming across the surface, each skip rippling through the stillness of the lake. He winced, shaking his bruised hand, filled with regret for sticking-up for his jackass older brother.

“Mind if I join you?” a polite voice asked from behind him. Daryl didn’t mind the sudden disturbance, he actually felt rather calmed by Carol’s gentle arrival. Neither of them spoke any more words, she just lowered herself onto the pebbled beach, resting calmy at a distance from the troubled redneck.

“I’ve never seen Shane act like that before,” Rick worryingly said to his wife as she clung to his bare chest from behind, ruffling her fingers through his chest hair. “Let’s just not think about him right now love. I just can’t believe you’re here… we thought you was dead Rick… we never would’ve left you there if we’d known…” Lori was unable to finish that sentence as her voice became tight in her throat, consumed with the guilt of abandoning her husband. Rick rolled over to face her, placing one hand delicately around her waist, while the other caressed her cheek, shifting some loose brunette hair behind her ear. “You did what you had to do to keep Carl safe, I love you Lori.” This instigated a passionate kiss between them, their hands slowly undressing one another. Rick glanced over to their son on the other side of their large tent, Ricks sheriff’s hat laid over his eyes as he slept. “He won’t wake up,” Lori assured, her eyes filled with a desire for her husband remove her bra.

Shane didn’t get much sleep that night, his eyes burned with jealousy as he listened to the muffled moans and giggles from the nearby tent containing his best friend. He began picking at a recently formed scab on his battered knuckles, the pain offering a small distraction from the passion occurring close-by. His heart ached as he listened, imagining Lori’s face, her touch, the warmth of her smile—all things he longed for but unable to have, now that Rick was back in the picture.

Chapter Text

Rick stirred inside the tent, roused by the gentle hum of the survival camp coming to life with the new dawn. The fabric walls glowed softly with the morning light, casting a warm, golden hue over the makeshift bedding. Laughter and the chatter of children filled the air, mingling with the aroma of a squirrel cooking over the open fire. The comforting clatter of pots and pans, the sizzling of food, and the murmur of friendly conversation brought a soft smile to Rick’s face.

“Morning camper,” Dale greeted enthusiastically from atop the RV, waving to the latest member of their close-knit camp. Rick gestured a friendly wave back at the cheerful old man, as he continued to observe the thriving camp from the lookout, with his eyes peeled for anymore sign of the dead. He slumped back into his worn deck chair, one he had used for many fishing trips over the years with his late wife, serving as a peaceful memento of his life before the outbreak.

In the heart of the survival camp, Carl was engrossed in playing with Sophia and Mika, their laughter representing a beacon of hope, that joy can still be had, even in the nightmare they are all confined to. His brunette, wavy curls were covered by his father’s sheriff's hat that was slightly too big for his head, the brim shading his lively eyes. He guided his toy trucks over the uneven ground, navigating imaginary landscapes filled with obstacles and adventures. The other children, equally absorbed in their play, followed his lead, their own toy vehicles bumping along the dirt paths they created.

Andrea and Amy sat side by side on a weathered log, their eyes softened with affection, welcoming the task of supervising the children for a few hours, while their parents carry out some chores around camp. Lizzie, the eldest child of the camp, sat cross-legged in front of them, her back straight against the log as Amy skilfully plaited her long, blonde hair. Andrea handed Amy a small, purple ribbon to finish the braid, which nicely matched the purple t-shirt she was wearing.

Rick, confident that his child was in safe company, joined Lori, T-Dog, Ed, and Glenn as they sat around the campfire, warming them from the chilled autumn breeze. T-Dog handed Rick a skewer with a piece of cooked squirrel, nodding in silent acknowledgment. Glenn, ever resourceful and upbeat despite their circumstances, was already halfway through his portion, savouring the meal with a contented smile. “Morning love,” Rick said, as he delicately kissed his wife, placing his arm around her side, encouraging her to rest her head on his shoulder. The light meat was surprisingly sweet in taste, so it didn’t take long before the small rodent was picked clean and tossed onto the pile with the others.

Isolated from the warm atmosphere around the camp, Shane silently marched past the others with a purposeful stride towards the quarry. The weight of yesterday’s events evidently rested heavily on his tense shoulders, still believing his actions were justified. He was wearing a Cook County sheriff’s department issued t-shirt and sports cap, his sturdy boots leaving deep footprints in the mud as he grew closer towards the steep path down to the quarry. In one hand, he clutched a small net with a long handle, and in the other he held a rusty bucket. The others looked at one another with concern for their leader, wondering if one of them should check on him. “I’ll go talk to him,” Lori quietly huffed, as she stood up, letting her clasped hand slip away from her husbands, before following Shane down the rocky path.

Beside the quarry, Jacqui, Jim, Donna, and Allen were busy washing clothes, their hands submerged in the cool, clear water. Jacqui, her sleeves rolled up, worked methodically, her movements efficient and practiced. Jim, his rugged face concentrated on scrubbing a particularly stubborn stain, exchanged occasional glances with Jacqui, both finding a rhythm in their task.

Donna, however, was less content. Her frustration was evident in the sharp movements of her hands as she wrung out a shirt, her voice rising in agitation. "I just don’t understand why some people never offer to help with this," she complained, her eyes darting to the path leading back to camp. "Never seen Merle or Glenn jump at the chance to wash Allen’s dirty underwear,” she said glaring at her husband, as he stood lazily watching them all do all the work. “Hey! you’re my wife… you’re supposed to like my underwear,” Allen exclaimed defensively, his cheeks turning a vibrant red, when Donna raised a pair of coconut patterned boxer-shorts for the group to see. Jim and Jacqui burst chuckled at the funky underwear as Allen snatched them off his wife, deeply embarrassed by the reveal.

Jacqui glanced at Jim, seeing a smile on his face for the first time in a long time, understanding that behind his cold exterior, lies a man dealing with an enormous amount of grief that she wished she was able to provide comfort for. “Anyway, I think it’s unfair to single out Glenn as somebody who doesn’t contribute,” Jacqui contested, receiving a raised eyebrow from Donna. “We all pull our weight in one way or another. Glenn has risked his life for this group many times over already by bringing us supplies. I’ll happily NEVER go back into the city, and if that means I have to wash Allen’s boxers then so be it.” Allen, now embarrassed for a second time rolled his eyes and sighed at the torment. “Dixon may be a lazy asshole but remember, he did also put himself in danger for the sake of his brother, that’s got to count for something at least.” Jim silently listened to Jacqui, comforted by her ability to defend the most hated member of the camp, as he carried on scrubbing his fellow campmates clothes.

“Merle is more than just a ‘lazy asshole’ Jacqui, the man is a criminal! Many of us have kids here, we already have to keep one eye on the dead, we don’t need to have the other on Merle, and making sure he isn’t putting us in danger,” Donna argued. “Shane was right to do what he did, we don’t need somebody like Merle around,” Disgusted by Donna’s comments, Jacqui raised her voice and responded by saying, "Shane's aggression, the way he attacked Merle, it was unprovoked and wrong. We’re all under a lot of stress, but that doesn’t justify violence, especially not against someone who wasn’t threatening us in that moment.”

Jacqui’s heart skipped a beat, noticing Shane had overheard that last part of their conversation. "Shane," she began, her voice soft but earnest, "I didn’t mean for you to hear it like that. We were just discussing—" Jacqui’s attempt at an apology hung in the air, unfinished and ineffective. She watched helplessly as Shane's figure receded towards the lake further away from them.

“See what happens when you open that big mouth of yours,” Donna spitefully remarked as she glared at a flustered Jacqui. Jim’s smile faded as the tension grew between the women, the previous laughter between them was lost in the autumn wind as they all carried on with the washing in silence.

Shane knelt down on the pebbled beach beside the quarry, still irritated by Jacqui disrespecting his decisions. He gripped his net firmly, patiently waiting by the clear, cool water, surrounded by the croaking coming from his chosen prey. Each time he spotted a frog, Shane's hand darted out with the net, snatching the slippery creature and placing it into the bucket beside him.

Shane’s concentration was shattered by Lori’s abrupt voice demanding, “Shane, we need to talk,” making him miss his target and retract an empty net from the water. “What is it Lori… are you here to give me shit about Dixon, because if you are, I really don’t want to hear it.” Lori glared a fiery look into his eyes, sternly saying, “Shane, you punched a man till he was blue in the face! Andrea said that he’s up and walking, but Shane… I can’t have you setting that kind of example for Carl.” Her words were clear and unwavering as she carried on by saying, "you've changed Shane. Your aggression, your decisions... they’re not what Carl needs right now."

Shane's face hardened, a mix of hurt and anger flashing in his eyes. "Lori, I'm just trying to protect you and Carl. Everything I do is for you two," he said while reaching for her.

“You told me my husband was dead Shane! You told me you saw him die… we were never yours to protect,” Lori accused, her eyes tearing up at his deceit.

“Lori don’t say that. I love yo—” Lori quickly interrupted him before he could finish grovelling by saying, “Shane! That’s enough. Whatever you’re about to say… you can just tell It to the frogs. Rick is back, my husband… is back. Whatever you think we had, it meant nothing and it’s over. Just leave my family out of it.” Lori didn’t give him an opportunity to respond, she turned away and left him alone beside the quarry, his hands trembling slightly as he processed her words.

“What do you think that was about?” Allen rhetorically asked the others as they spectated from afar, just out of earshot from their conversation. “Probably best if we head back too. The temperature’s dropping, and I’d rather be by the fire than sat in this lake any longer,” Jacqui stated, avoiding speculation over their former leader’s issues.

Inside the spacious RV, Carol tended to Merle’s facial injuries with a practiced touch. The interior, though modestly furnished, provided a rare sense of refuge amidst the harsh realities of their world. Merle flinched at her touch, not accustomed to being cared for in such a tender manner. Daryl was stood, shyly watching from a distance as she redressed his older brother’s bandages. “Thank you,” his gravly voice muttered to Carol, understanding that Merle was not a popular man amongst these people. She turned to flash him a soft smile as she applied the last dressing. Merle was seated in a bitter silence, picking at his fingernails as a distraction from the pain.

As night settled over the camp, the fire cast a warm, flickering glow that danced across the faces of those gathered around it. Rick, Lori, and Carl sat close together, their presence a small island of warmth and togetherness amidst the encroaching darkness. Lori’s arm was draped around Carl, who leaned against her, his eyes wide and reflecting the firelight. Rick smiled as he observed the collection of people his family have formed a small community with.

Jacqui, sitting beside Glenn and T-Dog, engaged in a relaxed conversation with Glenn, who was gesturing animatedly, his enthusiasm evident. Ed listened with a mixture of detached interest and guarded expression; his body language more reserved compared to the rest. He occasionally interjected with a comment or a nod, but his contribution to the conversation was minimal, leaving him more as an observer within the group’s dynamic.
Dale, ever the observer, sat with a calm demeanour, his gaze occasionally drifting towards the stars above, while Shane, though part of the circle, was noticeably subdued, his earlier tensions seemingly muted by the night’s calming effect. His focus was distant, and he sat slightly apart from the others, the firelight casting long shadows across his face.

Jim was on watch atop the RV, his silhouette visible against the backdrop of the darkened forest, vigilant and alert. The occasional crackle of the fire and the soft rustle of the leaves were the only sounds breaking the stillness of the night.

Inside the RV, Carol had created a cozy haven. Sophia, curled up with her mother, Carol, was asleep in one of the makeshift beds. Carol sat nearby, her eyes reflecting the soft glow of a lantern as she read a book, her attention periodically shifting to Daryl and Merle.

Allen and Donna sat nearby, their conversation a quiet hum as they shared a moment of relative peace. Lizzie and Mika, the younger children, huddled close to the fire, their faces illuminated by the flickering light as they chatted softly and played rock, paper, scissors. “You know, maybe this life isn’t so bad… I mean look around us hun. These are good people, and they look out for us. What Jacqui said earlier, she was right: keeping us all safe, it is a shared responsibility.” Allen’s eyes widened in surprise at Donna’s unexpected comment, so accustomed to his wife’s usual cut-throat personality. He chuckled and responded by saying, “Is this you admitting you was… wrong? fifteen years of marriage and I don’t think you’ve ever admitted to that.” She punched him in the arm, only making him laugh harder and wind her up further by saying, “You probably shouldn’t sit so close to the fire hun, the ice queen is starting the melt.” Donna smirked for a brief moment before declaring, “all I’m saying is… things could be worse.”

Meanwhile, Andrea and Amy, laden with firewood, made their way back to camp through the forest, their path illuminated by the faint glow of the moon. The sisters moved with a blend of caution and familiarity, their footsteps soft on the forest floor. A sudden rustling in the tangled vines made them pause, and they scanned their surroundings as they tightened their hold on the lumber.

“Do you think that was a deer or something?” Amy asked her equally frightened sister. “Let’s just get the hell out of here…” Andrea quickly remarked as they continued on, the forest around them seemed to grow quieter, the usual sounds of nocturnal life oddly absent.

The eerie silence was shattered by a louder rustle, closer this time. Andrea and Amy froze, their eyes darting around in the dim light. "That’s not a deer… is it?" Amy whispered, her voice barely audible, tinged with fear. Andrea shook her head, her grip tightening on the bundle of firewood, every instinct telling her something was wrong.

Just as they started to move again, a cold, decaying hand shot out from the shadows and grabbed Amy, yanking her backward with terrifying force. Her scream pierced the night, a sound of pure terror as the Walker lunged, its gnarled teeth snapping inches from her skin. The firewood scattered across the ground as Amy struggled against the undead grip, her eyes wide with panic.

“Amy!” Andrea bellowed, dropping her firewood and rushing to her sister's aid, her heart pounding in her chest. The reality of the danger crashed over her like a wave as she fought to free Amy, the forest around them alive with the chilling presence of an invading horde.

Andrea's scream sliced through the night, echoing ominously through the forest and reaching the camp. Faces turned toward the sound, eyes widening with alarm. In an instant, the camp was thrown into chaos as the eerie groans and shuffling of the approaching horde became unmistakable. People scrambled, shouting warnings and grabbing whatever weapons they could find. Rick and Shane were the first to spring into action, sprinting toward the source of the screams. Lori pulled Carl close as Rick ordered her to get into one of the cars as he removed his hatchet from his belt. Meanwhile Shane led their charge into the immediate danger with his glock drawn by his side.

During the confusion, the first wave of Walkers broke through the tree line, their grotesque forms illuminated by the campfire’s flickering light. Panic surged as the undead swarmed into the camp, their numbers overwhelming. Glenn and T-Dog fought valiantly, using knives and makeshift weapons to fend off the relentless attackers, but it quickly became apparent that they were outnumbered.

Jacqui and Dale tried to rally the group, shouting instructions over the growing intensity of groans and screams. "Get to higher ground! Head to the RV!" Dale yelled; his voice strained with urgency. But the horde was relentless, pressing in from all sides.

“Now’s our chance little brother,” Merle smirked with a characteristic smile, his eyes glinting with the thrill of the moment. They had spent weeks biding their time, feigning loyalty while mapping out the camp's stash of supplies. Daryl, his crossbow slung over his shoulder, questioning their integrity as he glanced over at Carol clutching Sophia tightly inside the RV, her eyes darting around in terror as she tried to comfort her daughter. She watched helplessly as Merle raided the RV of all its supplies and bag of weapons, pleading that they reconsider betraying the group.

They flung open the door to the Rv, sprinting past Ed, driven by desperation as he swung a crowbar with savage force, each blow crushing the skulls of the advancing Horde. His eyes burned with a fierce intensity as he fought, the chaos around him blurring into a singular focus on survival. The brothers moved quickly; their footsteps muffled by the forest floor.

As they reached a safe distance, the reality of their actions settled over Daryl. He glanced back, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. Merle, noticing the hesitation, slapped him on the back. “Don’t go soft on me now, Daryl. We did what we had to do," Merle said, his tone dismissive as they disappeared amongst the chaos.

Donna's heart pounded as she frantically ushered her children toward the RV, the sounds of the attacking horde growing louder with each passing second. She clutched Lizzie's hand tightly, her eyes darting around in search of Allen, who was fighting off the Walkers in a desperate battle for his life. "Keep moving, just look at the flowers girls. Everything is going to be alright!" she shouted, trying to keep her voice steady for the sake of her children. As they neared the RV, her relief was short-lived. A sudden, bone-chilling groan erupted from behind her. Before she could react, a Walker lunged, its decaying hand grabbing her shoulder and yanking her back.

“Mommy!" Lizzie screamed, her grip slipping from Donna's as the force of the attack pulled her mother away. "Run! Get inside!" Donna cried out, her voice a mix of terror and determination. She struggled against the Walker, swinging her free arm to push Lizzie inside the RV behind her younger sister. More of the undead surrounded her, hands clawing and teeth gnashing. Lizzie, tears streaming down her face, was pulled into the RV by Carol, who quickly shut the door behind her.

Donna's screams pierced the night as she was dragged to the ground. The Walkers overwhelmed her, their teeth sinking into her flesh. She fought valiantly, her last thoughts a desperate hope that her children would survive this nightmare. As the horde devoured her, the camp was filled with the haunting echo of her final, anguished cries.

Allen's heart shattered as he saw Donna consumed by the horde, her screams echoing in his ears. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to turn away and focus on Lori and Carl, ushering them urgently towards the blue SUV. He helped them inside, his eyes darting back to the chaos as he slammed the door shut, desperation and grief etched on his bearded face as he let out a raw bellow of heartbreak. Lori rested a hand on his shoulder, speechless and unsure how to comfort such a gruesome loss.

Jacqui and Dale stood back-to-back, their knives flashing in the firelight as they fought off the overwhelming horde. Each slash and stab were desperate attempts at survival, their movements synchronized in a dance of sheer determination. Suddenly, Jacqui felt a cold, clammy hand clamp down on her arm, yanking her forward and breaking their formation. She gasped, knowing this was her end, her knife slipping from her grasp and falling beside the fire.
Suddenly, a deafening shot rang throughout the camp, exploding the Walker’s skull in a spray of blood and brain matter. Jacqui looked up, shaking uncontrollably, noticing Jim atop the RV, hunting rifle in hand, his face set in grim determination. "Get inside, now!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Each shot he fired was not just an act of survival, but a desperate redemption for the family he had been unable to protect. His hands remained steady despite the chaos, conveying a silent vow—to save Jacqui and Dale, even if it meant risking everything. The echo of the rifle’s shots was a reminder of the guilt he carried.

As he watched Jacqui and Dale rush towards the RV, his heart pounded with a fierce hope that this time, he would succeed where he had once failed. Carol flung the door open in anticipation of their arrival; her frail arms unable to close it behind them once they were inside. As she fought to hold back the several undead creatures pushing their way inside, she gasped as she noticed Donna’s hollowed carcase sprawled into pieces on the blood-soaked grass, her silver necklace glinting in the firelight. Dale, with a fierce kick, sent the pair of Walkers tumbling away from the RV door, allowing Carol to firmly slam it behind them as they both collapsed from exhaustion.

Glenn, T-Dog, and Ed fought their way through the relentless horde, their breaths ragged, and faces smeared with blood. Desperation spurred them on as they pushed and swung their weapons, carving a path toward the quarry’s edge. The sight of the cliff’s jagged drop and the dark, churning water below was their last glimmer of hope. With Walkers closing in from all sides, Glenn looked at T-Dog with a sympathetic glance. “Oh hell no!” T-Dog exclaimed, understanding Glenn’s suicidal plan and refusing to comply. “This Is how we make it man, just jump!” Glenn shrieked as he launched himself off the cliff edge, his baseball cap flying off his head as he plunged into the icy water below. “Either you jump, or I push you. Now move!” Ed bellowed, extremely aware of the horde closing in on their location. “Fuck this,” T-Dog remarked as he flung himself off the cliff, his arms flailing as he free-fell into the unknown, shortly followed by Ed.

As Glenn, T-Dog, and Ed plunged into the quarry’s dark waters, a few of the Walkers, driven by the relentless momentum of the horde, stumbled blindly after them. Their grotesque forms lurching and flailing their dismembered bodies as they followed the survivors off the edge of the cliff.
Meanwhile, Rick and Shane navigated the chaotic forest, their breaths coming in sharp, determined bursts as they followed the echoes of Andrea's and Amy's desperate cries.

Bursting through the dense foliage, Rick and Shane spotted the sisters, struggling against a cluster of the Walkers. Andrea was fighting fiercely, her face etched with terror and determination, as she used a sharp hunting knife to piece and slash the deadhead’s skulls. Amy however was trapped, pinned on the ground, desperately trying to free herself from the clutches of the undead.

Without hesitation, Shane aimed his gun with a steely focus, squeezing the trigger to release a precise shot that splattered the Walker's head, onto her university hoodie, sending it crashing away from her. Amy gasped in relief, her terror-stricken eyes meeting Shane’s as he moved to her side, shielding her from the pursing horde.

Rick rushed to Andrea’s aid, as he swung his hatchet with full force into the attacking Walkers. Her blonde hair and denim coat was coated in a thick layer of blood. Each swing of the hatchet was deliberate and powerful, severing limbs and clearing a path through the rotting flesh. Andrea’s face, marked by both fear and aggression towards the horde, she drew her pistol and began covering Shane as they retreated through the clearing towards the camp. A firm grim latched onto Rick’s collar, widening Rick’s eyes in shock as he struggled to free himself from the creature’s grip.

Shane, standing nearby, witnessed the desperate struggle, but made no move to help. His gaze remained cold and detached, watching the husband of his unrequited love fight for his life without any remorse.
Just as the Walker’s teeth neared Rick’s throat, a crossbow bolt streaked through the air, striking the undead creature with deadly accuracy. The bolt pierced the monster’s head, and the creature fell lifelessly to the ground, releasing Rick from its grasp.

Rick staggered back, his chest heaving as he looked up to see Daryl standing in the shadows lowering the crossbow with a sorrowful look on his face as he disappeared into the treeline. The narrow escape left Rick shaken, his eyes flicking between Shane’s blank stare and the lingering threat now neutralized.

Rick, Andrea, Amy, and Shane burst through the treeline, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they emerged onto a nearby road. The tension of the forest still gripped them, the sounds of the undead fading, but the adrenaline high in their veins. Rick glanced back, his face smeared with sweat and grime, as he led the group toward the safety of the open road.

Just as the fear of being pursued by the relentless horde seemed approach once more, the screeching of tires cut through the night. Lori’s blue SUV roared into view, its headlights cutting through the darkness followed by her stern voice screaming, “Get in!”

Rick and Shane quickly ushered the girls toward the SUV, their eyes darting anxiously for any sign of the horde reappearing. They all scrambled into the backseat next to Carl, their movements frantic but driven by the overwhelming need for safety. Allen remained silent in the passenger while the others directed Lori to floor the accelerator.

The vehicle’s tires kicked up dust, the sound of the engine a comforting roar against the backdrop of their harrowing escape. The group, shaken but alive, clung to the hope that they had narrowly escaped the clutches of death and found a temporary refuge inside the blue SUV.

The RV trailed behind the fleeing SUV, Jim still clinging to the roof, his silhouette barely visible against the night sky.

Lori glanced into her husbands’ eyes through the rearview mirror, coldly asking, “where do we go now?”

Chapter Text

As the first light of dawn stretched across the horizon, it cast a soft, golden glow over the weary group, illuminating the smoke cascading over the treeline from their overrun camp. The sky transformed from a deep, somber blue to a vibrant tapestry of oranges and pinks.

As Rick stood on the outskirts of the group, his eyes drifted toward Lori and Carl. Lori held their son close, gently stroking his hair as he rested his head against her. The sight of them together, safe and unharmed, should have brought Rick a sense of relief, but instead, a deep sense of guilt gnawed at him.

His mind replayed the night’s chaos—how, in the heat of the moment, he had rushed to save Andrea and Amy, leaving his own family vulnerable. He had acted on instinct, but now, watching Lori and Carl, the weight of that decision felt unbearable. What kind of husband and father prioritizes others before his own? He clenched his fists at the thought, the guilt pressing heavily on his chest.

Amy and Andrea sat close together, their bodies leaning into one another for comfort, both shaken from the traumatic night. Amy carefully wiped the dirt from Andrea’s face with a damp cloth, her touch gentle and full of sisterly affection. Andrea, her eyes weary but softened by the presence of her younger sister, returned the gesture, brushing the grime and tears from Amy’s cheeks with tender strokes.

Jim, who had just come down from his vigilant watch on the RV roof, leaned against the vehicle, his eyes bloodshot and restless from fighting the need to sleep. Jacqui gently approached with a blanket around her shoulders. She stepped closer and placed a hand on his arm, drawing his attention. Jim turned his head, surprised to see her standing so close. Before he could say anything, Jacqui leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek. The gesture was brief but full of gratitude and warmth, a silent thank you for saving her life during the chaos.

Carol and Allen quietly stepped out of the RV, carefully closing the door behind them to avoid waking the three sleeping children inside. Carol glanced back at the door, her expression turning sorrowful as she spotted the bloody handprints left by Donna’s final moments. She placed a comforting hand on Allen’s large shoulder, distracting him from reliving that gruesome moment. A combined tone of loss hung in the air between the two of them, as Carol’s husband Ed, remained unaccounted for.

Dale stood near the dwindling campfire, his weathered face etched with concern as he scanned the horizon, the light of dawn slowly creeping in. His mind was on the three members of their group who were still missing—Glenn, T-Dog, and Ed. Worry gnawed at him, the unknown fate of his friends weighing heavily on his heart. He turned to Shane, who was pacing nearby, his expression hardened by the events of the night.

"Shane, we can’t just leave them out there," Dale said, his voice laced with urgency. "We have to do something, find them before it’s too late."

Shane stopped pacing and met Dale’s gaze, his eyes cold and resolute. "We’ve done all we can, Dale. Right now, we need to focus on getting the people we still have to safety," he replied, his tone firm and unyielding. "We can’t risk the entire group for a search that might not lead to anything."

Dale frowned, his concern deepening. "But they’re part of our group. We can’t just abandon them."

Shane aggressively ran his hand through his greasy hair, his jaw set in determination. "It’s not about abandoning anyone. It’s about survival. If we stay here any longer, we’re putting everyone at risk. We have to move now, while we still can. That horde is probably on its way here right now... are you prepared to lose somebody else, what if this time it was Andrea or Amy, could you live with that old man?"

The words hit Dale like a punch to the gut, and he visibly flinched. Shane had zeroed in on Dale’s soft spot for the sisters, exploiting the deep care and affection he held for them. Dale’s breath caught in his throat, his mind unwillingly conjuring the scenario Shane had painted. The thought of losing either Andrea or Amy was unbearable, twisting his concern into a knot of fear and doubt. He knew Shane was manipulating him, but the possibility of losing one of the sisters gnawed at him, eroding his objections. His shoulders slumped as he realized he couldn’t risk their lives, not after everything they had already endured.

Seeing the conflict in Dale’s eyes, Shane pressed on, his tone firm but with an undercurrent of urgency. "We have to keep moving. If we weren’t prepared for an attack before, we definitely aren’t now that those fuckers took all our guns.”

Dale finally nodded, the fight draining out of him. Shane had struck where it hurt most, and now all Dale could do was hope that leaving was the right choice, even as his heart ached for the missing members of their group. Shane turned away, satisfied that he had made his point, and began preparing the group to leave, while Dale lingered, grappling with the heavy burden of the decision.

As the others busied themselves with packing up their few belongings, Lori quietly pulled Rick aside, her face tense with concern. The early morning light cast long shadows through the trees, and the camp buzzed with the hurried movements of the group preparing to leave.

"Rick, we need to talk," Lori said, her voice low but urgent. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure they weren’t overheard, her eyes narrowing slightly as she spotted Shane directing the others. "I’m worried about Shane. He’s taking charge, making decisions for everyone. It’s like he’s not even listening to anyone else."

Rick frowned; the memories of the night’s events still fresh in his mind. He recalled the moment when the zombie had grabbed him, and how Shane had stood by, doing nothing to help. It was Daryl’s crossbow bolt that had saved him, not Shane’s intervention. The thought gnawed at him, a seed of doubt taking root.

"Lori, I get it," Rick replied, his voice steady but laced with unease. "I don’t like the way Shane’s been handling things either. But we have to face reality. He’s right about one thing—we can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous."

Lori’s expression softened, but her worry didn’t fade. "I just don’t want him calling all the shots, Rick. He’s… different now. And you—" She hesitated, her eyes searching his. "You have a way of leading people, of making them feel safe. They’ll follow you."

Rick sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked around at the camp, the remnants of their struggle scattered in the dirt. He felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on him, mixed with a gnawing guilt. Glenn had saved his life back in Atlanta, and the thought of leaving him behind tore at Rick’s sense of loyalty.

"I know," Rick said, his voice heavy with conflict. "I owe Glenn my life. But staying here, trying to search for him, it could put everyone else at risk. We’ve got Carl to think about, too."

Lori nodded, understanding the impossible choice Rick was grappling with. "I just want us to be safe, Rick. All of us."

Rick reached out, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. "We’ll leave the woods, but I’m not letting Shane dictate everything. I’ll keep an eye on him, and if it comes down to it, I’ll step in."

Lori looked into his eyes, her own filled with both worry and trust. "Okay," she whispered. "Just… be careful."

Rick nodded, releasing her hand as they turned back toward the camp, the heavy burden of leadership now fully settled on his shoulders. He knew the road ahead would be difficult, and the tension between him and Shane was far from resolved. But for now, their priority was to get the group to safety, even if it meant leaving behind the people he felt he owed his life to.

With the SUV and RV fully packed, the group gathered around the vehicles, their faces drawn with exhaustion and concern for where they’ll end up. Shane, standing in front of the SUV, raised his voice to get everyone’s attention. "Alright, listen up! We’re ready to roll out, but before we go, we need to decide where we’re heading. We don’t have enough fuel to change course once we get moving, so if anyone’s got a suggestion, now’s the time to speak up."

The group exchanged uneasy glances, the gravity of the situation settling in. Silence hung in the air, thick with uncertainty, until Rick stepped forward, his expression serious.

Rick stepped forward, releasing Lori’s hand and stated, "back when we were in Atlanta on that rooftop, I saw something from up there, I could see the CDC—the Centers for Disease Control. I encountered a man after I left the hospital, his name was Morgan Jones. He told me about the outbreak, and he mentioned that the CDC was working on a cure."

He paused, looking around at the group, their eyes fixed on him with a mix of hope and scepticism. "If they were working on a cure, that might be our best shot. It’s as good a place as any to try, and if there’s still anyone there, maybe they can help us."

Shane listened; his face unreadable as he weighed Rick’s suggestion. The group murmured among themselves, the mention of a cure sparking a glimmer of hope in the bleakness of their situation. Lori’s eyes met Rick’s, silently supporting his decision, while others like Dale and Jacqui nodded in cautious agreement.

"Alright," Shane finally said, his tone measured. "The CDC it is. But let’s be clear—once we’re on the road, there’s no turning back. We’re running on fumes as it is, so this has to be our best shot."

Rick nodded, knowing the risks but feeling a surge of determination. "It’s a long shot, but it’s better than sitting here waiting for the next attack."

As the group settled into their vehicles, Rick and Lori exchanged a brief but meaningful glance, a silent acknowledgment of the shifting dynamics between them. Before the outbreak, their marriage had been strained, marked by unspoken frustrations and a growing distance that neither had fully addressed. The weight of those unresolved issues had hung over them like a dark cloud, pushing them further apart even as they struggled to keep their family together.

But now, amidst the chaos and the desperate fight for survival, something had begun to change. The crisis had forced them to confront what truly mattered, peeling away the trivial concerns that had once driven a wedge between them. As Rick stepped into his role as a leader, making decisions that could mean life or death for the group, Lori found herself seeing him in a new light. The man who had once seemed distant and unsure was now decisive, strong, and protective qualities that had always drawn her to him.

Lori reached out, squeezing Rick's hand as they sat together in the SUV, a gesture of solidarity and unspoken forgiveness. Rick glanced at her, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth, and in that moment, they both understood that, despite everything, they were stronger together. The apocalypse had stripped their lives down to the essentials, and in doing so, it was helping to restore the connection that had once seemed lost.

Carl sat in the back of the SUV, squeezed between Andrea and Amy, his small frame nestled securely between the two women. Despite the chaos of the night, Carl found a strange sense of comfort in their presence. Andrea, her face still bearing the marks of the harrowing encounter in the woods, offered him a reassuring smile, while Amy gently nudged his shoulder, trying to lift his spirits with a light-hearted comment.

Behind them, Carol and Sophia were seated together, their faces reflecting the exhaustion and relief of finally being on the move. Carol kept a protective arm around Sophia, who leaned against her mother, her eyes heavy with the weight of all they had endured and filled with concern for her missing father.

Dale gripped the steering wheel of the RV, his eyes focused on the road ahead as the vehicle rumbled along the worn highway. Beside him in the passenger seat, Shane hunched over a map spread across his lap, his brow furrowed in concentration as he traced their route with a finger. The morning light filtered through the windshield, casting a soft glow over the cabin, but the tension between the two men was palpable.

In the rear of the RV, the communal area buzzed with quiet activity as Jim, Jacqui, Allen, and his two children, Lizzie and Mika, tried to settle into the cramped space. Jim sat near the back, his hands idly toying with a piece of equipment, his thoughts clearly elsewhere as he stared out the window. Jacqui, ever the calming presence, sat close by, offering a few reassuring words to Allen, who looked worn and weary.

Lizzie and Mika, despite everything, clung to each other, their small voices a faint whisper of conversation as they tried to distract themselves from the memories of the night before. Allen, though still grieving the loss of his wife, managed a strained smile at his daughters, trying to provide some semblance of normalcy for them.

The RV creaked and groaned as it made its way down the road, the atmosphere inside a mix of exhaustion, quiet determination, and the lingering shadows of their recent losses. With Shane guiding the way and Dale ensuring they kept moving forward, the group clung to the fragile hope that their chosen path would lead them to safety.

Chapter Text

As the SUV and RV rolled to a stop outside the CDC, the group stepped out cautiously, the cold biting at their skin as the first flakes of snow began to fall. The scene before them was a chilling visual of chaos and death. The street was littered with gore-streaked pavement, broken military vehicles, and the mangled remains of soldiers who had clearly been overwhelmed in a desperate last stand. Snow began to blanket the carnage, as the flakes slowly erased those final moments.

Rick was the first to step out, his sheriff’s hat pulled low against the cold. His eyes swept across the devastation, his hand instinctively resting on the grip of his revolver. The sight of the fallen military struck him with a mix of dread and resolve—if even they hadn’t been able to hold the line, what chance did their small group stand? Lori followed close behind, one hand protectively on Carl’s shoulder as she guided him out of the SUV. Her face was pale, her eyes darting nervously between the CDC building and the slow-moving undead soldiers that had begun to notice them. Carl, wedged between his parents, stared wide-eyed at the scene, the harsh reality of their world reflected in his young, frightened eyes.

Andrea and Amy emerged cautiously from the SUV. Andrea gripped her weapon tightly, her eyebrows twitched at the presence of the slow-moving walkers, her finger readily on the silver pistol’s trigger. Amy followed close behind, her steps hesitant as she avoided looking at the mangled bodies. She clutched her hoodie tightly for warmth, the sight of the carnage leaving her usual playfulness totally replaced by the chills down her spine.

Shane was the first to step out of the RV, his shotgun gripped tightly in his hands. His eyes swept over the carnage, calculating and focused, his need for control pressing him to the front of the group. “Stay close, follow my lead,” he barked, his voice cutting through the eerie silence. He didn’t wait for agreement, taking a decisive step toward the CDC building, his posture commanding as if daring anyone to challenge his authority. His jaw was set, his movements sharp, as he forged ahead, driven by an urgency that masked his inner turmoil.

Dale lingered by the RV, his steps hesitant as he moved to join Andrea and Amy. The guilt of how quickly he had agreed to leave Glenn, T-Dog, and Ed behind weighed heavily on him, his usual moral compass clouded by the fear and practicality Shane had pressed upon him. He glanced at Andrea, her determined expression unyielding as she guided Amy forward, and felt a pang of shame, wondering if he could ever justify his decision to the group—or himself.

Carol stepped out with Sophia clinging to her side, her protective arm wrapped around her daughter. Carol’s eyes darted between the scene and Sophia, whispering quiet reassurances to keep the girl calm, though her own face projected dread and anxiety behind the false comfort of her words. Sophia pulled her patchwork teddy bear into her chest, the red ribbon around its scruffy neck whipped in rhythm to the winter breeze. Carol adjusted the military satchel Rick had collected from his previous trip over her shoulder so she could shield her daughter with her own body.

Allen exited with Lizzie and Mika close to his sides, his arms resting protectively on their shoulders. His expression was hollow, his gaze lingering on the remains of the fallen soldiers. The loss of his wife weighed heavily on him, but he held himself together for his daughters. Lizzie and Mika clung to him, as Mika’s small voice asked, “what’s going on daddy? I can’t see,” as her eyes were shielded from the gruesome surroundings by her father’s tight grip. Lizzie’s intrigued gaze landed on the mangled walkers approaching them, admiring their name tags and reciting them in her head until she remembered them all. The name ‘Walker’ stood out amongst the others from the obvious irony. Unlike her younger sister, Lizzie was composed and didn’t shed any tears over the current situation.

Jim emerged from the RV last, his hands trembling slightly as he gripped his crowbar. The sight of the crumbling city brought back memories he had tried to bury—the streets where his family had been lost, the horror that had driven him to the edge. He looked visibly shaken, his eyes darting nervously between the bodies and the shadows, his breaths shallow and rapid. As Jacqui stepped down beside him, she quietly reached for his hand, her touch grounding him. Jim’s knuckles were white around the handle of his weapon, but he nodded wordlessly at her, drawing strength from the small gesture as they moved to join the others.

The group huddled together in the cold; their breath visible in the icy air as the snow began to fall more heavily. The moans of the undead soldiers grew louder, pulling them out of their momentary daze. Weapons were drawn, their movements synchronized by necessity as they prepared to fight their way to the CDC. The building loomed ahead, a beacon of both hope and uncertainty amidst the devastation. Together, they moved forward, the weight of their losses and the glimmer of survival driving them into the unknown.

The approach to the CDC's front entrance was cautious at first, the group moving in tense silence to avoid attracting more walkers. Their melee weapons gleamed faintly in the dim light as each swing and stab dispatched the nearest threats with unprecise strikes. Shane led the way, his expression hardened as he motioned for the others to stay close. The snow fell heavier now, muffling the groans of walkers in the distance, but their numbers steadily grew, drawn by the faint movements of the group.

As the group neared the shutter, the tension erupted. More walkers stumbled out from hidden corners and alleyways, their relentless moans growing louder. Jim swung his crowbar shakily, Jacqui covering him with frantic, unpractised knife strikes. Dale, gripping a tire iron, stayed close to Andrea and Amy, his strikes growing weaker as exhaustion set in. A stumble put him in immediate danger—a walker grabbed his coat, pulling him off balance. Dale cried out in panic as the creature lunged closer to his throat.

“Dale!” exclaimed Amy, as she reached for her knife in a frantic state.

Andrea reacted instantly. The sharp crack of her pistol cut through the air, the bullet dropping the walker inches from Dale. The group froze for a heartbeat, their worst fear realized. The gunshot echoed through the street, attracting more walkers from all directions.

“For Christ sakes people…. Move!” Shane barked, spinning around and firing his shotgun at the blurry figures hiding amongst the blizzard as the rest of the group broke into a sprint toward the shutter. Walkers surged behind them, the sound of their relentless shuffling and moans drawing nearer to their pinned location against the fortified entrance.

Rick reached the shutter first, slamming his fists against the cold, unyielding metal. "Open up! We need help!" he shouted, his voice desperate. His fists pounded harder as the others formed a protective circle, holding the walkers at bay with increasingly frantic swings of their weapons.

Rick's voice cracked as he shifted from shouting to pleading, his palms flat against the metal. "Please! There are children with us! Let us in!" His cries were nearly drowned out by the moans of the encroaching horde. Lori pulled Carl closer, her eyes darting between Rick and the walkers as her grip on her son tightened. “Rick we gotta go,” she spoke, placing a hand on his rigid shoulder.

The group’s defensive line faltered as the walkers pressed closer, their numbers swelling by the second. Blood and snow mingled on the ground as the frantic fight for survival continued. Rick’s pounding turned frantic, his voice hoarse with desperation as he begged the unseen occupants of the CDC to show mercy and open the door before it was too late.

Shane grabbed Rick by his other shoulder, yanking him away from the shutter and Lori with a forceful grip. "Enough, Rick!" he barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Rick, we have to get back to the RV. Look around man, people are scared, and this was a bad call.”

Rick unyielded to his demands, twisting his shoulder free of Shane’s solid grip.

“This place was a goddamn pipe dream, let it go!” Shane ordered, losing patience for Ricks stubbornness as he retreated.

Rick turned to snap back at Shane when something caught his eye—a flash of movement above the shutter. His gaze shot upward, locking onto a small security camera. The lens shifted, tracking the group, and a red light blinked steadily beside it. For a heartbeat, Rick froze, disbelief washing over him. "They’re watching us," he muttered.

"What?" Shane spat, following Rick’s gaze.

Rick pointed up at the camera. "They’re inside! Look, the camera’s moving—they can see us!"

The group paused, even amid the chaos, as Rick slammed his fists against the shutter with renewed urgency. "We know you’re in there!" he shouted, his voice echoing across the bloodied snow. "There are kids out here! Please, we need help!"

The walkers grew closer, their groans louder, as Andrea and Shane turned to fire into the horde, trying to buy time. "Rick, they’re not opening it!" Shane shouted, even as he shot down another approaching walker.

But Rick didn’t stop. He stared directly into the camera, his voice breaking as he continued to plead. "You can’t just leave us out here! We’re not infected, just open the god damn door!”

The red light on the camera blinked steadily, and the group’s fate hung in the balance. For a moment, the only sounds were the relentless moans of the walkers and the frantic breaths of the survivors. Then, with a loud mechanical whir, the shutter began to rise.

Chapter Text

Rick stepped back from the shutter, his breath catching in his throat as it began to move. His fists dropped to his sides, and for a moment, disbelief washed over him. Then, his resolve snapped back into place, and he turned to the group, shouting, "Get inside! Now!"

The group surged toward the opening shutter; their movements frantic as walkers closed in from all sides. Dale grabbed Amy’s hand, pulling her forward. "Come on, Amy! Don’t stop!" he urged, his voice firm but trembling with urgency. Amy stumbled, her breaths ragged, but Dale steadied her, guiding her through the rising door and inside the blinding interior of the CDC.

"Andrea, come on!" Amy urged; her voice tinged with panic as she looked outside to the walkers closing in around the others.

Andrea glanced at the horde, then back at her sister. Her jaw tightened. "I’ll be right behind you," she said firmly, her hand squeezing Amy’s for reassurance. She then crouched slightly beside the opened shutter, steadying her pistol. "I’ll be fine Amy, just go with Dale”.

Amy opened her mouth to protest further but was quickly reassured by Andrea giving her one last look, her lips curling into a small, confident smile. "I’ll see you in there, okay? Go!"

Amy hesitated, her eyes welling with tears, before finally letting Dale lead her further into the CDC.

Jim gripped Jacqui’s hand tightly, his knuckles white as he swung his crowbar with fierce determination. "Stay close!” he shouted, his voice raw with urgency. Each swing sent walkers sprawling, their decayed forms collapsing into the snow as he carved a path toward the entrance. Apon reaching the shutter, the pair of them bolted inside, stumbling underneath the half-opened shutter.

Behind them, Allen let out a primal roar as he slammed a walker against the wall, its decayed skull cracking with a sickening thud. "Get inside, now!" he barked, shoving Lizzie and Mika toward the entrance. The girls, wide-eyed with fear, ran inside as Allen followed close behind, his fists still clenched.

Carol gritted her teeth, her hands trembling as she struggled to drive her knife deeper into a walker's neck. The blade was lodged at an awkward angle, stuck in sinew and bone, as the creature snarled inches from her face. She let out a desperate grunt, using all her strength to push the knife further, her heart pounding as she fought to hold back the snapping jaws. The walker’s cold, dead hands clawed at her, and panic surged through her as she realized she was losing ground. "Somebody help me!" she cried, her voice cracking as the relentless weight of the walker pressed closer.

Shane was the first to reach her, slamming the butt of his empty shotgun into the walker’s skull with a sickening crunch. "Get up, Carol! Let’s go!" he shouted, pulling her to her feet.

"Where’s Sophia?!" Carol cried out, her voice trembling with panic as her eyes darted wildly around, searching for her daughter amidst the chaos.

Lori clutched Carl to her chest, her voice urgent and soothing. "It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you. We’re almost there!" Rick grabbed Sophia’s hand, lifting her up as she stumbled, her small legs unable to keep pace. "I’ve got her!" Rick called to Carol, his voice steady but strained, as he carried Sophia through the entrance and into safety.

Near the entrance, Andrea braced herself against the icy wind, her pistol raised as the walkers pressed closer through the swirling snow. She fired rapidly, the sharp cracks of gunfire echoing into the blizzard. The biting cold stung her hands, making her aim falter, and a few bullets went wide, striking the ground instead of their targets. "Come on, damn it!" she muttered through gritted teeth, steadying her grip to fire again.

Shane dragged Carol toward the shutter, his shotgun slung over his shoulder, now useless without ammunition. "Keep moving!" he barked, gripping Carol firmly as she stumbled, her eyes wide with panic. "Sophia’s inside! She’s safe!" he assured her, though his voice was strained as he fought to stay ahead of the walkers.

Andrea covered them until her pistol clicked empty. "I’m out!" she yelled, holstering the useless weapon. Shane shoved Carol through the entrance, turning briefly to pull Andrea inside as the shutter began to grind down.
The metal door slammed shut just as walkers slammed into it, their grotesque faces visible through the narrowing gap until it sealed completely. The sound of their groans and clawing fists echoed faintly from the other side, but the group inside was safe—for now.

Inside the CDC’s reception floor, the group scattered across the cold, sterile space. Some collapsed onto the floor, their chests heaving as they tried to catch their breath. Jacqui leaned against the wall, clutching her knees, while Jim sat nearby, his hands trembling as he gripped his crowbar.

Rick and Lori gathered Carl and Sophia into their arms, their relieved whispers offering a moment of solace. Dale sat heavily on a nearby bench, wiping the sweat and snow from his face, his eyes scanning the group to account for everyone.

Shane stood near the door, his shotgun resting at his side, his breath coming in sharp bursts as he stared at the sealed shutter, listening to the faint groans outside. Andrea leaned against the wall, her shoulders slumping as she wiped her face with trembling hands. Amy hurried over to her sister, placing a comforting hand around her shivering arm, before gently pulling her into a relieved hug.

The silence around the room was immediately disturbed by a mechanical voice. "Doors sealed," it announced in a calm, automated tone. The group froze, their exhausted expressions shifting to alertness as their eyes turned toward the source of the sound.

Standing near a wall panel, a man with short, clean blonde hair and a white lab coat loomed, his face stern and unreadable. In one hand, he held an automatic rifle, its barrel trained steadily on the group. His other hand rested on the panel, the green glow of the display reflecting off his coat.

His piercing blue eyes scanned them methodically, taking in every detail—their blood-streaked clothes, their heaving chests, and the weapons clutched in their hands. The tension in the room was palpable as his voice cut through the stillness, cold and precise. “Any of you get bit out there?”

The rifle didn’t waver as he waited for an answer, his presence an imposing blend of authority and unease. The group exchanged uneasy glances, the relief of safety now replaced with a fresh layer of tension as they faced this unexpected and armed stranger.

The moment of rest was short-lived as all the seated group members jumped to their feet; their exhaustion replaced by tense alertness. Lori and Carol moved instinctively, pulling Carl and Sophia behind them. "Stay behind me," Lori whispered urgently, her hands gripping Carl’s shoulders tightly. Carol did the same, her trembling hand resting protectively on Sophia’s arm.

Shane stepped forward, his empty shotgun raised as a precaution, his eyes narrowing at the man in the lab coat. "Lower the gun". Shane growled, his voice low and sharp, his body coiled with tension.

Rick, though visibly tense, held up a hand to calm the situation. His eyes locked on the man with the automatic rifle, his voice steady despite the unease thick in the air. "Nobody here is infected," Rick said firmly, his tone carrying both assurance and a plea for reason. "We’re survivors, just looking for some shelter. That’s it… We have nowhere else to go."

The man’s rifle didn’t lower, but his piercing gaze flicked between them, assessing the truth in Rick’s words. The automated voice from the wall panel chimed again, repeating, "Doors sealed," as if punctuating the gravity of the situation. The group stood frozen, waiting for the armed man’s next move, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

“You all submit to a blood test, that’s the price of admission."

The automated voice chimed again, its calm monotone filling the tense silence. "Doors sealed."

The man in the white lab coat tilted his head slightly toward the wall panel, his grip on the automatic rifle unwavering. "You hear that?" he said, his voice sharp and commanding. "Doors are sealed. And if you’re staying, those doors stay sealed. No going back out, no second chances. You make up your minds right now."

The clanging of walkers on the shutter outside punctuated his words, the relentless pounding echoing faintly through the sterile reception area. The sound sent a shiver through the group, the grim reminder of what awaited them beyond those walls settling heavily in the room.

Rick looked back at his group—Lori clutching Carl, Carol holding Sophia close, Jacqui steadying a visibly shaken Jim, and Shane keeping his shotgun raised just in case. His gaze swept over each of them before turning back to the armed man.

"We’re staying," Rick said firmly, his voice steady and resolute. "There’s nothing left for us out there.”

The man’s eyes narrowed slightly and after a moment’s pause, he nodded curtly, his expression unreadable. He lowered the rifle, letting it hang from a strap across his chest. His shoulders relaxed slightly, but his stern demeanour remained.

"Fine," he said, his voice clipped and devoid of warmth. He gestured toward a hallway leading deeper into the CDC. "Follow me."

The man turned on his heel without another word, striding toward the corridor with the same sense of authority that had gripped the room moments earlier. The group fell into step behind him, their movements wary and deliberate. The sterile walls of the CDC felt cold and unwelcoming, the distant sound of clanging walkers on the sealed doors still faintly audible, a haunting reminder of what they had escaped.

The group stepped into a large elevator; its sterile interior illuminated by cold, fluorescent light. They huddled together tightly as the closing the doors slid shut with a faint hiss.

Shane, standing near the front with his shotgun resting on his shoulder, broke the silence. "So, doc," he drawled, his tone tinged with scepticism, "is it standard practice for doctors to go around packing heat like that?"

The man glanced at Shane, one brow raising slightly as he adjusted the strap of the rifle hanging across his chest. "Not usually," he replied, his voice dry. "But the military left plenty lying around. Figured I might as well get familiar with one." He gave a slight shrug, his nonchalance contrasting sharply with the tension in the cramped space.

As the elevator began to descend, he turned his attention back to the group, his piercing gaze scanning their weary faces. "You all seem harmless enough, though," he added, a faint smirk playing on his lips. Then, his eyes landed on Carl, who was tucked protectively between Lori and Rick. "Except maybe that one." He pointed subtly toward the boy. "Looks like trouble to me."

Carl’s eyes widened, and a faint blush crept across his cheeks. Lori pulled him closer, her protective instincts flaring, but Rick let out a small, weary chuckle. It was the first sign of levity they’d had since entering the CDC, a moment that, while brief, eased the suffocating tension just slightly.

“You got a name Doc?” Allen inquired bluntly.

The man paused for a moment before answering his intrigued guests before replying, “Dr Edwin Jenner. I’ll get to know the rest of you during the examinations.”

The doctor straightened as the elevator chimed, signalling their arrival. "Here we are," he said, his tone neutral, as the doors slid open to the depths of the CDC. "Welcome to your new home.”

Chapter Text

The group sat scattered around a large clinical room, its sterile white walls reflecting the cold, fluorescent light overhead. Jacqui sat stiffly in the chair, her arm outstretched as Dr. Jenner tied a tourniquet above her elbow, his movements efficient and detached. She turned her head to avoid the sight and let out a nervous chuckle. "Funny, after all the shit we’ve seen out there, I’m still afraid of a fucking needle," she admitted, her tone light but her unease clear, drawing a few faint smiles from the group. Her eyes landed on Andrea who was sat nearby, looking pale and unsteady.

Andrea pressed a hand to her forehead, her eyes fluttering shut briefly. "I’m fine," she muttered when Dale placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Just a little lightheaded, I’ve hardly eaten a thing all week.”

"Sit back down and rest," Dale said softly, his voice laced with concern, placing his weathered palm over her jittering knuckles as she slumped back into the fold-up chair.

Jacqui turned her attention to Jenner, her curiosity finally breaking the silence. "So… where is everybody?" she asked, her voice steady but laced with curiosity. "I mean, you’re not the only scientist here, right? There’s got to be others."

The question caused a ripple of attention through the room. The others, who had been quietly recovering, looked up, their expressions a mix of curiosity and unease. Lori and Rick exchanged glances, Shane leaned forward slightly, and Allen hugged his daughters closer, all of them waiting for an answer.

Jenner didn’t look up, his focus on locating a vein as he prepared the needle. "Not anymore," he said in a flat, deadpan tone. The faint click of the needle cap being removed punctuated his words.

Jacqui frowned, her unease growing. "What do you mean, ‘not anymore’? We heard this place was supposed to be humanity’s last hope. Where did everyone go?"

Jenner inserted the needle into her vein with practiced precision, drawing the dark red blood into a sterile vial. "In the beginning," he said, his voice devoid of emotion, "there were the walk-outs. People wanted to be with their families when things got bad."

He placed the filled vial on a tray and reached for another, his movements mechanical, almost robotic. "Then came the suicides," he continued, his expression blank, as if recounting an old, unremarkable story. "Not everyone could handle being the last line of defence for the human race’s survival."

The room fell into a heavy silence as his words hung in the air. Lori’s face tightened, her hand instinctively resting on Carl’s shoulder. Andrea didn’t react outwardly, but her pale face seemed to grow even paler.

Jacqui stared at him, her lips parting slightly in disbelief. The weight of his words hung in the air, their starkness cutting through the cold clinical environment. "And you?" she asked quietly, her voice trembling slightly. "Why did you stay?"
Jenner paused for a fraction of a second before meeting her gaze, his eyes hollow. "Because I made a promise to someone." His words were simple, but the resignation in his tone spoke volumes.

Carol, sitting nearby with Sophia at her side, tilted her head slightly, her voice gentle but inquisitive. "Who?"

Jenner stiffened slightly, his gaze hardening as he looked past her, his attention fixed on the collection of blood samples. "It doesn’t matter now," he said, his voice clipped and cold. "They’re gone now. That’s all there is to it."

Carol frowned but didn’t press further, sensing the rawness behind his words. The rest of the group exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of his response only adding to the oppressive atmosphere in the room.

Jenner turned abruptly, his lab coat swishing behind him as he gestured toward another corridor. "Come on," he said briskly. "I’ll show you to your rooms. You can rest and clean up. You look like you need it… just go easy on the hot water." His tone was flat, almost dismissive, but the reaction from the group was immediate.

The weary faces around the room lit up, eyes widening in disbelief and relief. A hot shower. After months of dirt, sweat, and blood clinging to them, the idea was almost too good to be true.

As the group followed Jenner down the corridor, Jim straightened up slowly, his tired face brightening slightly. "Did he just say hot water?" he asked, his voice carrying a spark of disbelief. He reached out to help Jacqui as she stood, steadying her with a careful hand.

Jacqui gave him a faint smile, brushing herself off. "I think he did," she replied, her tone soft but tinged with a slight chuckle.

The group embraced the rare luxury of hot showers in their private rooms, each person experiencing the moment in their own way.

Jacqui leaned her head back under the steaming water, letting it cascade over her face as she closed her eyes, as a large smile sparked across her face. The warmth eased her aching muscles, washing away weeks of grime and tension. In the next room, Andrea stood with her palms pressed against the wall, her face tilted into the spray. She scrubbed her arms and sighed deeply. Across the hall, Amy hummed softly to herself, her fingers working through her tangled hair as the soap bubbled away the remnants of their struggles.

Carol knelt beside Sophia, gently massaging shampoo through her daughter’s hair. Sophia laughed, a sweet, innocent sound that tugged at Carol’s heart. For once, she and her daughter could share a moment without fear, which brought a bittersweet smile to her lips as she looked at her daughter’s carefree face.

"You’re smiling, Mom," Sophia said, her voice curious but happy.

Carol blinked, startled out of her thoughts. She cupped Sophia’s face gently, her fingers brushing away a strand of wet hair. "Just happy to see you laughing, sweetie," she said softly, her voice thick with emotion.

But not everyone shared in the moment’s levity. Shane stood under the running water, his hands braced against the tiled wall, his head hanging low. From the bedside table, he had grabbed a bottle of wine left as part of Jenner’s courtesy and brought it into the bathroom. He drank directly from the bottle, the sharp taste of alcohol mixing with the heat, but it did little to drown out his spiralling thoughts about Lori.

In another room, Allen stood motionless under the spray, his eyes staring blankly at the tiled wall. The warmth of the water seemed lost on him; his mind still consumed with the memory of Donna. He had barely allowed himself to process it—there had been no time, no space in the chaos to grieve. But now, in the stillness of the shower, the reality of her absence hit him with full force.

Their roles had always been clear, a comforting balance in their old life. He worked long hours, providing for the family, while Donna stayed home, her days devoted to raising Lizzie and Mika. She had been the glue, the nurturer, the one who kept their family grounded. Donna had been the one to soothe the girls when they cried, to bandage their scraped knees, and to distract them a simple gesture.

He remembered how she’d pluck wildflowers during panic attacks or tears, holding them gently before the girls. "Look at the flowers," she’d say, her voice calm and steady. "Count the petals with me. Aren’t they beautiful?"
She could be cold towards most people, her tone often blunt and no-nonsense, but never with her girls. For them, she was all softness and warmth.

Now, standing under the spray, Allen’s hands gripped the tiles as his legs trembled beneath the weight of those memories. Without Donna, he felt lost. How could he ever fill her role for Lizzie and Mika? He wasn’t gentle like her, wasn’t intuitive the way she had been. The thought of his daughters looking to him for the warmth and comfort she had provided left him feeling inadequate and terrified.

Rick and Lori, sharing a single small shower, found a rare moment of peace. Rick’s hands rested lightly on Lori’s waist, their foreheads touching as the water poured over them. They didn’t speak, but the silence was filled with a quiet intimacy, a rediscovery of the connection that had frayed in their old lives but seemed to strengthen now, in the CDC of all places.

For the first time in months, the group had a chance to feel human again, even if only for a little while.

Soon after, a few members of the group found themselves having some downtime in the common room. Jim leaned over the pool table, lining up his shot while Amy watched from the side, waiting for her turn. The clink of the cue ball echoed softly in the otherwise quiet space. Dale stood nearby, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, observing the casual game.

"Looks like you’re off the hook for fixing-up the RV from now on Jim," Dale said, his tone light. "Doesn’t seem like we’ll need it with this place keeping us covered."

Jim straightened up, rubbing the chalk on the tip of his cue. "Would be nice to have the option, though," he replied, glancing at Dale. "This place feels solid, but resources don’t last forever. Sooner or later, we might need to hit the road again."

Amy, holding her cue loosely, jumped in. "Didn’t Jenner say the doors stay sealed? If that’s true, we’re not going anywhere even if we wanted to. Right?"

Dale raised an eyebrow, shaking his head slightly. "I’m pretty sure that’s just a figure of speech, Amy. We’re not prisoners here. The doors will open as easily as they closed. It’s just about keeping us safe in the meantime."

Jacqui, sitting on a nearby couch with a half-empty glass of wine in her hand, and chimed in. "I’m not so sure it was just a figure of speech. I mean, places like this—they’re designed to keep the worst kind of things inside, right? What if its not just a figure of speech. What if we can’t leave?”

Dale scoffed, dismissing the conspiracy by saying, "Come on, you girls have had too much wine.”

Jacqui frowned, leaning forward slightly. "I’m just saying, Dale. What if—"

Before she could finish, the loudspeaker crackled to life, Jenner’s monotoned voice filling the room. "Attention, everyone. Dinner is served in the cafeteria. Join me there whenever you’re ready."

Jacqui sighed, setting her wineglass down as she stood. "Well, looks like I’ll save my theories for after dessert," she said, throwing Dale a teasing smile. The group chuckled softly as they made their way out of the room toward the cafeteria.

Chapter Text

The cafeteria was alive with warmth and laughter, the long table filled with steaming dishes and bottles of wine. The group sat together, their spirits higher than they had been in months, enjoying the rare comfort of a proper meal. The sound of clinking glasses, soft chatter, and bursts of laughter echoed off the sterile walls.

Shane was the last to take his seat, his movements slow and deliberate. He slid into the chair next to Lori, his gaze fixed on the table, the lively atmosphere around him seeming distant. Lori glanced at him briefly, her face unreadable, but she quickly looked away, focusing on the others and not acknowledging his presence. Shane remained silent, the faint hum of tension following him as the table buzzed with joy.

Rick stood up, holding his glass of wine and tapping it lightly with a fork. The gentle ringing sound brought the group’s attention to him, their chatter fading as they turned to listen.

"I just want to say a few words," Rick began, his voice steady and warm. He raised his glass slightly toward Jenner. "First, to you Doc—for your hospitality, for opening your doors to us when we had nowhere else to go. You saved our lives."

The group nodded and murmured their agreement, glasses lifting in acknowledgment. Rick turned his attention to the others, his smile widening. "And to Lori, Carol, and Andrea, for preparing this feast!”

Before Rick could continue, Carl piped up from his seat, grinning eagerly. "Hey! What about me?"

The table erupted into laughter as Rick looked down at his son, his expression softening. "Right," he said with a chuckle. "And to Carl—for peeling the potatoes like a champ."

Carl beamed at the acknowledgment, and the group laughed again, the moment breaking whatever lingering tension remained. Glasses clinked as everyone joined in the toast, the warmth of the moment spreading across the table. Even Shane glanced up briefly, though his expression remained distant, a stark contrast to the shared joy around him.

The laughter began to settle as Rick, still standing with his glass raised, shifted his tone. His expression grew serious, the weight of recent losses pressing heavily into the room. "I also want to say something about Glenn, T-Dog, and Ed," he said, his voice quieter but firm. The table fell silent, the joy from moments before evaporating as everyone turned their attention back to him.

"We left them behind," Rick continued, his eyes scanning the group. "Not because we wanted to, but because we had no choice. But I promise you, when the horde outside clears and we have a chance, we will go out there, and we will look for them. We won’t give up on them." His voice wavered slightly, but his resolve shone through, the unspoken guilt etched on his face.

The room was still, the only sound was the faint clink of a fork against a plate.

At the edge of the room, Jenner stood near the doorway, his body stiff and his face unreadable. As Rick spoke about going back out, Jenner’s hand moved toward his mouth, a nervous gesture he quickly suppressed. His gaze darted toward the table, then away, as though the words were dredging up something he didn’t want to confront. Without a word, he turned and left the room, his footsteps echoing faintly in the corridor.

Rick noticed Jenner’s departure but didn’t comment, his focus remaining on the group. "We owe it to them," he finished, his voice filled with drunken determination. The silence that followed was heavy, each person lost in their own thoughts, the earlier laughter and warmth now just a fleeting memory.

Jacqui’s eyes lingered on Jenner as he slipped out of the room, his tense demeanour and quick departure not escaping her notice. She turned slightly in her chair, looking back at Jim, who sat quietly behind her, his face shadowed by the dim light.

"Sweetie," she said softly, leaning closer to him, her voice low to avoid drawing attention. "I’ve got a bad feeling about him. Something’s off. We should follow him, see what he’s up to."

Jim hesitated, his hand moving to his face as he adjusted his moustache. “Maybe he’s just tired, it’s been a long day for all of us and we only just got here Jacqui. I don’t want him thinking we’re snooping."

Her hand found his forearm, her touch firm but reassuring. "I trust my gut on this," she said, her eyes locking with his. "I just need you to trust me."

Jim exhaled, his shoulders sagging slightly before he nodded. "Alright," he said quietly, his voice carrying a reluctant edge. "But we keep it quiet."

Jacqui smiled faintly; her confidence renewed by his agreement. She turned back to the group and raised her voice just enough for the others to hear without suspicion. "We’re going to turn in for the night," she announced casually, standing and brushing her hands on her jeans.

Jim followed her lead, the two slipping out of the room unnoticed by most as the group remained focused on Rick’s heavy speech. They stepped into the corridor, the faint hum of the CDC’s systems echoed as they trailed after Jenner, their unease growing with every step.

The remnants of the meal lingered on the table; the wine bottles nearly empty as the group began to wind down. Rick stood off to the side, deep in conversation with Allen and Andrea, their voices low and thoughtful as they discussed the earlier promise to search for their missing group members. Laughter and murmured conversations filled the room, but not everyone was at ease.

Lori remained seated at the table beside Shane, her arms crossed as she watched Rick with a mixture of pride and worry. Shane, slouched in his chair and visibly drunk, swirled the last of his wine in the glass before setting it down heavily. His eyes lingered on Lori for a moment before, in a haze of alcohol and misplaced confidence, he reached out and placed his hand on her thigh.

Lori froze, her entire body stiffening as her head snapped toward him. Her eyes were sharp with fury, but she kept her voice low, her jaw tight as she hissed through clenched teeth, "What the hell are you doing?"

Shane blinked at her, his drunken smirk fading as he registered her reaction. He began to stammer something, but Lori cut him off, her voice still controlled but brimming with quiet rage. "Common room. Now." She stood abruptly, her movements sharp as she refused to meet anyone else’s gaze, determined to avoid drawing attention to the sudden tension.

Dale, seated a few chairs away, noticed the shift immediately. His sharp eyes flicked between Lori’s rigid posture and Shane’s dazed confusion, his brow furrowing as he watched them leave the room together. Lori marched out first, her shoulders squared, while Shane stumbled after her, his steps uneven but obedient.

The chatter in the room continued, most of the group oblivious to the sudden undercurrent of tension. Dale, however, sat back in his chair, his gaze lingering on the door as unease settled over him like a shadow.

Lori stormed into the common room, her rage erupting the moment she slammed the door shut behind them. The sound echoed sharply through the sterile space as she turned to face Shane, her eyes blazing with fury.

"Maybe I didn’t make myself clear back at the quarry," she snapped, her voice trembling with suppressed anger. "So let me make it perfectly clear for you now. Rick—my husband—is back. I love him. What we did, what we had, was because you told me he was fucking dead! It meant nothing. Nothing. If you ever lay another hand on me, I swear I will tell him everything."

Shane stood in the doorway, swaying slightly, his eyes narrowing as her words cut through the haze of alcohol. For a moment, he looked stunned, but his expression quickly hardened, his jaw tightening. "No, you won’t," he said bluntly, his voice low and cold.

Before Lori could react, Shane closed the distance between them in a few quick strides, his movements erratic but forceful. He grabbed her arms, shoving her backward until she hit the pool table. Panic flashed across her face as he pinned her down, his weight pressing her against the cold surface. Lori struggled, her voice rising in anger and fear as she pushed against him with all her strength.

"Shane, get off me!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the room. But Shane’s grip tightened, his face twisted with a mix of frustration, pain, and something darker, as his hand slid further up her thigh.

The room seemed to close in around them, the tension suffocating, as Lori continued to fight, her fury and terror fuelling her resistance.

Meanwhile, Jacqui and Jim moved silently through the white halls, the whirl of the CDC’s systems masking the sound of their cautious footsteps. Ahead of them, Dr. Jenner exited a lab, his movements precise as he locked the door behind him using the digital panel on the wall. The faint beep of the lock engaging echoed in the corridor as Jenner adjusted the blood vial in his hand, its contents glinting under the fluorescent lights. Without a glance back, he turned down a separate hallway and disappeared.

Jacqui nudged Jim gently, her voice low but firm. "I’ll keep an eye on him. You need to check out the lab."

Jim stopped in his tracks; his hesitation evident as he glanced at the secured door. His shoulders tensed, and he shook his head slightly. "Jacqui, I… I don’t know. If we get caught—if I get caught—he could throw us back out there. I can’t go back out there," he said, his voice trembling slightly, a rare crack in his usually stoic demeanour. He turned to her, his eyes filled with a vulnerability she hadn’t seen before. "And I can’t lose someone else I care about. I can’t lose you."

Jacqui froze, her breath catching as she looked at him. For a moment, she didn’t know what to say. Jim had always been the quiet one, the one who kept his feelings buried under layers of distance and practicality. But now, his words hung in the air, raw and honest, and it struck her harder than she expected.

Her expression softened, and she reached out, placing a hand lightly on his arm. "Sweetie," she said gently, her voice tinged with surprise. "You’re not going to lose me. I promise. But we have to know what’s going on here. If he’s hiding something, we need to find out—for all of us."

Jim’s jaw tightened, his internal conflict evident, but after a moment, he nodded reluctantly. "Alright," he said, his voice steadier now. "But be careful, Jacqui. Please."

Without saying a word, she leaned in and kissed him lightly on the cheek, her lips lingering for just a heartbeat before she pulled back. "Be careful," she said softly, her voice steady but filled with meaning. "We’ve got this."

Jim blinked, momentarily taken aback, his hand instinctively brushing the spot where her lips had touched. He nodded, his resolve hardening despite the swirl of emotions in his chest. "You too," he murmured.

Jacqui gave him one last reassuring smile before turning and heading down the corridor after Jenner, her figure disappearing around the corner. Jim stood frozen for a moment, his heart pounding, before shifting his focus to the locked lab door. With a deep breath, he approached the digital panel, his determination outweighing his fear as he began to inspect it.

Jim stood before the digital panel, his fingers grazing the smooth surface as he examined it closely. The hum of the locked mechanism was steady, and he could see the faint glow of its activated state. He exhaled sharply, his eyes darting around the hallway. There had to be a way to bypass it.

His gaze landed on a nearby maintenance closet, the door slightly ajar. Moving quickly but quietly, he slipped inside. The small, cluttered space smelled faintly of oil and dust, and shelves were lined with various tools and equipment. His eyes scanned the contents until they landed on a screwdriver. Grabbing it, he tucked it into his back pocket and returned to the panel.

Kneeling by the panel, Jim carefully pried off the outer casing, exposing a tangled array of wires and circuits beneath. His hands trembled slightly as he worked, but his focus was sharp. He studied the wiring, his mind racing.
He adjusted the screwdriver in his hand and carefully bridged two exposed wires, watching as a small spark leapt between them. The hum of the lock faltered, and the faint glow of the panel dimmed before going dark. Jim let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as the door clicked softly, signalling it had unlocked.

Standing, he hesitated for just a moment, his hand hovering over the door handle. Then, steeling himself, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, his heart pounding as he prepared to uncover whatever Jenner had been hiding.

Jim stepped cautiously into the lab. His eyes were immediately drawn to a table neatly stacked with files, each bearing a name from their group. He picked one up—his own name printed clearly across the front. Flipping it open, he saw detailed notes about his health, blood type, and observations from their admission. A cold chill crept over him as he realized there was a file for every one of them, meticulously filled out.

Turning, his gaze landed on the glowing monitors along one wall. The screens displayed graphs and data streams—complex blood analyses labelled with their names. As he approached, Jim’s stomach twisted. Every result indicated "Positive" for a particular marker, though the specifics were cryptic. He leaned closer, squinting at the screen as his pulse quickened. Whatever Jenner had been testing for, they all had it.

His hands shook slightly as he turned his attention to another monitor displaying file folders labelled TS-1 through TS-19. Hesitating for a moment, he clicked on the first file, a video feed beginning to play. A man in a lab coat appeared, speaking into the camera. His tone was calm, but his words were clinical and chilling as he described early tests, the infection's progression, and attempts to understand its effects.

One by one, Jim clicked through the files, each more horrifying than the last. The videos showed experiments—first on dead walkers, then live test subjects who had been bitten or turned—as Jenner and other scientists documented the infection’s impact on the brain. The final files were darker still, showing chaos within the CDC: desperate scientists, arguments, and panicked walkouts.

Jim stumbled back from the screen, his breath coming in short gasps. His hands gripped the edge of the desk as the implications hit him like a freight train. Whatever Jenner had found—whatever he was hiding—it was big. Too big to keep to himself.

Without a second thought, Jim bolted from the lab, his footsteps echoing in the silent hallways as he ran to gather the others. He burst into the cafeteria, his face pale and eyes wide with urgency. "You all need to come with me," he said, his voice trembling but firm. The group, who had been winding down after the meal, looked up in alarm.

Dale was the first to approach him, concern etched into his weathered face. "Son, you don’t look so good," he said gently, placing a hand on Jim’s shoulder. "What’s wrong?"

Jim shook his head, brushing off Dale’s concern. "I don’t have time to explain. You just… you just have to see this,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. He turned and motioned for them to follow.

Uneasy murmurs rippled through the group as they exchanged glances, but one by one, they stood and followed Jim down the sterile halls. The tension grew as they entered the lab. The files on the desk caught their attention immediately. Andrea picked one up, her name bold across the front, and flipped through it, her brows furrowing as she scanned the notes. Others quickly grabbed their files, reading in silence as the unsettling reality sank in.
Amy and Carol, sensing the tension, quietly guided the children to sit on a few chairs in the corner. Jim, pacing near the monitors, looked over at them and said, "The kids… they might not want to see this." His voice cracked, and Carol nodded, understanding.

"Come on, let’s get to your rooms," Carol said softly, herding the children toward the door. Lizzie hesitated; her face determined. "I want to stay," she said firmly.
"No," Allen interjected, his voice stern but kind. "Go with Carol, Lizzie. Please."

Lizzie pouted but obeyed, glancing back one last time before leaving with Carol and the others. Carl, however, stayed rooted to his spot, his eyes wide with curiosity. "I’m not going," he said firmly.

Rick, scanning the room, suddenly realized Lori and Shane weren’t among them. His eyes narrowed slightly, but he turned to his son and crouched down. "It’s okay," he said softly. "You can stay."

Jim, not waiting for more debate, turned to the monitors. "Look at this," he said, his voice urgent as he began pulling up the video files labelled TS-19. The faint glow of the screens filled the room as the group gathered around, bracing themselves.

Dr. Jenner appeared on the screen, standing in a sterile lab with a woman strapped to a chair in front of him. She was wearing a lab coat, her face pale but composed, a visible bite mark on her arm. Jenner looked crushed, his shoulders slumped, and his expression heavy and still.

His voice, trembling but professional, broke the silence. "Test Subject 19," he said, his tone hollow. "Two hours after receiving a bite from Test Subject 18." Jim shifted uncomfortably, recognizing the connection to the earlier footage he had watched alone.

The footage skipped to a moment between the two doctors, the woman spoke, her voice soft but resolute. "Edwin," she said, addressing Jenner directly, her eyes locking onto his. "Promise me. No matter what happens, you stay. You keep working on this. You find a cure."

Jenner’s face twisted in pain, his lips pressing into a thin line as he nodded. "I promise," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. The woman gave him a faint smile, “I love you,” she gasped, her head tilting back against the chair as she exhaled her final breath.

Jenner stepped closer to her, his hands trembling as he checked her pulse. "Time of death: 18:43," he stated mechanically, though his voice cracked. The camera shifted slightly as he turned to face it, his face shadowed in grief.

He took a deep breath before continuing, his voice flat, stripped of emotion. "Final conclusion: the virus is universal. We are all infected." The room around the group seemed to shrink as his words sank in. Jenner went on, his explanation clinical yet chilling. “We are all carrying the virus, which remains dormant in the brain. Once the body dies, the virus activates the brain stem, reanimating only the basic motor functions. The body moves, it feeds, but it’s not alive. The human part—the part that makes you, you—that dies with you."

The weight of his words sank into the room like a stone. The group stood frozen, their faces pale and stunned as the revelation hit them. Amy clutched Andrea’s arm, as the sisters watched the footage in shock. Dale removed his hat, his head bowing slightly as the realization settled over him. Rick’s hand instinctively reached for Carl’s shoulder, pulling him closer to restrict his view of the monitor.

Jim hesitated, his hand hovering over the mouse as the video continued to play. On the screen, Jenner stood motionless for a moment, staring into the camera. His voice returned, calm but lifeless. "I will continue my work on a cure," he said. "But further progress will require additional test subjects. I have reason to believe that Paris have made more breakthroughs than myself, but I will do what I can. For her."

Behind him, the woman strapped to the chair began to stir. Her body twitched, lifeless eyes snapping open as her head jerked to one side. Jenner didn’t flinch, his focus remaining on the camera. "Reanimation time: fifteen minutes and thirty-two seconds, " he said clinically, his voice devoid of the emotion that had filled it earlier. He turned to glance at her briefly before walking to the camera and switching off the recording. The screen went dark.
The room was deathly silent, the group standing frozen as the weight of what they had witnessed sank in. Tears rolled silently down Andrea’s face as she gripped the edge of the desk, her knuckles white. Amy placed a hand on her sister’s arm, her own face pale and horrified.

Allen, standing off to the side, drew in a shaky breath, holding himself together by sheer will. His voice broke the oppressive silence. "Look," he said, motioning to the data on the screens. "Those files… they’ve got test subject labels attached to our names." He pointed to one of the monitors, where his own name appeared beside the label TS-23.

The group’s attention snapped to the screens, their eyes scanning the names and designations. Jim stepped closer, his heart pounding in his chest. His breath caught when he saw it: TS-20 – Jacquiline Martin.

Chapter Text

Jacqui crept silently down the sterile corridors, her heart pounding in her chest as she followed Jenner from a distance. The dim, flickering lights cast long shadows on the walls, and each step she took echoed faintly, the sound amplifying her tension. She stayed close enough to keep him in sight but far enough to avoid being noticed.

Suddenly, Jenner paused, his head tilting slightly as if listening for something. Jacqui’s breath caught, and she quickly ducked into a doorway, pressing herself flat against the wall. Her pulse thundered in her ears as he turned, scanning the empty corridor behind him. After a tense moment, he seemed satisfied and resumed walking, his footsteps growing softer as he moved farther away.

Jacqui let out a quiet breath and slipped back into the hallway, continuing to tail him. They entered a generator room, the air thick with the smell of fuel and oil. Massive barrels lined the walls, each marked with bold red lettering: FLAMMABLE. The hum of machinery filled the space, much louder than before. Jenner approached one of the hulking generators, a massive machine with pipes extending in every direction. He opened a panel and retrieved a nozzle from a nearby barrel, carefully topping off the generator’s fuel.

As the machine roared to life, the flickering lights stabilized, casting the room in a steady, harsh glow. Jacqui crouched behind a barrel, watching intently. Jenner stepped back, inspecting his work, then adjusted a few settings on the generator’s control panel. Satisfied, he picked up a key card from his coat pocket and headed toward a set of automatic glass doors at the far end of the room.

Jacqui’s eyes followed him, her instincts screaming that she couldn’t let him out of her sight. As the door began to slide shut behind him, she bolted from her hiding spot, sprinting across the room. Her feet pounded against the floor, and she slipped inside just before the door sealed shut behind her, the faint hiss of pressurized locks echoing in the enclosed space.

Breathing hard, she pressed herself against the nearest wall, her heart racing as she peeked out to see where Jenner had gone. The dim light of the new lab illuminated his figure as he moved deeper into the space, oblivious to her presence. Jacqui calmed herself, ready to find out more about their gracious host.

Jacqui crouched low, her back pressed against the cold metal wall as she peered into Jenner’s lab. The room was starkly different from the pristine spaces she’d seen in the rest of the CDC. Here, chaos reigned. Papers littered the desk in uneven piles, some spilling onto the floor, covered in scrawled notes and incomprehensible diagrams. Vial racks lined one side of the workspace, filled with both empty and full blood samples, their contents glowing faintly under the harsh fluorescent light.

Jenner moved with quiet purpose, his face set in a steady focus. He swept his arm across the cluttered desk, pushing aside stray papers and test tubes to make space. Jacqui’s eyes narrowed as she watched him pick up a rack and carefully clear it out, placing the empty vials into a nearby bin.

She held her breath as he retrieved the blood sample he had taken from the lab earlier, handling it with a delicate touch. Jenner slotted the vial into the rack with care, muttering something under his breath she couldn’t quite make out. The air in the lab felt thick, heavy with the unspoken secrets it held, and Jacqui’s heart pounded as she stayed hidden, watching him work.

Jacqui’s eyes followed Jenner’s every move as he sifted through the chaos of his desk, his focus narrowing on a stack of neatly arranged papers set apart from the disarray. He opened the folder, his expression tightening with concentration as he scanned the notes. One by one, he began pulling various chemicals from a nearby shelf, lining them up methodically on the now-cleared portion of the desk.

With steady hands, Jenner grabbed a pipette and began working with total precision, adding droplets of each chemical into a separate clean vial. Jacqui leaned forward slightly, her curiosity overpowering her caution as she watched him work. Each drop seemed deliberate; each movement calculated. The liquid in the vial remained clear, undisturbed, until he turned back to the blood sample he’d taken earlier.

Carefully, Jenner removed the vial from its rack, measured out five exact drops of blood, and combined it with the chemical formula. As the last drop fell, the liquid began to shift dramatically, swirling from clear to a deep, ominous red. Jacqui’s breath hitched, her eyes widening as she watched him stir the mixture and hold it up to the light, his face a mixture of tension and anticipation.

Satisfied, Jenner transferred a small amount of the mixture to a slide and slid it under the lens of his microscope. He leaned in, peering intently at the sample. The silence in the lab was deafening as Jacqui held her breath, watching his every move.

Jacqui edged closer to the small window in the lab door, her curiosity overpowering her caution. She watched Jenner stagger back from the microscope, his wide eyes filled with shock and excitement. Her breath hitched as she tried to piece together what she was witnessing.

Then, Jenner’s head snapped toward the window, his gaze locking onto hers. Jacqui froze, her heart skipping a beat. "Oh shit," she whispered under her breath, realizing she’d been caught.

Before she could slip away, the door hissed open, and Jenner stood there, his face pale but animated, his usual monotone expression replaced with something sharper—almost manic.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, his voice trembling, a mix of confusion and suspicion. "How did you get down here?"

Jacqui straightened, forcing herself to stay calm despite the sudden shift in his demeanour. "I was… curious," she said casually, though her pulse pounded in her ears. "I saw you leave dinner and thought I’d see what you were working on."

Jenner squinted at her, his breathing uneven, before he stepped forward and grabbed her arm, his grip firm but not painful as he pulled her into the lab.

"Wait—what’s going on?" Jacqui asked, her voice steady but edged with unease. Jenner’s enthusiasm was unnerving, a sharp departure from his usual cold detachment. His eyes darted around the room as he gestured toward his makeshift workstation.

"You need to see this," he said, his voice trembling with a strange energy. "This is… this is it. I think I’ve finally done it.”

Jacqui glanced down at his hand still gripping her arm, her unease growing. Whatever he had discovered, it clearly consumed him, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing—or something far worse.

He suddenly let go of her arm, so she straightened-up, keeping a wary distance as she gestured toward the vial in his hand. "What is that, Edwin? What did you figure out?"

Jenner lifted the second vial of clear liquid, holding it up to the light with almost reverent awe. "It’s a cure," he said, his voice trembling with a mix of triumph and desperation. "Do you understand what this means? Everyone is infected. People think it’s the bite that turns you, but it’s not. The bite is just a means of death like any other. No matter how you die—peaceful or violent, old age or illness—you come back."

Jacqui froze, her mouth opening slightly in shock. "You’re saying…" she trailed off, her voice faltering.

Jenner nodded; his eyes sharp with intensity. "It’s in all of us. Dormant, until death activates it. I’ve known this for a long time," he said, his tone suddenly distant as if he were speaking to himself. He turned back to the table and began filling a syringe with the solution from the vial. "But this," he said, holding up the syringe with unsteady hands, "this is the closest I’ve ever been to stopping it."

Jacqui instinctively stepped back; her hands raised slightly. "Wait," she said, her voice steady but cautious. "How do you know it’ll work?”

Jenner stopped, his hand trembling slightly as he stared at the syringe. "The blood reacted perfectly," he said, almost to himself. "It’s the first time I’ve ever seen anything like it. The markers, the dormant cells—it’s all there. This is it."

Jacqui’s eyes darted toward the desk, drawn to the blood vial still sitting in its rack. Her heart dropped when she saw the label: JM—her initials—along with the date they had arrived at the CDC.

"You used my blood," she said, her voice trembling as she stepped back again. Her chest tightened, fear mingling with anger. "That’s what this is, isn’t it? That’s why you’re so sure."

Jenner’s face faltered for a moment, his frantic energy dimming slightly. "You don’t understand," he said softly. "You’ve all made this possible. It’s your blood that gave me this chance. This is bigger than you, than me—it’s a chance to stop this nightmare for good."

Jacqui’s breath quickened, her eyes flicking between Jenner and the syringe in his hand. She backed up slowly, her movements cautious, her hand brushing against the desk near the doorway. Her fingers curled around a pencil, gripping it tightly behind her back as she forced a strained smile. "That’s… great news, Edwin," she said, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart. "Why don’t we go and get the others? They’d want to celebrate this.”

For a moment, Jenner hesitated, his face softening as though her words had reached him. But then his expression shifted, worry and determination flickering across his features. "I can’t let you go just yet," he said, his voice trembling. "There’s just one last test I need to carry out. To be sure."

Jacqui froze, understanding the implication in an instant. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him, her chest tightening. "You’re talking about me," she said quietly, her voice sharpening with anger. "You’re going to use me."

"I’m sorry," Jenner said, his voice hollow but firm. "Research takes sacrifice. Like I said—this is bigger than any one of us. It’s the only way."

Before she could slip outside the room, Jenner grabbed her arm again. Jacqui moved on instinct, her body surging with adrenaline as she brought the pencil up and stabbed him in the gut. He let out a sharp cry, stumbling back but refusing to let go.

"Don’t do this!" he begged, his voice desperate as they struggled. "Just submit! You’ll be fine—I can make sure you’re fine!"

Jacqui fought harder; her breath ragged as she grappled with him. Her hand found a scalpel on the cluttered desk, and she gripped it tightly, her survival instincts begging her to fight her way out of this. As she raised the blade to strike his neck, Jenner lunged, his hand darting forward. He pulled her Into his shoulder and the needle pierced the back of her neck before she could stop him.

The syringe emptied in an instant, and Jacqui gasped, the scalpel slipping from her fingers and clattering to the floor. Her vision blurred as dizziness overtook her, her legs buckling beneath her. She collapsed backward into a table, sliding down the wall until she was slumped on the floor. Her breaths came shallow and uneven as her body refused to obey her.

Jenner crouched beside her, his face pale but determined. "You’ll be alright," he said softly, almost tenderly. "Trust me. You have to trust me. You’ll be fine."

Jacqui’s vision darkened, her consciousness slipping away as his voice became a distant echo. Her eyelids fluttered, and then, finally, her world went black.

Chapter Text

Back in the lab, Jim paced back and forth, his agitation growing with each passing moment. The others stood around the workstation, staring uneasily at the blood data and test subject labels on the screens. The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to choke on.

"This is bad," Jim muttered, running a hand through his hair. "We’ve been here less than a day, and already there’s something off. You saw the files! We’re just numbers to him—test subjects, not people."

Dale, leaning on the edge of a desk, held up his hands in a calming gesture. "Son, listen to me," he said evenly. "We don’t know what this means yet. Jenner has been nothing but a welcoming host since we got here. He opened the doors for us, gave us food, hot water, and a place to rest. You can’t just jump to conclusions."

Jim stopped mid-pace and turned to Dale, his eyes blazing. "Jump to conclusions? Did you not see what I saw in that video? He’s been experimenting on people, Dale. People like us!"

“For Christ-sake Jim, will you just calm down for a moment. Those people were bitten and infected. Did you see any of them resisting at all? Those test subjects clearly agreed to be studied, quite possibly to provide some ounce of meaning from their death,” Dale replied, his tone steady but firm.

“That man has been alone here for who knows how long, trying to solve a problem none of us could even begin to understand. You need to take a step back and think."

Andrea, standing near the monitors, spoke up, her voice tight. "Dale, I get that you’re trying to stay level-headed, but this isn’t just paranoia. That screen had ALL our names on it. Test subject labels, Dale. Why would that be there if it wasn’t for a reason? We never agreed to be studied."

Dale exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. "I’m not saying we shouldn’t be cautious. I’m saying we shouldn’t turn this into a witch hunt without understanding the full picture first."

Allen, standing with his arms crossed, cut in, his voice strained but calm. "Dale, I think we’ve seen enough of the picture to know this isn’t normal. I’ve got two kids under this roof, both listed as subjects 24 and 25, right after my own name. Testing on adults is one thing Dale, but experimenting on the children... This man is sick.”

The group fell into uneasy silence, the weight of Allen’s words pressing on all of them. Jim clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. "Jacqui is with him right now… Alone, and if she’s listed as his next experiment, I’m not prepared to wait around and find out if he is a nut job or not,” he exclaimed whist storming out of the room, his heavy footsteps echoing down the sterile hallway.

"Jim, wait!" Rick called after him, immediately following. Allen was quick on Rick’s heels, his face set in grim determination.

Rick stopped briefly, turning back to address the others with sharp, decisive orders. "Andrea, Amy—find the rest of the group. Fill them in on what’s happening and gather everyone’s bags. If things go south, we’ll need to be ready to move. Take Carl with you," he added, his tone softening slightly as he glanced at his visibly frightened son.

Andrea hesitated, glancing between Rick and the hallway Jim had disappeared down. She nodded, swallowing hard. "Got it. Come on, Amy. Carl, stick close to us." She placed a reassuring hand on Carl’s shoulder as they turned to leave. Amy glanced up, startled, as the overhead lights stopped flickering and suddenly burned brighter, casting sharp, steady shadows across the sterile hallway, swiftly following her sister as Rick instructed.

"I’m coming too," Dale said, his voice steady. He grabbed his hat and followed Rick and Allen, lagging slightly behind as they sprinted down the corridor.

The group turned a corner and almost collided with Shane, who stepped into the hallway. A faint scratch marred his neck, and Dale immediately noticed it. "What happened to you?" Dale asked, frowning.

Shane touched the mark casually, his expression unreadable. "Caught myself with the electric shaver," he said smoothly, brushing it off as though it were nothing. Dale refrained from prying further but raised a brow in suspicion.

From the room Shane had just left, Lori sat on the edge of the pool table, her hands trembling as she hastily wiped tears from her eyes. The faint sound of Rick’s voice carried through the cracked door, sharp and urgent as he filled Shane in on the situation. She froze, listening intently, her chest tightening at the commanding tone of her husband’s voice. She adjusted her clothing with shaking hands, tugging her sleeves down to cover the bruise-like marks on her arm, trying to pull herself together. But as Rick’s voice faded, his words shifting to a barked order to "get a move on, so they can catch up to Jim," the distance in his voice felt unbearable. Tears welled up again, spilling down her cheeks as she sat back, her head in her hands. Alone in the room, her sobs were muffled by the sound of hurried footsteps outside.

The small group caught up to Jim in the generator room, their footsteps echoing against the metal floor. Jim stood near the massive machinery, his jaw clenched and his fists at his sides, staring at the barrels marked FLAMMABLE and the steadily humming generators.

Shane let out a low whistle, his eyes scanning the rows of fuel barrels. "That’s a hell of a lot of gas," he muttered, his voice laced with suspicion. "Enough to keep this place running for a long time.”

Allen and Dale stumbled in last, both more out of breath than the others. Allen leaned against the wall, wiping sweat from his brow, while Dale clutched his hat in one hand, his other hand braced against his knee as he caught his breath.

Rick’s attention, however, was drawn to a nearby room where bright, steady light poured through a small window in the door. The stark glow was a sharp contrast to the dim corridors they had come through. He exchanged a glance with Jim, who nodded silently, and together with Shane they moved toward the door, the tension in the air thickening with each step.

As Rick, Jim and Shane approached the brightly lit room, the glass automatic doors slid open with a soft hiss, and Dr. Jenner stepped out, his expression shifting instantly from surprise to unease. He froze, his shoulders tensing as the three men stopped a few feet away from him. Jim, his face flushed with barely contained rage, took a step forward.

"Where is she?" Jim demanded, his voice sharp and trembling with anger.

Jenner stumbled over his words, his hands raising slightly in a placating gesture. "I—I don’t—"

Rick placed a calming hand on Jim’s shoulder, his voice steady but firm. "We’ve seen your research… Just tell us where she is," he said, his tone polite but laced with an edge of warning.

Jenner’s gaze darted between them, sweat beading on his forehead. He opened his mouth to speak, but no coherent answer came. Shane and Jim advanced closer, forcing Jenner to step back through the glass doors and into the lab. As they entered, the room fell deathly silent.

Jim froze in place, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes landed on Jacqui. She lay partially strapped to a gurney; her body motionless under the harsh fluorescent lights. Her head was tilted slightly to the side, her face pale and still.

"Jacqui!" Jim’s voice cracked as he rushed past Jenner, shoving him aside to reach her. He fumbled with the straps, his hands shaking as he worked to free her. "What did you do to her?!" he roared, his voice echoing off the sterile walls.

Shane’s eyes narrowed as he turned to Jenner, his voice low and sharp. "You heard him, start talking. Now!"

Jenner raised his hands defensively, backing toward the desk, his voice panicked and erratic. "It’s not what it looks like! She—she volunteered!" he exclaimed, his words tumbling out in disjointed fragments. "She said she wanted to help, to contribute to the research—"

Jenner flinched visibly as Shane pointed a finger at the growing red stain on his white lab coat. "Calling your bluff, Doc," Shane said sharply, his tone dripping with suspicion. "You’re bleeding. That’s no accident, and it sure as hell doesn’t look like she went down without a fight."

Jenner stiffened, his eyes darting between them. "It’s not what you think!" he exclaimed once more, his voice rising to match the aggression in the room. "I’ve done it! I’ve found the cure!"

Rick froze, narrowing his eyes as the tension in the room spiked. "What?" he asked, his voice low and measured.

Jenner’s chest heaved as he tried to steady his breathing. "She volunteered. I administered the cure. She’s been unconscious longer than I anticipated, but she’ll be fine," he insisted, his tone almost pleading.

The three men stared at him in stunned silence, their thoughts racing as the weight of his words hit. Before they could respond, Dale and Allen entered the room, both halting in shock as they caught Jenner’s explanation. "A cure?" Allen muttered, his face pale. "Is that true?"

"She’ll wake up!" Jenner exclaimed, his voice ringing with desperate conviction. "I swear, she’ll wake up."

Before anyone could respond, Jim’s sharp voice cut through the room. "Her arm!" he shouted, his hands trembling as he looked down at Jacqui. "It moved!"

The group turned to Jacqui, her arm twitching slightly against the gurney’s restraints. Jim’s face lit up with a flicker of hope as he leaned over her. "She’s waking up!" he cried, a mix of relief and disbelief in his voice.

Jenner let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging with apparent relief

The room shifted, tension easing slightly—except for Shane, whose expression darkened. "Hold up a moment," he tried to warn, stepping closer to the gurney.

Jacqui’s body twitched more violently now, her head lolling to the side before her eyes snapped open. A collective gasp filled the room as they saw her eyes—cloudy and white, devoid of life. A guttural growl escaped her throat as she turned her head, locking eyes with Jim.

"Jacqui," Jim whispered, frozen in place. The word barely left his lips before she lunged, her teeth sinking into his arm.

"Jim!" Rick and Allen reacted instantly, grabbing him and yanking him away from the gurney as blood spilled onto the floor. Jim staggered back, clutching his arm in shock as Jacqui, now fully reanimated, thrashed against the gurney’s restraints.

Shane acted on instinct, pinning her body down as she snarled and snapped at him, her teeth barely missing his face. "Get back!" he shouted to the others, struggling to keep her restrained. Jacqui’s body wriggled beneath him, her jaws gnashing.

Dale stood rooted to the spot, his face pale as he watched Jenner sink to his knees, his face blank with disbelief. "She was supposed to wake up," Jenner muttered, his voice a hollow whisper. "I told her she would be fine."
Jim stood still, his arm dripping blood onto the floor, his eyes fixed on Jacqui’s lifeless, snarling face. Rick and Allen hovered near him; their faces grim at the sight of seeing one of their own turn.

Shane, his grip faltering, grabbed a nearby scalpel from the desk. With a swift, brutal motion, he embedded it into Jacqui’s temple. Her body fell still, the room falling silent except for Shane’s ragged breathing. He stepped back, looking down at her motionless body, his face hardened.

Jenner remained on his knees, his head bowed as he whispered to himself, "I couldn’t do it my love… I tried.”

Rick crouched beside Jim, wrapping gauze tightly around the bloody bite on his arm, using what he could find in a nearby first aid kit. The silence between them was heavy, the air thick with grief and tension. Jim didn’t flinch, his gaze distant and unblinking, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. His loss went deeper than the bite—it was the loss of Jacqui, the one person who had helped him feel whole again after his family had been taken from him.

Behind them, Shane grabbed Jenner by the collar, dragging him up with a furious growl. He slammed him against the wall near Jacqui’s gurney, his eyes blazing. "You can’t even look at her, can you?" Shane spat, his voice shaking with anger. "You knew it wasn’t going to work, and you did it anyway."

Jenner’s eyes darted away from Jacqui’s pale, lifeless form, tears streaming down his face as he began to sob. "I swore I had to try," he said, his voice breaking. "If I didn’t, then what hope do any of us have left in this world?"

Without warning, Jim stood and delivered a sharp punch to Jenner’s jaw, sending him stumbling back against the wall. Shane released his grip, letting him drop to the floor as Rick stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Jim’s shoulder. "That’s enough," Rick said quietly, his voice steady but laced with sorrow. Shane let go of Jenner, turning his back as his shoulders heaved with barely controlled rage.

Allen stepped forward, his face etched with grief, and gently pulled a sheet over Jacqui’s face. He lingered for a moment, his head bowed in respect before stepping back, his hands trembling.

Rick turned his full attention to Jim, placing both hands on his shoulders and looking down at his bandaged arm. "Jim," he said softly, his voice heavy with emotion. "I’m so sorry."

Jim didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on Jenner, who was crumpled on the floor, still sobbing quietly. The bite didn’t seem to faze him; it was the loss of Jacqui that shattered him. His jaw tightened, but his eyes were filled not with anger, but with a hollow, unbearable sadness.

Shane broke the silence, addressing Allen. "Go get the others," he said sharply. "Tell them we’re leaving. Now."

As Allen moved to leave, Jenner pushed himself shakily to his feet, his sobs fading as his expression hardened. Without a word, he walked to the computer, his movements mechanical, almost resigned. His fingers flew across the keyboard, typing in a series of commands, his face illuminated by the glow of the screen.

"There’s nothing left," Jenner said finally, his voice back to its usual monotone. "I was your last chance."

He reached down and inserted two keys into separate slots on the console. With a sharp twist, he turned them both simultaneously. A deep hum resonated through the facility as the overhead lights switched to a pulsing red glow, bathing the room in an eerie, rhythmic light.

The same calm, automated voice from earlier echoed through the room. "Project Wildfire has been activated. Countdown: 30 minutes."

Rick stepped forward; his voice sharp with urgency. "What the hell is Project Wildfire?" he demanded, his eyes fixed on Jenner.

Jenner didn’t flinch, his face as cold and impassive as ever. "It’s better this way," he said quietly, his tone devoid of any emotion.

Shane, standing beside Rick, snapped his head toward Jenner. "What happens in 30 minutes?" he asked, his voice rising with panic. Jenner remained silent, his gaze dropping as though avoiding the question altogether.

Shane stepped closer, his voice turning aggressive. "What the fuck happens in 30 minutes?" he repeated, his tone like a growl.

Jenner’s monotone shattered, his voice exploding into a furious shout. "Do you know what this place is?" he roared, his eyes blazing with frustration. "We protected the public from some of the nastiest things mankind has ever dreamed up—weaponized smallpox, Ebola strains that could wipe out entire countries! Stuff you don’t want getting out… ever!"

Dale, Allen, Rick, and Shane exchanged alarmed glances, the weight of his words sinking in. Jim remained rooted in place; his eyes locked on Jenner with a chilling intensity.

Jenner exhaled sharply, his voice dropping back to its usual flat tone. "In the event of a catastrophic event, such as a terrorist attack, it’s protocol for these two keys to be used to deploy HITs."

Rick stepped forward again, his jaw tight. "What are HITs?" he demanded.

Jenner turned to him; his expression empty but his voice precise, almost clinical. "High-impulse thermobaric fuel-air explosives," he explained. "Consisting of a two-stage aerosol ignition that produces a blast wave of significantly greater power and duration than any other known explosive… except nuclear."

The group stared at him in stunned silence as he continued, his tone like that of a dispassionate lecturer. "The vacuum-pressure effect ignites the oxygen between 5,000° and 6,000°. It’s designed to cause the greatest possible loss of life and structural damage."

The room fell eerily silent as Jenner’s words hung in the air. He paused, his gaze sweeping over their horrified faces before delivering his final, chilling statement. "It sets the air on fire."

The group recoiled at the cold finality of his words, their expressions a mix of shock, disbelief, and dawning horror. The pulsing red glow of the lights painted their faces as they tried to grasp the magnitude of what Jenner had just activated.

Shane turned abruptly to Allen, his voice cutting through the tense air like a blade. "Allen do what I said, go get the others. Now," he barked, his tone commanding.

Allen hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes darting between Shane and the rest of the group. Then, with a sharp nod, the pair of them bolted out of the room, the quick footsteps echoing down the corridor as they ran to warn the others.

Dale stepped closer to Jim, who was still clutching Jacqui’s hand, his face etched with grief. "Jim," Dale said softly but firmly, his voice steady. "She’s gone, son. Let her go. We don’t have much time."

Jim didn’t move, his gaze fixed on Jacqui’s lifeless face. "I can’t," he murmured, his voice breaking.

Before Dale could say more, Jenner’s voice cut through the room, cold and resolute. "You won’t make it past the front door," he said, his monotone delivery as unfeeling as the red lights flashing around them. "Like I said before—once those doors are sealed, they stay sealed."

The group turned toward him, anger and desperation filling the air. Jenner raised his hands slightly, as if to calm them, but his next words only fuelled the fire. "It’s better this way," he continued. " This offers a peaceful way out. No pain. No suffering."

Rick snapped, his anger boiling over as he stepped up to Jenner, his face inches from the scientist’s. "No!" he shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. "That’s not your choice to make! My wife, my son—they don’t deserve this. None of us do! You don’t get to decide how we go out!"

Jenner stared into Rick’s pleading eyes, his own expression wavering for the first time. The desperation in Rick’s voice seemed to strike a chord, and Jenner turned slowly, his hand hesitating before swiping his keycard on a nearby panel. A faint beep sounded as the system acknowledged the override.

"I’ve deactivated the lock," Jenner said quietly, his back to the group. "But all power has been diverted to the protocol, so the shutter still won’t open." He paused, his voice heavy with resignation. "There’s your choice. Take it."

Rick exhaled sharply, the tension in his body loosening slightly. "Thank you," he said sincerely, his voice steady now. "For giving us a chance. I’m grateful."

Jenner turned back to face him; his expression unreadable. "The day will come when you won’t be,” he coldly stated. His voice lingered in the air like a shadow as Rick turned and motioned for Dale and Jim to leave with him.

The group hurried toward the automatic doors. Jim walked behind the others, his eyes dark and his face unreadable. As Rick and Dale stepped through the sliding doors into the generator room, the sound of glass shattering suddenly rang out behind them.

Dale turned back, his heart sinking as he saw Jim standing beside the wall panel, a screwdriver in his hand and broken wires sparking faintly from the now-destroyed controls. The doors sealed shut behind him with a soft hiss, locking Jim and Jenner inside the lab.

"Jim?" Dale quietly asked, his voice cracking with emotion. He pressed his hands against the glass, his face filled with sorrow. "What are you doing?"

Jim met his gaze, his expression calm but resolute. "Go, Dale," he said firmly. "I’ve got a score to settle."

"You don’t have to do this," Dale pleaded, his voice trembling. "You can come with us. We’ll figure this out together. Just… come with us, son."

Rick placed a hand on Dale’s shoulder, his own face lined with regret. "Dale," he said quietly, his tone heavy with understanding. "He’s made up his mind."

Dale’s hand dropped to his side, his shoulders slumping as he blinked back tears. He stared at Jim for a long moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. Finally, he nodded, his voice thick with grief as he said, "Goodbye, son."

Jim’s expression softened briefly, a flicker of gratitude crossing his face. Then, without another word, he turned away, walking back into the lab where Jenner stood silently, watching. Dale lingered for a moment longer before Rick gently pulled him away, urging him to move. Together, they quickly followed the others, leaving Jim behind.

Chapter Text

The automated voice echoed through the facility, calm and detached despite the urgency it delivered: "Twenty-five minutes remain."

Allen and Shane bolted down the hallway, their footsteps pounding against the floor. Allen turned sharply and burst into one of the small rooms, his face lined with urgency, but quickly softened by the sight of his daughters.
Andrea and Amy stood near the door, each carrying one of the girls, their small arms wrapped tightly around their necks. The sisters had bags slung over their shoulders, visibly weighed down with everything they had hurriedly packed. Lizzie and Mika clung to them; their wide eyes filled with fear as the red emergency lights cast flickering shadows across the walls.

"Daddy!" Mika cried out as she saw him, her voice trembling.

Allen immediately rushed to his daughters, kissing Mika’s forehead first and then Lizzie’s, his hands trembling as he cupped their faces. "It’s time to go, girls," he said, his voice soft but urgent.

The girls nodded, their wide, tear-filled eyes looking up at him, clinging tightly to Andrea and Amy. Shane’s voice barked from the hallway outside, loud and commanding. "Let’s move it, people!”

Carol emerged from her room nearby, gripping Sophia’s hand tightly. Both mother and daughter were pale with panic, their breaths coming fast as Carol struggled to keep herself composed for Sophia’s sake. Shane gave them a curt nod but didn’t slow down to comfort them. "Follow me," he commanded sharply, his voice leaving no room for argument.

From another room, Lori appeared, Carl clinging to her back with his small arms wrapped around her shoulders. His father’s sheriff’s hat sat slightly askew on his head. Lori’s gaze locked with Shane’s for a moment, her eyes filled with unmistakable disdain. Shane’s face hardened, but he didn’t respond to her silent fury.

"Come on," he said simply, turning on his heel and motioning for everyone to follow. Lori’s lips pressed into a thin line as she adjusted Carl’s weight on her back and fell into step with the others, her anger giving way to the urgency of keeping her son safe. The hallway filled with hurried footsteps and tense whispers as the group moved as one, every second bringing them closer to the facility’s destruction.

The automated voice announced coldly, "Twenty minutes remaining." The sterile hum of the lab was overtaken by the ominous red glow that pulsed in and out, casting shifting shadows across the room. Jim stood motionless for a moment, his eyes fixed on Jacqui’s pale hand, limp and hanging from beneath the sheet draped over her still body. His jaw tightened, rage simmering beneath the surface.

Dr. Jenner stood on the other side of the room, his face calm and resigned. He didn’t plead or panic; his voice was steady as he spoke. "We’re both dead in a matter of minutes anyway," he said plainly, his tone void of emotion.
Jim’s gaze remained fixed on Jacqui’s lifeless form beneath the sheet. His grip on the bloodied scalpel tightened, his knuckles white as his voice broke through the heavy silence. "I couldn’t save any of them," he said, his tone low and trembling. "Not my wife. Not my kids. Not Jacqui. Not a damn soul."

Jenner, standing a few feet away, met his eyes, his face etched with a strange mix of resignation and understanding. "Neither could I," he said softly, his voice steady but hollow. His gaze flicked briefly to the chaos of his lab, the notes, the blood samples, the test subject files. "Not my wife, not my colleagues… and certainly not the human race.”

The two men stared at each other for a long, weighted moment, the red light blinking around them like a metronome to their shared grief. Then, without another word, Jim lunged, the fury of everything he had lost fuelling his attack.

The automated voice echoed through the facility once again, cold and detached: "Fifteen minutes remaining."

Rick and Dale hurried down the corridor, their breaths ragged, the pulsing red light casting eerie shadows around them. They burst into the lobby, where the rest of the group had gathered by the heavy metal shutter. Shane, Allen, and Andrea were braced against it, straining to lift it with all their combined strength, but the door refused to budge.

Carl’s voice rang out, breaking some of the tension. "Dad!" he called, his face lighting up briefly at the sight of Rick. Lori, standing nearby, let out a breath of relief as Rick reached them. She pulled Rick into a quick hug before he broke away, running to join Shane and the others, his hands pushing futilely against the cold steel.

Shane looked over his shoulder, his face slick with sweat and etched with frustration. "It’s no use, Rick," he said, his voice sharp. "It’s not moving.”

Rick stepped forward, inspecting the shutter, his jaw tightening as he tried to think. Behind him, Amy placed a comforting hand on Dale’s back as he leaned against the wall, bent over and trying to catch his breath. His hat was askew, and his face was pale from exertion.

As the group’s frantic efforts to lift the shutter slowed, Amy looked up from where she stood beside Dale, her face pale but filled with concern. "Dale," she asked softly, her voice trembling. "Where are Jim and Jacqui?"

The question hung in the air like a weight, pulling the group into silence. Those who already knew—Rick, Allen, Dale, Shane—bowed their heads, the grim reality etched into their faces. Dale’s hand tightened around the brim of his hat as he shook his head slowly, his shoulders slumping under the burden of the truth.

The rest of the group froze, their faces falling as they absorbed the unspoken confirmation. Amy’s breath hitched as she looked at Dale, her eyes filling with tears. Andrea reached out, placing a comforting hand on her sister’s arm, but the grief was spreading through the group like a wave.

The heavy silence stretched, broken only by the faint hum of the countdown echoing through the facility. "Ten minutes remaining."

“ARGGGGHHHH”, Jim lunged forward, swinging the blade at Jenner. The doctor sidestepped, grabbing a bottle of hydrofluoric acid from the nearby counter. With a desperate cry, he hurled it at Jim, the liquid splashing across the left side of Jim’s face. Jim roared in agony, clutching at his skin as it burned, but his anger only seemed to grow. Pushing through the searing pain, he rammed Jenner into the desk, driving the scalpel into his shoulder.

Jenner cried out, his hand shooting up to punch Jim in the face, the blow staggering him. With a sudden burst of strength, Jenner shoved Jim back, slamming him into the wall. Breathing heavily, Jenner grabbed a pair of scissors from the desk and, with a guttural shout, drove them into Jim’s chest.

Jim stumbled but didn’t stop. Half-blinded and bleeding, he swung his head forward, slamming it into Jenner’s face. The two men grappled, their combined momentum sending them crashing through the glass doors into the generator room. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the facility.

Jenner scrambled to his feet first, clutching his injured shoulder as Jim lunged again. He managed to block the strike with his hand, the scalpel impaling it clean through. Jenner screamed, the pain doubling him over as they toppled into a cluster of barrels. The barrels tipped, spilling fuel across the floor in dark, spreading pools.

The generator room was filled with the low hum of machinery and the acrid smell of spilled oil. The red lights blinked rhythmically, casting eerie shadows across the walls.

Jim’s chest heaved, blood dripping from the gash on his face where the acid had burned his skin. His voice, ragged with anger and grief, cut through the hum. "Why?" he demanded, his grip tightening on the bloodied scalpel in his hand. "Why Jacqui? Why’d you pick her first?"

Jenner sat slumped against an upright barrel, clutching his injured shoulder, his lab coat stained with a mix of blood and oil. He didn’t respond, his jaw clenched as he avoided Jim’s furious glare.

"Answer me!" Jim bellowed, lurching forward. His voice broke, raw with pain and fury as he screamed in Jenner’s face, spittle spraying onto him. "Why her?!"

Jenner flinched but then snapped, his usually detached demeanour shattering. "Because she was unattached from the group!" he shouted back, his voice rising in uncharacteristic emotion. "She had nobody with an immediate connection. No child. No spouse. No one! She was the first logical choice!"

Jim froze, his expression twisting as the words hit him. His hand shook with rage, and without hesitation, he swung his fist, connecting hard with Jenner’s jaw. Jenner’s head snapped back, and he crumpled further against the barrels. Jim’s voice cracked as he spat through clenched teeth, "She had me."

Jenner’s cold exterior faltered, his eyes filled with something that almost looked like regret. He looked down at the floor, his voice trembling as he whispered, "I’m so sorry."

The words hung in the air, hollow and insufficient. Jim staggered back, his legs giving out as he collapsed against an adjacent barrel. Both men sat in silence, battered and broken, their breathing heavy and uneven. The red lights continued to pulse around them, a grim reminder that their time was running out.

The automated voice echoed through the chaos once more: "Five minutes remaining."

The group’s desperation was palpable as most of them strained against the immovable shutter, their grunts and laboured breathing mixing with the steady hum of the countdown. Lori and Amy huddled with the children, holding them close, whispering reassurances that rang hollow in the tension-filled air. Carol knelt on the floor nearby, rummaging through the satchel Rick had handed her earlier, her hands trembling as she searched.

"Rick," Carol called out, her voice shaky but urgent. "I think I’ve got something that might help!"

Still straining against the metal, Shane glanced over his shoulder, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Carol, I don’t think a nail file’s gonna cut it."

She ignored him and pulled out a small, round object—the grenade Rick had stashed back in Atlanta. The sight of it made her breath hitch as she held it out. "This," she said, her voice steadier now. "Will this work?"

Rick ran over, his face a mixture of relief and apprehension as he took the grenade from her trembling hands. He stared at it, his fingers curling around the cool metal. "Everybody, out of the way!" Shane bellowed, his voice cutting through the panic.

The group scattered in an instant. Lori, Amy, and the children ducked behind the reception desk, Carl clutching his mother’s arm tightly. Dale and Andrea pressed themselves behind a nearby column, while Allen, Carol, and Shane huddled behind a set of chairs.

Rick’s hands trembled as he carefully gripped the grenade. His heart pounded as he pulled the pin, the metallic click ringing in his ears like a death knell. He froze for a split second, staring at the now-armed explosive in his hand, the weight of what he’d just done settling in. His breath hitched before he snapped back into action, placing the grenade near the base of the shutter.

"Rick, move!" Shane shouted.

Rick bolted, leaping over the reception counter and diving next to Carl, pulling the boy close and covering his head with his hands. The automated voice droned in the background: "Three minutes remaining."

The grenade exploded with a deafening BOOM, the force of the blast shattering the metal shutter into jagged pieces and sending a shockwave through the reception area. Smoke and debris filled the air, chairs and papers scattering across the room. The group cowered behind their cover, shielding their faces as the fiery heat washed over them.

When the dust began to settle, Rick peeked up from behind the counter, coughing as he looked toward the shattered remains of the shutter. A gaping hole now stood where it had once been, the jagged edges glowing faintly from the heat of the explosion. The way out was open, but time was running out.

The automated voice droned its final warning: "One minute remaining."

In the cold generator room, Jim and Dr Jenner leaned back against the barrels, their faces pale and slick with sweat, pooling blood beneath them mixing with the spilled oil. Both men closed their eyes, resignation etched into their expressions. The air around them grew hotter by the second, a suffocating heat that pressed against their skin.

Jenner exhaled shakily, whispering something unintelligible, while Jim’s face twisted briefly in sorrow as he thought of Jacqui and his family one last time. The ignition was instant. Flames burst forth, consuming the room in a blinding flash. Jenner and Jim’s faces contorted in the searing heat before they were overtaken, their forms engulfed as fire swept through the room. The sheet covering Jacqui’s body ignited, curling and blackening as her flesh burned, smoke rising rapidly into the air.

The inferno surged, racing through the CDC like a living thing, consuming everything in its path as the air itself ignited.

Outside, the group sprinted through the snow-covered ground, their breaths fogging in the frigid air. Allen carried Lizzie and Mika over his shoulders, their arms clinging tightly to his neck as he pushed forward with everything he had. Behind him, Carol ran as fast as she could, her eyes locked on Shane, who carried Sophia across his chest in a protective grip.

Dale lagged behind, his steps heavy as Amy and Andrea flanked him, shouting encouragement. "Come on, Dale!" Amy yelled, panic lacing her voice. "You have to keep moving!"

Rick, clutching Carl tightly in his arms, pulled Lori by the hand as they pushed through the snow. The frosted-over RV loomed ahead. "Get down!" Shane roared, his voice cutting through the air as they neared the barricades.

Allen and Shane’s group dove behind the snow-covered barriers, shielding themselves as best they could. Rick’s family made it to the RV just as the CDC erupted behind them. The explosion roared like thunder, a massive fireball shooting into the sky, the heat so intense it melted the snow around it in an instant.

The shockwave hit like a freight train, knocking Dale, Amy, and Andrea flat on their faces before they could reach cover. Smoke and ash swirled in the air, debris raining down around them as the group huddled in the snow, shielding themselves from the scorching wave of heat. The CDC was reduced to a blazing inferno, its remains collapsing into the ground as the fire consumed everything, leaving nothing but a smouldering wasteland in its wake.
As the roaring fireball began to subside, the group slowly lifted their heads, their breaths visible in the cold air, mingling with the smoke and ash swirling around them. The heat from the explosion still radiated faintly, contrasting with the icy snow beneath them.

One by one, they turned to look back at the blazing ruins of the CDC. Flames licked hungrily at the collapsed structure, consuming every last remnant of the building they had pinned their fleeting hopes on. The pulsing red lights and cold mechanical voice were gone, replaced by the crackle of fire and the oppressive silence of what was left behind.

Rick stood first, still holding Carl in his arms, Lori at his side. His eyes were wide with disbelief, his face streaked with soot and snow. "Where the hell do we go now?" Lori murmured, the question hanging in the air like a heavy weight.

The others slowly rose to their feet, brushing snow and ash from their clothes. Allen set Lizzie and Mika down gently, his arms shaking from the effort. Carol clutched Sophia tightly, her eyes reflecting the flames as she held her daughter close. Dale leaned on Amy and Andrea, his breathing heavy as he gazed back at the inferno, his face etched with exhaustion and sorrow.

Shane adjusted his grip on his rifle, his jaw tight as he stared at the fiery remains, the anger in his eyes tempered by the grim reality of their situation. No one spoke for a long moment, the enormity of what they had narrowly escaped sinking in.

Rick finally broke the silence, his voice low but resolute. "We keep going. We don’t stop." His gaze swept over the group, his expression hardening with determination. "We’ll find a way. We have to."

The group exchanged weary glances, nodding slowly, though none of them had answers. They turned away from the burning wreckage, the firelight fading behind them as they trudged forward into the cold, uncertain sunrise.

(Note from me: That concludes Season 1 of my rewrite. I hope you’re all enjoying the story so far! I’ve loved reading some of your comments so feel free to continue sharing your thoughts and opinions. Thank you!)