The Walking Dead - The Graphic Novelization

by D.C. Black

From the moment Rick wakes up in the hospital to him kneeling before Negan and all that follows, witness the critically acclaimed graphic novel series as you've never seen it before...without pictures. This project takes every single issue of Robert Kirkman's series and puts it in a novel. Chapter by chapter. Issue by issue. Some slight spoilers.

1. Chapter 1 - To Better Days

The Walking Dead

Book 1: Days Gone Bye

Based on the graphic novels by Robert Kirkman, Tony Moore, and Charlie Adlard

Written by D.C. Black

NOTE: THIS IS A NOVELIZATION OF IMAGE COMICS' THE WALKING DEAD VOLUME 1: DAYS GONE BYE. NOT AMC'S THE WALKING DEAD. THE BOOKS, NOT THE SHOW. IT HAS COME TO MY ATTENTION THAT A LOT OF PEOPLE DON'T KNOW THE OTHER STORY. THE BETTER STORY. SO, I'VE DECIDED TO TRANSCRIBE EVERY FUCKING ISSUE IN ALL ITS GLORY. BUT I WOULD INSIST THAT PEOPLE CHECK OUT THE BOOKS. ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO WHOMEVER OWNS THEM. I'M JUST A SCRIBE TELLING A STORY. PLEASE DON'T SUE ME, KIRKMAN. SOME SLIGHT SPOILERS AT THE END. STOP READING WHEN IT SWITCHES TO THIRD PERSON IF YOU DON'T WAN A SLIGHT SPOILER.

Chapter 1 – To Better Days

I can't believe how long it's been since this all started. Feels like centuries. I know it's not been that long. We still have preserved food from our old lives that's edible. But it started…well…it started like something out of an action movie. Back when the world was sane.

It was a bright sunny afternoon. Not unlike many that had come before or after. But it changed everything. I was a sheriff's deputy. I'd do the dirty work occasionally. But King County wasn't your average district to run. Hell, on bad days we chased down overdue library books. That's what our life was. Plain and simple. Lori, my wife, she stayed home and cared for my son, Carl, when he came home from school. He was only eight years old. He was like any other kid. A future ahead of him. One that was bright. One that I could actually see. But this was about 2:34 in the afternoon. We'd been chasing the son of a bitch for twenty minutes before he ran out of gas on the highway. We called for backup but by the time they answered, our perp was already holding a double barrel shotgun and popping off rounds in our direction.

I'd been to the gun range a couple times, but I'm not the best shot. I've got other good features. Lori always said I was a good negotiator. I'd work to find the best solution. I would avoid violence for as long as possible. I also had a bit of charm going for me. Her words, not mine. She'd comment on my sandy brown hair or my clean shaven face.

"That's the reason I fell for you," she'd boast.

We were perfect for each other. But we weren't without our fights. That's how we knew we were perfect. But being out on that highway on that hot summer day…being shot at. It only gave me one image. Lori and Carl. They weren't going to see me in a casket. They would get to see me again. I was determined to make that happen. My partner Shane pulls his gun from the holster and nods to me to do the same. I do so. By now, we're squatting behind the police cruiser listening to the gunfire rain down on us.

"This isn't good," Shane said as I began loading another clip into my .35 mm pistol. Another shell rattling to the ground as a resounding boom of the shotgun roared at us. The convict was no less than ten yards in front of us. Just one guy. One guy probably drunk or high off his ass. One guy who drove like a maniac and tore up my road in his shitty pickup truck. I do mean that literally. It was the color of shit if I do recall. One guy who ruined my life. Shane continued as I finished with my gun. My hands still shaking with adrenaline. "I don't think he's from around here."

"I think that's a safe bet," I said. Then I thought about a reason for all this. There was a prison not too far from us and they would have an escapee about once every three months. Usually nothing this bad. This guy's been out for about a week now my guess. "When they opened that prison in Grant County I didn't think we'd be getting their run off!"

Another boom from the shotgun.

"I AIN'T GOIN BACK!" The convict exclaimed. "I'LL DIE FIRST"

Gladly, asshole, I thought. I fired a few more rounds when my gun jammed. As if that was enough, the passenger side window exploded, showering Shane and me with tiny pieces of glass.

"Goddamnit!" I exclaimed. I sighed. "Our backup's more than ten miles out! We're sitting ducks behind this car!"

Behind this car, I thought. Of course! If we could tag and bag this asshole from away from the car, we could go home in one piece. I looked to my left. There was a ditch not far from me. It could work. We could do this.

"Cover me," I said. Shane looked at me.

"Wait, what?"

"I'm going to make it to that ditch so we can surround him," I said.

"Rick, that's the most insane, stupid-"

"Just do it!" I said. Shane nodded as he raised his gun and popped out over the hood of the cruiser. He began firing rounds.

"Time's up asshole!" he yelled. He ducked as a shot went off. Then popped up again. I took that as my cue to make it to the ditch. Another boom from the shotgun and I heard a yelp of pain and the grumble of frustration. I turned to see the damage. Shane was clutching his hand. I was about to rush back when-

BOOM!

The one day I didn't wear my vest.

I don't remember the pain.

I don't remember much of anything.

I remember Shane shouting my name.

Before everything went black.

I woke up in a hospital bed. Gasping and trying to catch my breath. The usual questions ran through my head. Where was I? What happened? How long had it been? Where was Lori and Carl?

I was expecting some nurse to be shushing me and comforting me. But there was nothing. Not that they didn't notice or anything. There wasn't anyone in my room. The lights were off. Power outage was my first guess. Or maybe it was still early in the morning. But nothing was on. No monitors. No beeps. Nothing. The only light was pouring in through the window.

I groaned as I moved my legs and arms, they creaked and cracked after not using them for so long. I was so thirsty. So weak. So hungry. I gathered what strength I had and forced myself to sit upright in the bed. I began removing tubes and IVs before I moved my legs and let them dangle from the bed. I grabbed my IV pole standing next to me to help as I dared the impossible task of standing. It didn't go well. Soon, I was on the floor, the pole failed to keep me up. I landed on my knee which was now on fire. I screamed for the nurse to no avail. I reached and began clicking the assistance button furiously. But after about two minutes, I stopped and sat there in the silence and dark.

Now what, I thought to myself. That's when I glanced at the drawer near my bed. I crawled over and began pulling clothes from the drawer. I could tell Lori had been here. She must've brought some for when I woke up. Just a pair of jeans, a white shirt, some old sneakers, my keys, and my badge. I struggled pulling everything on and getting decent but it didn't take too long and it wasn't so painful. At least, I could stand up and move somewhat quickly. My knee was still killing me though. Using the wall as support, I made it to the door and pulled it open. The hallway leading out was darker than my room, number 251. I remember that room.

It's where Lori had Carl.

Ironic, really. The day my family came together happened in that room…and the day I realized that my family was broken apart started in that room. If that hospital is still there, I'd probably burn it down today. Then again…maybe not. A lot has happened since that hospital room.

I called out to any living person in that hospital. It was getting weird too fast. I've never been in a quiet hospital. Even late at night there are still sounds. But this…was something else.

"Hello?! Anybody?!" I call out. To no avail. I remember walking down the hall towards the front desk. The hospital had several floors. I can't remember how many. I think it was six. But the third floor, like all the others, catered to a certain specialty of injury or illness. Obviously the ER was on the ground floor. I was in the Rest Wing, I would call it. The Rest Wing had a check in desk. There was always some woman sitting there smelling like a mixture of fruity perfume and stale cigarettes, reading the latest magazine about which celebrity slept with who or what politician said what. The usual garbage.

I was kinda hoping for that smell. But I got the faint smell of decay. Of old mold. Of cardboard left outside on a rainy day. But there was no one at the desk. Not even a fucking magazine.

What the hell, I thought, did everyone just decide to take their lunch break at the same time?

What else could it be? But I ventured further down the hall and observed the occasional strewn papers and trash. But it got more frequent. Then there were wheelchairs and over tuned desks blocking off parts of the hallway.

Was there a hurricane I didn't know about or something? I remember passing a bulletin board hoping to find some sort of indication as to what day it was. Or even what year. At this point, I knew I was in a coma and the only thing running through my head was…how long had it been? I saw a flyer for a community wide barbeque for the 4th of July. Looking outside earlier at the changing leaves, I knew it wasn't July anymore. It had to be late September maybe early October. But there was no way of knowing for sure.

Eventually, I came to an elevator that was surprisingly still operational. My only guess was…back up generator. They must keep the essentials still up and alive. I noticed at this point that there was some interior lights. Not enough to brighten the whole room but enough to see where you were going. I pressed the button to go down and in no time at all the doors opened and I went down. No music. Good. Can't stand that elevator music. Had to ride down that thing five times during Lori's labor. Got to know Elvis a lot better than I was hoping to.

Soon, we arrived at the ground floor. The door dinged and slowly began to open as a figure flopped into the elevator. It almost made me puke. It was a corpse. Half rotten, some guts removed, covered in maggots and flies crawling in and out of whatever opening they could find. I got down to its face. I had to know if it was alive or not.

But it was not. Its lips were curled back and peeling. Its hair was dull and oily. But the entrails. The intestines and a few major organs were torn from its body. As if someone decided to go it with a knife or several knives and cut this poor man open and steal his innards. It was upon looking at it long enough that I could say without a doubt that this is what killed him.

"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!" I screamed. Anybody? I was waiting for someone to come around the corner and go, 'Gotcha!'. But there was no one. I began to think that this was all some sort of elaborate Halloween prank. But that corpse was too convincing. Maybe there was a serial killer that broke in and started killing people. I tried to avoid thinking about that excuse. It never crossed my mind that the world had ended. But I continued my journey. I had to know.

I soon made it to the hospital cafeteria…but it was strange to see a 2x4 between the vertical, metal bar handles. Somebody had made it so that no one was getting in. I was wondering what the hell happened here that they would need to block off the cafeteria. Was the food that bad?

I slowly removed the piece of wood and pulled open the door.

What I saw inside seemed like something out of a horror movie. There were corpses…only…they weren't exactly dead. It looked like some horrible accident. At least a dozen of these dead people were walking about with gouges in their faces or pieces of flesh missing from their bodies. Some were on the floor, slumped like corpses should be. Others were eating something…it wasn't until later what I realized what they were eating. It was red and bloody. Obviously something that was once alive. The nearest one, the one with very short hair and a chunk missing from neck, took notice of me entering the foul smelling, stench of death filled room. He made some sort of moan or growl and began towards me.

I was looking for the words to say. I was stammering and stuttering and slowly moving backwards. The corpse was advancing. Obviously excited by my fear and his growling intensified.

My legs gave out as I crumbled onto my back. Slowly kicking myself away from the terror. Now it seemed that they were all interested in me. Slowly walking towards me. I began crawling backwards screaming for this monster to get away from me. I finally got to a fire exit door and pulled myself up. But the buzz cut corpse didn't cease. It grabbed hold of my shirt and brought its mouth close to my chest. It's teeth snapping like crazy.

"Don't you understand what I'm saying?" I yelled at the corpse. The weight of me plus my dead friend pushed open the door and we began tumbling. I went first onto my back and then to the right down a flight of stairs, rolling down like a ball of limbs. I heard a snap like a carrot and saw, when we finally landed, that it was the corpses head. Maggots spilled from the new wound and a black fluid poured out. I landed on the rotten chest, afraid of it exploding bile onto me. I heaved myself up and away from the corpse as its head continued to gnaw at the air. It was no longer moving its body but the head was snapping like crazy, like some rabid dog. But it wasn't over…the rest of the corpses were on their way down the stairs.

I knew my time was running out fast. I didn't need to see it to picture what they were eating in there. Why the one that tumbled down the stairs with me was gnashing his teeth like crazy. I knew I was on their menu. I brushed off the maggots and juices the corpse graciously left me, rubbed my now aching right shoulder, and slowly but quickly made my way down another flight of stairs to a pair of double fire exit doors. I pushed them open and undid my belt. The snarls and growls were growing louder. I made my way through just as the rest caught up to me and closed the door in their undead faces before tying my belt around the door. Good thing my pants were good without a belt.

I took a moment to breath…wondering what the hell I had just been through. I turned to realize the nightmare was far from over. The hospital was just the beginning. I was in the parking garage. Not many cars in there. Only one that I saw. An older sedan with the windshield cracked. There were papers and debris thrown everywhere as the wind made them dance again. Whatever happened in the hospital didn't stop inside. I tried the door to the car, but it didn't give. It was locked. I walked away from it and continued out of the garage…thinking about all I'd been through. Thinking about Lori, Carl, my parents, Shane, everybody down at the prescient. Wondering if they survived whatever this was. Wondering if they were alright. I prayed that she was home with Carl. I just pictured them in my head, safe and sound in our house.

I could only hope that's where they were.

Before I knew it, I was outside Harrison Memorial Hospital. The lawn had more debris, there was a corpse or two…not moving. Thank God. The corpse that really got me was further down the road to the left of the hospital. The way back home. A small car, similar to the sedan in the garage, collided with a telephone pole. Its passenger thrown from the window and now laid sprawled across the crumbled hood. Its head smashed beyond recognition. It was shocking…and appalling. But I kept going. I had to get to my family. I had to see them. This was only making me more nervous. I looked to my right…and saw one of the most shocking sights I've ever seen.

There was a bicycle to the left of the road, toppled over, some spokes missing from the tire. That wasn't the shocking part. The truly shocking part was the corpse lying next to it. It made me gasp in horror.

There, next to the bike, was practically a skeleton of a corpse. No organs, no heart, no stomach, no anything. One leg completely removed. The arms bent at weird angles. It must've been a woman at one point, a young woman no older than thirty. Her clothes were torn to shreds. Her head barely had any hair left. She turned her head and I covered my mouth, afraid I might vomit. But the longer I stared at it, slowly chopping the air and trying to move its leg and arms, the more I felt truly horrified.

This…shouldn't be happening. How can this be happening? I felt a tear run down my face. I turned away and picked up the bike and continued onto the road.

But the thought occurred to me…what if that was Lori? It wasn't. I knew it wasn't. But…what if she was one of those corpses now? Or Carl? What if I was walking back to their rotting, snapping, growling corpses attempting to consume me?

"Oh God…" I exclaimed. I collapsed on the road…it was just too much to take in. I don't remember how long I stayed their…sobbing for something that had consumed my mind. But I slowly rose from the road and grabbed the bike, wiped the tears from my eyes. My dad said, "Men don't cry, Rick." If he could see me then, heh….I sat down on the seat and took off down the road.

The neighborhood didn't look any better than anywhere else. Houses appeared looted or just completely run down. My neighborhood was a complete mess. My house was a medium two story house with a garage to the right. And it looked like a complete mess. Nearly every window was broken. The screen door was blowing in the wind. The air conditioner was resting on the roof instead of in the window. I knew that we had been looted the moment I looked at the house. I didn't see any cars and the lawn was completely overgrown. I turned off the road and dropped the bike as soon as I could and raced to the front door.

Surprisingly, it was locked. It made my heart flutter. I pulled out my keys and fiddled with the door lock. I pushed open the door, expecting to see my family standing there.

But there was no one.

Bedrooms. Nothing.

Kitchen. Looted and trash thrown everywhere.

Living room. Trashed.

I sighed and walking onto the back porch. Hoping to see Carl swinging from the swing set. But there was nothing. I walked off the back porch and into the overgrown backyard. I knew my neighborhood blindfolded. I knew what belonged and what didn't. So when I saw a car that I didn't know…I got curious. I squinted to get a better look. That's when a shovel clanged against my head by someone. I wasn't completely out. I saw a small figure, African-American. He was shouting for his dad. Another figure approached. I was fuzzy on the details but I caught most of the words.

"Shit, son! What did you do?" the taller figure asked.

"He was going to try and eat us, Dad" the smaller figure said.

"No, son. This man is alive."

"Oh."

"Help me get him inside….grab his…"

After that…I blacked out.

I was hoping it was all some horrible dream. When I finally opened my eyes, I felt the comforts of home. I was in a living room on a sofa. A pillow propped under my head for comfort. Only it wasn't my living room or my couch or even my pillow I was on. My head was still ringing.

I heard the clanging of glasses and dishes and shadows passing by in a hurry. The living room was dark. Just candlelight coming from the adjacent room, which was the kitchen. I raised myself up and felt the forming lump on my head. The taller figure from earlier saw me stir. He turned and stopped. He was tall, about six feet, a little taller than me. Had scruff forming on his face a little longer than my own. His attire seemed corporate casual with a light blue button down shirt tucked into dark denim jeans. He was carrying some sort of steaming food. It was at this moment that the feeling of hunger became very apparent.

"Oh, you're awake. We're just getting ready to have dinner. You can join us if you like," the man said. He then carried on into the kitchen. I had a million and one questions. I could only blurt out one.

"Wait, what the hell is going on here?" I somewhat shouted at him. I followed him slowly into the kitchen and saw the smaller boy sitting at the table not making I contact with me. The man looked at me. He smiled.

"It's called dinner. Would you like some?" asked the man. He sat down as I made my way to the chair. "I'm sorry about my boy. He hit you over the head with a shovel earlier today." It was a weird observation. Like it was common practice to be hitting people with shovels.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" I asked.

"He thought you were one of those…things," the man said. Things? Like as in this isn't some isolated event? I thought.

"You mean those monsters at the hospital? Who are you people? What the hell is going on?" I shouted, rubbing the back of my head. The man put up his hands in defense.

"Whoa! Whoa! Calm down, buddy. This is all just a misunderstanding. My boy didn't mean nothing," the man said calmly.

"What happened here? How did it get so bad like this?" I asked. I needed answers and this man must've known. He seemed confused by my question.

"Wait a minute…you're telling me you don't know about any of it? Damn, man," said Morgan. "Where the hell do I start?" He pulled a serving spoon out and began dishing out mashed potatoes and green beans and some sort of meat. He served his son, then me, then himself.

"It can wait until after we eat, if you want," I said, looking at the boy who was growing concerned about the conversation. The man smiled.

"Probably a good idea," said the man. He began eating but stopped. "Y'know. I never caught your name. What with all that happened earlier." I wiped my mouth on a napkin.

"Rick. Officer Rick Grimes," I said. The man nodded in understanding.

"Morgan Jones. This little guy is Duane," the man said. "Officer, huh? You don't mind us staying in this house, do you?"

"Sounds like you don't have much of a choice," I said.

"Wish we did. Duane's mom is down in Georgia. Atlanta to be precise. Me and the misses split about 8 months ago. Just so happened to be my weekend with my little man," said Morgan. "We're staying here another few weeks then we'll be heading down to her."

"So…what all happened?" I said. I couldn't avoid it any longer. "Was it some sort of outbreak?"

"Could be…no one knows what caused it. All we know is that it isn't just local. This thing is nationwide maybe even global. But…let's finish this later. Duane doesn't like to talk about it."

So we finished. I tried to be modest but I kept going back for more. Morgan laughed and joked about how he never saw a white boy eat so much. Soon, we were in the living room. Morgan started a fire and Duane was doodling in a coloring book. Morgan and I used this opportunity to shed some light on each other's past couple of months. Mine was relatively short.

"I woke up in a hospital today. I was shot. I woke up and was attacked. I came home…my wife and son were gone…the whole damn town is deserted. I didn't know what the hell was going on," I said. Morgan sighed.

"That's some crazy shit," he said.

"And you said nobody knows what cause it?" I said, trying to learn more.

"All media shut down after a few weeks. I haven't heard much of anything after that. If they found a way to stop it…they haven't made it here yet. Those dead ones are everywhere," Morgan said. "A good blow to the head will take them out. That's why Duane whacked you with the shovel earlier today. Not much else seems to faze them. Anytime one wanders onto the yard, we take it out. We try to keep quiet. They'd come after us if they knew we were here."

"Jesus," I said, genuine terror sinking in. Morgan continued.

"Before the broadcast stopped they told us to relocate to bigger cities. They said they could protect us there. I found out Duane's mother lived in Atlanta. Closest big city to us by far. I decided to take my chances out here. Turned out to be safer. Too many people I knew…died trying to get into the city. They'd go and then one or two from a large group would come back before moving on again. But it was all over their face. The horror they'd seen. The people they saw torn apart," he stopped. The past was getting to him. He breathed in and breathed out. Closing his eyes for a second. "It gets to be too much to handle."

"It's alright, man. Atlanta's a five hour drive. That's probably where my wife went. My in laws live in the city. As long as they're protecting the cities…thank God," I gave a sigh of relief. Morgan smiled.

"I'd wait to see it for myself before thanking him," he said. "But I'm sure they're fine. At least your wife that is. Not so sure you'd be too crazy to see the in laws."

I rose from the chair and pulled the keys from my pocket, raising them to the light.

"Well, we're gonna need a car if we're going all the way to Atlanta," I said, jingling the keys in his direction. "You wanna go shopping?"

Morgan's smile returned.

The night was almost as silent as the day. It was typical for our small town but this was uncanny. You'd often hear the train coming through right about now. Or the hum of the transformers on the power lines. But perhaps the most shocking thing was the number of stars you could see in the sky. We drove Morgan's small SUV down to the Police Department. The window was busted but the door was still locked. Good thing I had my keys. I fumbled with them as Morgan and Duane kept watch.

"So, you're a cop?" Morgan said.

"Yep," I retorted. Thought we went over this. But he's making small talk.

"Sorry for asking the obvious. It's just a little unbelievable. Cop comes onto the yard , we whack the man, and now he's giving me a car? Pinch me, I gotta be dreaming," Morgan said. "I figured you for a hunter when I saw the wound."

I gave him a weird look.

"It was the price of admission. We don't let people in who have been bit," said Morgan. Bit? This was new.

"Why? What's wrong if someone is bit?" I asked.

"You'll turn into one of them. You'll get really sick. Get a nasty fever. Then…you'll be gone but then you come back as one them. Not immediately. But soon enough," said Morgan. "Don't let them bite you. It's a death sentence. There's no cure that we know of yet."

"Damn," I said. "And I thought the fact that they attack was bad enough."

"Well, Officer, I can assure you their bite is a lot worse than their bark," Morgan said.

"I believe it," I continued.

"I hate to bring this up again. But, you being a cop…I feel I need to officially ask. Is it alright if Duane and I stay in that house a few more weeks? We just want to get the ok from you," said Morgan, rubbing his head. He looked to his right and saw that Duane was looking up at the stars. "Duane, don't go wandering off. Stay close, son." I finally opened the door and pulled the key out.

"I'm not going to arrest you if that's what you're wondering about. Most of the houses in my neighborhood have been looted and demolished. You seem to be fixing up the place. The Thompsons will thank you when they get back. As long as you don't put up a fight," I said. We stepped into the dark building as I fumbled for the light switch. Morgan now had Duane beside him.

"It's not like we're stealing the place…your neighborhood is just…safer, you know? We don't figure we're hurting anybody by staying there. That makes it okay in my book," said Morgan. I smiled and chuckled.

"You don't have to justify anything to me. You're keeping your son safe. I'm worried sick about mine. I understand. I'll even defend you if the Thompsons give you any trouble," I said. Morgan dropped it and we continued into the building.

"I appreciate that," Morgan said. I began searching the drawers for an old friend.

"I appreciate you driving me down here. You're a good man, Morgan. You've really helped a lot," I said. Morgan began to look around the place.

"It's worth it just to get to talk to someone. If it ain't about cartoons or passing gas, my boy don't want to talk about it," Morgan said with a chuckle. I joined in. Then I thought about what I'd seen in the hospital and on the road and my family. And my smile faded. "Something the matter, friend?"

"It's just…after everything I've seen today…I feel guilty for laughing," I said, falling into that darkness. I saw the abyss. I was on the edge. That's when a hand landed on my shoulder.

"Hey, man…it's okay. You've seen some shit out there…we all have. You can't let it get to you. You just keep going. You can't stop to think about it…you can't or you'll go crazy," said Morgan. I sighed. He was right. I nodded in agreement. He knew before I even said it. He knew that I was close to being gone. But he caught me just in time. He saved me from falling into despair. I can't say I would've found my family without him. That right there was when Morgan Jones saved my life. I didn't even realize I had found an old friend in the drawer. It was an old revolver. Not too old. I barely used it. Took it down to the gun range once or twice. Fired it maybe two dozen times. It would prove to be a great ally.

"What's up with that?" Morgan noticed the gun in my hand. I clicked open the chamber and counted the rounds.

"This? I figured I might as well bring a few along…just in case," I said. Then I thought of something. This was a police precinct after all. I smiled. "Speaking of which…follow me."

If the gun room was anything like the rest of the building, we'd be in the clear. We turned to the back of the building where a locked door stood between us and the contents inside. I fumbled finding the right key which was proving hard to find with my growing anticipation. I found the key and undid the lock. The door was loud and squeaky; we always did need to oil it. But I think they wanted it squeaky so we could always hear if anyone was going in. I flipped the switch to my left illuminating the room. Just like the hospital, we had a generator as well. Luckily the lights were essential. Phones worked too but I tried dialing a few numbers and got nothing other than "WE'RE SORRY. BUT ALL OF OPERATIVES ARE BUSY. PLEASE TRY AGAIN LATER." I remember that during a nasty storm a few years back. At least we could receive calls. I learned about that when I tried calling the house to see if Lori and Carl, who was just four at the time, were alright. I knew if I tried the phones tonight, they'd do the same thing. I ushered Morgan and Duane into the room which reeked of a chemical lemon smell.

It was untouched. In fact, it was so well preserved that someone's empty coffee mug was sitting on the "work bench" as I called it, just below the shotgun rack. To the right of that was the gun cage with a lot of handguns and high powered rifles. To the left of the door was our Kevlar vests and bullet proof helmets. Our SWAT gear or riot gear. I went to the cage and unlocked it, pulling a couple high powered rifles out.

"This is impressive," Morgan said.

"Take one of those rifles. We should have some scopes left if you want them. Grab a couple handguns and ammo for yourself too. A shotgun too if you feel adventurous. If whacking those things in the head with a shovel takes care of them, then I'm sure these will work just fine," I said, motioning to the guns. "Should save you some effort. Shells are in the gun cabinet below the gun rack. Make sure you save some for me. I'll be right back," I said. Figured I change out of these old sweaty clothes. I saw Morgan reach for the gun before I left and Duane asking about the guns.

"No, dammit! Don't touch anything," Morgan said from the other room. I went over to my locker and played with the lock. Overhearing the conversation. I'd probably say the same thing to Carl. I've told him before. He asked once if he could play with my gun. I told him a gun is not a toy and you should never play with one.

"But I'm old enough," both Duane and Carl's voices matched for a second as past and present aligned. I pulled the lock off and opened the door to my locker, revealing my usual uniform and brown overcoat and "cowboy hat" as Lori called it. I grabbed them and began putting it on.

"Yes, you are old enough," Morgan said. "But I'm gonna teach you how to use them tomorrow…but until then they're off limits."

I closed the locker and pulled on the jacket. Didn't take much effort, even though my muscles were still sore and my body still ached. But I slowly made my way back into the room with a pretty disappointed Duane and a serious looking Morgan. They both noticed me before I could say a word.

"Are there enough shells for both of us in there?" I asked. Morgan broke out a smile as he turned to face me.

"Well…that getup certainly suits you," he said.

"I keep a spare uniform in my locker," I said. "I figured if I was going into a big city, and they've got a ton of people holed up there…I could get around easier being a cop so I might well look the part."

I move over to the cabinets and grab as much as my arms can hold. A few shotguns, some rifles, couple dozen handguns, and lots of ammo. I begin filling a nearby duffle bag with the guns. I turn to Morgan and toss him a second bag with a smile. He catches it.

"Grab what you're getting and then meet me around back. I got a surprise for you," I say. Before heading out of the gun room.

In no time at all, Morgan pulls open the door to the back lot. I was so pleased to see two cruisers sitting without a scratch on them. I guess the precinct decided it wasn't a good move to use government property during the crisis. Or maybe they just used their own cars. Regardless, I'm happy as hell that there are two sitting there just waiting for us. I finish with the one closest to the door, checking the engine, making sure the oil is okay. I'm not a car man. Hell, apart from checking the oil and the engine, I don't know my way around a car. But Morgan doesn't car.

"This is quite a surprise," he said. I pick up my duffle bag.

"You take that one on the left. It doesn't run as good as the one I'm taking but it'll run better than that hatchback you're driving," I say. "If I'm going to make it all the way to Atlanta, I'm going to need the newer one."

Morgan is more than shocked by this.

"Wait…what?" he exclaimed. "Atlanta is a hard road and a long one. You sure you'll be good on your own. Duane and I would go with you but we've got some packing to do if we're going to leave and something tells me you don't plan on waiting, do you?"

"I need to find my family. Dead or alive, I need to see them. I'm sorry, Morgan. But I'll find my family and then I'll come back to you guys. The living should stick together, right? Power in numbers and all that?" I asked.

"You're right. We'll hang out here then. Rick…I just want to be sure that you're okay with giving us all this," Morgan motions to the car and the guns.

"You'll be safer in one of these things if you need to go anywhere," I said.

"But I-" Morgan begins but I see the concern. He doesn't understand my hospitality. Racism and prejudice still shapes views and reactions even in Kentucky. I hold out the keys to him with a somber smile.

"Don't sweat it, man. I'm just doing my job. I can't think of a better way to 'Protect and Serve' under the circumstances," I said. He takes the keys.

"Thank you, Rick. For everything," Morgan said. "I can't tell you how much this will help us."

"Thank you for hitting me over the head with a shovel. I'd probably be dead right now if you didn't," I say with a smile towards Duane, whose face disappears behind his father's leg. "And you've given me a lot-"

A rattling along the fence makes us all jump. I look in the direction of the noise and there's a dead one trying to pull on the fence to get at us. This one has a bit more hair than my attacker at the hospital and it's missing its left eye. It doesn't look very strong. It's sleeveless shirt and denim jeans are nearly sliding off the corpse. There's a hole where some intestines have been pulled out, not a very big hole about a fist size. It grunts and groans and growls at us. I pull the pistol from my holster and raise it to the monster's hideous snapping mouth. But a hand falls onto the gun.

"No," Morgan says calmly. I lower the gun. "Leave it be. It can't get to us in here…and you may need that bullet later."

I nod in agreement and holster the gun.

"Yeah, you're right. We better get these cars out of here before it makes its way to the gate," I said. Morgan heads over to his car and Duane sits in the passenger seat.

"Seatbelt," Morgan tells him as he begins to walk over to the other side of the car and opens the driver side door. He pauses before he enters and looks back to me. "I'll see you around?"

"Of course," I said. "We're neighbors. Keep an eye on my house for me."

"Will do," Morgan says. I run over to the gate and open it as Morgan starts his car. He then slowly drives out of the lot. The corpse is only now beginning to move around the fence towards the gate. Time's running out. In about a minute it will be hear attempting to eat me. I run to the car and drive the car out of the lot. Forty seconds to go. I fumble for my keys and pull the gate closed. Twenty seconds. I couldn't find that fucking key to save my life. Ten seconds. I found it. I insert the key in the lock and unlock the chain before feeding it back through the fence and locking it. The corpse is within five feet of me. I take the keys and run back to the car, closing the door and speeding away as the corpse begins to beat on the trunk. In another ten seconds, it is becoming an increasingly smaller dot in my rear-view mirror.

I continue through the town, corpses turning as I pass them but only about two or three total. In no time at all, I'm back on the country road towards the hospital. I see the hospital sign and speed limit sign about 300 feet down the road. I then remembered what was there. The sight I saw. The corpse that is still struggling to eat. I took a deep breath and stopped the car. I open the door and go to the right towards the sign. The moon is the only light I have and it's enough. My shadow covers the corpse, still very active. It turns its head and begins its snapping session again. Moving its useless legs and arms. Trying to get up. I pull the gun from my holster and pull the trigger. The sound of the gunshot screams out in every direction. Finally…it can be over. I can finally say that it's at rest. Or can I? Is it truly over? Or is it just the beginning?

I didn't even notice that I was beginning to cry. But I wipe the tear away. Real men don't cry. That slow trip back to the cruiser felt like it took hours. But when I finally reach the door, it shocks me and I enter the car. All the thoughts. All the fears. All the doubts. They come flooding back like a never-ending torrent of emotion. But I can't stop. I can't give up or breakdown. I must be strong. I can make it.

I close the door and continue down the long road into the starry night.

I stop talking. The sarcastic clapping begins.

"What a fantastic tale. A truly moving experience. I'm on the verge of tears over here, I don't know about you," says the man in front of me. He's locked inside a steel bar cell. His long hair and bushy beard almost made me forget what his face looks like beneath. But his smile is still as charming as ever.

"Do you even know why I am telling you this?" I ask.

"You've got a lot on your mind. You've seen some shit, am I right?" the man says. "Guess I'll find out sooner or later, won't I?"

"I'm telling you this so you understand what I've been through. What we've been through. I'm making you see the people you've killed in a different light. Maybe you'll feel some remorse for once. I still believe that this world can be rebuilt and I want to see the look on your face when you see the world without you in it," I say. He smiles.

"Sounds good to me, Rick. I do love stories. I would tell them all the time to my girl. Hope she's being treated alright. She means a lot to me. But just so you're aware…I've seen some shit too. I've lived it. You got a free ticket to the end of the world…I had to fight my fucking way to where I am today. Sure I lost in the end…but I blame myself. Put faith in the wrong people…that's all. No problem. I'm one of those that looks at this world as a fucking gift, y'know? Like, who the fuck would've thought that I'd be taken down by a bunch of pricks led by a one-handed fucker of a prick who instead of doing the smart thing and kill me after I kill a fucking heeping shitload of his pricks decides to save me. Locks me up and throw away the key. And instead of leaving me alone with my precious thoughts and memories and just time to jerk off nonstop, the king comes down from on high to visit the lowest of the low and decides to have a therapy session. I'm mother fucking, cock sucking thrilled to see you, Rick," says the man with a big grin. "Maybe I'll be able to tell a story someday. This can't be entirely you're show, now can it?"

I get up from the chair and stretch, grabbing my cane and scratching my beard. I turn and begin to walk out of the room.

"It is my story now, Negan. And you're not in it anymore," I said. The man smiles and raises an old tin can filled with water.

"To better days, then," Negan says. I get up slowly and walk out of the room, closing the door behind me.