The white and grey titles above him are the only things he can see. His vision is hazy and out of focus as the Alpha's best friend, Shane, leans over him. He's carrying with him what Rick can only guess is a bouquet of lilies in a blue and white antique vase in his arms. Shane wears his police T-shirt that had seen better days from what he can make out in the mess of colors. His red, baggy eyes, his face pale like he hadn't been sleeping. Shane looks at him and sighs before he addresses Rick in a distorted voice. Shane observes Rick for a moment before he steps off to the side, out of Rick's peripheral vision. After what feels like a few minutes of silence, Rick's vision settles into focus and calls out to Shane.
"Shane?" No answer. Scenting the air and seeing that only his scent was present, Rick looked around. It was odd only smelling himself because the nurse's scent should be substantial if they checked on him. He looks around, noticing he's completely alone. He sees the monitors he's hooked up to are off, and the flowers that the other Alpha had placed next to his bed are dead.
Disoriented and confused, Rick tries to get out of the hospital bed. Tossing the blankets aside, Rick sits up and grabs the IV pole next to him before trying to stand. Once he puts weight on his legs, they give out, and Rick is on the floor, unable to breathe. His legs are far weaker than he thinks they should be for being out for such a short amount of time. He turns on his side and rips the IV from his arm before calling out in a hoarse voice. "Nurse. Help."
When no one responds, he calls out again, scenting the air. The whole building smells wrong. It smelled nothing like sterilized bandages and medicine but of death. Getting to his unsteady feet and waiting for balance, Rick makes his way to the bathroom. He leans against the door with a heaving breath and stares in shock at the mirror. He's thin, thinner than he can ever remember being. His stubble is more significant in length than it had been before he got shot. Sticking his head under the faucet, he drinks the stale-smelling water to clear his dry throat. Once Rick has had his fill, he turns the water off. He wipes his hands off on his hospital gown, mindful of the bandages on his side that smell infected. He walks out into the hallway and pushes a gurney that blocks the door out of the way.
The hallway was a war zone. Papers littered the floor, and the lights were flickering. Thrown open doors to other rooms; some lights were on and some lights off. Rick starts to make his way down the hallway, confused about the lack of people. He walks down another hallway, stopping at doors. Looking in one, he drops to his knees at the sight in front of him. Bracing himself against the door, he stares at the decaying body of a woman lying in the center of the other hall.
'Oh my God, what happened here? Where is everyone?' Rick thinks as he walks away from the doors, his fear growing with each step he takes. He stares in horror at the bullet-ridden blood-stained walls. Puddles of the red liquid coat the floor; footprints slide in and out of view. He enters another hallway, being careful not to cut his feet on the glass. His breathing catches in his throat at the chained and barred door. The words 'Don't Open, Dead Inside' are spray-painted across them.
Rick turns to his left and pushes the doors open, bolting from the building. Opening the exit door, Rick makes his way outside, using the wall as support. He keeps his head down, trying to ignore the bodies wrapped in bloody sheets that cover the parking lot.
Rick makes it to his house with little memory of how he got there. Racing up the porch as best he can, he throws the screen door open and walks in, calling for his wife and son.
Walking into his and Lori's room, he notices the clothes thrown everywhere, a suitcase on the bed. The whole scene reminded him of hasty packing. It was like something more important had come up, and the bag left behind, forgotten. Going into the next room shows a similar scene, with little boy clothes thrown everywhere. Making his way out of the rooms, he drops to his knees and calls out for his family again, terrified.
Crying, Rick gets to his feet and makes his way outside, sitting down on his porch steps. Looking out into the neighborhood, Rick sees a man walking down the street in a black suit. The man sees him and inches his way over, limping as if he had hurt himself. Rick raises his hand and waves at the man, trying to catch his scent. Unaware of the figure behind him, also making his way to Rick. Close enough to the back of Rick's head, the figure raises their arms back with a shovel. A twig snaps under their feet, and Rick turns around only to see a shovel aiming for his face.
…..
Waking up on a comfortable bed with his hands tied above his head, Rick blinks. Realizing he must have blacked out at that point. From shock or exhaustion, he doesn't know. Not knowing where he is or how he had gotten inside a house, Rick looks around at his surroundings. An Omega boy is standing off to one side of the bed. He has a baseball bat in hand as he shifts from foot to foot, biting his lip in anticipation. A glove snapping drags Rick's attention to the other side of the bed, where another Alpha is standing. He looks at Rick for a moment before he goes back to cleaning his hands in a bowl on a table.
"Got that bandage changed now," He says, "it was pretty rank. What was the wound?"
"Gunshot," Rick says.
"Gunshot? What else? Anythin'?" He wipes his hands on a towel before he turns to Rick, wiping his brow as well.
"Gunshot ain't enough?" Rick snarls.
The man gets closer to Rick, almost over top of him to assert his dominance, and snaps back, "Look, I ask, and you answer. That's common courtesy, right?" He leans down until he's face to face with Rick, "Did you get bit?"
Rick licks his lips in confusion, narrowing his eyes at the man, "Bit?"
"Bit," the man repeats, "chewed, scratched- anythin' like that?"
"No, I got shot." Rick says, looking the man in the eyes, "As far as I know, that's it." The man goes to touch Rick, but Rick evades him. He remembered what he had done to that man; he shot him in the head, point-blank, without a second thought.
"Hey, let me." He places the back of his hand on Rick's forehead before turning to his son, "Feels cool enough. The fever would've killed you by now."
"Don't think I have one," Rick says, shaking his head.
"Be hard to miss." The man says. The man reaches up and cuts the bindings on Rick's wrists with a pocket knife. He gets off the bed and cuts the bindings on Rick's ankles.
"Come on out when you're able." The man says as he makes his way over to the door, nudging his son. Rick grabs a thin blanket and follows the sounds of a scrapping ladle and soft murmurs. The man and his son are at a small table, dishing up food onto plates. Rick notices a collection of can goods and toilet paper rolls in corners. On the opposite side of the room were two twin mattresses lay side by side, used. It seems like the Alpha and his son was staying within three rooms of the whole house. The house now that he's looking around is familiar. The nailed shut door. The windows with heavy blankets covering them. Rick wonders if they did that, so it doesn't let what little light they used be visible outside. As he makes his way to the windows, he feels the other Alpha's eyes on him. He goes to look out, but the man stops him.
"Don't do that," the man calls in a low rumble, "They'll see the light. There's more out there than usual. I never should've fired that gun today." The man makes his way to the table and pulls a metal can off a small burner with some rags. "Sound draws them; now they're all over the street. Stupid- using a gun." He blows the hand-held burner out and places it on a side table. "But it all happened so fast... I didn't think." The man sits at the table.
"You shot that man today." Rick accused him.
"Man?" The man questions.
"It weren't no man." the boy interjects.
"What the hell was that out of your mouth?" the man glares at his son.
"It wasn't a man." the boy corrects himself.
"You shot him in the street out front- a man," Rick says, a little more forceful.
The other man scoffs and says, "It was a Walker. Come on, sit down before you fall." The man places some beans on his son's and his plates before dishing up a container for Rick, "Here." Rick sits at the table across from the boy.
They say their blessings and start to eat. The man looks at Rick as if something clicked with him now that hadn't occurred to him before.
"Hey, mister, you even know what's going on?" Rick swallows his food before he speaks.
"All I know is that I woke up today in the hospital..." Rick takes another bite of beans. The man and his son share a glance before the man clears his throat.
"But you know about the dead people, right?" he asks.
"Yeah I saw a lot of that," Rick says, nauseous, "out on the loading dock, piled in trucks."
"No, I mean the Walkers, like the one I shot today. Cause he'd have tried to eat you." At Rick's confused yet horrified expression, the man continues. "Well, I guess if this is the first you're hearin' it, I know how it must sound."
"They're out there now? In the streets?" Rick nods at the windows.
"Yeah. But we'll be fine as long as we stay quiet." Rick switches his gaze between the two males as the dad speaks.
"But listen." the other man gets Rick's attention, "One thing I do know- don't you get bit. I saw your bandage and that's what we were afraid of. Bites kill you. The fever burns you out. But then after a while... you come back." The two males get quiet.
They all go back to eating. Later after Rick and the two other men finish the food, the three of them curl up in the living room. The man and his son curl up on the mattresses while Rick leans against the sofa. An alarm goes off down the street, and they jump. The little boy looks at the window in fear, a slight whine escaping him, and his dad immediately calms him.
"Hey, it's okay. Daddy's here. It's nothing. One of them must've bumped a car." He reassures his son, purring.
"Are you sure?" Rick asks, looking at the window.
"It happened once before. Get the lights." Rick and the man get up and head to the window. The man waits until the room is dark. The candles still burning low, he moves one of the blankets to look outside.
"Think we're okay." the man looks outside over Rick's shoulder, scanning the street for any threats.
"That noise- won't it bring more of them?" Rick asks as Duane comes over and pulls the blanket back a little.
"Nothin' we can do about it now." the older Alpha sighs, "We'll have to wait them out till mornin'."
"She's here." Duane gasps as a black female Walker in a white nightgown comes into view from the side. She turns towards the house and starts to make her way over like she knew they were there.
"Don't look." The man tells his son in a strained voice, "Get away from the windows." Duane backs away from the window, shaking. He throws himself onto their mattresses, sobbing.
"Duane. Duane, quiet now." His dad goes over to him and pulls his head into his lap, "Come on, quiet now pup. Shh shh."
Rick stays by the window watching the female Walker as she makes her way to the house. She starts walking towards the porch and out of the window view. Rick makes his way to the door in the hallway next to the room they were camping in, looking out the pep-hole. The Walker makes her way up the steps with another Walker following her. The Walkers make it on the porch, stopping in front of the door. The woman looks at the door; her head bobs like a chicken as her sunken, glazed eyes focus on the pep-hole. The way she moved. It was as if she knew Rick was right there, watching her, and she wanted him to see that she was watching him too. Her jaw keeps twitching like she was trying to bite something, and her eyes drop down to the doorknob. Its rattling makes Rick look down where the knob was turning. The Walker was trying to get into the house.
Rick backs away, scared. He goes back to the living room, where he sits down on the floor, next to Duane and his dad, but his eyes never leave the door. A quiet rumble leaves him, smelling the distress on them both and trying to comfort them. He directs it at the Alpha, not knowing how he would react to Rick settling Duane. He looks at the other man. The Alpha nods, and Rick rubs Duane's ankle. Duane reaches down and pulls Rick's hand up to his dad's, burying his face in the scent of the two men. Rick looks to the Omega's dad. He smiles and nods, and Rick goes back to watching the door.
"Thank you," Duane says.
"She uh..." The man says while he pets Duane's hair, "She died in that other room on that bed in there. That fever, man, her skin gave off heat like a furnace." Duane was still crying as his dad and Rick talked.
"I should've-" the man shakes his head, "I should've put her down, but I- You know what? I didn't have it in me. She's my Omega; my mate. She's the mother of my child. When I lost her… if I didn't have Duane needing me, man, I would have lost it. I don't know what I would do." The rattling of the doorknob continues even as they get ready to sleep, all kinds of huddle near each other. Rick watches the door until he falls asleep.
Rick drives to the police station in a car they hotwire not far from Rick's house. Duane's dad is in the front while Duane piles in the back seat.
"You know, I never got your name. Seems kind of bad not knowing the name of the man who saved my life." Rick says after a couple of minutes of silence.
"Morgan. Morgan Jones and that's my son Duane. You gonna tell us your name, Sheriff?" The man says.
"Rick Grimes, nice to meet you." Rick laughs.
When they show up at the station, Rick unlocks the back door. They head for the showers to test the hot water out, to the joy of Morgan and his son. After they had cleaned off the excessive amount of grime, they sat in the locker room, drying off. Rick turns to the other man.
"Atlanta sounds like a good deal. Safer anyway- more people."
"That's where we were heading, before…." Morgan sighs.
"Plan to move on?" Rick asks.
"Haven't worked up to it yet." Morgan nods. Rick nods before holding out a bottle of pills.
"They're over the counter, so not as strong, but I figured your boy could use them." Morgan takes the bottle with a nod and looks at the label. Narrowing his eyes, the Alpha looks at Rick with a slight rumble of warning in his chest.
"There were a few Omegas that worked here; the Suppressants were mandatory for when they were on shift. I don't think they are going to need them now, but you might if you do decide to leave. There might be more around here but…." Rick shrugs, and Morgan nods his thanks and apology.
The two men finish getting dressed, and Duane meets them back in the locker room, looking happier. They follow Rick farther into the station and come upon a metal cage filled with guns and ammo. Rick unlocks the padlock and chain, keeping the guns inside, and pulls the door open.
"A lot of it's gone missin'," Rick says as he pulls a rifle off the wall and checks the scope; Morgan and Duane pile in after him. They fill up two duffle bags with ammo and guns. Making their way around the building, they check for anything else they might need. Finding five more bottles of Suppressants, Morgan takes four and leaves one with for Rick.
"Better to have it in case you need it later." Rick nods his thanks, and they make their way outside, into the back-parking lot.
"Conserve your ammo." Rick says as they head to the cars, "It goes faster than you think, especially at target practice."
"Duane, take this to the car." Morgan hands Duane their duffle bag and points to the jeep they came in. Duane heads for it, throwing an "Okay" over his shoulder.
"Are you sure you won't come along?" Rick asks Morgan.
"A few more days. By then Duane will know how to shoot and I won't be so rusty." Rick thinks for a moment. Turning to the squad car, he pulls out two walkie-talkies, turning them on to make sure they work. He hands one to Morgan.
"You have one battery. I'll turn mine on a few minutes every day at dawn. You get up there, that's how you'll find me." He says.
"You think ahead." Morgan nods and goes over to Duane, Rick following him.
"Can't afford not to, not anymore."
"Listen," Morgan turns to Rick as he speaks. "They might not seem like much one at a time but in a group, all riled up and hungry- man, you watch your ass."
"You too." Rick acknowledges. Morgan smiles at him, and they shake hands, Duane standing right next to him.
"You're a good man, Rick. I hope you find your wife and son." Morgan says, releasing Rick's hand. Rick nods and looks at Duane.
"Be seeing you, Duane. Take care of your old man." Rick and Duane shake hands as well.
"Yes sir." Duane smiles at him. Morgan pulls onto the street, going right, and honks goodbye while Rick turns left and blares the siren twice in reply. He drives out of the small-town neighborhood and heads to Atlanta. He only gets halfway before the gas runs out. Grabbing his bags and anything of value from the car, he leaves it on the side of the road, continuing on foot. He keeps an eye out for the Walkers or anything else that might help him get to Atlanta.
After about half an hour of walking, Rick stops in front of a white farmhouse. He walks around the porch looking in each window, only finding the couple's bodies that lived there. Heading back to where he left his bags, Rick stops short at the sound of a nickering horse. In the fenced-in field, a chestnut stallion with a white face was grazing on the overgrown grass. Rick puts his things in the barn. He makes his way over to the horse, leading it to the barn, and gets it cleaned up and saddled. Once the horse is sound, Rick puts the bag on his back and gets on. Setting the horse into a gallop, he makes his way down the road.
…
The horse seems to settle down as they make it closer to Atlanta; Rick has him walking on the one empty side of the road.
"Let's go." Rick urges the stallion forward. He was staring at the traffic jam of abandoned cars left behind while people tried to leave Atlanta. It wasn't until they were in the downtown streets that the horse started to act strange. It didn't want to go further in the city, whining and trying to go back the way they came. Rick turns the horse around and urges him forward, passing military vehicles, helicopters, and local cars and buses. Rick didn't see any Walkers until they passed a bus, two streets over, that they found the dead. Three Walkers start to get off the bus, growling, which causes the horse to start whining again.
A few more Walkers start to appear as Rick looks back at the ones getting off the bus. Rick turns the horse down another street where a tank and some military jeeps. Rick slows down in front of the tank. A soldier's body was lying against the tank's gun, crows eating out of one of the wounds on the soldier's back. Rick's nose starts to wrinkle at the smell of death that seems to cling to the city. Rick kicks the horse into a run. He turns onto the next street and immediately tries to back away. The horse rearing was the only thing that stopped him from running into the street covered in Walkers. From what Rick can tell, the whole street was full of them, but he didn't stay to get a good look. As soon as the two of them turned the corner, the Walkers noticed them and started after their next meal. Rick allows the horse to take off, trusting it to get them out. The herd takes off after them as the horse runs down the street. They make it to the tank before Walkers from all sides box them in.
Walkers start their feast on the horse, seeing as it was an easier target because it couldn't get up. Surrounded by the Walkers, they start grabbing at both Rick and the horse. The stallion rears up, and Rick has trouble holding on. When the Walkers knock them both to the ground, Rick drops the bag of guns and his hat. A few go after Rick, but he kicks one off him and scrambles back. Seeing more Walkers in front of him, he freezes, knowing there is no way to outrun them. He'd have to outsmart them, which has him crawling under the tank, the Walkers following him. Rick notices an opening under the tank and pulls himself up before the Walkers reach him. He closes the door under him and scoots against the tank wall, next to a dead soldier.
"Oh... God," Rick pants out. He goes to pull the gun from the soldier's suit and almost yells when the dead soldier turns towards him, growling. Rick brings the gun up and fires. Immediately his ears start to ring; his vision goes out of focus. Rick falls to the ground in pain when he notices an opening from the top of the tank. Standing up, with a bit of difficulty, the ringing in his ear starts to disappear. He notices the bag of guns in the street but cannot do anything as Walkers climb the tank. Rick pulls the lid down, the Walkers beating at it, and locking himself in with the dead soldier. Rick checks the gun he pulled from the soldier to see how many bullets he had left. Then he sits there, trying to figure out how he will get out of this one. Over the sound of Walkers pounding on the tank and eating his horse, Rick hears a sound; the radio.
"Hey, you." The man over the radio says, "Dumbass. Yeah, you in the tank. Are you cozy in there?"