Chapter Text
The engine died with a weary groan.
Atlanta’s air was still and heavy. The heat seemed to have swallowed even the wind.
In front of them stood a high-end apartment building. Its beige façade, still elegant, bore witness to the luxury that once defined this place but now felt foreign.
The blinds hung loose, the street was empty, and a corvid perched on a nearby lamppost watched them, motionless, like an omen of ill fortune.
Rick turned off the ignition and took a long breath.
Behind him, Michonne took a moment, one last time, to appreciate the life she had lived and prepared herself to say goodbye to it or would it be a farewell?
Paul, in the back seat, nervously fiddled with the barrel of his weapon.
Shane, meanwhile, scanned the street with a sharp, detached glance before speaking.
“Make it quick. If we stay here too long, we’re gonna attract trouble.”
Rick simply nodded and stepped out of the car with Michonne ahead of him.
The sound of his boots on the asphalt echoed strangely. Michonne had already opened the trunk, grabbing an empty bag.
Shane and Paul stayed near the vehicle, weapons in hand.
Inside, the building reeked of abandonment, dust, and fear.
Newspapers littered the floor, a toppled flowerpot leaving its dry soil scattered all the way to the elevator.
Michonne took the stairs two at a time, Rick following behind her.
The red stains on certain walls left no doubt as to their origin. The silence of the place was broken only by their footsteps and the buzzing of flies in some corridors.
When she reached the fourth floor, she stopped in front of door 4B.
The key turned with a sharp little click, an almost intimate sound in this bleak setting.
She stepped inside. And everything came rushing back at once.
The scent of lavender. André’s drawing hanging on the wall. The toy overturned near the couch. Mike’s dumbbells on the balcony…
Everything seemed frozen, as if time had stopped at the exact moment she had left this place.
She stood there, eyes moist, unable to move. Rick, behind her, didn’t dare speak,it was her moment.
Finally, she inhaled, regained her composure, and began methodically gathering the things she wanted to save.
The katana was still there, hanging above the painting Mike had given her for Mother’s Day two years earlier. Carefully wrapped in its black sheath with golden inscriptions along the tsuka.
She took it with almost religious care and slung it across her back.
Then she grabbed the comics she had bought for Carl, André’s favorite books, a family photo album, and several framed pictures she removed from the wall.
Each object seemed to weigh a ton, as if the past refused to be carried away.
Rick, unsure of what to do, began walking through the rooms, noting what had changed since the last time he had been there.
On the coffee table, an open album caught his attention. He stepped closer and ran his fingers across the pages then suddenly stopped.
A photograph.
Him and Michonne, on prom night.
They were laughing, arms linked, their young faces bright and full of promise.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
“Do you remember that night?” he said softly.
Michonne looked up at him before walking over, intrigued.
“Shane had just gotten dumped and kept sticking to us all night. He kept saying love was just some movie cliché.”
She laughed in turn. “Yeah, I remember. And you’d barely had three beers before we didn’t even recognize you anymore.”
“I was sober!”
“You were stumbling to I Want It That Way, Rick. We saw you!”
They burst into laughter, real laughter. A bubble of normality in a world that no longer had any.
Then the silence fell again.
Rick lowered his eyes to the photo. His smile slowly faded.
“We were really good together.”
Time stopped.
Michonne remained silent, her throat tight before murmuring,
“That’s true. We made a beautiful couple.”
They looked at each other. Each noticing the changes in the other. Memories wrapping around them. Buried feelings and sensations rising back to the surface. Their faces slowly moved closer, dangerously close to a point of no return ignored for far too long.
Nothing could be heard except two heartbeats.
And then–
BAM!
The door burst open. Shane rushed in, out of breath, sweat covering his forehead.
“We need to get downstairs right now! A herd of dead is coming from the south and there’s gunfire everywhere!”
Rick hurriedly slipped the photo into his jacket and grabbed Michonne’s bag.
They rushed down the stairs at full speed.
With every floor they passed, the sounds of the chaos below reached them more clearly. Screams, gunshots, shattering glass, hoarse groans.
Outside, the street was no longer the same.
Paul stood in front of the car, frozen, hands on his head, his gaze empty.
In the distance, the staggering silhouettes of a herd were already visible, moving forward,slow but massive.
They had never seen anything like it before. You could feel them even before seeing them.
People were running in every direction, screaming, stumbling.
A dog barked endlessly before disappearing behind a scream.
Everything seemed to darken, even the sky.
Michonne ran toward Paul.
“Paul! Breathe, look at me!” she shouted, gripping his shoulders.
He was shaking, suffocating, unable to say a word.
She placed a hand at the back of his neck, forcing him to breathe deeply, to follow her rhythm.
“Come on, breathe with me. Inhale… exhale… that’s it, slowly. Slowly.”
After a moment, he managed to regain a bit of control.
She guided him to the car, helped him into the back seat, then shut the door firmly.
She then turned toward Rick and Shane.
“We just need to find another route, even if it means taking a long detour to meet the others at the rendezvous point. It’s already one o’clock, so let’s move, now!”
Her voice barely trembled, but the energy in her words made both men nod.
They were about to get into the car when a scream tore through the air.
A young woman, a few meters away, struggled against a walker trying to bite her neck.
Rick didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the machete from under his seat, but Shane caught his wrist.
“Rick, we don’t have time! Get in!”
Rick shoved him away violently.
“Damn it, Shane, that woman needs help! You want us to just let her die? We were lawmen barely a month ago!”
“And our families, huh, they’re waiting for us?! You wanna sacrifice them just to play hero?!”
“We can’t lose our humanity, Shane.”
He turned to go toward the woman, but Michonne had already beaten him to it.
In a flash, she had drawn her katana, sliced the walker’s throat with a clean motion. The body collapsed, and she helped the still-shaking young woman to her feet.
Seconds later, she was helping her climb into the back of the vehicle.
Rick stared at her, stunned.
Michonne exhaled, wiping her forehead.
“Someone had to do something while you two were yelling. Besides, it let me see I haven’t lost my touch.” she said with a sideways smile.
Rick watched her for a moment, checking that she hadn’t been bitten and that she was alright. Sensing his concern, Michonne finally told him she was perfectly fine.
She then got into the car, closing the door securely behind her.
“So? Are we waiting for the herd or are we going?”
Shane cursed under his breath before taking the passenger seat, and Rick slid into the driver’s seat and sped off.
The car leapt forward onto the asphalt.
In the rearview mirror, Atlanta faded away, swallowed by dust and the dead.
For a moment, only the engine filled the silence.
Paul, curled up beside Michonne, closed his eyes.
The young woman, breathless, slowly regained her composure.
Shane finally broke the silence.
“Mind telling me why we’re picking up a stranger, exactly?”
The young woman lifted her head toward him, her gaze sharp despite the exhaustion and fear still lodged in her bones.
“That ‘stranger’ has a name. Andrea Harrison. And since I was also heading to Fort Whitmore, your friend offered me a ride with you. Problem?”
Rick met her eyes in the rearview mirror, then Michonne’s, seated beside her. He nodded slightly without saying a word.
“Great,” Shane muttered, jaw tight.
Silence fell,the tension did not.
The rain approaching in the distance didn’t help.
And as the car sped down the deserted highway, the shadows of Atlanta disappeared completely behind them.
3:00 p.m.
The miles passed with them, and so did the hours. Two hours already spent sitting in that car, far from the others.
Anxiety rose in the air, and with it came fatigue and thirst.
The rain had gone, replaced by the wind. Calm and gentle. Silence had returned,a silence that still failed to mask the dreadful reality they were living in.
They eventually stopped for a moment so everyone could relieve themselves.
“You should try again here, maybe it’ll go through,” Michonne said, handing a walkie-talkie to Rick.
Rick took the walkie-talkie and immediately tried to reach the rest of the group.
His voice, muffled by static, barely carried outside against the wind.
“Morgan?… Morgan, do you copy?”
Nothing.
As seconds stretched into minutes, panic slowly gripped everyone’s hearts.
Finally, white noise crackled, a burst of static and then a voice, tired but recognizable.
“This is Morgan. We hear you, Rick. We made it to the rendezvous point, but… it’s a complete mess here. Cars blocked as far as the eye can see. People are saying they haven’t moved an inch in two days.”
Rick frowned, his gaze drifting over the deserted road ahead.
“Damn…” he muttered under his breath.
“Have you run into any dead?” he asked quickly.
“No. Not yet.”
The radio crackled again, then another voice, deeper, took over.
“Rick? It’s Michael. Hurry up. The situation’s worse than we imagined.”
And the transmission cut off abruptly.
Rick stood still for a moment, the walkie clutched tightly in his hand. His head tilted toward the sky, as if searching for a solution or a miracle.
Michonne was the first to recover.
“We need to get back on the road, Rick. Once we’re together, we’ll figure out what to do.”
He watched her head back toward the vehicle and followed.
Shane, who had stayed inside, turned toward him as he got in.
“You reach them?”
“Yeah. They’re okay.” He took a deep breath. “But the road to Fort Whitmore is blocked. Miles of traffic.”
Shane groaned before banging his head lightly against the headrest.
Paul watched him for a moment before finally speaking.
“Then we don’t have time to waste.”
The vehicle set off again. The road stretched ahead like a gray serpent, broken by wrecked cars and overturned signs.
For a long while, no one spoke. Only the wind whistled through cracks in the windshield.
Then Andrea’s voice broke the silence:
“You just said there’s a traffic jam for miles, right? So… how are we supposed to get through?”
Shane turned sharply toward her.
“You mean how YOU are gonna make it to Whitmore. Because we’re not a taxi service, got it?”
Rick tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
“Shane, please calm down?!”
Shane shook his head, exasperated.
“We already pulled her out of trouble, we’re taking her halfway,that’s enough. We don’t need another burden.”
Michonne stepped in, her voice calm but firm.
“We’re all on edge after what we just went through, that’s normal. And learning Fort Whitmore might be unreachable doesn’t help. So we calm down, we keep going, and we figure it out together. Alright?”
Her gaze moved across each of them.
Rick gave a faint smile. Paul muttered a yeah while Andrea shrank slightly into her seat, arms wrapped tightly around herself.
Shane remained silent, jaw clenched and fist tight.
A few minutes later, the road began to widen.
Then, as they rounded a bend, they saw the infamous line of vehicles. Endless.
A carpet of metal, horns, and unknown faces.
Families sitting on their hoods.
Parents rocking their children who no longer even cried.
Bodies half-covered with blankets on the ground.
And beyond, as far as the eye could see, a sea of steel frozen beneath the sun.
Rick had barely turned off the engine when Shane was already out of the car.
“Shit… shit… damn it!” he shouted, kicking a tire.
Paul got out as well, a hand on the back of his neck, his face closed off.
Michonne, meanwhile, scanned the surroundings, searching for their group’s vehicles.
“Wait, I’m coming with you,” Andrea said, joining her.
They walked along the line of cars, passed a few smoking wrecks, and eventually spotted, parked off to the side, the familiar Grimes pickup and a RV atop which Morgan stood.
Michonne’s heart lightened at the sight of André and Carl, sitting on the RV steps, biscuits in hand.
She broke into a run toward the vehicles and pulled them into her arms, eyes closed, breathing deeply.
André giggled under her kisses, then she did the same with Carl who laughed.
Rachel, who had been inside the RV, appeared almost immediately with a sigh of relief.
She hugged Michonne too before asking where the others were.
Andrea, who had been watching from the corner with a small nostalgic smile, answered softly, “They’re coming.”
She had barely finished when a deep voice snapped behind her.
“And who exactly are you?!”
It was Harold.
In a tank top, arms crossed, his hard gaze fixed on her as he stepped forward.
Andrea turned around, startled.
“Andrea Harrison. I met—”
“I didn’t ask for your biography,” he cut in sharply before walking toward the RV where Michonne was. She was with the children, handing out books and toys here and there to fight their boredom. She also took that moment to pull Carl aside and give him the comics she had bought for his birthday.
The boy cried out, delighted. “This is so cool! Thank you, Michonne!” before throwing himself into her arms for a long hug.
Harold, his head inside the RV, growled, his voice filled with contempt.
“That girl needs to leave. We don’t know if she’s infected or not!”
Rachel intervened immediately, pulling him by the arm out of the vehicle before he could fully step inside.
“Harold, this is the last time I ask you to change your tone in front of the children! Look at her, she’s not bitten.” She pointed toward Andrea.
“I don’t know that. She could be hiding it under her clothes.”
Michonne stepped down calmly, closed the door so the children could keep playing undisturbed, and walked toward them, her hands slipped into the back pockets of her jeans.
“Andrea isn’t bitten. I sat next to her the entire trip. And she was heading to Fort Whitmore, just like us. So no, we’re not abandoning her. Not now.”
Her tone was calm, but each word landed like a slap.
Harold remained silent for a moment, searching for support. Rachel stared at him coldly. Finally, he spat:
“She was heading to Fort Whitmore for a reason, right? And we… not anymore.”
“What do you mean, not anymore?” Andrea asked, her voice trembling. “My little sister told me it was safe there… that they were still taking in civilians!”
Harold shook his head, expression hard.
“Well, not anymore.”
Andrea went pale.
“What do you mean? What happened?”
No one answered.
A strange silence settled.
Michonne felt anxiety twist her chest.
She looked around.No Rick, not her father or her sister.
The noise of the crowd, engines, and crying blended into a suffocating roar.
“Where are they?” she murmured, almost to herself.
Jenny, sitting on the hood of her car, said distractedly:
“That’s quite a thing you’ve got there… is that a real samurai blade?”
But Michonne didn’t respond. She had already turned around, her heart pounding wildly.
She began to run, weaving between cars.
Each step echoed like a pulse of worry.
And suddenly, she saw a small crowd gathered near an old black car,they were there. Rick, Shane,Paul… and a little farther ahead, Michael, Héraclès, and Carter, accompanied by six new faces she had never seen before.
Rick immediately walked toward her when he noticed her.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay… everyone’s okay.”
She was bent forward, hands on her knees, breathless, fear in her eyes.
“…what’s going on here?”
He turned slightly to look behind him.
Michonne followed his gaze and finally took the time to observe her father, standing there with drawn features, and Héraclès, pale as a sheet.
But before she could say another word, Rick added, his voice low and heavy.
“Fort Whitmore isn’t part of our plans anymore. I’m sorry.”
Michonne didn’t speak.
Her gaze searched for her father behind Rick.
Michael was walking slowly forward, his beige shirt stained with dust, his features tense. Beside him, Héraclès kept her arms crossed over her chest, chin raised, though her eyes betrayed something more fragile. Carter stood close to her, one hand resting supportively on her shoulder, his gaze avoiding others.
Behind them, seven strangers.
Two men with nearly identical features,same broad shoulders, same firm jaws. Twins.
One observed silently. The other carried the sharp gaze of someone constantly assessing an escape.
An elderly man wearing a cowboy hat and thick glasses stood beside a young couple and their two daughters.
The man carried the younger girl and held his wife’s hand, while she held their second daughter’s hand.
Michonne watched them for a moment, the wind lifting a few locks that had escaped her bun. She didn’t even blink. Then her gaze slid back to Rick.
“What does that mean… not part of our plans anymore?” she finally asked.
Rick swallowed.
“It means it fell. Overrun. There are no more soldiers, no secure perimeter. Civilians panicked and they ended up with more dead than living.”
She inhaled. Exhaled.
But her mind still refused the information.
Fort Whitmore couldn’t fall. It was a military fort. Walls. Weapons. Trained soldiers.
It wasn’t possible.
Around them, the chaos of the traffic jam continued,people shouting, children crying.
But for Michonne, everything suddenly felt muffled. As if someone had turned down the volume of the world around her.
“No…” Andrea murmured, unnoticed until now.
“No, no, no…” She stepped back, her fingers trembling.
“My sister was there. Amy was there. She told me it was safe. She told me it was…”
Her voice broke.
The woman stepped forward slowly, letting go of her husband’s and daughter’s hands at the same time.
She wore an oversized gray sweatshirt, the sleeves rolled up to her forearms. Her frizzy hair was tied in a loose bun, strands stuck to her temples with sweat.
“Fort Whitmore was secure at first,” she said calmly, trying to ease Andréa’s distress.
“But there were too many people and the fear just kept increasing. The military started restricting exits,civilians protested and the fights started. An outbreak followed. Just a simple flu at first but in an overcrowded place… things move fast.”
She paused.
“The dead don’t stay dead anymore.”
No one spoke.
Her husband, who had remained silent until then, finally stepped forward with their daughters to stand beside his wife.
“We held on for two weeks,” he continued in a deep voice. “Then the generators failed. The gates gave way. People started pushing, trampling each other. The military fired. Then nothing made sense anymore.”
He did not elaborate further. He didn’t need to.
Andréa brought her hands to her face and burst into tears. Loud, desperate sobs. Almost violent.
“She can’t be dead! She can’t be dead!”
Michonne stepped toward her and held her tightly in her arms. The other woman, meanwhile, held her hand in support.
“We don’t know,” she said, turning toward her husband. “We don’t know anything for certain.”
But even she did not believe it at all.
One of the twins stepped forward and broke the silence.
“We shouldn’t stay here.”
His voice was steady.
“People have been stuck here for two days, even longer for some. If they start realizing the army abandoned Fort Whitmore, this will become uncontrollable.”
He swept his gaze over the traffic jam. Families crammed into cars. Men already shouting about the absence of authority.
“We find a safe place for the night,” he continued. “We talk after.”
Rick slowly nodded, his gaze still fixed on the group of women holding each other.
The old man with the hat raised a hand.
“I know a spot a few minutes from here. A clearing. I used to camp there with my wife.”
He said the last sentence with a hint of bitterness. He cleared his throat slightly to regain his composure.
He tilted his chin toward his RV, which had remained farther up with the others.
“We can get there without being seen from the main road.”
A pause. Then Michael replied:
“So let’s go.”
They left the road before nightfall set in.
The climb was done in a quiet line. The vehicles left the main road one by one, turning onto a dirt path almost invisible, hidden by the trees.
The sound of the engines felt too loud. Every crack of a branch made someone flinch.
By the time they reached the clearing, the sun was already low. A natural space, surrounded by dense trees. High enough to see, in the distance, the silhouette of Atlanta.
A copper light filtered through the trunks. The ground was dry, scattered with pine needles and dead leaves.
The cars were arranged in a half-circle instinctively. Like a primitive reflex for protection.
The engines were shut off one by one. No one spoke for several minutes.
They stepped out of the vehicles in silence, looking at one another’s faces. Trying to assess who was a threat and who was an ally.
9:00 PM
The children were settled into the old man’s RV, who was in fact named Dale.
They were placed under the alternating supervision of Rachel and Michael, who felt far too exhausted to take part in that evening’s meeting.
Carl sat by the window. Dwayne beside him. George lay down, eyes still open.
Stella and Dayvon, the two girls who never left their parents’ side, Sasha and Daryl, whispered quietly between themselves.
Only André slept deeply, his head resting against Michonne’s chest before she gently laid him down on the RV’s only bed.
Night had fallen quickly after their arrival.
Outside, a fire was set up at the center of the camp by the twins, Edwin and Nicolas.
The adults formed an uneven circle around the flames.
Dale, his hat set beside him, cleaned his glasses with a handkerchief.
Héraclès stared into the fire without truly seeing it.
While Harold stood with his arms crossed and jaw tight.
Rick straightened.
“We all need to hear this.”
He looked at Sasha.
She understood.
She inhaled slowly.
“The CDC is no longer operational,” she said. “I worked there.”
Eyes turned toward her.
Daryl instinctively placed a firm hand around her shoulders.
She took a deep breath.
“The last laboratories were evacuated. Only two researchers stayed behind.They refused to leave. I left for my daughters.”
She glanced at her husband, Daryl, before finally fixing her gaze on the flames.
“We thought Fort Whitmore would be safer. But overcrowding destroyed everything. People started getting sick. Dying and coming back.”
She ran a trembling hand across her forehead.
Her voice faltered slightly as she continued.
“There’s no treatment. No vaccine, at least not yet.”
Silence followed. The wood crackled beneath the heat of the fire.
Andréa spoke again, her voice hoarse, eyes red and swollen. She had calmed a little but remained in shock and denial.
“And Amy? You really didn’t see her?”
Daryl slowly shook his head, trying in his own way to be empathetic.
Nicolas, however, added, sounding tired and irritated.
“We already told you, we’ve never heard that name.”
Andréa’s face crumpled again. She stood abruptly.
“You’re lying! You have to be lying!”
She began to cry. To shout. Repeating that it wasn’t possible.
Paul took her by the shoulders and guided her a little away from the circle.
Shane muttered, loud enough to be heard:
“We’re gonna end up attracting every dead thing in Georgia.”
Michonne slowly lifted her eyes toward him, her gaze filled with anger.
“How can you be so insensitive?”
“No, I’m not insensitive,” he replied. “I’m just running out of patience.”
Edwin,the dark-haired one, the calmer of the two from what it seems,stood up in turn.
“Washington is the capital. If anything is still standing, it’s there.”
Rick shook his head.
“It’s too far.”
“And this is what? Paradise?” Nicolas shot back.
Harold spoke up.
“We don’t have enough gas. Not enough food. And yall only keep on multiplying yourselves.”
Daryl, tightening his hold slightly around his wife, added coldly,
“He got a point,the bigger the group, the more attention we draw.”
Sasha immediately looked at him, surprised.
She gently placed a hand against his chest. She said nothing, but her expression clearly showed she didn’t fully agree.
Around them, the forest suddenly felt denser. Darker.
Rick studied every face.
Fear was there. It was beginning to crack their composure.
Dale finally spoke, noticing the insistent looks being exchanged and the rising tension.
“We’re all exhausted, and it’s making us a little irrational. We’ll talk about this tomorrow. With clear heads.”
Rick nodded. He stood and helped Sasha to her feet.
“Dale’s right. Today’s been hard on everyone. We’ll set up watch rotations and call it a night.”
No one protested.
One by one, they stood, letting the night swallow the clearing.
The next day
Dawn arrived without gentleness. No birdsong. No reassuring golden light.
Rick was already awake. He had barely slept.
He had simply sat against the bumper of his car or wandered around the camp searching for an answer, a cure, something that could bring him back to his old life,the one in which he might finally have been happy. After all, Carl was ten years old now.
Those thoughts had not helped his insomnia that night like it used to.
His revolver resting on his thigh, eyes open all night. At every rustle, his heart had raced. At every snapping branch, he had held his breath.
The fear of walkers no longer kept him from sleeping, but the emptiness did.
Fort Whitmore no longer existed.
The CDC was gone. The army had disappeared.
There was no more structure. No more State.
No more order.
Life organized itself. Water was rationed. Weapons were checked. Guard shifts were assigned.
Inside the RV, the children were the first to stir.
Carl stepped out silently and walked toward his father. He no longer asked when they would go back home.
He sat on a rock beside Rick, staring at the forest.
Dwayne joined him some time later after greeting his parents and the other occupants of the camp.
Neither of them spoke.
Michonne watched André clumsily run after Carl.
As the days passed, she increasingly felt as though she were seeing Malik as a child through him.
It had become difficult for her to maintain her facade. Maya’s shadow was still there around them. She felt it every time she looked at her sister, she saw it in every movement her father made.
Malik did not even know that their mother was dead, or maybe he had sensed it from wherever he was? Or worse, maybe he thought they were all dead? Was he still alive? And Mike?
Her thoughts were cut short by the sound of Héraclès and Lori’s approaching footsteps.
They had to help with the inventory.
She needed to return to something tangible so she would not fall apart.
A little farther away, almost hidden behind bushes, Edwin and Nicolas were busy setting up clotheslines.
From time to time, they’ll cast glances toward the camp to make sure they were alone and that no wandering ears were nearby.
“We wait until they decide on Washington,” said Edwin, tightening the rope a little more around the post Nicolas was holding.
“On the road, we kill them.”
“Shouldn’t we wait until we get to Washington instead and what about the children?” Nicolas asked.
Edwin shrugged.
“We only keep what’s useful.” he said, looking at the children who were eating and laughing.
He took a long drink from his canteen before continuing.
“And we can’t afford to wait too long, there isn’t enough fuel in their vehicles, so no, we don’t wait and we take everything we can.”
Nicolas let out a long sigh before nodding.
As the evening was approaching, screams rose from the road. A long sound.
Rick froze.
He moved forward to the edge of the slope. Below, the horde was advancing between the cars still trapped in the massive traffic jam. Slow,massive and unstoppable.
“Take any melee weapon you can find,” he said immediately. “we need to avoid noise so no guns.”
“But what the hell are you doing,” Shane replied when he saw Rick arm himself with an axe and the others following him.
Shane stepped directly in front of Rick to stop him from going any farther.
“Rick, you need to realize we can’t save everyone.” he said, a hand on his friend’s shoulder, hoping to bring a little sense back into his mind.
But Rick pushed him with more force than necessary.
“We can at least try to save some of them.”
The tension exploded.
Shane stood up immediately and pushed Rick back.
They ended up grabbing each other by the collar, under the stunned eyes of the others.
Sasha and Lori hurried to get the children into the RV while Dale, Michonne, Carter and Edwin tried to separate them.
“You’re going to get us all killed!” Shane shouted.
“I refuse to become like them,with nothingness inside my eyes!” Rick yelled back.
They were finally separated and a group formed to go down and rescue those who could be saved.
Rick, Michonne, Héraclès, Carter and Edwin headed down toward the highway while those who remained at the camp watched the perimeter in case a walker found a way to reach the camp.
When they arrived, the dead were already on the survivors.
Michonne cleanly cut down the first walker that came too close to her. Blood splattered across her jeans.
Rick struck direct machete blows to their skulls.
Atlanta’s heat made sweat pour down their faces.
Carter,hand trembling, drove his knife into the forehead of what remained of an old woman whose eyes bulged from their sockets and whose jaw hung dislocated, still trying to bite.
A woman screamed,her daughter clung to her leg while a few feet ahead, a young asian man struggled to free himself from a car whose door was jammed.
“Over here!” Rick shouted.
They fought in brutal chaos.
In the turmoil, a walker grabbed Rick’s shoulder from behind.
Michonne severed its head from its neck in a single swing of her blade before it could sink its teeth into his skin.
Rick,amazed by her action and especially by the overwhelming relief of being alive, did not even have time to thank her before she was already cutting down another, and another.
But this was not the moment to be captivated by her strength, her charisma, her grace or her… beauty.
This was definitely not the moment to admire how her braids danced with her, how her body moved between the wrecks, how…
No, there were lives to save.
The woman, Carol, and her daughter Sophia were pulled out just in time.
The young asian man, Glenn, managed to climb out through the window of his vehicle after Edwin smashed the glass.
They all climbed back up together under the groans of the horde left below.
Two months later
The days passed. We tried to live.
To forget the pressing question in everyone’s hearts.
We wanted to grow used to this semblance of normality, we clung to it, except Rick.
Very quickly he understood that this situation would not just be temporary and that it would be important for the children to learn some basic self-defense.
Daryl and Rick therefore took charge of teaching combat lessons to the children whose parents had given their consent.
The youngest, like Stella and André, were automatically excused.
Carol refused to be separated from her daughter and said Sophia was not ready, but she often came to watch when the other children received their lessons.
Dwayne liked to disrupt the lessons for fun, but he was nonetheless the most curious. He kept asking whether the “zombies,” as he called them, could communicate, whether they were really completely monsters or if they could still be saved and therefore should not be killed.
He also asked if they would be taught how to shoot, which his father categorically refused.
All the children were doing fairly well, George less than the others, but it was alright.
Andréa spent her time keeping busy,it was her way of coping with grief. She did not really talk anymore, however, she sometimes made a few jokes from time to time but only with Paul and Michonne.
The Hawthornes, for their part, spent all their time together,trying to stand back up together.
Sasha gave first aid lessons to the group so that everyone could treat minor injuries and care for themselves whenever the need arose.
They lived by gathering and hunting like in ancient times, and also by scavenging the vehicles now mostly abandoned on the highway.
Edwin, Nicolas and Glenn had formed a small repair group that patched up just about everything in the camp.
Carol, Jenny and Rachel were the ones who took care of meals the most, with help from Daryl, who had been a chef before the world fell.
Life went on, at least on the surface.
The terror though,never left the air.
One day, two walkers approached the clearing.
One staggered slightly from left to right and the other crawled along the ground like a reptile.
The sound of their dragging movements through the leaves made Rick turn around as he was teaching Carl, Dayvon and George how to shoot under Sophia’s petrified gaze.
He shot them down without hesitation. Two sharp shots to their heads. He looked in the children direction as a way to tell them that’s how it’s done.
Carl and Dayvon did not look away at the sight of the blood unlike Sophia who vomited behind a tree and George backing up until he bumped into a tree.
Each of them was coming to terms in their own way with their new reality.
That night, around 10 p.m., after a good hot meal and everyone had gone to bed except Dale and Andrea who were starting their watch.
A strange noise was heard, almost as if the rain was approaching.
“Do you hear that?” he said to Andrea who was biting her nails while sitting on the hood of Rick’s car.
A buzzing sound that kept getting louder as if it was getting closer could be heard.
Lights could also be seen in the sky.
“Helicopters!” he shouted as he stood up from his perch on the roof of his RV.
“Could you calm down Dale? I remind you that the children are sleeping in your camp-”
She didn’t even have time to turn around and finish her sentence before he was already jumping around and waving his arms.
“Heeey ohhh!”
Little by little, the whole small group woke up and came out to see what was causing all that noise.
“ I think they came to save the survivors guys.” he said as he climbed down from the roof of his car.
“Let’s try to signal them.”
The others, some barely awake, looked at him confused, not understanding what was happening.
Andréa put her hand over his mouth to make him be quiet.
“Look!”
Everyone looked up at the same time.
The aircraft were heading toward Atlanta. Then the bombs fell.
The first explosion lit up the sky. The second made the ground shake.
A shockwave hit all the way to the hill.
The burning wind lifted dust and ashes.
Atlanta exploded.
Building after building. Everything was collapsing.
The sky turned blood red.
Some were crying, hysterically. Others remained frozen.They held each other, eyes wide open in front of the horror unfolding before them.
Harold fell to his knees, his hands on the ground. Rachel stood right behind him, one hand covering her mouth and the other on the lower back of her husband.
Daryl stood in front of Sasha who was holding her daughters tightly.
Rick didn’t even blink anymore.He was holding Michonne in his arms.
The world from before had just died forever.
The next day
Ash was still falling that morning when Rick gathered the group.
His voice was hoarse and left no room for protests.
“We’re leaving for Washington.”
No other word was said.
Edwin cast a glance toward his brother that did not go unnoticed by Dale.
No one believed in shelters anymore. But they still believed in movement.
They then discussed their routes and the organization of the group while trying to take only what was necessary.
They tried again to siphon a little fuel here and there before setting off.
In this world that was slowly dying, moving forward is the only thing that keeps you from going completely insane.
On the road
Eight hours already since they had left Atlanta or rather what was left of it.
They watched houses, cars and people pass by. A few stops here and there for supplies without lingering for fear of encountering walkers moving in groups like the other herd.
In Greenville, they found a lot of fuel and water but not enough food or medicine.
They also crossed paths with a few people begging them to help them, to take them with them but could only turn their heads away reluctantly.
Life was already difficult before and it was even more so now.
All the cities they passed seemed deserted, except for the few clusters of walkers they spotted in certain alleys.
Overall, their journey was relatively calm.
They had to take down walkers blocking their path a few times or take different shortcuts to avoid the highways but everything was going rather smoothly until they reached Charlotte.
Not even 30 minutes in when the van came to a stop with a long and agonizing mechanical groan.
A sharp noise and then nothing, only the wind.
The secondary road stretched out before them lined with trees whose nearly bare branches clawed at the blue sky.The cracked asphalt still carried the marks of a normal world.Faded white lines, twisted signs, abandoned car shells scattered here and there, but everything seemed emptied of its original function, like a forgotten set after the end of a film.
The engine tried one last time to start again.
A long clicking sound and silence again.
Inside the RV, conversations gradually died, replaced by a constant unease.
The children lifted their heads from their games at the same time, sensitive to the sudden change of rhythm.
After eight hours of chaotic driving, even they had learned to recognize the language of tired machines.
Rick immediately parked his pickup on the roadside. The RV stopped right behind.
For a few seconds, no one moved.
Fatigue weighed on everyone like a damp blanket.
Eight hours driving without knowing if Washington still existed.
The van door opened abruptly.
Glenn got out first, already leaning toward the hood.
“This doesn’t smell good…”
Edwin and Nicolas got out in turn, exchanging a silent glance before joining Glenn.
The hood was lifted, releasing a wave of hot air mixed with the smell of oil and burned metal.
“Radiator…” muttered Nicolas.
“Or worse,” Glenn replied while wiping his hands on his pants.
Around them, the road breathed a deceptive calm.
Further away, near the RV, the agitation was of another kind.
Rachel was sitting in the vehicle’s shade, pale, one hand pressed against her forehead. Paul remained kneeling in front of her, unable to hide his concern. Rick stood just behind, arms crossed, trying to stay calm despite the visible tension in his jaw.
“I’m fine,” Rachel murmured, but her voice trembled.
“No, mom, you’re not fine,” Paul answered gently.
Harold quickly went to get a bottle of water so she could drink.
Sasha knelt beside her, already focused, professional despite the fatigue. With the help of Héraclès and her improvised medical bag they start working.
“How long have you been feeling weak?” Sasha asked.
“Since this morning… maybe before.”
Héraclès placed two fingers against her wrist.
“Fast pulse… probably dehydration and exhaustion.”
Sasha nodded.
“We’ll make her drink slowly. Not too much at once.”
Rick watched the scene without intervening. These two young women were far more qualified than him in this field. His mother was in good hands.
For a few moments, he was no longer the “leader”, just a worried son.
A little further away, the children had gotten out of the RV to stretch their legs and were already forming small disorganized groups.
Carl, still holding André’s hand, was telling Dwayne and Dayvon about the trip he had taken with Michonne to see the Martin Luther King Jr Memorial, the Smithsonian museums, the White House and the other historical sites even before André was born, exaggerating certain parts more and more.
The complaints start raining minutes after.
“I’m hungry…”
“Why are we stopping again?”
“When do we get there?”
Lori handed out reduced portions of food to calm them.
“Here you go everyone. We fix the car and we get moving again kids.”
Her smile was gentle,hiding the constant anxiety of counting what was disappearing too quickly.
On the roadside, slightly apart, Shane watched everything.
Leaning against a tree, arms crossed, he scanned the scene.
Rick speaking softly to his mother. Paul staying close to her and Harold taking care of her.
Lori talking with Carol and Andrea after taking care of the children.
A strange warmth tightened his chest.
His own mother appeared in his memories.
A blurred face, already sick in his last images. Then his father,alcohol and cigarettes. The shouting, shards of glass on the floor. The door slammed for the last time.
And then… back to the Grimes.
Dinner at their house.
Rick’s bed where he had slept.
Rick and Paul sharing everything without ever asking questions.
He exhaled slowly.
And thought, despite himself, about that night. About that tiny choice that had changed an entire life. And if…
“What are you thinking about?”
Michonne’s voice abruptly pulled him out of his thoughts.
She sat beside him, her legs stretched out in front of her, watching the road with the same calm vigilance that defined her.
Shane gave a tired smile.
“I was just wondering… if it wouldn’t have been me who married Lori… if certain things had happened differently.”
Michonne immediately understood.
A light, almost melancholic smile passed across her lips. She didn’t comment.
“So,” she said instead, “what do we do now?”
He chuckled softly.
“I’m surprised you’re coming to ask me.”
She shrugged.
“I never said your ideas were bad. Most of the time they’re good, you just don’t know how to present them.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Most of the time Rick says the same things as you… but calmly. So people are more willing to listen to him.”
Shane let out a brief laugh. Then his expression turned serious again.
“We won’t move for a while. The van is done for now. We should split into teams. One group stays with the kids and the older ones while the other explores the surroundings. Houses, cars… we prioritize fuel.”
He pointed at the empty road.
“Because without gas, Washington will remain a dream.”
Michonne nodded slowly.
“Yeah… that’s better than staying here waiting for sure.”
She looked up at the sky.
“Good thing we still have water… but I won’t lie, I already miss the river in the clearing. I’d take a few dives right now.”
Shane burst out laughing. A real laugh. Probably the most sincere since this mess fell on them.
Footsteps approached. It was Rick walking toward them, wiping sweat from his eyebrows with the back his thumb. His shoulders heavy with invisible responsibilities.
“What’s making you two laugh like that?”
Shane answered immediately.
“Nothing. We were just thinking about the bliss a good bath would bring right now.”
Rick let out an amused breath.
“Wouldn’t say no to that…”
For a second, they were simply three tired friends, sitting on the side of a random road.
Then reality returned.
Michonne straightened up.
“Shane thinks we should split up. One group stays here, another looks for fuel and resources. Otherwise we don’t move forward.”
Rick looked at the children.
Thought about his mother lying in the RV.
The sun already beginning to set. He nodded.
“Yeah.”
His voice firm.
“We’ll do that.”
He took a deep breath.
“Ten minutes. Then we organize the teams.”
Around them, the group kept moving, tired but alive.
And somewhere, very far in the forest, a guttural cry briefly echoed before being swallowed by the wind.
No one spoke.But everyone had heard it.
The afternoon came with a dreadful slowness.
The air smelled of the lingering metallic odor that no one named anymore.
The exploration team had been gone for an hour already.An hour that felt three times as long.
The order was clear. If by eight o’clock no one returned, then something serious would have happened and they would have to leave.
Rachel rested against an improvised cushion, settled outside, in the shade of the vehicle to help her breathe better.
Her breathing was more regular now, but fatigue deeply hollowed her features.
Sasha, somewhat exhausted by Stella’s crying who had finally fallen asleep on her back, monitored her pulse while Héraclès prepared small sips of sweetened water.
“Slowly,” Sasha murmured. “Not too fast.”
Harold sat near her, holding her hand in his. His fingers hardened by years of hard labor on farms absentmindedly caressed her skin.
“Do you remember,” he said softly, “our first camping trip with the boys? Rick was afraid of insects and believed that werewolves would appear out of nowhere to attack us.”
Rachel gave a faint smile.
“While Paul was more concerned about the disappearance of his sandwich.” She added.
The memory floated between them, a relic of another reality they no longer belonged to.
The children distracted themselves as best they could. Wondering if they were going to sleep there, on the roadside.
André alternated between listening to his grandfather’s stories, going to complain to his aunt and staying glued to Carl in the absence of his mother.
Sophia leaned against Carol, who brushed her hair tenderly. The little girl still carried that frightened look. She shivered all the time, she seemed afraid even of her own shadow.
“It’s alright my sweetheart and we’ll go to a better place.” She whispered in her daughter’s ear to soothe the child’s fears and her own as well.
George and Dayvon read Carl’s comics which were still intact despite Stella and André’s many quarrels to seize them.
Jenny took advantage of the children’s absence in the RV to tidy up the interior a little which had become a dump. Dwayne distracted her more than he helped her clean.
“When we get to Washington… will there still be school?” he asked while handing her some clothes that were lying around.
Jenny hesitated a moment, then sighed and smiled as she took the clothes from his hands.
“Of course baby.”
This was most probably a lie was but a necessary one.
On the roof of the RV, Dale watched the horizon, his binoculars pressed against his tired eyes.
Next to him, Edwin remained standing, rifle slung over his shoulder.Motionless.
The wind slightly lifted his shirt, revealing a knife tucked into the back of his pants.
His eyes never stayed on the same place for long. And especially… his watch. A furtive glance. Then another.
Dale had kept her eye on the brothers since the camp.
He had already alerted Rick about his suspicions. That was also why Rick had insisted on separating the twins at all costs when forming the groups. Something did not add up.
“You look worried. If it’s about your brother, you don’t have to worry about him, they’ll all come back,” Dale said trying to appear nonchalant while continuing to observe his every move.
Edwin gave a brief smile.
“I just like knowing the time.”
He turned loudly and looked at Dale.
“It’s almost six o’clock, it’s been two hours now since they left.”
He finished with a long sigh before stepping a little closer to Dale. Dale stepped back.
And then as if hesitating, he turned again.
His fingers tapped the watch face.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A nervous rhythm.
Dale glanced downward, his gaze meeting Lori’s. He looked at her insistently, trying to send a message, but she did not seem to understand.
“Everything alright up there you two?” She said, her hand shielding her eyes from the sun. “You want some water?”
Dale swallowed before answering, “Yes, some water for me.”
Lori stayed a moment before nodding and heading toward the van where they stored the water.
Below, the children’s voices rose intermittently, carried by the wind.
Everything almost seemed peaceful.
Dale slowly sat back down on his folding chair. He slightly turned his head toward Edwin to see what he was doing but it was too late.
He barely had time to stand when the gunshot rang out. Deafening.
Everything seemed to slow down.
Dale’s body tipped backward, his arms opening in a useless reflex while his hat flew into the air. Then he fell.
His body hit the ground with a muffled sound.
An unreal silence followed. One second.
Then the screams.
Edwin climbed down from the roof with remarkable agility.
“EVERYONE OUT OF THE VEHICLES!” he shouted, pointing his weapon in every direction.
Panic erupted instantly. The children screamed.
“Shut up, I want everyone on their knees outside,move it!”
Carol came out of the RV with Sophia, followed by Jenny and Dwayne.
“What’s gotten into you?” Héraclès said, trying as best she could to keep her composure.
“You’ll know very soon beauty.” he turned and pulled another pistol from his front pocket. “I told you to hurry! Unless you want more victims of course.”
Lori, Michael, Rachel and Paul instinctively formed a protective circle around the children.
Harold and Carter moved forward slowly while he searched the back of the pickup and had his back turned.
“Put that weapon down, we can talk.” Carter said calmly.
But Edwin wouldn't hear of it. He turned around without warning and fired without hesitation.
The shot went off,Jenny collapsed.
A scream tore through the air.
“MOM!” Dwayne broke out of the improvised circle where he stood and ran toward her, kneeling beside her on the asphalt.
Blood was already spreading beneath her body.
Sasha and Héraclès rushed over immediately.
“Pressure! Now!” Héraclès shouted.
Sasha looked up at Edwin with pleading eyes full of tears.
“Let me get my medical supplies from the RV please! I can save her!”
“No.” His voice was cold. “We’re not wasting anything on a corpse.”
Stillness followed.
“I told you to come out and kneel nicely but no, two idiots had to decide to play heroes.”
He pointed his weapon at Harold. “I should kill you, maybe then you’ll understand that I’m very serious.”
Carter immediately stepped in front of Harold, raising both hands.
“It’s my fault alright?! If you want to kill someone, kill me.”
Edwin stared at him for a moment before smiling crookedly and shaking his head.
“Nah… I need to save my ammo, but if you don’t leave me a choice…” he mimicked a gun at his temple. “Pew!”
Carter pushed Harold back with his left hand, his other hand remained raised in surrender.
He tried to talk to Edwin, to diffuse the situation.
“There’s no need to kill innocent people you know? You can take what you want and leave.”
He swallowed as he noticed the indifferent expression on his face.
“Tell me, what exactly do you want?” He tried again.
Edwin smiled. A cracked smile.
“Simple. The RV, the supplies, the weapons and the fuel.”
Harold, furious, stood ready to throw himself at him but Michael stopped him.
“YOU SON OF A BITCH! Don’t you have pity for these kids when you want to take everything from us?” he roared, red with anger and indignation.
Protests start rising.
He fired a bullet into the air. Silence fell instantly.
He closes the distance with a slow,deliberate pace and pressed his weapon against Harold’s temple. His eyes shone with naked madness.
“I don’t want to die guys.”His voice trembled now.
“Don’t you understand? You’re all a bunch of dead weight. Children, old people… You’re all going to die.” He laughed nervously,scratching his head with the tip of the gun. “Not me though.”
He looked at the children who were clinging to each other, hidden and trembling behind the adults.
“You know that the more I shoot, the more chances there are for walkers to come right?”
During his monologue he completely forgot Carter was still behind him.
When he tried to stand up, Carter lunged at him. They fell together and rolled in the dust below. The rifles fell. One toward the trees and the other just above their heads.
“NOW!” Harold hollered. “PAUL! BE USEFUL FOR ONCE GOD DAMN IT!” His tone was harsh and contemptuous.
Paul froze for a second. Only one. His father’s insults landed like blows.
Rachel stared at her husband, shocked.
Paul finally moved toward the weapon, which they kept pushing slightly farther away during their struggle.
But Edwin pulled the knife from behind his back. The movement was fast.
The blade sank into Carter’s shoulder.
Carter’s horrific scream pierced the air and Paul froze again,his hand only inches from the weapon, from their salvation.
A fraction of a second too long.
Edwin grabbed his weapon again. Out of breath, trembling and covered in blood and bruises.
“I warned you…” He raised his rifle.
The children, in panic, ran toward the forest.
Clumsy, desperate, stumbling silhouettes.
Paul threw himself at Edwin in a final surge but the shot went off. Only one.
Sophia stopped abruptly. Her big blue eyes widened even more before crushing to the ground.
“Oh my God!” Lori cried in horror.
Carol’s scream tore through the air, an animal, primal sound, impossible to contain. In a few seconds she was on Edwin who was already on the ground, held down by Paul.
She beat him with such rage. She poured all her pain, her anger, her fury into every blow.
She bit him, her face filled with tears. Drove her fingers into his eyeballs.
She did not see the blood, she heard nothing, she just kept striking without stopping for what felt like an eternity.
Edwin had stopped moving long ago, but he was still breathing.
She took his rifle from Paul’s hands and shot him in the forehead.
The bullet went through Edwin’s head.
She stayed over him for a minute, her eyes empty.
Then she stood to walk toward her daughter’s body but her knees gave out. Her heart-rending cries,the sole sound in the air.
Lori and Sasha rushed to support her while Héraclès was taking care of Carter’s shoulder.
Rachel tried as best she could to comfort little Dwayne who refused to leave his mother.
Paul and Michael had run after the children who had fled into the forest.
In just a few minutes, they had watched loved ones die before their eyes without being able to stop it.
There was nothing left but blood everywhere that even the heaviest rain could never wash away.
They had been walking for an hour at least.
The asphalt had given way to a cracked side road, lined with tall grasses that swayed under a warm wind.
Silence was never complete,it vibrated with invisible insects, branches cracking, the constant rubbing of packs against their shoulders.
Fatigue had settled everywhere. In Rick’s heavier gait,in Glenn’s short breaths,in the way Andréa regularly massaged her neck.
Even Daryl was no longer complaining. And that was a bad sign.
Morgan suddenly raised his hand. Everyone froze,waiting.
In front of them, behind a parking lot overrun with weeds, stood an immense supermarket.
The windows were still intact. Faded promotional posters promising absurd discounts on popular products.
Shane exhaled.
“Jackpot…”
Then they saw them. Through the glass doors.Silhouettes,dozens, maybe more.
The walkers wandered between the aisles, bumping lazily against the shelves, some stuck among abandoned carts.
“We can’t let this pass.” Michonne murmured.
Rick nodded slowly. “We go in, we clear a path as quietly as possible.”
Daryl armed his crossbow that Sasha had found for him a week ago.
“I’ll lead the way.”
The door slid open with an agonizing electric screech.
A walker immediately turned its head.
Its dead eyes locked onto theirs.
A growl rose then another.
Rick stepped quickly toward the nearest walker. Axe raised and ready.
The impact was fast, the blade penetrating the skull with a nauseating resistance. A stench of rotten flesh filled the air.
Glenn slightly turned his head.
“I’ll never get used to this…”
“No one does,” Morgan replied.
They progressed slowly but surely, taking out the walkers one by one.
Michonne moved like a shadow. Her katana whispering imperceptibly, always precise and elegant.
A metallic clatter rang out suddenly. Glenn had hit a stack of boxes.
Three walkers turned.
“Shit–”
They charged.
Glenn stepped back, tripped over an overturned cart, and fell heavily.
A jaw snapped shut just a few centimeters from his face.
He resisted the urge to scream and thereby attract even more walkers to him.
His hands searched for something to throw at them,grabbing one of the boxes that had fallen and striking the walker on the head.
But immediately an arrow pierced its skull.
Then a second and a third for the other two.
Daryl grabbed him by the collar and lifted him up.
“Get up, kid! Not nap time!”
Glenn gasped. “I owe you my life…”
“You’re already at three.”
Nicolas also got a scare trying to push a corpse out of the way. The body suddenly rose. Its teeth snapped millimeters from his throat, but luckily for him, Shane, whom Rick had tasked with watching him because of his suspicions about him and his brother, appeared and slammed his hammer into the walker’s skull.
Blood splattered their faces.
Shane let out a long exhale.
“Rule number one,they’re never really dead.”
Nicolas nodded, trembling. “Noted…”
Once the area was secure, Rick murmured for everyone to take a cart.
“ Focus only on the essentials. In ten minutes, we move.”
The carts squeaked in the empty aisles.
The strangeness of the scene struck everyone. Grocery shopping… during what’s starting to look like an apocalypse.
Everyone tried to fill their cart carefully with priority items, non-perishables if possible.
Glenn paused for a moment to watch Daryl fill his cart.
Shampoos, conditioners, moisturizing creams, scented wipes.
Glenn squinted. “…Seriously?”
Daryl kept going without looking at him.
“What?”
“We’re risking our lives for… hair mask?”
Daryl finally stopped. He stared at him.
“I have two daughters.” He placed an extra bottle. “And a wife who’ll kill me if their hair looks like a bird’s nest.”
Glenn burst out laughing.
“Respect.”
Daryl grunted.
“Grab some energy bars and more food and stop following me!”
Michonne, who had watched the whole scene, started laughing like a kid, looking at her own cart which had more hygiene products than food.
She turned to head to the next aisle but saw Rick in the health & beauty aisle she was about to leave.
Rick was quickly grabbing several boxes…then hesitated in front of a shelf.
He looked around. Discreetly grabbed a box of condoms.
“Look what we have here.”
He jumped.
Michonne, arms crossed, a teasing smile on her face, stood right behind him.
“You’re really planning to use that even during those hard times?”
Rick blushed instantly.
“That’s not what…I…actually it’s just… just in case. For the others, not necessarily for us– I’m not saying necessarily us like the two of us, but just in case…”
The poor guy was rambling completely sinking further to Michonne’s delight, who took the opportunity to needle him even more.
“Just in case what? A romantic evening between two hordes?” She moved dangerously close to him before turning and going to retrieve her cart where she had left it.
Rick immediately followed her heels, trying desperately to justify himself to this vixen who clearly enjoyed taunting him like in the old days.
He ran a hand through his hair, flustered.
“You know Lori and I… we never… well… never again since Carl…”
He stopped, realizing what he had just said.
Michonne stopped too,then burst out laughing.
“Wow. I really didn’t need that detail.”
They both laughed long enough before resuming their shopping quietly, smiles still on their faces.
A lingering silence hung between them before Rick's soft voice broke it.
“And you… with Mike?”
Michonne’s smile faded. She stopped abruptly in the aisle, back facing Rick.
When she finally turned to face him, her abashment was palpable. Her gaze flickered nervously, sliding over the surroundings, landing everywhere but on him.
Rick already knew the truth, but he was dying to hear it,even as he realized she would never let the confession cross her lips,not yet.
He closed the distance with a slow, deliberate pace. He reached out, his fingers grazing the underside of her chin with feather-light tenderness. His phalanges traced every line, every linéament of her face, memorizing the contour of her features as if for the first time. The curve of her nose, the sharp grace of her cheekbones, the soft hollow of her cheeks.
Finally, he lifted her face. Their eyes locked burning with intensity. He moved even more closer, his face drawing near hers until the world around them became cotonous and blurred, leaving nothing but the shared heat of their breath.
She closed her eyes and let out a soft moan when their lips finally met, drawn by an irresistible gravity.
The kiss began as a tender brush. Each rediscovering the other, getting used to new sensations. Exploring every cavity with a ravenous hunger.
Gentleness gave way to feverish needs. Teeth clashed, hands searched for more warmth. Their tongues tangled in a fierce struggle for dominance. It was a voluntary drowning where every second of contact was survival, every pressure a promise of eternity.
When they finally pulled away, lips reddened and swollen, it was only by a few millimeters. Their foreheads remained pressed together, their faces still intoxicated by each other’s heat. Their breathing, erratic and heavy, mingled in the distant air around them. In this vibrating silence, they stayed like that, eyes closed, savoring the vertigo of having given a glimpse of what they had stored up inside them for years in a single kiss.
The moment was shattered by Morgan’s arrival behind them.
They separated abruptly.
Rick's red neck and ears, as well as Michonne's tattered tank top and wildly sticking-out dreadlocks, clearly revealed what had transpired here earlier.
Morgan cleared his throat, equally embarrassed, before announcing why he was there.
“There are voices, they’re from the living.”
The reality of their dire situation hit them back like a punch.
“We don’t know who they are or how many there are. Better not take risks and get out of here,” Rick said as he walked past everyone with his cart.
They all hurried toward the back exit of the store so they wouldn’t be spotted.
The cart wheels squeaked softly over the cracked concrete.
The back of the hypermarket was an abandoned space, overrun with weeds and streaks of trash. A row of metal dumpsters overflowed with soaked cardboard. The smell of rotten food mixed with that of old diesel.
It was too quiet.
Rick slowed instinctively. His police instinct had never failed him.
His gaze scanned every angle, every shadow beneath the abandoned delivery trucks.
“Something’s wrong…” he murmured.
Shane nodded without speaking and motioned for those behind him to step back and return inside the hypermarket.
Andrea held her weapon in one hand and pulled her cart with the other. She finally reached the exit door again. She gently pushed it open with her back and went inside, Daryl following just in front of her with his crossbow at the ready.
A light wind passed between the buildings, making a torn tarp snap loudly.
Then–
BANG!
The gunshot exploded like lightning.The sound echoed against the store walls.
“Take cover!” Rick shouted.
He grabbed Michonne and threw himself to the ground behind an old truck.
The carts were abandoned with a loud crash.
Morgan dove behind an old rusted sedan resting on its rims.
Glenn, Shane and Nicolas, who were near the store entrance, followed Daryl and Andrea inside and they closed the door behind them.
Michonne’s heart pounded so hard she could hear it in her ears.
A male voice shouted from the trees bordering the parking lot.
“This is OUR territory! You leave everything and get out!”
A second voice, younger and far less confident, added.
“We saw you go in. We know how many you are, so don’t try anything stupid!”
Rick inhaled slowly, pressed against the car.
“Shit…”
Michonne, right beside him, feeling his thundering heartbeat and trembling hands,placed her hand on his forearm.
They looked at each other for a moment, then she inhaled and exhaled slowly, signaling him to follow her.
Breathe.
Rick nodded and tried to do the same.
Morgan, hidden nearby, slowly raised his head over his car before immediately ducking back down.
He looked at Rick, then Michonne, before signaling that he was going to stand up and try to talk to them.
Rick immediately shook his head. No. It was far too risky.
Morgan looked at him and, without waiting for approval, slowly stepped out of hiding, hands raised.
“Hey! Guys, we don’t want any trouble!” Morgan called out in a clear voice.
He received a brief laugh in response.
“Everyone says that.”
Morgan took another step forward.
“We’ve got families, kids. We just want enough to survive, that’s all.”
“And what about us?” the same man replied. “How are we supposed to survive if every group comes through and takes a little more each time, huh?”
Rick exchanged a glance with Michonne.
They stepped out as well, slowly, hands raised.
The sun and its heat had disappeared, giving way to evening and much cooler air.
At a glance, it had to be around 7 p.m.
The hypermarket generators were still running since the surrounding streetlights were on.
“We can share,” Rick said. “We’ll take less if that’s the problem.”
A man who hadn’t spoken yet and still hadn’t shown himself finally appeared behind a van.
Rick immediately deduced he was the leader.
Weapon raised. Dirty face. Exhausted eyes with a cigarette hanging from his lips more like a decoration than anything else.
He was bigger than the others.
“No. You leave EVERYTHING.”
Morgan tried again.
“Listen… nobody needs to die today.”
The youngest one, clearly nervous, started complaining while pointing his weapon at them.
“We don’t care. Don’t know if you noticed, old man, but now it’s everyone for themselves. Whether we kill you or not, nothing’s gonna happen to us.”
The imposing man raised his hand to silence him.
He looked Michonne up and down, one eyebrow raised, interested.
Michonne then spoke, her calm voice masking the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat.
“We were just passing through anyway. We were leaving. You’ll never see us again.”
The first guy, still leaning against his tree, scoffed.
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
Meanwhile, the gears in Rick’s head were turning. There were three men,he memorized their positions, studied their movements, took their builds into account. In case everything went south, he would know what to do to get Michonne to safety.
Meanwhile, inside the store, Daryl, Shane, Glenn, Nicolas and Andrea watched the scene through a broken window.
Muffled voices echoed outside.
“This is gonna end badly…” Glenn murmured.
Shane was already analyzing angles.
“There are three of them, no more. We need higher ground and I’ll take them out.”
Andrea loaded her weapon, then pointed to a metal ladder she had noticed earlier while loading her cart. It seemed to lead to a technical hatch.
“The roof.”
Everyone looked at her before following the direction of her finger.
Shane nodded immediately.
“I’ll have a good line of sight.”
Nicolas gulped hard… then cast a glance at his watch.
An almost imperceptible tic that Shane and Andrea noticed.
“How long before it all goes to hell ?” Asked Nicolas,his eyes focused on what was going on outside.
Shane answered.
“Not long. Nervous guys always shoot. And that kid over there is sweating nerves.”
“If you’re done talking, get moving, I need to get back to my girls,” Daryl reminded them, aiming his crossbow through the hole in the window.
“He’s right,” Andrea added. “I’ll watch around. If there’s a fourth, I take him.”
The others nodded and started climbing.
Outside, the discussion dragged on.
Morgan kept talking. He moved a little closer each time he spoke.
“You know this never ends well. Today it’s us, tomorrow it’ll be someone more armed than you.”
The first bandit against the tree,spat on the ground.
“We’ll take that risk.”
The leader sighed.
“We’re wasting time,let’s start the count,it’ll had a little bit of spice.” he ordered the younger one, who didn’t hesitate a second.
“I’ll count to ten and if your friends still aren’t out, we kill everyone.”
Rick felt the tension shift.
“Wait–”
“ONE.”
Michonne took a deep breath.
“Let me go call them then.”
“TWO.”
“I’m sure they can hear us just fine from here,” the leader replied with a mocking smile.
“THREE.”
Rick exchanged a look with Michonne.
“FOUR.”
Rick’s hand trembled slightly on his weapon.
Michonne immediately grabbed it. She nodded behind the nervous young man,walkers were approaching.
“FIVE.”
The leader’s voice suddenly resumed.
“Since the others don’t seem to be coming out… I’ll gladly have you after they’re all dead, pretty Nubian.”
Rick saw red. Instantly,his jaw clenched.
He took out his pistol but Michonne tightened her grip on it.
“Rick.” She hissed through clenched teeth.
Morgan stepped in front of them.
“Come out, guys–” He tried looking behind in the store direction.
The first man whispered to his leader that they might have already exited on the other side.
The leader hesitated before shaking his head.
“SEVEN.”
He suddenly changed his mind and pointed his weapon directly at Rick.
“Enough waiting.”
He pulled the trigger–
BANG!
A shot came from above.
The bullet tore through his chest. He fell backward, surprise frozen on his face. Before he even hit the ground, a second shot rang out.
The second man screamed, hit in the stomach, and dropped to his knees.
The nervous kid fired wildly in the direction where the bullets were coming and then–
BANG!
The bullet grazed his ear, tearing flesh and blood.He screamed, dropped his weapon and fell. Two walkers immediately lunged at him but Rick shot them without hesitation and closed the distance in a few strides toward the unfortunate boy frozen on the ground.
He still tried to get up, trying to reach the other alley, but Rick caught him before he could even lift himself. He slammed him violently against a crumbling wall nearby. The pistol pressed against his temple.
“On your knees.”
The man obeyed, panting, one hand pressed against his torn ear. Blood ran down his neck, disappearing beneath his dirty collar.
Morgan and Shane arrived seconds later, weapons raised, breathing heavily.
Rick studied the guy more closely.
Not a man. A kid. Barely twenty at most.
His eyes trembled more than his hands.
“What’s your name?” Morgan asked.
The boy hesitated. “… Phil.”
Shane sniffed skeptically. “Where’s the rest of your group, Phil?”
The young man lifted his chin, trying to recover a bravado that rang false.
“You should leave. Seriously. There are a lot of us. Armed to the teeth. If they find out you touched me–”
Shane burst into a harsh laugh.
“No one’s coming, kid. You should learn to lie better.”
Phil blinked.
Rick looked around them. No sound, no movement, no calls. Absolutely nothing.
Only the cool Charlotte wind and flies.
“How long have you been here?” Rick asked.
Phil didn’t answer.
Rick then leaned his face close to the kid.
His hot breath reddening the boy’s face.
“You’re going to tell me where you and your little group were staying before I kill you.”
His sharp tone left him no choice but to nod very quickly.
8 p.m.
They walked for several minutes until they reached a neighborhood that was in fairly good condition considering the level of destruction that had affected the previous cities.
There were, of course, a few abandoned cars left open and single shoes scattered in the middle of the road. But nothing they hadn’t already seen where they came from.
Phil led them to a five-story residential building, with two shattered windows and a balcony hanging like a toothless jaw.
The front door no longer existed. Probably torn away in the chaos of the first hours of the outbreak.
The heavy, unmistakable smell of decay and dampness hit them immediately.
It had become their daily reality, in this world where life had stopped.
Shane raised his weapon.
“I’ll go first.”
They entered and gradually explored the building.
The lobby was littered with bodies piled in one corner. Most were in a very advanced state of decomposition.
The signs of struggle told the story of what had happened in this place.
Overturned furniture, bullet impacts, walls smeared with stains.
Phil stopped. His voice taking on a darker tone.
“There were… ten of us at the beginning.”
No one spoke. They kept moving, giving him time to let out what weighed on his heart.
“This place was safe. There was the supermarket nearby… the gas station… we thought we were good.”
They slowly climbed the stairs.
“Some went out to look for food… they came back bitten but hid it.”
His voice trembled. “Then one night… someone got up… and…”
He didn’t finish. First came a small whimper, then sobs. He was crying openly,realizing that he was now the last surviving member of his debut group.
Morgan placed a hand on his shoulder. He gave him time to release the pressure. Often, tears were liberating.
They eventually reached the second floor, which was more secure. The windows were barricaded without completely blocking the outside view. Furniture blocked access to the third floor.
This level was much cleaner. There was less blood and not a single body lying around.
It was immediately clear that this was where their small group had lived.
There were four apartments, two on each side.
The artificial flower pots in the hallway separating the apartments were still standing. Despite the thick layer of dust covering them, their presence still brightened the space.
The apartments consisted of two bedrooms with internal showers. A living room, an open kitchen, and a laundry area.
There was also an external toilet.
The kitchen area had a door giving access to a small balcony.
Phil explained that it was thanks to the hypermarket generators that they managed to supply electricity to the apartments. And since the generators needed fuel to run, they were forced to make frequent trips to the nearby gas station. Something they feared the most because the place was swarming with walkers.
Everyone searched through the place, refrigerators and cupboards full of food and supplies of all kinds.
Rick remained still in one bedroom. He ran his hand over a clean sheet.
Looked around.
A real bed. Not a car seat or a cold floor.
A bed.
Shane entered behind him.
“We could hold out here.”
Rick nodded too quickly.
Morgan observed the windows overlooking the street.
“Easy to defend.”
A silence passed.
Then Rick said, “We need to bring everyone here.”
He turned toward his two companions, a hopeful smile on his lips.
“Morgan, you just stay here with Phil and we’ll go get the others and bring them back here.”
He hesitated for a moment, then glanced toward Phil, who was already dozing off.
“Be careful out there.”
Rick, Michonne, Andrea and Nicolas headed toward the building.
Convinced by Shane and Rick’s words, who had come to assure them the place was safe.
The exhaustion in their bones only made the decision easier.
Night had already fallen, the van would not magically start again. They had just lived through a traumatic episode, they only wanted to rest on real beds with soft mattresses for the first time in months.
Daryl, Shane and Glenn had gone to find the rest of the group to bring them to their possible haven of peace.
The solar streetlights lit their path to the building, which was only a five-minute walk from the hypermarket.
Inside, they immediately began working.
They checked the windows, the doors, cleaned a little and prepared a hearty meal.
Everyone had time to take a shower and change out of their filthy clothes.
Nicolas nervously watched the street every five minutes. But Morgan was never far away, Andrea too, weapon in hand, never taking her eyes off him.
Phil was sleeping in a bedroom, Michonne had made a bandage for his ear with whatever materials she could find.
She exhaled softly as she watched him sleep.
“I really wish I could convince myself this is the end, that everything has gone back to normal.”
Rick looked at her, then glanced at Phil who was already deeply asleep.
He took her by the hand and guided her outside the bedroom.
The lights were already off. They preferred using candles to conserve fuel.
He closed the door and led her with him onto the balcony.
They enjoyed the cool air outside for a moment as it brushed against their faces.
“Maybe this is the beginning of something good.”
She lifted her head toward him, his eyes fixed on the moon. It shone brighter than ever tonight.
From that angle, his irises seemed carved from fragments of sapphire, capturing every silver reflection and turning it into a dazzling glow.
He closed his eyes for a moment, that smile still on his lips, one that no longer left him.
“When they arrive,” he said this time, placing his gaze on her.
Her breath caught. She realized once again how stunning and attractive Rick Grimes actually was.
“we eat. And everyone sleeps.”
She simply nodded, a completely different movie playing in her mind.
She finally turned her head toward the sound of a vehicle approaching.
“That must be them, they took a while…”
She immediately turned to go downstairs and welcome them but Rick stopped her by the waist.
“Michonne… earlier–”
“I don’t think this is the moment, Rick,” she pointed toward the RV parking.
“We’ll talk about it another day, for now I just want to hold André in my arms.”
“Of course, sorry..” He nodded awkwardly before following her.
Outside, darkness swallowed the horizon. But for the first time in a long while, they were not just surviving.