5 Chapter 5

"I'm sure glad you thought ahead and packed some gas," said Morgan, his eyes wandering to yet another gas station surrounded by cars. The sign swinging by the pumps reading, 'All out of fuel.'

"Just trying to think ahead," I said, looking down at the radio we had taken from the military outpost. "Anyway, keep trying the emergency channel. If anyone's out there, I wanna make sure they hear us coming."

He nodded and raised the radio to his mouth. "Broadcasting on emergency channel, We're approaching Atlanta on Highway 85. If anybody reads, please respond," the radio only responded with more static—the same as the last few hours.

"Daddy, do you think we're the only ones left," said Duane. Making Morgan look at him through the rearview mirror with an unsure expression.

"I don't know, son. Maybe we're just too far away to get a response," he replied, the radio scratching against his palms.

"Don't worry. I'm sure there are people out there," I responded, getting a hopeful nod from Duane and an affirmative grunt from Morgan.

This had been our routine for the past few hours, ever since we had left the town behind. After Morgan had agreed to come, we had made our way down to the station, where we wiped the weapons locker and grabbed a patrol vehicle.

I had initially wanted to leave then and there, but when I looked at the talkie from the station, memories of this model flooded my mind. It wasn't able to connect to any bandwidth besides similar models. Making me remember a scene from the show. Where the Atlanta group could hear Rick on the CB, but he couldn't hear their response.

And due to that, we went to the military outpost just outside the hospital. Where in addition to a good radio, we ended up finding several more boxes of ammo and a couple more assault rifles–M27s mostly.

After that, it became a long journey. A monotonous one. Where we passed through the countless ghost towns in the Georgia sticks. Only the occasional walkers meandering the roads provided a break from this depressing scenery. That and Duane in the back, who kept asking questions to Morgan.

I hoped we could contact the Atlanta group to make things easier for myself. But regardless, even If they didn't, I'd come up with an excuse not to enter the city. After all, I think even Morgan was beginning to get that the refugee centre was probably a pipedream.

But thankfully, it didn't have to come to that. After the latest attempt, we finally got a response. "Hey. Hello. I can hear your voice. You're coming through, over," it was a feminine voice. I didn't know if it was the group, but we would find out. And so, I brought us to a halt to maintain the connection.

"Is this the refugee camp in Atlana?" asked Morgan, his voice pitching with excitement.

There was a slight lull after his comment before the static broke once more and the voice replied, "no. There is no refugee camp."

Her words vanquished the excitement in Morgan's eyes, and he gave me a sad look. "I'm sorry you had to hear this, but the whole city is gone. There's nobody left in Atlana. Nothing besides walkers," the voice continued.

"Ask her if there is anywhere else safe to go," I said, making Morgan glance at me.

"Do you know anywhere that's safe? Somewhere beside the refugee camp?" he asked, watching the radio with intensity.

"No. We're held up just outside the city, and we haven't heard or seen anyone in weeks," she responded, "But where we're staying is safe. Safe enough anyway. You can come and stay with us. We're just outside the city, in a quarry off Highway 85."

Morgan looked up at me, and I nodded in return. "Can you give us more detailed directions? Or details? After all, Atlanta is a big city. What if we lose connection?"

"Sure…" She proceeded to give us directions. And I couldn't help but think that if we had bad intentions, the group would've already exposed their location. If I could help it when I joined, that would change.

Once we had the directions, I started the car again and moved forward. After a while, the woman on the radio went silent. Morgan figured the radio had lost connection. We had the directions, though, so finding the quarry off the highway wasn't too much trouble.

As we approached, the cruiser drove up a long winding gravel road surrounded by forested hills. Steep unsteady slopes of rock soon replaced the trees. One side hung high over our heads, and the other dropped down to a massive reservoir in the centre of the valley.

Ahead there was a caravan above visible. It loomed over the assortment of vehicles that sat ahead of a group of people that watched our approach.

They regarded us with a mix of caution and curiosity as we pulled up behind a rickety old minivan. Only a few seemed on guard. One of those being Shane, who stood imposingly with a shotgun.

Shane had on his patented 'hardass' face, not looking pleased with our arrival. And just seeing his face sent a flash of anger through my whole body, jaw clenching and eyes narrowing.

"let me handle this. Hopefully, things will go smoothly," I said to Morgan and Duane, who nodded tensely.

The gravel crunched under my boots as I jumped from the car. And I straightened my cuffs as I turned and walked towards the group ahead. They looked at me as if trying to appraise me. And I recognised most of the faces looking at me.

Dale, Ed Peletier, Moreles, Jim and not but not least Shane. There were also a few other faces, but seeing as I had no recollection of them, they likely died in the attack tonight in the original show.

Their faces were the same as their show counterparts, which I found odd, but compared to me becoming Rick Grimes, it felt like an insignificant detail.

When I approached, Shane recognised me, and I saw his whole expression drop. His mouth hung wide, blinking at me as if he was seeing things. He stumbled back a few steps and dropped his gun, making the others nervous as they raised their weapons at me.

"What's wrong, Shane?" Dale asked while he pointed his rifle towards me. I stopped at the sudden hostility and raised my arms to calm everybody down.

"No, stop! Put your weapons down," Shane shouted, his tone surprising the others. "It's really you, isn't it?"

"In the flesh," I responded, making him chuckle as a smile surfaced on his face.

"I can't believe it, man. I thought I lost you," he said, a pain in his voice as he spoke.

"You can't get rid of me that easy," I said, a sort of double meaning behind my words. But he didn't seem to notice it as he leaned on his thighs and let out a relieved breath.

"I'm so glad to see you," he said, walking toward me and taking me into a hug. I almost pushed him away when he touched me, but when I heard the sincerity in his voice, I just returned the hug.

No matter the thoughts swirling in my head the days or even hours prior, when I saw his relief and happiness at seeing me, much of that aggression had thawed. Though I knew things would never be as they once were.

"But how Rick. I saw the hospital. There was no way you could'a survive, not in your state," he said.

"I don't know, Shane. When I woke up, I was alive, and that's it. I couldn't tell you what lucky stars kept me alive, but I'm here. I survived," I said. Shane nodded, still processing this.

"You know him, Shane?" asked Dale from behind Shane. He was holding a sniper rifle limp in one arm, and the other was rubbing his grey beard shrouded beneath his staple bucket hat.

"Ugh, Dale, this is Rick," Said Shane introducing me to the old man before pointing at Dale. "Rick, Dale."

I reached out and shook Dale's hand. "Nice to meet you, Dale," I said, getting a good-natured laugh.

"Nice to meet you as well, Rick," he responded.

"Me and Rick go way back," said Shane, smiling at me. "We've been best friends since we were both ye'high."

"That's right, I've been keeping Shane outta trouble for years," I smiled, getting a laugh from Shane, who shook his head.

"I ain't that bad. I just keep things lively, so you stay on your toes," he replied before spotting Morgan and Duane walking from the cruiser behind. "Rick, who'r they?" His voice losing its previous warmth.

"Shane, this is Morgan and his son Duane. They helped me out back in town. I asked them to come with me to help try and find Lori and Carl," I said, Shane's eyes widening at the names at the end. "About that, do you know what happened to them, Shane. Lori and Carl. They didn't…."

"No, they're fine. They're safe. When I left ya, after blocking that door with the bed. The first thing I did was take them to safety," interrupted Shane, his voice hitching, eyes darting to see my reaction. "I promise, Rick. I tried to get you out of there. But…"

"I know, Shane. I know," I said, tapping his shoulder. "You can tell me later. First, let me, Lori and Carl. I need to see them."

"Yeah. Yeah, sure. I take ya to them now," he said, still not looking altogether. There was panic and maybe some guilt in his eyes.

He shepherded me into the camp after introducing me to some of those that greeted us.

Shane hadn't been there when Amy had answered the radio. He'd been off doing some chore or another. But when he came back and heard, he told everyone that they should be cautious about the people over the radio. And when they'd seen our car, they pulled most of the women and children back into the tents for safety.

He showed me to an area with several tents underneath an offcrop of trees. It was all very rustic. The pans over the fireplace and washing lines hung with soaking clothes beside a makeshift cover where the camp kept chopped logs.

They had a nice little thing going, but I knew things wouldn't last. It was too exposed. And to the walkers in Atlanta.

Shane stopped in front of one tent, and he nodded at me. "Shane, is everything okay? Were there any problems?" a voice asked as the tent unzipped and a woman poked her head out from within.

She froze when she saw me, and she stared at me with widened eyes. Her face was frozen. And I didn't miss her eyes darting between Shane and me. I didn't know what the gaze communicated, but I felt my stomach churn—instinctively knowing the look wasn't simple.

She stumbled from the tent and brought me into a hug. Her hands stroked through my hair as she whispered, "baby, I never thought I would see you again."

My hand rubbed her back, comforting her as I replied, "it's okay, I'm here now." My voice was much colder than I had intended, but she hadn't realised.

I felt love well up when I saw her, but at the same time, it felt distant. Maybe it was my knowledge polluting the original Rick's feelings for her, or perhaps the cracks in the marriage that was already visible from Rick's memories. I still felt affection for her, but Marring that warm, loving feeling was a cold detachment. Like how one looks back on a fond memory or a lost loved one.

And I knew at that moment that what happened in the show couldn't happen. Not because I hated Lori, because I didn't. But because nothing good would come from trying to start things fresh. Whatever there was between Lori and the original was already fractured beyond repair. Besides, raising another man's child didn't exactly appeal to me either.

"Dad?" I heard a voice behind Lori, making me turn. "Daddy!" I heard again the voice coming from a freckled little boy with brown hair. I instantly recognised him and felt Lori let go so I could take him into my arms.

He dug his head into the creek of my neck and wrapped his arms across my chest, making my wound hurt. But there was still a smile on my face. My arms wrapped around the boy as I wondered inside,' is this what it feels like to want to protect something with all my heart.'

I might not have had a child in my other life, but here and now, everything was telling me that he was my son. There was no detachment like I had felt with Lori. This was different, my own flesh and blood. A life I had created. A life that depended on me. I could see it in his eyes, the unadulterated love, respect and happiness.

They felt pure, unlike the muddied eyes I'd seen on Lori and Shane. And as he cried loudly in my arms, I thought I had taken one more step, one more step into assimilating fully into this new identity. I would never be the Rick Grimes of old. I knew that was impossible. Too much was different. My past life affected me too much. But I didn't want to be.

Just because I was now Rick Grimes didn't mean I had to be like the original. I could be a new Rick Grimes and treat everything as a fresh start. It might not be a great life, but when I looked down at Carl's tearful eyes, I somehow felt it would be worth it.