Lucien stepped closer and held out a second unopened bottle of water. "Thought you might need this again."
Rick took it without thinking. "Thanks."
He twisted the cap off and drank. When he finally lowered the bottle, half of it was gone and his head felt slightly clearer. The fog that had been smothering his thoughts since he'd woken up on that floor had lifted just enough for reality to start filtering through. And reality was telling him that the doctor and the man with the rifle hadn't been lying.
"They're telling the truth," Lucien said quietly. He gestured toward the window. "If you don't believe it, you can see for yourself. Just don't get too close to the glass."
Rick set the bottle down on a nearby rolling tray, one that had likely held medical instruments back when the hospital was still functioning. His legs felt ready to buckle, but he made himself walk to the window, keeping one hand against the wall for balance.
The window was narrow, the glass grimy with dirt and what might have been dried blood. But it was clear enough to see through. The parking lot stretched out below, and his brain struggled to process what he was seeing.
Bodies.
At least a dozen of them, scattered across the asphalt. They were not fresh corpses from some recent mass casualty event. These were old and rotted, with blackened flesh and exposed bone. Their clothes were torn and deeply stained. Flies swarmed in thick clouds, and even through the closed window, his imagination supplied the smell.
Further out, figures moved. One of them was crouched over something on the ground. The way its head moved made it clear. It was eating.
His mind went blank.
He'd been a cop for years. He'd seen bodies before. Car accidents, domestic violence that ended in death, and the occasional hunting accident. He knew what death looked like.
This wasn't that.
This was something his brain kept trying to reject, like a computer spitting out corrupted data. Because what he was seeing couldn't be faked. Not with makeup, and not with any technology he knew existed.
Which meant it was real.
The dead were walking.
"While you were unconscious, the military cleared this area," Lucien said from behind him. "Most people have already evacuated from the city. Dr. Gale stayed behind to look after patients who couldn't be moved, like you."
Rick forced himself to turn away from the window. His hands were shaking slightly, and he pressed them against his thighs to make it stop.
The kid was standing a few feet away, watching him with eyes that were far too calm for someone his age. But there was something in his expression that didn't match the rest of him.
"Thanks for the water. What's your name again?"
"Lucien Green. You can call me Lucien."
"Lucien," Rick repeated. "Do I know you?"
"No." Lucien shook his head. "But I know your friend."
Rick's exhausted brain struggled to make the connection. "My friend?"
"Shane. Shane Walsh."
The world tilted.
For a second, Rick thought his legs were going to give out. His hand shot out, catching himself against the wall, and he stared at the kid like he'd just spoken in tongues.
"Shane?" The name came out barely above a whisper.
Then louder, because he needed confirmation that he hadn't hallucinated it: "Shane?!"
He crossed the distance between them in two unsteady steps, his hands reaching out to grab Lucien's shoulders. Too hard, probably, because the kid flinched slightly.
"Is he... how is he? Is he okay?"
Lucien looked up at him, and for the first time since Rick had met him, the kid looked uncertain.
"I'm not sure right now," he said slowly. "He saved me. We stayed together for a few days after everything started. But then we... we got separated."
Rick's heart was hammering. Shane was alive. Shane had been here, in this nightmare, and he'd been helping people. Of course he had. That was Shane.
"During those days, he talked about you a lot," Lucien continued. His voice was quieter now. "He said his partner was still in this hospital. You'd been shot and were in a coma when everything fell apart. He felt terrible about leaving you here. He said the situation was too dangerous and that he couldn't get you out. In the end, he believed he had abandoned you to die."
"No." Rick shook his head. "No, that's not... he did the right thing. If it was that bad, he couldn't have moved me. I was hooked up to machines..."
Lucien was watching him with something that looked like sympathy. Which was wrong, because Rick was supposed to be the adult here, and this kid had probably seen things in the past few weeks that would break most grown men.
"After we got separated. I didn't know where to go. I'm not from around here, and I didn't know the area. But I remembered what Shane said about you." He glanced around the corridor. "So I thought I'd come here and try my luck. If you were still alive, I could tell you what happened. And if I ever run into Shane again, I could tell him you made it."
The pieces clicked together in Rick's head.
This kid had traveled alone through a city full of the dead. He had risked his life coming back to a hospital that was probably crawling with those things. All on the off chance that he might still be alive.
Because Shane had helped him.
"Lucien..." Rick said quietly. He wanted to say more, but the words got stuck somewhere between his brain and his mouth.
Lucien ducked his head, looking embarrassed. "It's... I owed him. And I thought you should know."
Rick swallowed. "Thank you. I—" He paused, because there was a question clawing at his throat that he needed to be answered. "My family... Did Shane... do you know if he...?"
He couldn't finish the sentence.
"Before we separated, Shane said he was going to find Lori and Carl. He said he'd protect them, and take them to the safe zone in Atlanta."
Rick's knees buckled this time.
He caught himself against the wall, and the crushing weight that had been sitting on his chest since he'd woken up to an empty hospital finally eased.
"Atlanta," he repeated.
Shane was alive. And he'd gone to find Lori and Carl. His partner had left him here because he'd had no choice. He understood that. He would've done the same thing. And instead of just saving himself, Shane had gone after his family.
God, he didn't deserve a friend like that.
"Thank you."
The kid nodded, looking uncomfortable with the gratitude. Before he could say anything else, footsteps echoed in the hallway and Gale appeared, carrying bottles of water and what looked like medication.
"Alright, Officer Grimes," she said. "You've been upright for way too long. Back to bed."
Rick wanted to protest, but his body was already making executive decisions. His legs felt like jelly, his head was swimming, and the brief surge of adrenaline from hearing about Shane was crashing hard. He let Gale guide him back to the bed, sinking onto the mattress.
But he wasn't done yet.
"I need to go home," he said, already trying to push himself back up. "I need to see if Lori and Carl left anything."
"No." Gale put a hand on his chest and pushed him back down. "You can barely stand, let alone walk. You go out there in your condition, you'll be dead inside an hour."
"But—"
"No buts, Officer."
"She's right, you know."
Rick turned his head to look at Lucien, who was still standing near the door.
The kid's expression was serious.
"If your family already evacuated safely, like Shane said, then rushing home won't help. You'll just find an empty house. They won't be there."
Lucien paused, and Rick saw something flicker in his eyes.
"And if they didn't make it out," he continued quietly, "if something happened to them... going back in your condition won't save anyone. You'll just get yourself killed trying."
The words hit harder than they should have, coming from a kid.
"So the only thing that makes sense right now is to listen to Dr. Gale. Get your strength back and stay alive. Because if you're dead, you can't help anyone."
Rick stared at him.
The logic was sound. And it was coming from a kid who'd apparently survived weeks of hell on his own.
It made him feel like an idiot.
"You're right," he said finally. "You're absolutely right."
He let himself sink back into the pillows. His head felt like it weighed a hundred kilos, and the brief period of activity had drained what little energy he'd managed to scrape together.
Lucien nodded, looking relieved. "I'll leave you to rest, then. Dr. Gale will take good care of you."
He moved toward the door.
"Lucien," Rick called out before the boy could leave.
The kid paused, hand on the doorframe, and looked back.
"Thank you for telling me about Shane.".
Lucien's expression softened slightly. "You're welcome, Officer Grimes. Get some rest."
Then he was gone, pulling the door closed behind him with a quiet click.
Rick lay there in the room, staring at the ceiling.
Lori and Carl might be safe.
After a moment of silence, he turned his head to look at Gale, who was organizing medication on the rolling tray.
"Dr. Gale," he said, his curiosity getting the better of him. "What's Lucien's story?"
Gale paused, her hands stilling over the pill bottles. "He's smart. Honestly, he's smarter than most adults I know. And he's been through more than any child should ever have to deal with."
"How'd he end up here?"
"That's a longer story."