Rick stopped the truck at the edge of the clearing, both of us staring at the camp sprawling before us.
It was smaller than I had imagined from watching the show. A dozen tents were scattered around a central area where a campfire burned. An old, beat-up RV was parked near the trees—Dale's RV. A few cars were parked to form a sort of defensive perimeter. Clothes hung from makeshift lines strung between the trees.
And there were people. Real, living people, moving through the camp.
I could see Dale atop the RV with binoculars, keeping watch. Two women were washing clothes in buckets near the fire—one blonde, one brunette. Andrea and Amy, most likely. An older man was working on one of the cars: Ed Peletier, if my memory served me right.
And then I saw them.
Shane was near the fire, talking to another man. Even from a distance, I could recognize him. Tall, shaved head, military posture. My uncle.
And near him, a dark-haired woman with a young boy. Lori and Carl.
Rick's family.
Rick must have seen them at the exact same moment because I heard his breath hitch.
"That's Carl," he whispered. "My God, that's my son."
Dale had spotted us. He was climbing down from the RV, pointing at us and calling out to the others. People began to gather, some grabbing weapons—sticks, an axe, a rifle.
Shane stepped forward, a hand on the pistol at his hip. Even from here, I could see the tension in his stance. Strangers arriving at camp were not a good thing in this world.
"Stay in the truck," Rick said, opening his door slowly. "Let me talk first."
"Rick, I'm his nephew—"
"I know. But they haven't seen you in weeks. And I... I need to do this."
I nodded, understanding. This was his moment.
Rick stepped out of the truck with his hands raised, showing he wasn't a threat. He walked slowly toward the group.
I could see the confusion on their faces. A man in a police uniform, clean and shaved, walking toward them as if the world hadn't ended.
Shane took a step forward, narrowing his eyes. And then he stopped dead in his tracks.
"Rick?" His voice carried clearly across the clearing. Incredulous. Broken. "Rick Grimes?"
"Hey, Shane," Rick replied, his own voice trembling.
And then everything exploded into motion.
Lori had frozen, a hand over her mouth. Carl looked at her, confused, not understanding who this stranger was.
"Dad?" the boy said, his voice small and uncertain.
That single word broke the spell. Lori ran. She simply bolted toward Rick, stumbling over her own feet, sobbing. Carl followed, finally understanding.
Rick met them halfway. The three of them collided in an embrace, collapsing to the ground. Lori was crying, Carl too. Rick held them as if they would vanish if he let go.
"You're alive," Lori sobbed. "You're alive, you're alive, you're alive."
"I'm here," Rick said over and over. "I'm here. I found you. I found you."
I felt tears in my own eyes watching the scene. Even knowing it was coming, even having seen it on television, seeing it in person was entirely different. It was real. The pain, the relief, the pure joy of being together again.
The rest of the camp watched them, some crying as well. It was a reminder of what they had lost, of the families that would never reunite.
Shane had stayed where he was, watching. His face was a mask of conflicting emotions. Relief, yes. Joy for Rick. But also something else. Something darker that I couldn't fully identify from this distance.
Dale was the first to approach me. I stepped down from the truck carefully, my hands still up.
"Hello," the old man said. He was exactly as I remembered him from the show. White hair, bucket hat, kind eyes behind glasses. "I'm Dale Horvath. You came with Rick?"
"Jon Walsh," I introduced myself. "And yes. I found him in the hospital. Helped him get out."
"Walsh?" Dale tilted his head. "As in Shane Walsh?"
"He's my uncle."
Dale's eyes widened.
"My God. Shane thought you were dead. There was an accident right before everything started. He tried to go back to the hospital for you but it was already evacuated—firebombed, he said. He thought you hadn't made it."
"I was in a coma," I explained. "I woke up about a week after everything started. Rick was in the same hospital. We helped each other."
Dale nodded slowly, processing this.
"Shane is going to be glad to see you. He's been... well, he's carried a lot of guilt. He thought he failed you."
I looked toward where Shane was still watching Rick reunite with his family. Something in his body language worried me. He looked rigid, tense. Like a man watching his world crumble.
"I should go to him," I said.
"Dale's right," a voice said behind me. I turned to find a young Asian man, thin, wearing a baseball cap. Glenn. "Shane's going to want to know you're okay. He's been beating himself up over you."
Glenn Rhee. One of my favorite characters from the series. The one who would die at Negan's hands, brutally murdered in front of his pregnant wife. Seeing him here—young, alive, and smiling—made my determination to change things strengthen.
"Thanks," I said. "I'm Jon."
"Glenn," he replied, extending his hand. I shook it. "Welcome to the camp. Or what's left of civilization, anyway."
Others began to approach. A blonde woman introduced herself as Andrea; her younger sister Amy stood beside her. A man named Jim nodded to me from where he was preparing firewood. Jacqui, a middle-aged African-American woman, offered me water.
But my eyes kept drifting back to Shane. Finally, he began walking toward Rick. Lori, Carl, and Rick had stood up, still clinging to one another.
As Shane approached, Rick saw him. The two men locked eyes for a long moment. And then Rick let go of his family and hugged Shane.
"Brother," Rick said, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you. Thank you for protecting them. For keeping them alive."
Shane returned the embrace, but I could see the tension in his shoulders.
"I thought you were dead, Rick," Shane said when they pulled apart. "I saw you in that hospital, all that equipment. And when it all started, when they bombed Atlanta, I thought—"
"I know," Rick interrupted. "I know, brother. You did the right thing. You got my family out. You kept them safe. That's all that matters."
Shane nodded, but his eyes slid toward Lori. She was looking at Rick with an expression she had never given Shane. Love, adoration, relief.
And I saw the exact moment something broke in Shane. It was subtle—a tiny shift in his eyes. But I saw it.
"Uncle Shane," I called out, walking toward them. I needed to break that moment, to distract him from those dangerous thoughts.
Shane turned toward me and his face transformed. The dark emotions vanished, replaced by pure shock.
"Jon?" He moved quickly, grabbing my shoulders, looking at me as if I were a ghost. "Jon, my God, I thought you were dead. The accident, the hospital—"
"I'm okay," I said. "I was in a coma, like Rick. I woke up after they evacuated. Rick and I helped each other out."
Shane pulled me into a hug so tight I could barely breathe.
"God, kid. Your mother... your mother would have wanted me to look after you, and I thought I'd failed you. I thought I'd lost you."
There was genuine pain in his voice. Shane loved his family; that was never in doubt. It was his inner demons that would cause trouble later.
"I'm here," I said. "I'm fine. And Rick kept me alive as much as I kept him alive."
Shane pulled away, wiping his eyes quickly.
"Good lad. You're a good lad, Jon."
Lori approached, smiling through her tears.
"You must be Shane's nephew. He's talked about you. Jon, right?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said.
"Lori," she corrected. "Just Lori. And this is Carl."
Carl looked at me with curiosity. He would be nine now, small for his age but with his father's same intense blue eyes.
"Hi," he said shyly.
"Hey, Carl. Your dad's been talking about you the whole way here. He was desperate to find you."
Carl smiled and clung to Rick's arm.
The rest of the camp had gathered around now. Dale made the formal introductions. Besides those I'd already met, there were Carol Peletier and her daughter Sophia, a shy girl of about twelve. Carol's husband, Ed, kept his distance, watching with suspicious eyes.
There were also T-Dog, a large, friendly man who introduced himself as Theodore Douglas. Morales and his family—wife Miranda and two small children. And Merle Dixon, a rough man with tattoos and a hostile attitude, standing by his younger brother Daryl.
Daryl Dixon. Another key character. I looked at him with interest. He was younger than I expected, maybe mid-twenties, with long hair and a crossbow slung over his back. He looked back at me with distrust but said nothing.
"Welcome," Dale said with a warm smile. "It's rare to have good news these days. A family reunion is almost a miracle."
"It is," Rick agreed, his arm still around Lori. "But we also brought resources. There's a truck full of supplies, weapons, and ammo. Everything we could scavenge from the police station in King County."
That caught everyone's attention. Shane straightened up.
"Weapons? How many?"
"A couple of shotguns, pistols, ammo for both. Bulletproof vests too, and some food."
"Damn," Merle said with a toothy grin. "Santa Claus came early."
"We can use every bullet," Shane said, already thinking strategically. "We've been rationing ammo, only shooting when absolutely necessary. More guns mean more safety."
"We also have fresh food," I added. "Tomatoes, beans, some potatoes."
"Fresh food?" Andrea seemed skeptical. "From where?"
"We found it," I said quickly, before anyone could question further. "On the road."
Rick looked at me but didn't contradict me. It wasn't the time to reveal my powers yet.
"Well," Dale said, clapping his hands. "This calls for a celebration. A small one. We have some stew we were saving. Tonight, we eat well."
As the camp buzzed with the news, I helped Rick unload the truck. Shane joined us, inspecting the weapons with an expert eye.
"Good work, Rick," he said, checking one of the shotguns. "These are going to be useful. How much ammo do you have?"
"Three boxes of pistol rounds, two for the shotgun," Rick replied. "It's not much, but it's something."
"It's more than we had yesterday," Shane said. He paused, then added more softly, "Rick, about Lori and Carl. I... I looked after them as best I could. But your family needs you. They need you, not me."
There was something in his tone. Something like resignation. Or perhaps regret.
Rick put a hand on Shane's shoulder.
"I know, brother. And I'm grateful. But this doesn't change anything between us. We're still partners, right? Same as always."
Shane nodded, but he didn't look convinced.
"Yeah. Partners."
I watched the interaction with concern. I could already see the cracks forming. Shane had taken on the role of camp leader. He had looked after Lori and Carl. And now Rick was back to reclaim both.
I needed to do something. I needed to keep Shane from sinking into that darkness I knew was coming.
"Uncle Shane," I said when Rick stepped away to talk to Dale. "Can we talk? Privately?"
Shane looked at me with curiosity but nodded.
"Sure, kid. Let's go."
We walked to the edge of the camp, out of earshot of the others. Shane leaned against a tree, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.
"I didn't know you smoked," I said.
"I didn't," he replied, exhaling smoke. "But this new world has a way of bringing back old habits." He looked at me. "What did you want to talk about?"
I took a deep breath.
"About Rick. And Lori."
Shane tensed immediately.
"What about them?"
"I've seen how you look at her," I said softly. "Uncle Shane, I know you've been looking after her. That you were there for her when she thought Rick was dead. But Rick is back now. And Lori loves him. She's always loved him."
Shane flicked the cigarette away and crushed it with his boot.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"I think you do," I said. "And I think you care about Lori. Maybe more than you should. But Shane, she's Rick's wife. Your best friend's wife. Pursuing anything there is only going to end badly for everyone."
Shane looked at me with hard eyes.
"You're a kid, Jon. You don't understand—"
"I understand more than you think," I interrupted. "I understand that this world changes us. That it makes us do things we never thought we'd do. But I also understand that there are lines we shouldn't cross. And Lori is one of those lines."
Shane was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was raspier.
"For weeks, I thought they were my family. Lori, Carl, me. We became a unit. She needed me. Carl needed me. And I... I started thinking of them as mine."
"But they aren't," I said gently. "And deep down, you know that. Lori was mourning, vulnerable. You were there. But it was Rick she loved. It's Rick she loves."
"I know," Shane whispered. "God help me, I know. But that doesn't make it any easier."
I put a hand on his arm.
"It doesn't have to be easy. It just has to be right. Rick is your brother, Shane. And this group needs you. They need both of you working together, not tearing each other apart over a woman."
Shane laughed bitterly.
"When did you get so wise?"
"Waking up in a zombie apocalypse gives you perspective," I said.
Shane looked at me for a long moment, then nodded slowly.
"You're right. I know. It's just... hard to let go."
"You don't have to let it all go at once," I said. "Just... take a step back. Focus on keeping the group safe. On being the leader everyone needs. Rick can do that too; you can do it together. But not if you're competing for Lori."
Shane sighed deeply.
"You're a good kid, Jon. Better than I deserve as a nephew." He put a hand on my shoulder. "I'll try. I can't promise it'll be easy, but I'll try."
It was all I could ask for. For now.
We returned to the camp where people were preparing dinner. The smell of stew filled the air—it didn't smell incredible, but my stomach growled anyway.
Rick was with Lori and Carl, the three of them sitting together on logs near the fire. They looked like a family again. Complete.
Lori looked up as we approached and smiled at Shane. It was a friendly, warm smile, but nothing more. Shane returned it, but I could see the effort it cost him.
"Dinner will be ready soon," Lori said. "You should sit down."
I sat next to Carl, who was looking at me with curiosity.
"Is it true you were in a coma like my dad?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said. "Had a car accident right before all this started."
"And you woke up all alone? Weren't you scared?"
"I was terrified," I admitted. "But your dad helped me. He taught me how to survive."
Carl looked at Rick with adoration.
"My dad's the best. He always knows what to do."
Rick smiled and ruffled Carl's hair.
"I try my best, son."
As the food was served—small portions of stew with canned vegetables—the camp relaxed. People chatted, even laughed. Rick's arrival had lifted everyone's spirits.
Dale sat next to me, offering me a bowl of stew.
"It's good to see some happiness around here," he said. "It's been hard. We lost people on the way from Atlanta. Seeing a family reunited... it reminds us why we keep fighting."
"How many are there?" I asked. "In the camp."
"Eighteen now, counting you and Rick," Dale said. "It's not many, but we look out for each other. We have rules, routines. Shane set up a guard system, work assignments. It keeps everyone busy, focused."
"Shane's good at that," I said. "He was always organized."
"He's a good leader," Dale agreed. "But now that Rick is here..." He trailed off, looking at me. "Well, Rick is a police officer too. And he's the kind of man people follow naturally. It's going to be interesting to see how the dynamic works."
I understood what Dale was implying. Two potential leaders in a small group. It was a recipe for conflict.
"They can lead together," I said. "It doesn't have to be one or the other."
"Maybe," Dale said, but he didn't sound convinced.
After dinner, Shane gathered everyone.
"Listen up," he said, his voice carrying authority. "With Rick and Jon here, we have more resources. More weapons, more capable people. That's good. But it also means we need to adjust our system. Rick," he looked at his friend, "you've led before. You've trained for crisis situations. I'd like you to co-lead with me. Take some of the decisions, help set strategies."
Rick looked surprised but nodded.
"Of course. Whatever you need, Shane."
"We also need to talk about Atlanta," Shane continued. "We've been sending scavenge teams into the city for supplies. It's dangerous but necessary. We're running low on canned food, on medicine. We need more."
"How bad is it?" Rick asked.
"Bad," Glenn replied. "The city is crawling with walkers. Hundreds, maybe thousands. But the buildings still have resources. Pharmacies, stores, warehouses. You just have to be smart about how you get in and out."
"Glenn leads most of the runs," Shane explained. "He's fast, smart. He knows how to move without being seen."
Glenn shrugged modestly.
"Delivered pizzas before this. I know every street, every alley. It's just navigation, avoiding the big herds."
"How often do you go?" I asked.
"Once or twice a week," Shane said. "Depending on what we need. We have another run planned for tomorrow. We need medicine, batteries, more food if we can find it."
"I'm going," Rick said immediately.
Lori tensed.
"Rick, you just got here. You've barely recovered—"
"I can handle it," Rick said firmly. "I need to see Atlanta; I need to understand the area. And if I can help get supplies, I should."
"I'm going too," I added.
Everyone looked at me. Shane frowned.
"Jon, you're just a kid—"
"A kid who survived alone in a hospital full of walkers for a week," I interrupted. "A kid who helped Rick get out of Atlanta. I can do this."
Shane looked at Rick, who nodded slowly.
"Jon is more capable than he looks. If he says he can do it, I believe him."
Shane didn't look happy but he nodded.
"Alright. Rick, Jon, Glenn. You head out tomorrow at dawn. Get in, get what we need, get out. No heroics, no unnecessary risks. Understood?"
We all nodded.
As the camp prepared for the night, I helped set up a tent for Rick and his family. Lori insisted I stay with them.
"You're family," she said simply. "Shane's nephew is our nephew too."
But I could see that Shane wouldn't be staying in Rick's tent. He had his own tent on the other side of the camp. Physical separation for emotional separation.
When it grew dark, the camp quieted down. Dale took the first watch on the RV. Others retired to their tents. The fire died down to embers.
I lay in my sleeping bag in Rick's tent, listening to the night sounds of the forest. I could hear Rick and Lori talking in low voices, Carl already asleep between them.
I was exhausted, but my mind wouldn't quiet down. There was so much to do. So many people to save. And tomorrow, we were going into Atlanta—the place where so many things went wrong in the show.
I needed to be ready. I needed to be alert.
Because I knew what was coming. The walkers in Atlanta. The tank. The herd.
And eventually, Merle chained to that roof.