2 Getting Some Gear And The First Walker

It didn't take long for us to get away from the tarp-covered corpses that lined the hospital exit area, and thankfully the smell got much, much better the further away we got.

Still, it didn't get to the point where the smell of death and decay wasn't subtly lingering on the surroundings. This entire place...was a dead world. That's what it smelled like. Death had staked it's claim on these surroundings and I knew not many places were any better.

Coming to the top of the embankment in front of us, I saw a rundown helicopter and while Rick still seemed a little out of it and more like he wanted to keep on going through, I put a hand on his shoulder and he jumped a little, turning to me. Gesturing to the surroundings, mainly at the helicopter and the FOB it seemed to belong to, "I know it's rough, Rick, but we need to look around here for any clues on what's happenin'. From the looks of it, people have been dying and we might be next if we don't wise up on what's happened while we were asleep."

"...Yeah, you're right. Sorry--it's just those bodies and that...that stench," he paled, looking like he was about to retch up anything left in his stomach. I gave him a sympathetic smile.

"I know, man, I know," I pat his shoulder reassuringly before continuing, "Waking up to this shit is hard - I'm experiencing it with ya. But we can't let it distract us too much or we might find ourselves up shit creek without a paddle. I ain't telling ya to not be human and react, Rick, but I need you to stay aware for now and until we can figure out what happened."

Rick nodded, letting out a sigh and I took my hand from his shoulder as he gave me a weak grin, "You sure you ain't a counselor or something, Harry? I know you said your memories were on the fritz but you seem pretty damn good at getting through to people," he joked and I returned his grin.

"Hell, maybe I was a therapist?" I joked back and Rick outright scoffed before gesturing up and down at my body.

"With your build? I doubt you're a shrink, Harry," he gave a weak laugh and I joined him. After we stopped, Rick gave me a grateful smile, "Thank you, Harry. I think I needed that."

"No worries, bud," I flashed him a smile before gesturing to the military base, "Shall we?"

He nodded and we got to searching through the base. I found a few vacuum sealed and fresh military fatigues and threw some over to Rick before breaking open my own pair and put them on. Consisted of a beige shirt and some desert camo cargo pants. I left the camo jacket off, knowing I didn't need it in this heat. I took the boots though and put a pair on after finding some that fit.

Out of our hospital gowns, both Rick and I didn't feel so goddamn naked anymore and continued with our search through the base. I was on edge for some walkers to pop out of nowhere but nothing seemed to be in the surroundings.

A few dead bodies here and there but they were all put down - a bullet to the head.

A few minutes into our continued search after finding some clothes, I hit the jackpot and tapped Rick on the back, getting him to turn to me, before motioning over to a few crates. I knew what they were but Rick didn't and I didn't wanna give up my ruse of having faulty memories so I didn't outright say what they were.

Still, unopened crates in a military base? Should be pretty self-explanatory. Some of them were open but a few weren't and the both of us went over to them.

Cracking one open and getting a surprised glance from Rick after I did it with my bare hands, I saw a beautiful sight for anyone in a zombie apocalypse. Guns. Beretta M9's, to be specific. Military issue hand guns up until 2017 and seeing as this world is set in 2010, these are the pistols the armed forces use.

Picking one out of the crate, I passed it to Rick and picked up two for myself, checking through the seemingly brand new firearms for any defects or the potential for broken parts. Luckily, there was nothing wrong with 'em and I looked through the other unopened crates and found what I was looking for - magazines and bullets. Rick and I got to loading the magazines with the bullets and stored as many of them as we could on our person. I got about eight and each magazine held fifteen 9mm Parabellum cartridges which meant I had 120 bullets split between two Berettas. So 60 each. Decent enough for now.

After finding these, I was under the impression that there'd be more out there in the camp - maybe even some rifles if we were lucky. We, however, weren't very lucky.

The place had been picked clean, save for a few broken and defective rifles strewn about the place. Given enough time and some replacement parts, I could fix the rifles but I neither had the time or the parts for that. Rick, slightly out of his funk, seemed intent on going to find his family and it was only by saying we hadn't figured out what had happened yet that stopped him from rushing off home.

I was intent on following him, knowing that sticking next to him was the most logical thing to do. I knew some of the major events that happened next to him and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't somewhat excited about changing canon for the better just to see what would happen.

After all, I couldn't remember enough about the series to keep canon as it were and some parts of canon just didn't need to happen. Though after fifteen years of nothing but training with my two mentors, I wasn't all too clear on exactly what happened in the show. I guess I'll just go with the flow and stop bad shit from happening while having as much fun as possible in an apocalypse.

Seeing there wasn't much else for us to loot, Rick and I went off in the direction of his house.

"You don't need to come with me, Harry. I appreciate what you've done for me but I can't force my problems onto you," Rick told me for the third time that I didn't need to follow him and for the third time I just waved him off.

"Rick," I started, "I ain't following you because I'm trying to make your problems my own. Look around," I motioned to the desolate surroundings, "The world's seemingly gone to shit and I don't think it's safe for anyone to be going on their own. Besides, us coma patients have gotta look out for one another, right?"

Rick gave me a look, grinning a little, "I ain't gonna be able to convince you otherwise, am I?" he asked and sighed when I gave him a shit-eating grin as I nodded to his question, "Well, I'm not gonna stop you, Harry. But if you're following along, we stick to finding my family, okay?"

"Not like I remember anything anyway," I shrugged, "I don't know if I have any family, so sticking to finding yours don't seem like a bad goal," I gave him a grin. However, my compadre didn't seem so humorous. In fact, he was frowning a little. "What?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow at him in confusion.

"Nothing," Rick shook his head before giving me a look of pity, "I was just thinking about how we might jog your memory. Must suck to not have any memories," he admitted and I shrugged in reply again.

"Ain't too bad," I admitted, "I mean, I still have some memories. They're just fuzzy as all hell. I remember bits and pieces. I think I might've been a soldier," I said, scratching at the back of my head, acting like I was deeply contemplating something.

How do you lie effectively? Mix in the truth. I don't have any memories for this world, so I should just use my already existing memories to build a persona for myself while feigning amnesia. Trust me, I don't enjoy feigning an actually serious problem but I doubt I can just suddenly say I remember everything without eliciting a ton of suspicion off of Rick.

"A soldier?" he echoed back before smiling, "Well, in whatever situation this is, I can say I'd rather have a soldier at my side than any other occupation," he grinned, some humor injected into his tone before he looked over at me with a curious expression, "What do you remember? If you don't mind me asking, that is."

"The majority of my training is up there," I said tapping the side of my head with a finger, "Bits and pieces of my tours. I think I remember growing up in Miami, Florida. Kinda gets fuzzy beyond that stuff but it's slowly clearing up - might be tomorrow when I remember more or it might be next week," I nonchalantly said, shrugging as I did so. By now we'd been walking down the street for a little while and to the left of us was a small field - a red bicycle caught my eye.

I knew that bicycle. Even with my limited remembrance of The Walking Dead I recognized it.

And as expected, a few meters away from the bike there was a badly damaged and decomposing corpse. It seemed to have heard us speaking as well because it rolled toward us, growling and reaching for us with it's skeletal hand.

Rick recoiled backward, his face confused and filled with disgust, "What the fuck...?!" he got out in a harsh whisper, turning to me and then back to the moving corpse, "You...you see that, right, Harry?"

"Yep," I replied, frowning and pulling one of my Berettas from where I'd put them - tucked into the back of my waistband. Flicking the safety off, I looked to Rick, "That thing don't look like a person to me, Rick. Looks like a goddamn moving corpse."

He nodded in reply but his eyes widened when I lifted my gun and aimed it at the walkers head. He put his hand on my forearm, pressing it downward as he looked to me, "What the fuck, Harry? You were just gonna shot someone?" he asked, obviously still in denial about what he was seeing. I scoffed, gesturing to the corpse which was missing it's entire lower body and was a rotting, festering mess.

"Someone? Does that look like a someone to you, Rick?" I asked, my eyes narrowed. He didn't have an answer for me and looked awfully indecisive. "That's what I thought," I said, raising my gun again but stopping just before I pulled the trigger.

Too much noise.

Groaning, I put the safety back on and tucked the gun in my waistband again before stepping up to the walker. It growled and groaned, reaching for me and it's lipless mouth opening and closing, the yellow, rotten teeth clattering loudly together. I looked down on it, just out of it's reach, and gave a sigh, "I'm sorry this happened to you," I simply said before lifting a foot up and stomping my foot down on it.

It's head exploded in gore and it's movements stopped. I wiped my boot off on the grass below and turned to Rick who was staring wide-eyed at me. Seeming to snap out of it, he stomped over to me and jabbed a finger into my chest, "What'd you do that for? You could've just shot it!"

I slapped a hand over his mouth and glared at him, "Shhh," I harshly said, "Don't make too much noise. That thing seemed to react to us speaking. That's why I didn't shoot it. What if there are more of them? A loud noise would only screw us over, so don't go shouting out loud, you jackass," I hissed in annoyance.

I mean, I can't blame the guy for his reaction - he doesn't know fully what these walkers are just yet and he just saw me curb stomp one of them. It'd be a morally confusing sight for him.

But just because he doesn't know what they are doesn't mean they won't come for us if he starts shouting. And Rick seemed to realize this as his eyes widened in realization, his eyes looking down at where my hand was covering his mouth and I relented, taking my hand away.

He took a few seconds to calm down, all the while refusing to look at the gore right next to us, before he spoke to me in a worried and desperate tone, "...If there are more of those--those things, my family ain't safe, Harry. We need to hurry up and get to my house." I nodded to what he said and motioned to the bicycle.

"Use that. I'm recovered and I can keep up with you by running alongside the bike. It should cut down on the time needed to get to your house," I said and he looked like he was about to say something but stopped himself and just nodded, getting the bike and getting on it.

And then we were off.

. . .

By the time we made it to Rick's house, he was exhausted, only having just recovered from being shot. Well, he was barely recovered, actually. He was lucky he wasn't shot somewhere that broke any bones otherwise he'd have been fucked, if you think about it. From what I could gather, the bullet went in and out, only going through flesh.

Classic Rick Grimes luck.

As we entered, I made sure to remind him to be quiet and he was. Except until we searched the whole house and found nothing. Then he collapsed, all his energy seemingly drained from him as he stared listlessly at the floor.

I didn't know how to reassure him without seeming insincere. I knew his wife and kid were still alive but I couldn't tell him that. He wouldn't believe me, for one.

Then he looked up to me, red-rimmed eyes filled with tears, "This ain't real, is it, Harry?" he hoarsely asked me, his tone filled with hope that it was all a dream. That he wasn't actually in some sort of apocalypse with his family missing. I knelt down on one knee next to him and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder like before.

"...I'm afraid it's real, bud," I said and his expression turned to one of despair before I continued, "But from the looks of it, your family packed up and left. Maybe they left for Atlanta? Who knows, but as far as we know, they're alive. The signs are there and there's no blood around. It ain't looked nearly as bad as the hospital did," I tried my best to reassure him and some hope thankfully returned to his gaze, nodding as he pushed himself up.

"You're right," he sniffed, wiping at his eyes roughly as if to hide the tears from me, "You're right, Harry. Goddamn I wish I could show half the stoicism that you do," he gave a half-assed chuckle and I returned it with a grin.

"Hey, you've got more skin in the game then me, Rick. Ain't nothing to be ashamed of," I clapped him on the shoulder and made way for the door. Though when I made it there, I saw a walker just outside. Ducking for the side of the door, I got Rick's attention and gestured out the door.

Rick didn't get my meaning for a few seconds before he saw the walker. He hurried pulled out his gun but I raised a hand at him, shaking my head.

I waited for the walker to get passed us and snuck out of the door, making my best effort to remain silent. Which meant I was as silent as could be. Lady Shiva was one hell of a teacher when it came to stuff like this. Batman too. Sneaking up behind the walker, I swung my leg, sweeping the walking corpse's legs from under it before lifting the same leg and slamming my foot down on the back of it's head, putting it down for good.

Fun fact about Hyperadrenals like me: Our bodies, even when we're not amped up on adrenaline, are exceptionally strong due to the fact that we need to be able to withstand the usage of our amped up state. A normal human would rip themselves apart under the same forces. Put that together with my peak human genetics and the extensive body conditioning I've underwent and you get a very, very strong body.

Meaning crushing skulls ain't that hard for me. Especially when I have gravity assisting me.

Once that was done, I surveyed the surroundings and saw who I was looking for. Raising my hands, I looked in their direction and called out, "Come on out, now. We ain't here with bad intentions. Just looking for my friend's family is all," I said and the audible sound of a revolver being cocked entered my ear as a black man with a medium build walked out of the nearby woods, holding a gun pointed right on at me.

"How we supposed to know that? Huh? You armed and you didn't seem to have too hard a time killing a walker with your barehands," he said some reasonable things and I just kept my hands up, nodding along.

"Because I wouldn't have called out to you, sir," I answered truthfully, "If I had bad intentions and knew where you were, I would've just shot you. I wouldn't have brought on this whole conversation, would I? Now tell your boy to put that shovel down and get from sneaking around the side of my buddy's house. We don't want no trouble."

I had my hands up but I had all the confidence in the world that I could pull one of my guns and shoot the guy in front of me if it came down to it. Especially if I pumped myself full of adrenaline as well. Besides, the guy in front of me don't seem like the guy to gun down an unarmed man.

The man froze for a second before calling out, "Duane, come on out, son. Just come over to me," he said before motioning his gun to the side and looking dead-on at me, "Move to the side so I know you won't make a move for my son."

I relented, nodding and taking a few steps to the side and allowing the guy's son to the side.

Looking to the sky, I saw the sun was getting mighty close to setting and frowned before turning back to the man with the revolver, "Mister, both my friend and I woke up in the nearby hospital today and we have no goddamn clue what the hell is happening around here. First the hospitals completely abandoned, then the dead stacked in rows and on trucks...then corpses walking about," I gestured to the walker I'd just downed, "Do you know what happened around here?"

The man froze for a second before lowering his gun, disbelief clear on his face, "You...you ain't lying, are you, boy?" he asked, his disbelief slipping into his tone. I shook my head with a complicated expression on my face.

The man looked to the sky and saw the sun settling and tucked his revolver in his waistband before looking back to me.

"Tell your friend he can come out now, and then follow me. It's getting dark and you don't wanna be out here at that time. Either of you bit?" he asked.

"No," I said before realizing I should clarify something, "Rick's got a gunshot wound though. It's what put him in the hospital." Last thing I needed was for him or his son to see the bandages and think the worst of it and pull guns on us. I remember these two from the original series but you can never know how different someone'll be from a character they're based off of.

The man nodded and I turned back to Rick's house where I saw Rick near his doorway, hand at his hip where his pistol was. I shook my head and gestured with my head for him to come out and over to us.

Turning back to the man, I took a few steps toward him and put out a hand, "Name's Harry. You?"

"Morgan," he tentatively took my hand, gripping it tightly and shaking before waving a hand over at his son, "This is Duane."