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Chapter 4
Hound was not having a good day.
He smashed his weapon into a walker that tried to bite him.
In fact, he was having a bad day, to say the least.
He jumped over a walker that had no legs, trying to grab hold of his.
…Some might even say it was shitty.
His dog, who was ahead of him, barked at three of the walking corpses that were blocking the way, getting their attention.
They trade to reach down and devour her but due to them being rotting corpses, having terrible balance, and being slow as fuck all they could do was fall flat on their face.
He taught her that.
He sprinted across the cracked asphalt, boots slamming against the ground, his lungs burning with each breath.
Behind him, a tidal wave of groans and snarls followed, growing louder with every second.
His K9 partner, a lean German Shepherd named Coco, ran just ahead of him, tongue lolling, ears alert, feet pounding in perfect sync with his own.
They had been running for almost ten minutes straight, leading the walkers away from his group.
Ten minutes of weaving through cars, ducking through other walkers, and hurdling over broken barriers and scattered debris.
Ten minutes of leading an undead stampede through the skeleton of what used to be a thriving city.
He could still hear the wet slap of decomposing feet on pavement behind him, the guttural howls, and the frenzied moaning that grew more frantic the longer they chased him.
They were close.
Too close.
He didn't dare look back.
Coco barked once, sharp and urgent, tail stiff as she veered down a side street, forcing Hound to follow without hesitation.
They darted past an overturned city bus, barely dodging the limb of a walker that flailed from a broken window.
Hound didn't slow.
He couldn't.
They were nearing the edge of the city grid. Fewer buildings now. More wide streets, open spaces, and fewer choke points.
This was the far zone, burned out, already picked clean, barely worth scouring.
Then, finally, he was far enough away to ditch the horde.
Hound skidded to a stop beside the rusted remains of a utility pole, breath steaming in the cold afternoon air, chest heaving like a furnace.
He looked up at the apartment full of cracked concrete and crumbling brick, but the fire escape was still intact, if barely.
Just enough footholds and ledges to make it possible.
He reached two fingers to his lips and let out a whistle, three short notes, sharp and distinct.
Coco immediately responded.
Without hesitation, the German Shepherd spun, looped back toward him, and leapt.
Her paws landed on his thigh, then his hip, then up to his back in a practiced motion that looked like they'd trained it a thousand times.
Hound braced himself as she scrambled up and settled across his shoulders, front paws hooked loosely over one shoulder, hind legs around his other.
Her weight pressed against him, but it was a familiar pressure, balanced and sure.
He took one more deep breath, then lunged for the first rung.
Below them, the moans had grown louder. The first few walkers rounded the corner, shambling into view in a grotesque wave, eyes sunken, jaws snapping, arms outstretched.
Hound ignored them and began to climb.
One hand over the other.
Boots digging into metal, scraping brick. The whole structure groaned beneath his weight, but it held.
Coco shifted slightly, silent and alert.
Hound didn't bother to look down.
Half a dozen walkers reached the base of the building now, clawing upward with bloodied fingers, jaws gnashing against concrete.
He reached the top ledge, pulled himself up with a low grunt, and rolled onto the rooftop, Coco hopping off and landing beside him in one smooth motion.
For a second, they both just breathed, panting, crouched, watching the swarm below as it circled around the building.
Hound rose, stretching his back, and looked down at them through the rooftop's rusted railing.
He reached into his pouch and pulled out a flare.
Lit it.
Tossed it as far as he could away.
The red light hissed and cracked, drawing the attention of every walker in a six-block radius to the far side of the street.
Far away from Glenn's group.
Far away from his.
He watched until most of the horde walked away from the building and towards the flair.
Only then did he speak, his voice low and calm.
"Good girl."
Coco wagged her tail happily.
_____
Rick followed after Hawk in a tense silence, his eyes locked on the man's back.
Doc was walking alongside him, neither one saying a word.
Guilt was eating away at him.
He hadn't meant to screw things up.
Didn't mean to get them almost killed or for Hound to act as bait just fix his fuck up.
But that helicopter… that damn helicopter…
He'd seen the helicopter and thought, hope.
Thought maybe someone up there was looking for survivors.
Thought that maybe, just maybe, this wasn't the end of the world.
Instead, he'd nearly gotten the four of them eaten alive.
The masked man ahead of him moved with deliberate, silent precision.
Hawk didn't so much walk as glide, his footsteps quiet despite the debris scattered across the broken floor of the gutted office building they were passing through.
Rick swallowed, boots crunching glass beneath him.
"Hey…"
No answer.
Hawk didn't even flinch.
Rick frowned, tried again.
"About earlier… I wasn't thinking right."
Still nothing.
Just the soft creak of leather and the distant groan of the dead echoing from somewhere two blocks down.
"Look," Rick muttered, pushing a hand through his hair, "I get that you don't want to talk to me. Fine. But you've got to know I wasn't trying to get us killed. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought—"
Hawk raised one hand, fist clenched.
Rick shut up immediately.
That signal he understood, stop.
They were at a corner.
Half the wall was blown out, revealing the empty shell of the next building over, a collapsed parking garage littered with twisted rebar and crumpled hoods.
Hawk moved to the edge, crouched low, and scanned the area.
Doc followed his lead.
Rick approached carefully, staying back a few paces.
He didn't need to look at Hawk to feel the weight of that silence pressing between them.
Rick exhaled slowly through his nose.
He didn't know who these men were, not really.
Didn't know how Leo had met them, how long they'd been doing this, or what they'd seen.
But he could tell Hawk was the kind of man who didn't waste pointless effort.
He stood there for a long moment, just listening to the wind, the groans, the distant scrape of something dragging metal against concrete.
Then, to his surprise, Hawk finally moved.
He rose slowly, scanning the perimeter once more, then flicked his hand twice, a gesture Rick had started to recognize as moving out.
Doc fell beside him again.
Rick brought up the rear.
They traveled in silence, shadows slipping between the wreckage of a dead city.
Broken windows.
Burnt storefronts.
A city gridlocked in its own decay.
Every street they crossed felt like a coin flip, clear one moment, a trap the next.
Rick's knuckles were white on the grip of his revolver, every sense strung tight.
But the others? They moved like they belonged in this hell.
Fast, quiet, eyes always tracking, scanning, calculating.
Rick wasn't sure how far they'd gone before he noticed where they were heading, a squat little building tucked between two gutted laundromats.
Metal siding, sun-faded signage, and a big red "OPEN" banner that hung limp and torn from one rusted hook.
It was a grocery store.
Or had been once.
As they approached, Rick squinted.
The windows were mostly intact, darkened with grime and dust, but something inside moved.
Just a flicker.
He wasn't even sure he'd seen it until both Doc and Hawk tensed at the same time.
Rick reached for his gun and placed his finger on the trigger.
Hawk raised his hand again, this time with a downward motion.
Stop.
They froze just outside the entryway, the sliding doors long dead, wedged open with a busted shopping cart.
The interior was dim, but not empty.
Rick was about to ask what they were waiting for but stopped when Hawk did something he rarely did since this whole damn trip started.
He called out.
Voice deep, clear, and sharp enough to cut through the thick silence of the street.
"We know you're in there," Hawk said, calm and firm. "Come out. Slowly."
Rick blinked, caught completely off guard.
How the hell did he know someone was actually inside?
He looked between the two, but Hawk didn't elaborate, his crossbow angled downward but ready.
Doc shifted slightly, adjusting his grip on his spear, but didn't raise it yet.
Then there was movement.
A figure stepped cautiously into the light filtering through the shattered windows.
Slim frame, backpack slung across one shoulder.
Shaky hands raised in surrender.
"I'm—
"Don't shoot! I'm friendly!" the voice cracked, raw with panic. "And I swear! I'm not infected! Please! Your voice is scary as hell by the way!"
Rick instinctively lowered his weapon an inch, his eyes narrowing to get a closer look.
The guy looked young.
Early twenties, Asian, maybe Korean. He wore a ball cap on his head and an old jacket with the sleeves rolled up.
He was sweating and trembling, but standing his ground.
"Name,"Hawk demanded.
"G-Glenn," the man said quickly. "Glenn Rhee. Look, I'm just trying to get supplies back to my group, I'm not looking for trouble."
Doc and Hawk didn't move, but didn't raise their weapons either.
Rick stepped forward slowly, keeping his palms visible.
"It's all right," he said, voice soft. "We're not gonna hurt you. Just… take it slow."
Glenn swallowed, nodding, lowering his hands just slightly.
"…You guys the ones that stirred up the geeks? I saw a horde of them chasing a guy with the same mask as you two."
Doc gave a subtle side glance at him.
Rick winced.
Hawk lowered the crossbow. "You alone?"
Glenn paused, unsure if he should answer before deciding not to risk it.
"N-No, the rest of my group is up across town, but I got separated." He slowly lowered his hands when he noticed they weren't about to kill him.
Rick let out a slow breath.
This guy wasn't a threat, that was clear.
He was scared, alone, and just trying to survive.
"Let's talk inside," Hawk said, turning to Doc and giving the faintest tilt of his head.
It wasn't a request.
"Y-Yeah, o-ok." Glenn knew better than to refuse.
Rick followed after them as they entered the store, dust curling around their boots, the air heavy with that old scent of long-spoiled food and mildew.
Inside the grocery store, time felt frozen.
Shelves stood half-looted, rows of toppled boxes scattered across the floor like someone had run out in a panic.
Expired milk, crushed snack bags, shattered jars of something sticky glinting faintly in the light that slipped through the broken windows above.
The deeper they went, the darker it became, until they were moving in half-shadow.
Doc took point, sweeping through the aisles with his spear angled low, steps quiet but purposeful.
Hawk flanked the rear, crossbow still ready, though slightly lowered now that Glenn was between them and Rick.
Rick kept his hand close to his sidearm, but it was more habit than suspicion.
He wasn't worried that Glenn was dangerous.
He was worried about what else might be hiding in the dark.
They finally stopped in the frozen food aisle, in front of a pair of gutted ice chests.
Doc gave the area a quick scan, then nodded once.
Hawk circled around to secure the aisle's entrance while Rick leaned against a battered shelf.
Glenn stood awkwardly by the remains of the ice cream cooler, backpack still slung over one shoulder like he was afraid to let go of it.
"So," Rick said, breaking the silence. "You said your group's nearby?"
Glenn turned and stared at him before nodding slowly.
"Yeah, up near the department store past Broad. We had a guy who twisted his ankle pretty badly, so I volunteered to run out and scavenge for food while they gathered other supplies. Wasn't expecting a damn stampede of geeks to come tearing through the block."
"You saw the horde?" Rick asked with a raised brow.
"I was three blocks away when I heard 'em. Then I spotted someone in a hood and a dog sprinting down the street with the whole pack on his heels. Knew better than to stick around."
Rick exchanged a glance with Doc, who remained silent.
Hawk hadn't moved from his post, and Rick could tell his masked gaze was fixed firmly on Glenn.
The tension was thick.
Glenn noticed it too and mistakenly thought it was because of him.
"Look, I told you, I'm not infected, you can even check me. Bite marks, scratches, anything."
"No one said you were," Rick replied. "They're just… tense."
Glenn looked around the group, eyes focusing on their masks.
"You guys military?"
Rick hesitated; he wasn't sure himself.
Then Hawk shrugged. "Something like that."
That answer seemed to satisfy Glenn, or at least, he didn't press further.
Instead, he finally took off his pack and began rummaging through it, producing a half-empty water bottle and a couple of canned goods.
"I've got food, not a lot, but I'll share if you need it."
Rick raised a brow, surprised. "You're offering us your supplies?"
"Better to make friends than enemies," Glenn said with a small, wary smile. "You guys clearly know what you're doing, and you're freakishly armed to the teeth. Thought maybe if I helped you, you might help me."
Doc tilted his head slightly at that, but said nothing.
Rick crossed his arms. "How many are in your group?"
"Five others," Glenn said. "We made a plan to rendezvous back at after three hours, and I'm kinda running low on tim—"
He didn't finish the thought, he didn't need to.
"We can escort you back," Hawk offered. "Or at least close enough to get eyes on your people."
That got a surprised look from Rick, not expecting Hawk, of all people, to offer help.
Glenn blinked, unable to believe what he had just heard. "Wait… seriously?"
They had to be joking, right?
Hawk gave a firm nod before reaching into his back pocket and taking out a handgun.
He offered it to Glenn as a sign of trust.
Said person was currently looking at him in total and utter confusion, unsure of what to do.
"Finish gathering what you can, and we'll get you back to your group safely."
The sniper said while going over to Glenn, took his arm, and placed the gun into the man's hand.
Glenn looked up and down at Hawk and the gun, visibly discombobulated by a complete stranger handing him one of their weapons for nothing in return.
"Uh… yeah. Yeah, okay, thank you!"
Rick smirked faintly at the kid's bewilderment.
"Welcome to the club," he thought.
They spent the next few minutes quietly combing the store.
Doc found a sealed first-aid kit still tucked beneath the pharmacy counter.
He gave it to Glenn.
Hawk dug out a few more unopened cans of soup and spaghetti from behind a collapsed shelf, enough to feed at least ten people.
He gave it to Glenn.
Rick got a few sealed water bottles and found an old, still-working flashlight near the registers.
He followed the other two's lead and also gave it to Glenn.
It wasn't much, but it was something.
But the look on Glenn's face said it meant the world to him.
When they regrouped near the front entrance, the sun was lower now, but they still had time before it became dark.
Hawk flicked his hand in a sharp signal.
Move out.
They exited through the front, single-file, weapons ready.
Glenn stuck close to Rick, trying to match their silent, surgical pace.
The walk started off quietly.
The kind of quiet that made Glenn anxious.
After a couple of blocks weaving through alleyways and side streets in silence, Glenn finally spoke, no longer able to take the silence.
"So… you guys from around here, or…?"
No answer.
"...You guys like video games?"
Doc didn't even glance back.
"...Favorite food?"
Hawk didn't acknowledge the question.
"..."
Rick let the silence stretch a little longer before finally sighing.
"Don't take it personally," he said, giving Glenn a sidelong glance. "They don't talk much."
Glenn looked over, clearly grateful someone was willing to respond. "You don't say."
Rick chuckled.
"Believe me, I've been trying to crack them since we got here. You'll have better luck getting a corpse to talk."
"That bad, huh?"
"They're good at what they do," Rick said, remembering how effective they were in getting out of the tough situation with the walker horde earlier. "Real good, but they're not big on conversation."
Glenn adjusted the straps on his backpack, still glancing warily at the two masked men ahead of them.
"What are they? They're not actually military, are they? They look more like Mercenaries, and what's up with the masks?"
Rick shook his head, also looking at the two.
"…I have no idea."
"Seriously?" He asked in disbelief, "Aren't you with them?"
Rick sighed, rubbing the back of his head.
"I barely know them for a day, and even then, the most I know about them is their names, which are more code names than actual names, and that they follow a kid named Leo who leads a whole army of them."
"...You're joking, right?" Glenn raised an eyebrow. "A kid runs your group? And you've got to be exaggerating when you say he has an army following him."
Rick didn't respond right away.
He just looked ahead at Hawk and Doc moving in sync in front of them, weapons always ready, scanning the buildings, rooftops, even the wind like it could turn hostile.
Then he looked back at Glenn.
"Nope," he said finally, voice low. "Not joking, I counted at least a hundred of them."
Glenn blinked, unable to mentally process that many people.
"You're telling me an actual kid… like, how old are we talking here? seventeen? Eighteen?"
"Fifteen," Rick smiled at the choked noise that came from Glenn.
"Jesus," Glenn muttered.
"He found me, dragged me out of a hospital bed and saved my ass. Took me back to his base, a whole community of people that he also saved, and told me what happened while I was out… He's helped me more than I can ever hope to repay him for."
Glenn looked at him like he wasn't sure whether to believe it or not.
"Okay… sure. So let me get this straight, this kid runs a base, has a whole community, commands trained soldiers—"
"They're not soldiers," Rick said quickly. "...I think."
Before Glenn could respond, Hawk gave the signal again to stop, and it immediately became silent.
After a minute or two, he signalled again.
Two fingers, forward movement, and they resumed.
The streets here were quieter than before, but the tension hung just as thick. Every broken window felt like an eye watching them.
Glenn kept closer to Rick now, glancing every few seconds toward the rooftops.
Eventually, Rick broke the silence again. "So what about your group? What's your plan?"
Glenn glanced at him, grateful for the question.
"Gather as many supplies as we can find," he said. "And head back to camp, usually I do supplies runs alone, but the others decided to come this time."
"Who's in charge?"
Glenn hesitated, like he wasn't sure whether to name names.
Then shrugged after a moment of thinking.
"It's mostly democratic, everyone's still trying to play nice, despite them not really succeeding on the nice part."
Rick grunted. "That won't last."
"No," Glenn agreed. "Not when things get worse."
They walked a little farther before Rick spoke again.
"You trust them?"
Glenn gave a wry smile. "I trust them not to kill each other. That's about all you can really ask for nowadays."
Their conversation continued with Rick asking how well Glenn's group is doing surviving all this, while Glenn asked any questions that popped into his head, such as his favorite movies, what he did before all this, and–
"Hey, you guys never told me your names!"
Rick glanced over at Glenn, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"You mean their names?" he asked, tilting his head toward Hawk and Doc, who were still several steps ahead.
Glenn knew damn well getting a name out of them was not going to be easy, so he went to the one person willing to talk.
"Well, yeah, but also yours," Glenn replied sheepishly. "You know, since we've been walking together for like half an hour and all."
Rick let out a small chuckle and offered his hand. "Rick. Rick Grimes."
Glenn shook it. "Glenn Rhee, but you already knew that."
Rick nodded toward the masked figures and introduced them.
"The one with the crossbow is Hawk, and the one in the doctor's coat is Doc. That's all I've gotten so far, and I didn't get it from them either. Leo told me their names."
"...So cool." The man in the cap mumbled before his eyes widened. "Wait, is Doc actually a Doctor?!"
He turned to look at Doc, awe in his eyes.
He just thought he wore a doctor's jacket to look cool!
"More or less, he's a doctor in training," Rick said. "He's patched me up pretty good when Leo got me out of the hospital.
"Still, that's amazing! Having a doctor, training or not, is still amazing!"
He was about to say more, but stopped when they arrived at an intersection, Hawk raised a fist again.
Rick saw what he saw.
The end of the block, where a building stood tall but broken.
"That's it!" Glenn said, pointing. "That's the place."
Hawk raised his crossbow slightly, but didn't speak while the medic scanned the area for any walkers that might be nearby.
Rick turned to Glenn.
"Any code? Signal to let them know it's you?"
"No," Glenn shook his head and raised a confused brow while walking up to the building. "Should we?"
He took out a walkie-talkie and talked into it.
"Guys, I'm back and I brought some friends with me."
They waited.
A long few seconds passed, tension building.
Then—
A voice responded from Glenn's device.
"Damn Glenn, what took you so long?"
Glenn smiled, shoulders sagging in relief. "That's them."
For the first time since they met him, Rick saw Glenn relax fully.
Rick gave him a pat on the shoulder.
"Looks like we got you back to your group safely."
Glenn grinned.
"Yeah, and I didn't even have to bribe you with all my soup."
"You still might," Rick said, half-teasing.
As they approached the building, the door opened slowly, just a crack.
A nervous voice called from inside on the upper floors. "Glenn?"
"It's me!" Glenn shouted back, waving. "I'm good! I've got help!"
A woman peeked through the door, wide-eyed.
And behind her, Rick saw the silhouettes of several people moving around, trying to get a peek outside.
They watched two of his people emerge cautiously from the second floor, waving them in.
Hawk and Doc moved in without a word, and Rick followed after them.
But Glenn lingered.
He looked at Rick.
Really looked at him.
Something in his voice earlier, when he'd talked about being saved, had stuck with Glenn.
"…Hey Rick," Glenn said, glancing up. "Back there, when you said the kid saved your life… what did you mean?"
Rick turned toward him, brows lifting slightly.
"I mean what I said."
"No, I get that, but—" Glenn paused, struggling to put the pieces together. "You said you woke up in a hospital? And that he told you what happened when you were out?"
Rick let out a slow breath, nodding once.
"Yeah."
Glenn blinked. "How does that work?"
He took a moment to think, to get his thoughts in order while they walked inside the building.
"I was shot during a shootout, back before all this, and was in a coma for a while. Woke up in an empty hospital bed, hooked up to machines that weren't running, no power. The whole place was quiet. Like death had already walked through and finished the job."
He paused, jaw tight.
"I didn't even know the world went to shit until Leo took me outside."
Glenn's face twisted in disbelief.
"He found me just minutes after I got out of bed. I was dehydrated, confused, half-dead, and could barely walk."
He looked at Glenn, voice steady.
"If he hadn't pulled me out… I wouldn't be here talking to you."
Glenn's mouth opened and closed for a second.
"And this Leo kid, what, just happened to be there?"
Rick gave a small, almost amused snort.
"Yeah, just happened to be there looting the place. Wearing that dragon mask and surrounded by guys like them—" he gestured toward Hawk and Doc, who now stood near the corner, keeping watch like statues. "Like he was already ten steps ahead of whatever the rest of us were still figuring out."
"That's… that's insane."
"Yeah, it is."
They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of it settling in.
Then Glenn shook his head, chuckling in disbelief.
"Man, I thought I'd seen some crazy shit… but you might just beat me out with what happened to you."
Rick gave him a small, tired smile. "Stick around, there's more where that came from."
Glenn laughed under his breath, incredulous but not mocking.
_____
The tension hit like a wall the moment they stepped into the building.
Rick saw it in an instant, the way the room shifted, like prey spotting a predator.
Five figures huddled in what used to be a lobby, their eyes sharp, wild with fear and suspicion.
Some of them were armed.
Not professionally, but desperate.
One held a gun with unsteady grips, one had a knife clutched so tight her knuckles had gone white, and another held a metal bat like a lifeline.
And then there was him.
Leaning against the wall near a boarded-up window, a wiry, sharp-eyed man with a permanent sneer and twitching fingers, fidgeting like he was itching for a fight or a hit.
His eyes were red-rimmed, not from lack of sleep but something else.
Rick had seen that look before during his days as an officer.
"Well, well," The man drawled, eyes flicking between the masked men. "Look at this damn parade. Thought you were dead, Glennie boy, who the hell are these sons of a bitches you brought back with you?"
Despite trying to appear not at all bothered by them, the way his fingers were twitching was a dead giveaway.
Hawk and Doc turned in sync to stare at the man in dead silence.
The tension ratcheted higher at the eerie site.
Rick's hand hovered near his holster, thumb already brushing the snap.
"Easy," Rick muttered, already shifting into a side stance, less threatening, but ready. "We're not here to start anything."
"You sure?" asked one of the women, a sharp-faced blonde with a gun shakily aimed at them. "They look like they walked out of a fucking freak show."
She was staring straight at Hawk and Doc, fear visible in her eyes.
They were statues, unreadable and unbothered.
They were not the least bit intimidated by the group in front of them.
Rick almost envied them.
"They with the military or somethin'?" The redneck asked, grin widening while looking at the two up and down. "Or is this one o' them cosplay groups gone mad?"
Glenn stepped forward fast, both palms out like a referee.
"Whoa, whoa, hold up! Everyone, calm the hell down! These guys brought me back safely and even gave me supplies! They even gave me a gun! They're good people!"
"That so?" the woman asked, still not lowering her gun.
"Yeah, that is so," Glenn snapped, more force in his voice than Rick expected. "And unless you want to try your luck against the two guys who look not the least bit intimidated despite being outnumbered, I'd suggest not pointing your weapons at them."
That made them pause.
The man with the bat lowered his weapon first. The others hesitated, glancing at one another before slowly and reluctantly lowering their weapons as well.
Rick let out a breath.
But Hawk and Doc hadn't moved an inch.
The only Latino of the group scratched the back of his neck and chuckled.
"Well damn, Glenn, you sure know how to make an entrance."
He turned toward Rick, squinting at what he was wearing.
"Why are you guys dressed like that?"
Looking down at himself and then at the two men he came with, he nodded his head in understanding.
"Rick Grimes, I was a sheriff's deputy before all this."
Getting a look of enlightenment from Glenn's group, they waited for the other two to do the same…
…
…
…
But got nothing from them.
"Sheriff, huh?" The redneck said with a mocking crooked grin. "You one o' them good ol' boys for big daddy law?"
He was trying to get a rise out of him, that much he could tell.
"Just a man trying to survive like everyone else."
That got a snort out of him.
"Well, ain't we all." The Latino scratched his jaw, side-eying Hawk. "You fellas ever talk, or are you just gonna stand there creepily?"
Surprise, surprise, no response.
The silence dragged, awkward and heavy.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Glenn fidgeted under the weight of it, clearly trying to bridge the chasm between his group and the silent, statuesque men beside Rick.
Finally, he cleared his throat and stepped forward, gesturing toward the man with the crossbow first.
"Uh, right. So… this guy here—" Glenn pointed to Hawk. "He's Hawk! Don't ask for a real name, I don't know it either."
Hawk didn't acknowledge the introduction in any way.
The group glanced at each other, unsettled but quiet.
"And this guy—" Glenn turned to the man in the long coat and dragon mask, his voice rising a little with enthusiasm. "This is Doc!"
He stood there, cross-armed, unmoving, that eerie porcelain dragon mask catching the flicker of sunlight bleeding through the boarded window behind him.
"He's a doctor," Glenn added, beaming like he'd just introduced a celebrity.
That got a reaction out of the group, mostly disbelief.
"A what now?" the blonde with the gun said, brow scrunching.
"A doctor," Glenn repeated. "Okay, like, still in training technically, but he knows his stuff! He patched Rich up, he can personally attest!"
Rick gave a small nod of agreement, but the others didn't look convinced.
"Bullshit," the red-eyed man near the window said with a laugh, twitching as he sized Doc up. "You expect me to believe this guy, the one looking like he crawled out of a Japanese horror movie, is a doctor?"
"Yeah, not buying it," the blonde said. "He hasn't said a single word since you got here, and neither has his twin."
"Their… not the talkative type," Rick offered, trying to defend them but failing.
"More like the type to silently gut you!" The redneck laughed again, gesturing toward the mask. "What, he's gonna diagnose you through interpretive dance?"
"I'm telling you," Glenn said, stepping closer to Doc, as if his presence would somehow make him seem less intimidating. "He's probably the closest thing to a hospital right now."
His group still did not look like they trusted the man to give them a check-up, but having any doctor in this fucked up world was a godsend.
"…Okay," the Latino murmured, running a hand down his face. "Maybe he is a doctor. A terrifying, mute, masked one, but… I guess that's better than no doctor at all."
That got some nods from others around him.
"Don't all doctors also wear a mask?" Glenn mumbled but was largely ignored.
The woman with the gun lowered it completely now, though her eyes never left Doc.
"I'm gonna have nightmares about that mask," she muttered.
Rick didn't blame her; the first time he saw it, it nearly sent him back into a coma.
But Glenn just grinned and joked. "Yeah, but it grows on you like a tumor."
The two masked men tilted their heads at him..
"…Kidding," Glenn said quickly.
And then, for just a split second, so minuscule that he almost missed it, their heads gave the faintest shake.
Were they laughing…?
…Nah, must've been his imagination.
Glenn let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, shoulders relaxing now that his people had officially accepted the three strangers… albeit reluctantly.
He turned to Rick, then Doc, then finally Hawk.
"Thanks… for getting me back here," Glenn said earnestly, eyes shifting between their silent masks. "Seriously. You didn't have to help me, but you did."
He reached into his coat and carefully pulled the pistol Hawk had given him, holding it out by the grip handle first.
"Here, this belongs to you."
Hawk didn't move at first, but then slowly, he tilted his head, gaze locking onto Glenn's outstretched hand.
The moment stretched.
Then Hawk raised his hand, not to take the gun, but to gently push it back toward Glenn.
"Keep it."
The word was low, gravelly, carved straight from stone.
Everyone froze at the sound of his voice.
The blonde woman with the gun sucked in a sharp breath.
The red-eyed twitchy guy straightened like he'd heard thunder.
Glenn stood there dumbly, gun still in hand, mouth slightly open. "I… uh…"
He started to protest, but then Hawk looked at him.
Just looked.
No words.
No gesture.
Just that blank, unblinking stare behind the visor of his mask.
Like he was staring straight through him.
Straight into the part of him that still carried doubt, fear, guilt, every hidden thing Glenn didn't want anyone to see.
Glenn swallowed.
"Right," he muttered shakily, taking back the pistol. "Thanks. For the, uh… gift."
There was an awkward silence after that.
Then Glenn found his voice again. "So… I mean, you helped me, gave me food, gear, even a gun. There's gotta be something I can do to return the favor. Anything, I mean it."
"Don't say anything." A dark skinned woman told him cautiously.
Rick was about to wave him off, the words already forming.
But then he stopped.
A thought clicked into place, sharp and sudden.
He turned to Glenn, expression tightening.
"…There is something you can do."
That got everyone's attention.
Glenn smiled. "What is it?"
Rick's eyes narrowed.
"The shelters," he said. "When things first went bad, there were evacuation shelters set up around the city. People were told to gather at them for protection."
He stepped forward slightly, voice firm now. "What happened to them?"
Glenn's smile faded fast.
"Ah…" He scratched the back of his neck, his gaze flicking to the others behind him. "Yeah… that's not a good story."
Rick didn't blink. "Tell me."
Glenn sighed, his voice quieter now. "Most of them never lasted more than a week, some not even a few days. Too many people crammed into one place. Not enough food, water, medicine… leadership."
He glanced down at the floor.
"And when the dead came knocking, most of them weren't strong enough to keep them out, hell, some of them even got in before that."
Rick stared.
No one said anything.
"Atlanta's evacuation failed," Glenn added quietly. "They tried, but the shelters? They turned into tombs."
Rick felt a hollow pressure settle in his chest.
He hadn't really expected a happy answer.
But hearing it confirmed… still hit hard.
He looked at Hawk and Doc.
They didn't react.
Didn't have to.
He could feel the same thing weighing on all of them.
Glenn looked between them, his voice soft.
"You're asking about the shelters… were you looking for someone?"
Rick nodded once, jaw tight.
"My family."
Glenn didn't say sorry.
Didn't offer hollow comfort.
He just nodded while everyone looked at Rick with either pity or sympathy.
"I hope they're still out there."
Rick said nothing.
Because hope… was all he had left.