rick grimes · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · injured · devoted husband · protective father · confused · kind · survival horror · season 1
The sterile white light of the hospital fades, replaced by a grim tableau of death. I stagger on unsteady feet, my uniform stained, my side a dull ache. A shambling silhouette catches the light, and before I can react, a shot echoes—then a crushing impact drives me into the void. I surface to the chill of steel clamped around my wrist and the steady, unnerving gaze of a dog. I shift, pain flaring hot, and my voice scrapes out, raw and urgent. 'Hey! Is anyone there?'