Chapter Text
A mass of undulating bodies, all around, surrounding him, grabbing, reaching for him, their faces only gaping mouths, shrieking at him. No eyes. No nose. Not one hair upon their heads. Just those open maws…
And then nothing.
The man rose from his hibernation, a sleep so deep, it left him truly disoriented.
The sun was relentless in its intensity, its golden rays hurting his eyes as he tried to blink them open.
Looking around the bright room, his eyes fell on the vase of flowers, old, withered and dying.
Not dying.
Dead.
I’ve obviously been here a long time.
Another question popped into his head just as quickly, looking at the dead flowers.
Why did they forget me?
As he searched around the room frantically, his mind did an equally frantic search.
It kept going over and over the data in his head, but nothing was coming up.
He looked at the hospital band wrapped around his wrist.
RICK GRIMES
BLOOD TYPE: A+
The name didn’t ring a bell.
There wasn’t anything.
He knew the name for this.
Amnesia.
Why he would remember the name of his current state, but not something as simple as who he actually was, besides his name and blood type, he had no idea.
Sitting up gingerly, he held onto the support of the IV stand, falling over in his haste to leave the bed.
Despite the pain, he had to upright himself. He must leave this room.
He noticed the bandage surrounding his waist.
This must be why I’m here.
He wanted to play with the dressing, but didn’t dare.
Looking into the mirror in his room, the haggard face staring back at him, he had hoped this would trigger some recollection of himself.
No such luck.
Why did I forget me?
Stepping out of the room, having to push the door open as something was blocking it, Rick made his way out into the corridor.
Walking down the hallway, he noticed something wrong.
Just wrong.
The place was lit by flickering fluorescents.
There were papers, office and medical supplies strewn everywhere.
Everyone was gone.
Peering into the hallway, he could see the decomposed corpse of a woman.
It's not there. It’s not there.
The mantra in his hand kept repeating, but he knew it wouldn't matter.
He opened his eyes again.
Still there.
What did you think would happen?
As he walked further, he noticed the hallways had become more destroyed by time or disuse.
No, not time. You know what made those holes in the walls.
The walls and floors were smeared with blood.
At the end of the hallway, he noticed two double doors.
DON’T OPEN. DEAD INSIDE.
The bar across the doors kept banging back and forth, as if something within was trying to get out.
And just as he had thought that, he could see the fingers of what lay inside trying to find their way out.
This was wrong.
This was all wrong.
This isn’t here.
I’m not here.
Whoever the fuck I am.
He continued onward to the outside, the light blinding him as he opened the door.
There were numerous bodies all laid out, covered in white cloth.
The dead.
It didn’t matter, because they weren’t there.
He kept walking, not knowing where he should he headed.
Where’s home?
Do I even have one?
What about family?
Do I even have one of those?
He walked past the hospital and came into the town proper, where he saw a bicycle laying on its side.
He at least remembered how to ride one of those, he reasoned with himself.
That’s when he saw the partial body of a woman laying on the grass, it moving its rotted head around to look at him.
No.
This was not happening.
The thing on the lawn was just a fabrication of his damaged mind.
I’m still in a coma.
I’ll wake up any minute.
Or not.
I won’t wake up and stay in my slumber forever.
At this point, I'm okay with that.
Riding the bike, he came upon a quiet street with a row of pretty houses.
The suburban dream.
He knew to call it that.
The street looked as if it had been frozen in time.
Children’s toys on the lawn, the remnants of a birthday party and a barbecue on another lawn.
And then he saw the figure.
Stepping off the bike, he called out.
“Hey! I’m here!” Rick shouted out.
The figure stopped in its aimless rambling of wherever it was going and slowly…
So slowly
...walked towards Rick, its arms at an awkward angle to its body, swaying about.
It was a man in a suit.
Rick got a good look at the face.
This can’t be.
No.
No!
This wasn’t right.
The thing ambling toward him was dead.
He knew dead when he saw it.
And this was dead.
Are you sure? After all, you wouldn’t have even known your name if it hadn’t been written on that thing on your wrist.
Rick kept walking backwards from the thing, his hands out in front of him as if to ward the monstrosity from the very depths of hell away.
And that was when it hit Rick, right before the thing could come crashing down on him, ready to devour him, whether it be his flesh or his sanity.
The bodies at the hospital, the thing ready to bare down on him, and the reason he couldn’t remember who he was, why he had no recollection of his past existence.
He had died and was now in hell.