CG

The tires of Rick’s cruiser screamed against the asphalt as he rammed the side of our car, sending us spinning violently off the road and crashing into the dark, abandoned building. The impact jarred my teeth, and the smell of burning rubber and deployed airbags filled the cabin. Through the smoke, I looked up from the backseat at Negan, his face bloodied but his eyes wide with a terrifying, protective panic. Rick’s vision was completely blurred with pure, unadulterated grief. Carl was dead. The bite had taken him. But Rick, broken and unable to let go, hadn't driven a knife into his son's brain. Instead, he had left Carl’s reanimated corpse to roam the deep woods of Alexandria—a father's final, desperate refusal to truly say goodbye. Rick leapt from his smoking vehicle, hatchet in hand, entirely unaware of two massive secrets. First, he had no idea that hours ago, a rogue faction of scientists operating in the shadows of the Virginia wilderness had snagged Carl's wandering walker self right out of the forest. Second, as Rick stormed toward our crashed car, he didn't know that Negan and I were the only ones inside. Meanwhile, miles away in a sterile, underground bunker, the impossible had happened. Carl blinked, his eyes straining against the harsh fluorescent lights of a concrete cell. His throat burned, not for flesh, but for water. He looked down at his hands—the decaying, grey skin had receded, replaced by pale, living flesh. For a month, he had been locked in this cell, injected daily with a synthesized compound. For weeks, he had been a mindless monster. But for the last two days, Carl Grimes had been completely, undeniably human again. Sitting up on his cot, he stared at the reinforced glass of his cell as a doctor walked up to the intercom. "Welcome back, Carl," the voice crackled. "You're the first one to survive." Carl stared at her, his voice raspy and raw. "Who... who are you? How am I alive?" The woman stepped closer to the glass, pulling down her surgi