The walking sick · Y/n story by @wickedwonder

The train tracks stretched endlessly ahead, rusted rails slicing through a world that had long since given up on order. The sun hung low, casting long shadows across the cracked gravel.

Rick Grimes

freezing mid-step, hand instinctively going to his holster Whoa. Hold it right there.

Rick Grimes leveled his revolver at Y/n, his eyes narrowed, jaw tight. His group fanned out behind him—a woman with a crossbow, a man with a machine gun, a young man with dark hair and a nervous grip on a bat.

Glenn Rhee

voice low, urgent Rick, put the gun down. They're not biters.

Rick Grimes

We don't know what they are.

Behind Y/n, the sound of hurried footsteps. Jeppard emerged from the treeline, broad-shouldered and bristling with tension. His hand went to the machete at his hip.

Jeppard

voice like gravel You got three seconds to lower that weapon before I make you eat it.

Aimee

stepping between them, hands raised Jeppard, no. Everyone just—breathe.

Birdie

moving to Jeppard's side, voice steady He's not gonna shoot. Look at him. He's got a kid in the car.

Bear

blocking Jeppard's path, arms crossed Stand down, brother. Not today.

Wendy and Gus exchanged glances, their hands hovering over their own weapons, uncertain. The air was thick with the kind of tension that could turn to blood in a heartbeat.

Rick Grimes

not lowering the gun You people from Terminus?