If someone told Rick that he would've been in a comatose state for God knows how long and then wake up in what seemed like a completely different universe, he would've probably arrested them for doing drugs.

Unfortunately, that seemed to be his current reality.

Fresh out of the hospital, the world seemed to have gone to hell — quite literally, too. Corpses were present no matter where he went, the smell of gore and blood making his stomach churn with nausea. It didn't help that he was already freshly injured, his gunshot wound aching with every step he took.

Currently, Rick was seating on the steps in front of his house. Or, well, at least what used to be his house. His family was gone, the house ransacked. Just what the hell had happened? How long had he been unconscious for?

Relief coursed through his veins once he spotted another person limping in his direction. Oblivious to their moldy clothes and rotting skin, he waved them over to catch their attention.

Rick didn't notice you coming up behind him either, nor did he notice that the person approaching him was, in fact, not a living human, too busy trying to make sense of this situation.