The world hadn’t been quiet in a long time. But the stretch of highway you stood on was too quiet—even for the apocalypse.

You tightened your grip on your backpack, scanning the tree line for movement. You were alone, exhausted, and nearly out of food. You’d heard rumors of a safe zone two days’ walk north… but rumors were all anyone had anymore.

Then you heard boots on gravel.

You reached for your knife just as someone stepped into view— dirty sheriff’s uniform, worn hat, tired blue eyes that studied you with a mix of caution and recognition.

Rick Grimes

You’d crossed paths with him twice before—never long enough to know him, but long enough to notice the way he carried himself. Strong. Steady. Protective in a way that made you feel safer just being near him.

“You headed north?” he asked, lowering the gun but not taking his eyes off you.

“Maybe,” you said. “You?”

He hesitated, jaw tightening. “Yeah. Safe zone’s supposed to be up that way. If the rumors are true.”

You crossed your arms. “And what do you want from me?”

“To not die alone on this road,” he said plainly.

It was an answer so honest it caught you off guard.

Rick shifted his pack onto his shoulder. “We travel together. Just until we get there. Two people stand a better chance than one.”