Changing To Adapt ➵ TWD

➵ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱɪxᴛʏ

Rick was unaware of this new world the moment he came out of his coma, stumbling the streets in nothing but a hospital gown. A man named Morgan and his son, Duane, found him a few houses away from home. They explained everything.

And this Morgan happens to be the very face they stare down at today. You know, the guy Carl almost killed.

Lucas holds his gun loosely to the man's temple. He may be out like a light but taking precautions is in their best interest.

Carl watches his dad and Michonne check out the apartment building, but it doesn't take them long to come back and lift Morgan into their arms.

"Boys, watch the wire," Rick calls from the top of the stairs.

When Lucas pushes through with the kid in tow, he steps dramatically wide over the wire to show Carl where it is. His eyes find the bloody axe hanging from the roof, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he notices it doesn't hang low enough to hit someone of Carl's size. Aka, children.

"Holy shit." Lucas laughs breathlessly the second they enter the living room. "Found your armory."

Snipers, rifles, handguns, crossbows, grenades? Everything you could imagine a police station to own is right here, from top to bottom.

"I showed him that weapon locker last year." Rick grunts, hauling Morgan into the room.

"And it had all of this in it?" Michonne asks, on the man's other side.

"No, not even half. He's been busy." His eyes find the bed in the corner and he blows out a breath, "The cot."

Lucas is too busy scoping out the other rooms to gather the guns like Carl and Michonne have already begun doing. He'd like to make sure there were no more surprises waiting for them.

"No sign of the kid." He turns the corner back into view. But Rick's focus is on something else entirely, bloodshot eyes staring at the wall.

Brows knitting together, Lucas moves around the gun carton to stand beside him.

On the wall, in big, red letters. 

DUANE TURNED.

Lucas blinks a few times. 

There is no kid to find. 

He swipes a hand across his nose and turns the other way.

"No." Rick's hoarse voice calls out, facing Carl and Michonne, "We're gonna wait for him to wake up. Make sure he's okay."

Exasperated, Michonne retorts. "He tried to kill us."

"He told us to go. He didn't know who we were."

"He tried to kill us and we didn't leave him for the walkers, he's had a good day." She says, standing her ground. "He doesn't need half of these guns. We do."

Rick turns back to look at Morgan. His mind is already made up. "We're waiting for him to wake up. That's it."

Michonne sighs, shifting her weight to her other foot. "Have you taken a look around this place? The axe, the spikes, the walls."

Taking the opportunity, Lucas lowers himself to the closest box and rolls his aching shoulder with a groan. He could use some aspirin.

He looks up, slowly, and squints his eyes at the opposite wall. Someone who has an armory of guns would surely have some painkillers to back them up. . . right?

"You think he's crazy?" Rick snaps.

She has a very good point when she retorts, her head tilted. "No. I think he's dangerous."