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Next update? Fuck this cultivation world!
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Chapter 11
Rick held back the urge to honk at Hound, who was taking his sweet time to comfort and feed his horse.
He had completely forgotten about the damn thing, but Hound did not.
As can be seen when he rubbed the red slap mark on his cheek, delivered to him by Hound when he tried to speed past the horse trailer instead of stopping.
"You should've stopped," Hawk mumbled out while checking his gun from the seat beside him.
Rick didn't bother to dignify that with a response.
HOOOOONK
Rick winced and shot an annoyed glare forward.
Of course, it was Merle.
The man leaned halfway out of the car's roof window, cigarette in one hand, elbow hanging out lazily like he was on a Sunday drive.
He grinned like a bastard and slammed the horn again, longer this time, just to be a jackass.
Rick swore he could feel his blood pressure spike.
"Come on!" Merle yelled over the roof of the car, his voice carrying across the quiet street. "What's the holdup!? We're gonna ride in on horseback like fuckin' cowboys or something!?"
He got smacked in the back of the head by Andrea, who was less than pleased by all the loud noise he was making.
"Don't honk the fucking car! You want us all to get fucking surrounded!?"
He merely continued to laugh, high off his fucking rocker.
Hound finally stepped away from the trailer, dusting his gloves off as the last latch clicked into place with a heavy thunk.
He gave the horse a final pat on the neck, murmured something low and quiet to it, probably a damn lullaby, for all Rick knew, then turned toward the car.
His boots crunched softly over the gravel as he approached, calm and unhurried.
Rick watched him in the mirror, practically vibrating in his seat, every muscle tight with barely restrained urgency.
The back side door opened, and Hound climbed back in like he'd just returned from a casual stroll, not delaying what felt like the most important moment of Rick's goddamn life.
He looked at Rick.
And nodded once.
Rick exhaled through his nose, a long, slow breath he'd been holding in for what felt like an eternity.
His grip on the wheel eased.
"Finally," he muttered under his breath, rubbing his cheek again.
Then he leaned his arm out the window and waved it in a wide arc toward Glenn's car up ahead.
The message was clear: no more delays and no more stops, they were rolling out.
Glenn gave a quick thumbs up from the side mirror, and the lead vehicle started forward, tires crunching over broken asphalt.
Rick shifted gears and followed close behind, the horse trailer bumping gently behind them as they passed beneath the skeletal tree line and rolled deeper into Atlanta's ruins.
He didn't know what he was going to find at the end of this road, but he knew who he was looking for.
He was going to find them.
God damn it, he was going to find them.
———
Shane adjusted the strap of his rifle across his shoulder as he walked a slow circle around the edge of the camp, eyes sweeping over everything like a hawk watching its territory.
The late-afternoon sun beat down across the camp and surrounding trees, casting long shadows and drawing sweat down the back of his neck, but he didn't stop.
Keeping the camp running wasn't just a job anymore; it was survival. And if he didn't stay on top of everything, everything was going to go to shit.
A few kids were stacking empty water jugs by the storage tent, laughing too loudly for his liking. Shane gave them a sharp look, and their laughter quickly died down.
They got the message.
To his right, Dale was on watch, perched near the camp's front edge with binoculars and walkies. He nodded to him as he passed, earning a quick nod in return.
He rounded the far end of the RV and scanned the back row of tents.
Andrea's sister was cooking a fish she caught while a few older folks were folding blankets or washing down by the water barrels.
Every piece of order here was a thread holding the camp together, and Shane had become the one stitching it all day after day.
It wasn't perfect, it wasn't even close.
But it worked.
They were alive, safe, and fed.
And that counted for something.
His eyes drifted toward the far corner of camp, past the firepit and a line of hung-up laundry fluttering in the breeze.
That's when he saw them.
Shane's pace slowed.
Lori was crouched next to a large plastic bin, carefully folding freshly dried clothes while Carl sat beside her, separating socks with a look of boredom on his face.
There they were.
The two people who made all of this worth it.
Carl let out a huff as a pair of socks slipped from his lap, and Lori laughed gently, brushing his hair back as she leaned in to help him. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, her cheeks pink from the sun, and she looked… alive.
And in that moment, nothing else mattered.
Shane's chest eased, his expression softening into a rare, unguarded smile.
Lori looked up, saw him, and smiled back.
It wasn't a long look, just a few seconds, but it felt warm an—
"Our runners are back!" Dale's voice rang out from atop the RV, breaking the calm like a rock through glass. "And another car is following them!"
The camp shifted instantly.
Shane's smile dropped, and his entire posture changed.
Unless they found another usable car in the city, the car following them belonged to someone not part of their group.
He turned on a dime and started walking fast toward the front perimeter, weaving through curious onlookers already moving to see what the commotion was about.
Dale was squinting through a pair of binoculars, hand shielding his eyes from the sun. Shane climbed the RV ladder quickly and stepped up beside him.
"What is it?"
"They made it back," Dale said, handing Shane the binoculars. "But they aren't alone, there's another car behind them. Can't see much from here, but it's armored… and dragging a horse trailer."
Shane blinked.
"…A horse trailer?"
That got a few confused murmurs from below. People were gathering now, glancing between each other and the road, curiosity mixing with unease.
He lifted the binoculars to his eyes and focused in.
Sure enough, their beat-up vehicle was at the front, headlights flashing briefly as it turned off the road toward the camp.
The second vehicle behind it was far more of a mystery. Sleek, dark, reinforced with matte plates and odd metal seams that weren't standard issue.
The trailer attached to the back jostled lightly as the car followed, kicking up dust.
He couldn't see much through the tinted windshield… but something about the way it moved made the hairs on his arms stand up.
"Who the hell is that?" Dale asked, his voice a bit more cautious now.
Shane lowered the binoculars slowly, his jaw tight. "We're about to find out."
He turned and called down to the others. "Alright, listen up! Our runner group is back, but they've got company. Nobody panic, just stay alert. Keep the exits clear, and don't start anything unless someone gives you a damn good reason."
People nodded and began to move, the air buzzing with tension.
Lori stepped toward the center of the camp with Carl clinging close, her eyes flicking toward Shane.
He met her gaze and gave the slightest nod, reassurance, for now.
But inside?
His stomach was a knot of uncertainty.
Because if someone else had found them out here, especially someone organized enough to own that vehicle, then their safe little bubble might be about to pop.
And if it came down to it, he would sacrifice everyone in the camp for Lor and Carl.
He would keep them safe.
No matter what it took.
The cars rolled to a slow stop just outside the gravel boundary of the camp, kicking up a wave of dust that drifted lazily through the air.
People were already gathering near the RV, eyes wide with curiosity and tension, murmurs rising with each passing second.
The first door opened on Glenn's car.
Amy was the first to react, bolting from the line of laundry with a gasp.
"Andrea!"
Andrea barely had time to turn before her little sister flung herself into her arms, nearly knocking them both over. The older woman wrapped her arms around Amy with a relieved, tearful laugh, squeezing her like she'd come back from the grave.
"You came back!" Amy laughed into her sister's shoulder.
"I'm fine! I'm fine," Andrea whispered back, her voice thick. "I'm here, okay? I'm here."
From the passenger side, Morales stepped out and grinned the moment he spotted his family by their tent. "Mi amor! Kids!"
He sprinted across the open ground, arms outstretched, laughing with pure joy as his wife ran to meet him.
His kids clung to his legs the moment he dropped to one knee, and he hugged them all as if they were his entire world.
Merle was next, swaggering out of the backseat with a smirk and his usual drawl.
"Where's my baby brother at?"
Shane, slowly getting down the RV ladder, answered flatly. "Out hunting."
"Tch! Course he is." Merle chuckled, slapping dust off his pants. "Boys' always sniffin' around in the woods."
Jacqui and T-Dog exited quietly after that, scanning the camp like they were seeing it with fresh eyes.
They didn't run to anyone, nor did anyone run to them, but they smiled at the sight of families reuniting.
Glenn stepped out last, hands on his hips, grinning at the scene like he'd just brought Santa Claus home in the trunk.
But Shane's eyes weren't on any of them.
His gaze was fixed on the second vehicle, the armored one.
The dark beast of a car that sat like a coiled animal, its windows tinted too dark to see inside.
No one had come out yet.
Just the faint creak of metal from the trailer behind it showed any indication of life.
Shane narrowed his eyes and climbed down the ladder, boots hitting the dirt with purpose as he marched toward Glenn.
He didn't waste time.
"Who the hell are they?" he demanded, his words sharp.
Glenn opened his mouth, clearly excited.
"Shane, man, you won't believe this. It's—"
But the click of a car door swinging open cut him off.
Every head turned at once.
The camp fell silent, keeping a nervous eye on the newcomer.
The back passenger door of the armored vehicle closed with a soft thunk… and a man stepped out into the light.
Uniforms, boots, and a sheriff's badge on his chest.
Shane recognized the man the moment he laid eyes on him.
Rick Grimes.
Alive.
Shane's breath caught in his throat. His feet locked in place.
The man he'd buried in his heart and mourned in silence… stood there, flesh and blood and real as the dirt underneath his feet.
The shock hit Shane like a bullet to the gut.
"Rick…?" he whispered, barely audible.
He wasn't the only one who recognized who the man was.
"DAD!"
Carl's voice cracked like thunder through the stunned quiet.
Shane turned just in time to see the boy tear past him, legs pumping, eyes wet with tears.
Rick dropped to his knees as Carl collided with him in a desperate, crushing hug.
The man wrapped his arms around his son, holding him so tight it looked like he'd never let go again.
Carl buried his face in Rick's Stomach, sobbing openly, words pouring out between gasps.
"I knew you were alive! I knew it! I knew it! I kne—"
"I'm here," Rick choked out, voice thick, eyes squeezed shut. "I'm here, I'm right here."
Shane looked behind him, and his heart froze.
Lori stood frozen, her arms limp at her sides, mouth slightly agape.
Her heart was thudding so hard in her chest it felt like it might crack open, but she couldn't make her body believe what her eyes were seeing.
She let out a strangled breath as tears welled up in her eyes, the bin of laundry forgotten beside her. Carl's cries echoed in her ears, tugging her like a lifeline back toward the man they had both thought was gone forever.
Then she ran.
Across the camp, through the dust and the murmurs and the stunned silence of the crowd.
Rick barely had time to look up before she collided into him, arms wrapping around both him and Carl in a desperate embrace that shook with every breath.
She buried her face in his neck, sobbing openly now. "Rick… Rick… oh my God…"
"I'm here," Rick whispered again, voice cracking.
He held them both as if they were made of glass and he'd been through hell to piece them back together. Carl's little arms stayed locked around his waist, face hidden in his shirt, while Lori clung to his back like she'd never let go again.
Shane stood frozen, heart pounding in his chest like a war drum.
Everyone else around them seemed to vanish.
And for a long moment, nothing else in the world mattered.
The camp stood still.
Soft murmurs broke the silence, scattered voices.
Some smiled quietly at the reunion. Others glanced sideways at Shane, confusion and curiosity in their eyes.
He didn't meet any of them.
Shane stood stiff near the RV, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, eyes locked somewhere off in the distance.
He couldn't look, couldn't stand to look.
He'd prepared for a thousand different emergencies. Raiders, walkers, and a collapse of order in camp.
But this?
Rick Grimes walking back from the grave and hugging the very people Shane had come to see as his?
No plan covered that.
No part of him knew what to do with the shame twisting deep in his gut, or the way his heart squeezed when Lori didn't so much as glance his way.
She was wrapped up in Rick now.
Back in his orbit.
Like Shane had never existed.
He swallowed hard and looked down, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek, jaw tight as a drum.
The sounds of sobbing and joy hurt more than they should have.
He'd fought so hard to keep them safe.
He'd loved them.
But he wasn't Rick.
And Rick was back.
After what felt like forever, the hug finally loosened.
Rick pulled away just enough to wipe Carl's tears and brush Lori's hair gently back from her face, cupping her cheek with shaking fingers. He kissed her forehead, whispering something only she could hear.
Then he turned.
Rick's eyes scanned the camp until they landed on Shane, and without hesitation, he approached.
Shane blinked, startled.
He straightened slightly, as if bracing himself for something he couldn't define.
Rick didn't speak right away; he just reached out…
And pulled Shane into a hug.
Shane's eyes widened, caught completely off guard.
Rick's voice was full of gratitude.
"Thank you for keeping them safe. I don't… I don't know how I can ever repay you."
Shane hesitated, his meeting Lori's who quickly turned away, and his jaw clenched.
Then slowly, his hands rose and clapped Rick's back once.
Harder than necessary, tense and stiff.
"I did what I had to," he muttered, unsure of what else to say.
Rick pulled back with a tired smile, nodding once, his hand gripping Shane's shoulder in thanks.
Shane nodded back, forcing a small, tight smile.
But inside?
Everything was unraveling because Rick was back.
And nothing… nothing would ever be the same.
He coughed and pulled out of the hug, taking a step back away from Rick.
"H-How… How are you here?"
Rick hesitated at Shane's question, before glancing behind him with a flicker of realization.
The second car still hadn't opened.
The dark armored vehicle sat quiet and still like a beast at rest, but Rick could feel them watching.
He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flicking from Shane to the car, then back again.
"Yeah…" he muttered, almost to himself. "Right."
Rick turned fully, shoulders lifting with a deep breath before letting it out slowly. "I'll explain, just, just hold on."
Shane watched, jaw still tight, as Rick jogged back toward the armored vehicle. His boots kicked up soft puffs of dirt as he went, and Shane's eyes narrowed as his brother in all but blood approached the tinted rear window on the driver's side.
Rick leaned down, speaking to someone inside.
The words didn't carry, not enough to hear from this far, but whatever he was saying, he was saying it quietly, almost like someone trying to convince a shy dog it was safe to come out from under the porch.
Shane's eyes didn't move from them.
Not even when Dale stepped beside him and whispered, "You know that guy?"
Shane just nodded his head once, lips pressed into a thin line.
Rick spoke firmly to the people inside the vehicle, then took a step back and gestured toward the camp, clearly urging them to exit.
There was a pause, a long, silent pause.
And then… the car door cracked open.
Shane felt the mood shift instantly.
The low groan of the reinforced metal echoed unnaturally loud in the stunned quiet.
A boot stepped out; it was thick, black, and plated. The figure stood tall, wearing sleek matte armor and weapons that draped over his shoulder.
And then came the mask.
A dragon's face, carved from bone or something like it. It was worn, weathered, and utterly inhuman. Hollow sockets stared out at them, shaped into a permanent expressionless stare.
Another door opened.
Then another.
Two more masked figures stepped out, each one different, but all eerily similar in how they moved.
Coordinated and controlled, like wolves let off a leash but not quite free to run.
One of them reached down and patted the German Shepherd by his side. Another paused to calmly tighten a glove.
Shane's hand immediately dropped toward his rifle.
And he wasn't the only one.
Dale tensed beside him, Amy cursed under her breath, and Lori quickly brought her son closer to her side, while whispering, "What the hell…"
The camp was locked in sudden, rigid silence. Mothers held their kids close. A few of the men from the tents reached instinctively for whatever blunt tools or weapons they had nearby.
Rick raised his hand quickly, stepping between the masked figures and the gathering camp.
"Hey! Hey, it's alright!" he called, voice calm but firm. "They're with me!"
He turned, arms still spread slightly, trying to appear open, non-threatening.
"I know they look… intense," he said, choosing the word carefully. "But they saved my life! When I woke up in the hospital, there was no one there! No staff and no help! I barely made it out of bed before I passed out."
He looked at the camp again, meeting Shane's eyes.
"They found me, at least, their leader's name," Rick said, nodding toward them who now stood with their arms loosely folded, heads slightly tilted. "His name's Leo. He was looking for medical supplies before he found me, bandaged me, and fed me."
Rick paused, his voice softening.
"He gave me supplies, weapons, and even some of his men just to help me find my family."
Shane squinted, gaze darting between the masked men and Rick.
"And you trust them?" he asked in disbelief, not moving his hand from his weapon.
"With my life," Rick answered without hesitation.
There was no bravado in his voice, no forced confidence.
Rick turned again, walking slowly toward the center figure, the one in the black mask. He clapped him on the shoulder like an old friend.
Shane couldn't explain it, but the way that mask moved… like it was studying them.
Not like a threat, exactly, but like someone taking notes of weaknesses and strengths before walking into a room full of potential targets.
"They're friendly," he repeated firmly. "Just… maybe not the chatty kind."
Shane stared at the masked men a moment longer.
The one with the hood scanned the treeline behind them, as if seeing something they couldn't see.
The one wearing a doctor's coat was looking around, observing the people.
And the leader, who Rick was standing by, hadn't moved.
But somehow, Shane felt like he was staring straight into his soul, watching and judging.
Still, Rick was here.
And these people were the reason.
Shane lowered his hand from the gun grip, though the tension in his shoulders stayed.
"Alright," he muttered. "But I want eyes on them at all times."
The masked men hadn't spoken a single word.
But their presence alone was already affecting the whole camp.
And something told Shane… they weren't just passing through to bring Rick back to his family.
_____
"I want to punch him so fucking bad," Hound growled in their link while glaring daggers at Ed Peletier who was busy ordering his wife around.
"Not yet, Hound," Hawk ordered him while keeping an eye on Shane, the one who was labeled a wild card. "Not until we can make it look like an accident."
Their stance was relaxed, but anyone who knew them would notice the subtle tells.
The deep breath they took to calm down, the slow drag of their eyes across each cluster of survivors, the twitch of a gloved finger as it brushed the stock of weapons on their person.
Their eyes didn't rest in one place for more than a few seconds.
They noted the strong ones, the nervous ones, the loudmouths, and the liabilities. A few had knives on their belts, some carried makeshift spears or bats.
Hawk had seen all types before.
It was Shane who set his internal alarms buzzing.
The man's shoulders were drawn tight like a stretched-out wire, the kind of posture that said he would survive not by luck, but by choosing to be the last bastard standing.
They didn't miss the way Shane looked at Rick, like something he owned had been ripped right out of his chest.
"He might be a problem in the future," Hawk muttered through the link, his voice low and dry.
"Agreed," Hound replied, arms still folded across his chest, jaw visibly tight behind the carved dragon mask. "Give me five minutes and I'll solve it."
"We're not solving people yet," Doc cut in, his tone soft but resolute. "Let's not start something until we have logistics established and a formal sit-rep on the living conditions here."
"Ugh, always so boring, Doc," Hound muttered.
"I'm literally you," Doc answered coolly. He stood just a little apart from the others, his long coat fluttering slightly in the breeze. "And for the record, I called dibs on punching that Ed guy, if you do it first, I'm going to 'accidentally' inject you with a paralytic. Just enough to make you piss yourself."
If they weren't being watched, Hound would've sicced Coco on him.
"Try it, nurse boy. See how that goes for you."
"Are you two done?" Hawk snapped, his voice razor-sharp. "We're being watched, focus."
He wasn't wrong.
The camp hadn't relaxed despite what Rick said, not even a little. While some returned to folding laundry or comforting their kids, most were still casting sidelong glances at the newcomers.
Rick's reassurance only went so far.
Hound's hand twitched toward his belt, his attention focused back on Ed. "I can make it look like a walker bit him during when he goes to take a piss."
"Not. Yet." Hawk repeated through gritted teeth.
Doc, meanwhile, had pulled a battered notebook from one of his coat pockets and began jotting things down with a pencil stub.
"You're not fixing anything until they relax around us," Hawk reminded him.
Doc didn't look up. "I'm just taking notes."
"Camp's stretched thin," Hound noted, looking at the rather malnourished faces. "Their defense perimeter is laughable."
"No simple alarm lines, only one look-out point, and zero fallback points," Doc added. "All of this could collapse if a herd stumbles through."
"Or raiders," Hound muttered darkly before turning his attention to-
A child's laugh rang out nearby, soft, tired, but genuine.
They all turned slightly.
It was Carl.
Rick's son was clinging to his father's hand now, looking up at him like he was the sun while talking about everything he went through while he was gone.
"At least someone's happy," Hawk said after a moment, voice more distant.
Doc looked over his shoulder toward the horse trailer. "Are we still bringing Daisy out?"
"Of course, she deserves to walk on grass again. Besides, she's more emotionally intelligent than half of the people in this camp."
"Careful~ Coco might get jealous." Hawk lightly teased their dog specialist.
Hound desperately wanted to flip him off, but couldn't with all the eyes on them.
Despite themselves, a faint thread of amusement curled between them.
The link fell quiet for a beat.
Then Hawk broke the silence, serious this time.
"Orders are the same. We stay invisible, unless someone needs help, and if anyone causes problems…"
Their masks gave off ominous intent.