Rick Grimes' Point of View

The echo of the bullet continued to ring in his ears, long after his horse uprooted him from his perch on his back. The journey to the CDC now had to stand at the back of his mind in favor of the fear and thrill of being surrounded by these walking demons dead set on sinking their filthy teeth into his skin. He had half a mind to pull his radio out and tell Morgan he's sorry, he lost, and how thankful he is to Morgan for at least giving him a chance. He even thought of mentioning Lori and Carl again, tell Morgan if he ever found them to tell them Rick fought to find them.

The horse cried out in pain, finally toppling over with the added weight of the walkers. Rick only saw a flash of red and knew what fate had become of his poor steed. It was almost like a foreshadowing for himself in a few moments when the walkers would topple him over. He grit his teeth, feeling them nearly crack as he shot again. The closest biter flew onto his back, no longer twitching.

"Shit!"

He danced on the spot. His person felt particularly empty. He knew something was missing. Patting at his chest with his free hand, he spun again and spotted the black bag, the tips of the guns peeking tauntingly from the open zipper. Too far. It was too far from him. If he even attempted to grasp the strap, one of the walkers would take ample opportunity to take him. If he went out, he wasn't going to go out so stupidly.

Another one appeared over his left shoulder, reaching for his outstretched hand that held the gun. Rick grunted and swung his leg around, his heel catching it in the chest and managing to break his balance, or lack thereof. Pointing at him between his yellow and silver irises, he pulled the trigger.

"GOD DAMN IT!"

He was out of bullets. The walker seemed to notice, since he now reached for his grime covered boots. The others just closed in, all of them as hungry as the one below his foot. Rick barely noticed that the horse was no longer crying out in pain anymore, but the walkers surrounding him continued their meal, undeterred.

Rick looked around, far more desperate than he had been before. He was going to die, there was no doubt about that. But he didn't want to die, being the key problem. Abandoned vehicles surrounded him, but most of them were either overturned or had doors missing, which would completely defeat the purpose of hiding out until the walkers moved on.

The military tank seemed like an oasis in the middle of a pale, hopeless desert, but Rick had managed to put too much distance between the two now. It was out of the question. Rick turned again, grunting as he kicked at another walker. There was no hope. This was it. Rick Grimes, woken in the midst of the apocalypse, killed a day later. Not much of a legacy.

He found his oasis in a bus. The chipping white paint with the black lettering of 'Atlanta Detention Center' put him off a little bit, but he was sure it was abandoned by now considering it was sitting right in the middle of the city with every walker possible roaming the streets. And it's not like he had much of a choice to begin with. He was surrounded with no bullets in the chamber with the bag full of guns as far as the military tank was.

"Screw it," he hissed, aiming a punch into the jaw of a female biter that got too close. He grimaced as her weak jaw gave way and broke off, clattering onto the concrete. That didn't seem to stop her, however, still grabbing for him as she stepped on her own teeth. Rick grimaced, shoving her away and deciding to just make a run for it. That was his best bet. Yelling out, he brushed past the many walkers, his green eyes blazing as the bus got closer and closer.

He smacked his hand uselessly on the glass door, before he tried to pry it open. His nails dug into the black rubber, but to no avail, it wouldn't budge. The walkers moved faster somehow, their snarls acting as warning bells as he tried again and again until he knew for sure it would not open. He glanced once over his shoulder, cursing to see they were still gathering even quicker now. The horse had proven to be a hearty meal, but they were still hungry.

With its blood dripping from some of their lips, they took sight of Rick and moved forward. Rick knew there was no other option. He whipped around and took hold of the sturdy rearview mirror that was fixed right outside the unopen door. He used it as a makeshift ladder to pull him on top of the bus, keeping him out of reach from the walkers and giving him a better way to find another solution to his main problem. He could see the bag of guns once more, teasing him where they sat.

"Sons of bitches!" Rick shouted, stomping his boot and hearing the way the metal sounded. This was impossible. He had two choices now. He could wait it out and chance starving to death on the roof of a juvenile bus. Or he could jump and make a run for it that would just result in him dying faster. Neither had a happy ending.

Rick grumbled to himself, taking the radio from his back pocket and beginning to pace around the roof of the bus. He would just radio Morgan and tell him what was happening. Best case scenario, Morgan volunteers to go help him and the three, including Duane, go to the CDC together to find Rick's family. Worst case scenario, Morgan doesn't answer and Rick is left to his own devices.

Taking a leap of faith, he tuned the radio, still pacing the bus.

What he failed to notice was that the emergency exit was suddenly opened, allowing his body to unceremoniously fall into the bus he had been trying so hard to get into. The pain of the unexpected blow was a lot to take in, especially in his back since that is where he landed. The radio forgotten, Rick groaned.

"Get the radio! Take his radio!"

"I've got his gun!"

"Clarke, this guy's a cop!"

Rick could barely register he obviously wasn't alone. All he knew was that he was in immense pain. The soreness in his chest had returned, the blood seeping into the white t-shirt he wore underneath his uniform. Finally opening his eyes, he flinched upon seeing his own gun being pointed at him. He thought he was dreaming now. There was no way that there was someone in this bus. How long had Morgan said it had been? A few months? These people should've been dead already.

He gave himself a little shake. Bad move. He groaned as his back ached.

"Who are you?" a raspy, feminine voice demanded angrily.

"Wh-What?"

"I said...who are you? What are you doing here? What do you want? If you don't answer, I have no problem pulling the trigger."

Rick gave a wry grin, giving a strained chuckle.

"Don't waste your time, kid. The chamber's empty."

The stranger was silent, before they pried open the gun and gave a curse. Like Rick had said, it was out of bullets. But that didn't matter. He had heard more than one voice. He was outnumbered. He solemnly wondered what was more dangerous. Competent delinquents or flesh eating dead?

His vision was no longer blurry, giving him the pleasure in seeing who his captors were.

He saw the emergency door still pried open, where he had fallen through without notice like an idiot. There were several heads peering down at him, male and female alike. The one who had the gun was a girl, a young one at that. She was average height and stocky with pale skin and bright blonde hair. Her eyes were a piercing blue and her lips a light pink and perky. She wore a dark blue scrubs-like suit, as did the others in the bus. They even looked like criminals. They also smelled terribly.

"Who are you? Where did you come from?" she asked again. "Are there more of you?"

"Nice to meet you, too, kid," Rick said, wincing as he finally sat up and rubbed at his back. He heard a few pops, but he was otherwise okay. He flinched upon seeing more blue suits. All of the delinquents were still within this bus. All who had committed some kind of crime or offense remained inside this bus, somehow alive. But it was impossible. There was no way they could've survived this long. Why didn't they move on? Rick was even more worried for his safety than before.

The chain-link wall that must've separated the boys from the girls had been broken through, giving no more barriers to each other. The entire vehicle stunk of filth and sweat. These kids haven't had a bath in who knows how long. Each of the windows had bars on them, and Rick could see that they had pried up one of the seats to shove in front of the door. That was why he couldn't get in when he had tried to pry it open.

The girl that had taken his gun and threatened him appeared in front of his face again. She looked determined.

"Look...I'm sorry for the fall...and for pointing your gun at you, but you have to understand you're the first person we've seen for weeks. Paranoia kind of becomes a natural reaction," she apologized, holding out his gun for him to take. "But you have to give me some answers. Who are you? Where did you come from? And are there more of you?"

Rick got to his feet, sidling as far from them as he could. He still didn't trust them. All of his instincts were telling him to take them all out. They were delinquents. Delinquents in a detention bus that should've died by now from starvation or dehydration. Not to mention they were ready to shoot him when he fell in, despite there being no bullets to do so.

"My name...is Rick Grimes. And I ain't from Atlanta. I'm from King County, few ways over." He pocketed his gun. "It's just me." He wasn't about to say anything of Morgan and his son. Not that these kids were any real threat to them; he wasn't going to take any chances. Rick would make sure Morgan avoided them at all costs, especially if they were going to wave the first gun they see all around making accusations and threats. Rick was not okay with that.

"Liar," someone hissed.

He turned. It was another girl. She was shorter than the first with long raven hair that looked matted from the lack of bathing. Her eyes were also blue, and she was even paler than the blonde. She was glaring daggers at Rick, just before she thrust his radio into the air and snarled, "Why would you need a radio if you were alone?"

Shit.

"I kept that from my old station just in case. If I ever find the right signal, I can notify someone that I'm alive. I'm just...I'm looking for my family. I heard that the CDC could be a big possibility, so I decided to head there. Got caught up with the walkers outside."

As if on cue, they heard the growls and bellows from the ones outside, hearing them bang their hands on the walls of the bus. All they knew was Rick fell inside, so their meal was unfinished. They would, hopefully, move on later. But Rick wasn't sure now. There was far too many of them. Hundreds. Maybe thousands.

The blonde one beckoned to the brunette.

"What? Clarke, you can't be serious! He's obviously lying."

"Octavia, he was trying to escape. If he had a group, don't you think they would've come for him by now? Get some perspective."

'Octavia' grit her teeth, her lips tightening into a thin line. Rick thought of just throwing caution to the wind and yanking the radio from her before crawling back out through the emergency exit, but it was obvious they were putting somewhat trust in him by handing him back his belongings. He waited patiently, taking the radio as the girl begrudgingly gave it to him. Crossing her arms, she stomped back to the bigger group and slammed herself down into one of the seats.

The blonde one ran a hand through her hair, sighing irritably.

"What's with the get up?" a masculine voice called, interrupting the awkward silence that had taken place. Rick glanced lazily towards him. This one was young, too, with a pale complexion and greenish blue eyes. He had shaggy brown hair and also wore a blue jumpsuit like the rest of them. He was looking at Rick with an expression of contempt. "Last I checked, authority figures went out with the world."

Rick looked from him to the blonde. "I...I just woke up a few days ago."

"What?"

"I just woke up a few days ago." Rick stated, patting at his chest and wincing. He had forgotten he had opened up the wound when he fell into the bus. "Put into comatose a while back after a gunshot wound. I woke up into all of this. I'm just trying to find my family. Honest."

"A gunshot wound?" another boy asked eagerly. This one also had shaggy brown hair, but his eyes were brown and he had a more angular face. He was lanky and thin, gripping an Asian boy's shoulder. "That is so cool..."

"Kiss ass," the first boy rolled his eyes.

"What about you?" Rick demanded back, turning to look at the blonde. "How the hell are you all still alive when I know damn well it's been too long for you to have survived?"

But Rick never got his answer, unlike them since he decided to pretty much give everything away except for Morgan and Duane. He flinched visibly as his radio gave off a very distinct static noise, causing him to nearly drop it and possibly break it on the hard floor. He stared at it in horror. Was it Morgan? Was he on his way to Atlanta? Did he know Rick was in trouble in a juvenile detention bus surrounded by delinquents?

"Hey, dumbass." Not Morgan. Not even Duane. "Yeah, you. In the bus! Cozy in there?"

Rick slowly turned his head towards the kids, his mouth falling open.

"He is a liar!" Octavia roared, jumping to her feet ferociously. Some of the other delinquents mirrored her actions. Rick backed away until he hit the opposite wall. How did this day go so terribly, terribly wrong?