Our Strength

Meeting Morgan

[Previously]

I had barely made it in time. I jumped onto Rick covering his head with my body and taking the hit. It hurt like hell but better for me than for him. My back fills with pain and then I hear Morgan.

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[Lexa's Pov]

When I hear his voice try to get up. Then I feel Rick grab my waist trying to help me.

"Daddy! I thought he was one of them. Daddy! I hit her." Hear Duane say with fear in his voice.

I turn my head and notice the walker has arrived at the curb. I then see Morgan appear out of nowhere, holding a little weapon. And shot of the head. the walker crumples and flops on the ground.

"Are you bitten?" I hear him say.

"What?" I asked confused. He turns to me and then asks.

"Is he bitten? Why's he bleeding?" He then points to Rick's shirt.

I completely forgot about Rick's wound. But before I can answer Rick's hands leave my waist. I then turn around just in time to see him fall to the ground passed out.

Morgan pulls his gun out and holds it to me and asks.

"Was he bite." He says gritting his teeth.

"No gunshot. Now get that gun out my face." I say pissed off.

[Rick's Pov]

I wake up in a bed. I notice that there is only one candle in the room. The windows are draped with blankets, with a sliver of sunlight filtering in around the corners.

A man is at what seems like a sink, removing his latex gloves to wash his hands in a water bowl. Then a boy is near the end of the bed, gazing over the footboard at me.

I carefully turn my head on the pillow, realizing that my wrists are tightly bound to the bed frame with tangled bungee cords.

"Got that bandage changed out. Was pretty rank." The man says.

I decided not to respond and see the man scrubbing his hands. He looks like me then says.

"You had some doctor work on you. That right?" The man says.

"Must have" I say

"What was it? Your wound." The man says. For a second I don't want to say but decided otherwise.

"Gunshot," I say

"Gunshot?" He says with a tone that sounds like he's not convinced.

I nod, perplexed and a little irritated by this conversation.

"What else? Anything? Scratch maybe?" The man says in a serious tone.

"Gunshot ain't enough?" I say with a small scoff.

The man approaches me, tense. Pissed.

"Look. I ask. You answer. Common courtesy." He says then he leans closer as if talking to a child.