Unbreakable threads

Chapter 5 : meeting morgan

Alyssa and Rick stepped out of the house, the weight of uncertainty heavy between them. The empty street stretched ahead, silent and desolate, broken only by the faint rustling of leaves in the wind. Alyssa cast a cautious glance around, trying to imagine where they'd begin looking, how they'd ever find the people Rick had lost.

But before she could say a word, Rick swayed beside her, a sudden look of confusion crossing his face. His hand went to his head, his knees buckling, and within seconds, he collapsed to the pavement.

"RICK!" Alyssa cried, rushing to his side. She knelt over him, her heart racing, her mind blank with panic. She wasn't sure what to do—she'd never been trained to help someone in this kind of world. She barely even knew this man, her own father, and now he was lying on the ground, vulnerable and exposed.

As she hovered over him, frantic, a sharp voice cut through the silence.

"Step back!" A man's voice, loud and commanding, echoed down the empty street. Alyssa looked up, her breath catching as she spotted a figure standing a short distance away, aiming a gun directly at them.

The man was tall, with dark skin and a hardened expression. His stance was steady, his gaze sharp and cautious, as if he'd seen more than his share of trouble. Beside him stood a young boy, no older than ten, who clutched his father's shirt, his wide eyes darting between Alyssa and Rick.

The man's gaze narrowed, focusing on Rick, who lay unconscious at Alyssa's feet. "Is he bitten?" he shouted, his voice laced with urgency.

Alyssa's heart pounded as she held up her hands defensively. "No! He's not—he's just... he's just weak. He just woke up." She could hear the desperation in her own voice, the frantic need to explain. "He was in a coma.. he was shot.. weeks ago.. He's... he's not bitten."

The man's grip on the gun didn't falter, his expression skeptical as he took a step closer, scanning Rick's form for any sign of infection. "And you?" he asked, eyes flicking to her. "Are you clean?"

"Yes," Alyssa replied, her voice steadier this time. "I swear."

The man hesitated, glancing down at his son, who looked up at him with silent trust. After a moment, the man lowered his weapon slightly, but his expression remained wary. He nodded toward Rick. "If he turns, I'll put him down. Don't make me regret not doing it now."

Alyssa swallowed, feeling the weight of his warning settle over her. She didn't fully understand this new world or the rules people were living by, but one thing was clear: trust was a rare commodity, and people were quick to defend themselves.

"Please," she said quietly, her gaze meeting his. "He's all I have."

The man studied her for a moment, his hard expression softening just a fraction as he seemed to understand. He gave her a curt nod, then lowered his gun completely.

"Alright," he said, stepping closer, his son still clinging to his side. "Let's get him inside before we draw more attention."

Alyssa nodded, relief flooding her as she bent down, gently lifting her father's arm over her shoulder. The man moved to help, supporting Rick's other side as they began to carry him back toward the house that he had appeared from. The young boy watched her with quiet curiosity, his gaze full of questions.

As they crossed the threshold, Alyssa couldn't help but glance at the man beside her, grateful yet cautious. Whoever he was, he might be their only chance at surviving this new world.

The man helped Alyssa drag Rick into the house, his grip firm as they maneuvered Rick's unconscious form onto the couch. Rick's face was pale, his breathing shallow, and Alyssa's heart clenched with worry. She stepped back, glancing at the stranger, uncertain but grateful for his help.