Safe haven | Rick Grimes

117. DO WHATEVER IT TAKES TO MAKE IT OUT OF HERE ALIVE

Chapter one hundred and seventeen

"Do whatever it takes to make it out of here alive."

The two hit the water hard, fighting their way to the shore. Spotting a structure nearby, they head inside. A giant light fixture illuminates the entryway as they climb a flight of stairs, stepping into pitch-black darkness. Faint music echoes through the space.

They walk fully into the room and move toward a massive glass window.

"Welcome home," a robotic female voice suddenly announces.

Thunder cracks outside, illuminating the room. Rick and Scarlett stare at each other.

"I can't believe I did that," Scarlett says, her voice laced with shock.

"I can't believe you did that," Rick snaps back, furious.

An electronic chime cuts through the tension. "Your preferred temperature will be reached in ten minutes," the robotic voice states.

They look away from each other. Rick sets his tactical helmet down on the counter. Scarlett walks off deeper into the apartment. Rick frantically checks his uniform for his emergency button, but the tracking beacon is gone.

"Shit," he mutters, following her. "What the hell is this place?"

"You tell me," Scarlett replies flatly.

She walks past the kitchen and finds a luxury bathroom equipped with a large walk-in shower, a double sink, and a toilet. She presses the handle, and the toilet flushes smoothly. In the kitchen, Rick twists the faucet handle, watching clean, hot water pour from the spout.

Scarlett leaves the bathroom and turns to the right, pushing past a set of heavy, elegant curtains. Behind them lies a bedroom featuring a king-size bed and a walk-in closet. She steps inside the closet and opens it to find rows of clean civilian clothes.

Letting out a heavy, exhausted sigh, she pulls the tactical gloves off her hands and tosses them to the floor. Slowly, she begins stripping off the rest of the CRM military uniform.

Rick walks to the left, discovering a home office lined with bookshelves. A massive desk sits in the center, buried under stacks of paperwork, open manuals, and a glowing computer monitor displaying some kind of digital layout map.

Back in the bedroom, Scarlett slides her wet uniform shirt off, leaving her in just a black sports bra. Rick glances over, catching her silhouette through the gap in the elegant curtains. He watches silently as she steps out of her tactical pants. The harsh light exposes the brutal toll of the past few days—her skin is covered in fresh cuts and dark purple bruises, all framing the old, jagged X scar branded deep into her lower back.

Sensing his gaze, Scarlett snaps her head around, locking eyes with him. Rick lets out a shuddering breath, looking away immediately as guilt washes over him.

Scarlett quickly pulls on a pair of clean jeans and a soft white sweater from the closet. Looking down at her discarded gear pile, her fingers wrap around the plastic casing of her CRM emergency call system. She marches out into the main room, holding the device up between them.

"You're missing this, hmm?" she asks coldly.

Rick steps toward her, but Scarlett hurls the beacon straight at his chest.

"I broke it," she tells him flatly.

Rick ducks, letting the plastic device fly past his head and smash against the wall behind him.

"I broke it long before we even got on that flight," Scarlett shares, her voice cutting through the quiet room. "But I know you'll still try to find a way to make it work. So go ahead. Try."