The Walking Dead: "Days Gone Bye"

Chapter 3: Broken Families

Rick woke up, late at night in a dimly lit room lying on a bed and tied down with his arms above his head. It was a normal bedroom. As he looked around, he saw the same child standing in the doorway with a baseball bat. On the other side of the room, next to Rick's bed, was the father, washing the blood covered rags.

"You got that bandage changed now," he told him. "It was pretty rank. What was the wound?" he asked, turning towards him.

"Gunshot," he answered.

"Gunshot?" he asked. "What else? Anything?"

"Gunshot ain't enough?" Rick asked sarcastically. The man was growing impatient with him.

"Look, I ask and you answer. That's common courtesy, right?" he said in a serious tone. After Rick said nothing, the man leaned over him.

"Did you get bit?" he asked emphatically.

At this point, Rick didn't know what this man was talking about. He was utterly confused.

"Bit?" he asked.

"Bit, chewed, maybe scratched. Anything like that?"

"No, I got shot. Just shot as far as I know."

There was silence in the room. The man reached his hand to Rick's face. Rick moved his head away, concerned about what he was doing.

"Hey, just let me," said the man. He pressed his hand on multiple areas of his forehead then looks over at his son. "Feels cool enough," he told him.

"Fever would've killed you by now," he told Rick.

"I don't think I have one," Rick said. His face seemed calm, but inside he was confused. This man made no sense.

"Be hard to miss," he told him. He pulls out a knife and shows it to Rick about six inches from his face. Rick pushed his head back again.

"Take a moment, look how sharp it is. You try anything, I will kill you with it." He brings the knife closer to Rick's right eye, making him turn his head while still looking at the man. "Don't you think I won't," he warned him. After warning Rick, the man cut the ropes off his wrists and ankles.

"Come on out when you're able," he said. "Come on," he said to his son, making him walk out with him.

Minutes later, Rick walked out with a blanket covering him. He was only in his boxers after all. When he walked into the kitchen, they all grew silent and stared at each other for a moment. Rick broke the stare by walking into the living room.

"This place. Fred and Cindy Drakes?" he asked the man, wondering where the owners of this house were.

"Never met 'em," the man replied.

"I've been here. This is their place."

"It was empty when we got here."

Rick noticed there were blankets covering the windows. He went to open one of them but was stopped by the man.

"Don't do that. They'll see the light," warning him. Rick looked back, confused again. "There's more out there than usual."

"I never should've fired that gun today," he said referring to the person he killed before Rick blacked out. "Sound draws them. Now they're all over the street. Stupid-- using a gun. But it all happened so fast," he continued, " I didn't think," he said while sitting down.

"You shot that man today," Rick said while standing in the kitchen doorway.

He shrugged. "Man?"

"It weren't no man," his son said, sitting next to his father at the candle lit table.

His father glared at him. "What the hell was that out of your mouth just now?" he asked in a serious tone.