You don't control me, Dixon

➊ 5: Damn, that sucks

♤

The next morning Rick apparently was able to find some clean clothes, and in my opinion, is looking quite spiffy if I must say so myself.

"Are we sure that they are dead?" Rick asks worriedly. I mean, I guess he doesn't want to be arrested if the world goes back to normal.

If they are alive then we would be arrested for murder. I doubt it though. "I have to ask at least one for time" Rick continues.

"They dead, well except for something in the brain" Morgan assures then looks at me, my head tilts a bit and I blink slightly when I realize what he wants.

"Yeah, it seems like the natural instinct is the only thing that's moving them. Just get them in the head and they're dead"

Rick looks at me in the eyes and sighs, moving his mask down to cover his face. I toss him his bat and smile lightly at him.

He glances back at the thing and holds the bat readily -albeit shaky- as he moves slowly toward the walker.

As the walker takes notice of Rick, I draw my knife. Ready to save the day.

Rick takes a small running start and bashes it in the head again, again, and again.

Rick collapses, holding his wound. Blood splattered on his shirt. The helmet falling off in the fall showing his scrunched and cringing face.

"Y'all all right?" Morgan asks worriedly. Rick said he needs a moment and after a second he get to his feet, walking with determination into his house.

"They're alive- my son and wife" Rick announces as he shows us in. I was right, he has a family.

"At least before they left" I add,  looking around. I look back at Rick who nods grimly.

"How do you two know?" Morgan asks as he looks at us like we are crazy. "I mean, by the looks of this-" he continues hesitantly.

"I looked around, the clothes were taken from the drawers. They packed clothes, not a lot, but enough to travel" Rick points out as he opens cabinets showing the empty and half full draw.

Morgan sighs and argues "Anyone could have taken them"

I sigh and step up retorting "Look at the walls, look at how discoloring is. The dust. There were photos on the walls but were taken off after years. Looters don't take family pictures—" I open a cupboard and see it empty but years engraved on the wood "— Photo albums are gone."

Rick nods his thanks as Morgan laughs slightly before sitting at the table head in hand "Photo albums."

He laughs some more "My wife did the same. Here I am packing survival and she is packing all-" he chokes up and stops. Trying to not cry.

Duane, who was standing in the doorway, steps up and announces: "They're in Atlanta I bet."

I sigh and cross my arms "It was the military that shot my mama, as much as I'd rather not deal with them I'll admit that's our beat chance to meet our loved ones."

To meet up with Princess and his witch of a mother.

Rick looks at me. I raise a brow and shrug. As much as I don't want to. He's my only family that's alive.

But-

He nods at me and walks to the kitchen, grabbing a key.

Car keys? No too small. It's a building. Seems abnormal.

♤

We soon arrive at what I'm guessing that this building is Ricks workplace. The police station. I guess that's why the key was so weird.