TWD: Awakened As Rick

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The forest was still when Pope arrived.

The wind didn't blow. The birds didn't call. Even the insects seemed to pause—held captive by something primal, something cold.

He knelt at the crest of the ridge, staring down at the covered pipeline that fed The Right Arm's water system. It was older PVC, hidden beneath branches and false debris. The reservoir itself was a half-mile uphill.

"This is where they drink," Pope muttered.

Boone unslung his pack and produced the container—a sealed pouch of infected deer blood mixed with oil and powdered antifungal agents. It would rot anything it touched.

Cortez stood behind Pope, fingers twitching.

Reece and Remy scouted the perimeter while Washington loaded fire arrows into a wrapped bundle.

"We poison this," Pope said, "and their mouths will become tombs."

Washington gave a quiet nod.

Then came the voice

"Step away from the pipe."

Pope turned slowly.

Rick Grimes stood twenty feet away, rifle leveled at his chest.

Behind him emerged Leah, her gaze burning with restrained fury. To her left, Daryl crouched low, bow already drawn. Maggie, Graves, Turner, and Wells stepped from the brush on all sides, forming a rough semicircle.

Eight Reapers.

Seven from The Right Arm.

The air broke with a scream.

Remy lunged from a treetop—his machete barely missing Maggie's throat. She ducked and fired, grazing his leg.

Carver shouted, "Now!"

Chaos erupted.

Boone charged Graves like a battering ram. The two slammed into each other, fists flying, steel clashing.

Daryl fired an arrow into Mancia's thigh—he screamed, fell, and rolled behind cover.

Maggie shot Remy again—this time in the shoulder—but he still came, wild and foaming.

Leah threw her shoulder into him, knocking him against a tree, then drove a knife under his ribs.

Remy gurgled. Died on his knees.

Wells went hand-to-hand with Carver, fast and brutal. They traded blows, blood flying with every punch.

Rick and Pope locked eyes.

The others disappeared into the fray.

Rick fired first. Pope ducked behind a boulder, then surged forward, slamming into Rick like a hammer.

They tumbled into the mud, rolling.

Rick landed a blow to Pope's temple—Pope responded by driving an elbow into Rick's ribs.

Rick felt something crack.

Pope grinned through the blood. "Still soft, Grimes. Still begging the world to be kind."

Rick spat. "You mistake strength for cruelty."

Pope roared and brought his machete down—but Rick caught his arm.

The blade missed by inches, embedding into the earth beside Rick's head.

Carver knocked Wells to the ground—but Turner rushed in, slamming a hatchet into Carver's collarbone. Carver screamed and dropped.

Mancia tried to crawl toward the blood pack.

Maggie shot him in the head before he could reach it.

Reece, seeing Remy's corpse, snapped. He charged Daryl, screaming.

Daryl didn't flinch. One arrow—clean, right between the eyes.

Reece fell beside his twin.

Pope twisted free of Rick's grip and headbutted him, then hurled a small flash charge into the dirt. It exploded in a bright white burst, stunning the forest momentarily.

By the time Rick's vision cleared, Pope was gone—fled deeper into the woods.

Only Washington remained—wounded but alive, held at gunpoint by Graves.

Leah stood over Remy's body, breathing hard.

Rick slowly rose, clutching his side.

"Is the pipe secure?" he asked.

Daryl checked it.

"Unharmed," he confirmed.

Rick looked around.

Six Reapers were dead.

Two Right Arm fighters were bleeding, but none had fallen.

They returned to The Right Arm before nightfall.

Washington was in custody.

The bodies of Boone, Reece, Remy, Cortez, Kyla, and Carver were burned outside the walls, marked and done without ceremony.

A small crowd gathered to watch the flames.

Rick stood at the front.

"They came to poison our future," he said. "We stopped them. And if Pope comes again, we'll do more than stop him. We'll end it."

No one cheered.

But no one disagreed.

Later, Leah sat alone on the edge of the wall, staring at the flames.

Wells approached, setting down a wrapped cloth beside her.

Remy's mask.

She didn't say thank you.

She just held it in her lap, silent.

Rick joined them a moment later.

"Pope's still alive," he said.

Leah replied, "Not for long."

That night, Rick sat at the council table, alone.

He wrote:

"They came for our breath. They came for our water. They came as fire.

We answered with steel.

They think we build houses of straw—but we build them with blood and stone.

Pope will return. I feel it in the bones of this place.

But when he does, he'll find we don't pray to flames.

We tame them. And we burn back."

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‎If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Ptreon for early access, exclusive chapters, and more:

‎

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