TWD: Awakened As Rick

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Kara watched the flames in Pope's eyes and knew she had to run.

But she didn't—not yet.

Because to flee too soon was to die. To speak too loudly was to burn. Pope's madness had sharpened into something fragile and flammable. Even the wrong breath could set him off.

So she stayed. And she watched.

And she waited.

She had worn the mask once.

A Reaper. A scout. A follower.

She'd believed in Pope's sermons when the world first fell—when cities burned and her mother lay cold in the backseat of a stolen van. Pope had offered more than food and shelter. He'd offered clarity.

A world of right and wrong. Of strength and weakness.

Of fire and ash.

But somewhere between the missions and the sermons, Kara had started to see the rot beneath the flame. The way Pope's mercy grew smaller each day, until there was only judgment left. 

And now?

Now he wanted to become the fire.

A bomb.

By nightfall, Kara had seen it all.

Pope's torn coat, stitched with accelerant-soaked lining. The fuel pouches hidden beneath the false medical wrappings. The timing fuse, twisted from a scavenged watch and match-head powder.

It wasn't just an explosion.

It was a message.

He would stumble to The Right Arm's gate, bloodied and alone. He'd beg for help. They would open their doors.

And then he'd ignite.

He wanted to die there.

He wanted to take them with him.

Children. Mothers. Elders. It didn't matter.

To him, they were all heretics.

She sat alone in the ruins of the chapel, heart pounding.

A choice.

If she warned them, Pope would know.

He would hunt her.

But if she didn't—

People would die. The community Pope called weakness was the only place she'd ever seen people grow again.

She stood.

Just a water flask and her legs.

She left at first light, cutting west across the ridgeline, avoiding Pope's scavenged tripwires and signal traps.

The woods were quiet.

Halfway down the slope, she heard the snap.

A trapwire.

Her foot caught just enough tension to loose the bolt—crack!

The arrow struck her thigh.

She screamed. Then collapsed. 

Breathing shallow. 

But still alive.

She tore her cloak into a strip and tied the wound tight. 

She moved.

One step. Then another.

Then another.

Rick stood near the main gate, watching patrols shift. The walls had held for weeks now. Their scouts returned on time. Their supplies were intact. Even Shane had stopped complaining—for now.

But something felt… off.

"Daryl?" Rick called.

Daryl looked up from the watchtower. "Yeah?"

"You feel it?"

Daryl nodded. "Like the wind's holding its breath."

Rick exhaled. "Exactly."

They heard the fall before they saw her.

Kara stumbled from the treeline, half-dragging herself through the last stretch of brush.

Guards shouted.

Guns raised.

She collapsed just thirty feet from the gate.

Maggie was the first to reach her.

"Reaper" she whispered, recognizing the Reaper mark, half-erased by dirt and blood.

Kara's eyes fluttered.

Then focused.

"Don't… shoot…"

Rick stepped into view. "Who are you?"

Kara reached into her jacket slowly—painfully—and pulled out a torn map fragment. It bore Pope's handwriting. A target circled in red: The Right Arm – Med Center.

She gasped, "He's coming…"

Maggie knelt. "Where? When?"

Kara coughed blood. "Wounded… desperate… he'll act soon."

Rick crouched low.

"Why warn us?" he asked.

Kara's eyes shimmered.

"Because I saw light again… and I want it to live."

Then she passed out.

The bell tower rang three times.

Red code.

All hands.

Rick barked orders.

"Double perimeter. No one enters without confirmation. Graves, get Leah. Morgan, evacuate the med center. Move anyone vulnerable to the safehouses."

Daryl loaded his crossbow. "He's coming in dirty. You know that, right?"

Rick nodded. "He wants to die here. We won't let him choose where."

When Leah arrived and saw Kara unconscious, her eyes burned.

"She was one of ours."

"She still is," Rick said.

Leah gritted her teeth. "If he touches one child, one mother—"

"He won't," Rick said. "He'll be dead before he crosses the line."

They reinforced the gate with sandbags and firebreaks.

Water barrels were moved to form a fallback ring.

Snipers positioned along the walls.

Washington, now rehabilitated and on probation, stood beside Graves, armed and ready.

The community stood silent but resolute.

Because this time, they knew what Pope wanted.

And they would not be fooled.

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

‎

‎15 Advanced Chapters on Patreon

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