Meanwhile, in King County, Georgia, Rick Grimes was speaking with Morgan. After their tense conversation the previous night, Rick was more determined than ever to find his wife and son. "I'm going to Atlanta. I need a place to clean up and gear up. Let's go to the station," Rick declared. Morgan looked at him with a shocked, frustrated gaze. "Me and Duane are staying here, it's much safer. Atlanta is a death trap, man."
Rick sighed, glancing at Morgan and his son, Duane. "They may have gone to the CDC quarantine zone. I have to find them," he stated before heading toward the station. Morgan and Duane soon followed. Upon arrival, the three men were ecstatic to discover a functional hot shower inside. After enjoying a brief feeling of normalcy, Rick emerged in a clean Sheriff's Deputy uniform, while Morgan and Duane felt significantly revitalized.
Rick, standing in the empty office, looked around. "It's just... I keep expecting a phone call. For the dispatch to buzz and tell me it's all a bad dream. That the paperwork on my desk needs to be filed," he confessed.
Morgan, who was checking ammo clips, responded, "Doesn't work that way. Not anymore. I keep hearing my wife's shoes on the stairs. But it's just the house settling. Or something else entirely."
Duane, sitting quietly and looking at a police patch, asked, "Are you gonna kill all the walkers, Mr. Grimes?"
Rick knelt to Duane's level, giving him a gentle look. "I can't kill all of them, Duane. But I can try to find my family. And you and your dad are safe here for now. You've got a good supply of food, and we're about to change that one thing."
Outside the station shortly after, Rick packed a duffel bag full of weapons and ammo from the armory into the patrol car. He handed Morgan a police walkie-talkie set to an emergency channel. "I'll take the other one. Every day, at sunrise, I'll be broadcasting. You tell me you're okay. You tell me where you're going next, if you move on." Morgan grasped the radio. "I will. Thank you, Rick. For everything." Rick smiled. "We'll see each other again. This world... it needs people like us to start putting things back together. You and Duane stay safe. Hear me?" Morgan pulled his son close, looking at Rick with grateful determination. "We will." Rick then got into the car and slowly drove off. Morgan watched the patrol car disappear, then looked down at the rifle and walkie-talkie, and finally at his son, his face set with grim determination.
Back in the forest, Arthur, after riding for a while among the trees, emerged onto a highway blocked by a dense collection of rusting cars. Arthur gave a low whistle as he dismounted Ravenna and patted her mane. He unstrapped his bow and rifle, slinging them onto his back, and grabbed two extra magazines from the saddle's pouch. Softly, he instructed her, "Go eat some grass, girl. Be careful of the dangers, alright? Don't wander too far, I'll be calling you back." He gently patted Ravenna's rear, and she trotted off with a soft huff to munch on some grass.
Arthur readied his bow and cautiously walked down the middle of the highway, inspecting the abandoned cars one by one for any supplies.
He soon heard a growl. Calming himself, he quickly nocked an arrow and pulled the bowstring back, silently aiming toward the sound. Just as he spotted a head peering from the corner of a car, he released the bowstring with a quiet twack. The arrow pierced the head, followed by a heavy thud. Hearing nothing else unusual, Arthur calmly walked over, retrieved the arrow from the zombie's head, wiped it on the creature's clothing, and put it back in the quiver.
He then jumped onto the hood of a large truck and scaled its top, switching his bow for the rifle. Scanning the distance with the scope, he spotted the unmistakable silhouette of infrastructure. "City, huh."
'If I go to the city and encounter a large group of zombies or get surrounded, I'm confident that I can escape, but... Ravenna,' Arthur thought deeply. He decided to only venture to the city's outskirts, unwilling to risk his horse by plunging deep into the urban center, recalling the poor fate of Rick's horse in the original show. 'Well, poor horse became a mukbang for those zombies... oh shit? Am I in the TWD verse?' He pondered the original owner's memories, specifically the names 'Atlanta' and 'King County'. He knew Atlanta was real, but in his previous life, King County did not exist as depicted.
He sat down on the truck's roof, resting the rifle on his side. 'So basically, my knowledge here is only up until episode 4 of season 1, eh?' Arthur chuckled, realizing he didn't know if the main plot had already begun or if the main characters had already left their initial campsite. He looked up at the city silhouette. "Yeah, let's try and see if they're still there. Sticking with the main characters' group seems to be the safest bet. I can track them if they've already left, hopefully not too long ago, though."
With renewed vigor, Arthur grabbed his rifle and slung it onto his back, jumping down from the truck. Once at the edge of the road, he whistled. Soon, Ravenna trotted toward him. "You enjoyed your little munching, Ravenna?" he asked, patting her flank. Ravenna replied with a soft neighh. Arthur smiled as he strapped his gear onto the saddle before mounting her. Grabbing the reins, Ravenna began cantering toward the city. "Let's have a long journey together, Ravenna," he said. She let out a loud neighh before breaking into a gallop. Arthur smiled, balancing and coordinating with her movement as he brushed her mane. "You're too excited, girl."