The sound of footsteps descending the stairs faded for a few moments, replaced by a brief murmur of muffled voices from outside the house. Jason realized that, by focusing his hearing, he could distinguish Maggie calling her father, explaining that he had woken up and everything else. A second later, the deep voice of an older person stood out, marked by years of forced calm and responsibility.
At least, that's how he perceived it. He didn't remember many details from The Walking Dead, after all, he had only watched up to the fourth episode of the second season. Still, the impression he had of Hershel Greene was of someone calm, responsible, and of good character, exactly what one would expect from an old man from the countryside who attended church and took care of his own farm....
It didn't take long for the footsteps to ascend again, now two pairs.
A few moments later, the doorknob turned once more.
And then Hershel entered the room.
Jason observed him immediately; as he had thought, the appearance was identical to that of the actor who had played the character Hershel in the television series—a man of medium to tall stature, with an upright posture that conveyed both authority and patience. His hair, already graying, was somewhat thin on top. He had no beard on his aged face. His eyes, a blue color, gave the sensation of constant observation, something he could tell due to his super senses; it seemed like he was always attentive to the physical and emotional state of the people around him. His expression was serious, but it carried a trace of compassion and tranquility, almost paternal, that made people trust him.
He was wearing a long-sleeved button-up shirt in gray. Over it, he wore the typical farmer's suspenders, wide and dark-colored. They rose from the belt at his waistline, fastened by simple metal hooks, and crossed his shoulders in a discreet "X" on his back. The suspenders held up his simple work pants, and he also wore plain boots....
Maggie stayed near the door, leaving space for her father to approach.
Hershel entered the room and approached a few steps from the side of the bed.
"So you've finally woken up," he said, his voice low, laced with a certain relief. "I'm Hershel Greene."
Jason tilted his head in a respectful gesture.
"Jason Vellgrace," he replied calmly. "Thank you for finding me. And... for keeping me alive."
Hershel gave a small nod, as if that were just part of the job, even when the world outside no longer had room for mercy.
"We did what we could," he responded. "It wasn't right to let a man die on the road."
The words were direct, but there was a certain sense of moral conviction in them....
Hershel pulled out a small leather bag that was on the dresser and approached even closer.
"If you don't mind..." he said, opening the bag and revealing some basic instruments that didn't require any electrical equipment: "I'd like to take a look at you. Just to make sure we didn't miss anything."
Jason shrugged with a calm air.
"Sure. Feel free."
Hershel nodded, approached, and placed two fingers on Jason's wrist. The touch was firm, experienced—someone who had examined hundreds of animals and dozens of people throughout his life.
His eyebrow rose slightly.
"Strong heartbeat," he murmured: "Regular. Much more stable than when we found you."
He then brought his hand to Jason's forehead, touching the skin to check the temperature.
"No fever," he commented. "The recovery was... quick."
His gaze narrowed, not suspicious, but intrigued. Hershel was careful, but not imaginative. If something seemed out of the ordinary, he sought a practical explanation, and until he had one, he simply observed.
"I'd like you to tell me..." he continued, picking up a small manual stethoscope: "How exactly you ended up like that...."
Jason had already decided in advance.
"My car broke down on the road..." he replied, keeping a natural tone, without hesitation. "The belt snapped... or the engine seized, I don't know. I just know the car died for good."
Hershel listened attentively while placing the stethoscope on his chest, instructing with a simple gesture to breathe deeply.
"Continue."
Jason breathed, deep and steady, while speaking:
"At first, I thought I could fix it. But while I was trying, a group of those... walkers... appeared in the middle of the road. About twenty. Maybe more."
Maggie, near the door, widened her eyes slightly.
"I didn't have time...." he continued. "I left everything behind—backpack, car. I just ran...."
Hershel moved the stethoscope to another position, listening to each beat.
"Ran where?"
"Forest," Jason replied. "I thought it was safer to get off the road. I spent the whole day running in there. No water, no food. Just trying to get away from that group, even when I didn't hear anything behind me anymore, I kept going...."
Maggie averted her gaze to the floor, lightly biting the inside of her cheek. It was all too easy to imagine that situation—running until you couldn't anymore, with the sun beating down and your throat drying up.
"Eventually," Jason concluded: "My body couldn't take it. Everything went black. And I woke up here."
Hershel removed the stethoscope and took a step back, pondering.
"Completely possible. The fever could have been caused by severe hyperthermia, and the exhaustion, along with dehydration, stressed your body too much. Without food, without water, extreme effort... add severe hypoglycemia to the equation, and the combination accelerates collapse a lot. It's impressive that you didn't pass out after a few hours... and it's also very impressive that you didn't die under those conditions..." He murmured, surprised: "All you needed was a few days of rest..."
Jason maintained neutrality in his gaze, breathing calmly.
"I think I just got lucky..." he said simply, a comment that could mean everything or nothing.
Hershel observed him for a few seconds, then closed the bag.
"Well," he concluded. "You seem to be in good condition now. Still, I recommend rest. Your body may be stable, but it went through a lot of stress—you need to drink water and eat plenty..."
Jason nodded.
"Understood."
Hershel gave a small smile, discreet but sincere.
"I'm glad you're conscious. And talking," he said calmly: "Maggie can bring you something to eat. We'll talk more later, if you're up for it."
"Sure," Jason replied. "Thank you for everything, Mr. Greene."
"'Mr. Greene' was my father," Hershel corrected, with a soft and tired humor. "You can just call me Hershel."
And then he turned to Maggie:
"Bring some water and food; he needs energy, but don't overdo it...."
"Right," Maggie replied, while keeping her eyes fixed on Jason.
Hershel began heading toward the door.
"I'll be back in a bit," he said, before leaving.
Maggie gave Jason one last quick glance. Then she followed him out.
The door closed slowly.
And the room returned to silence.
Jason let out a long sigh and ran his hand through his black hair, messing it up without noticing. Sometimes that gesture helped him organize his mind... but there, in that world, it was more a reminder that he needed to decide the direction of his own life quickly.
"Alright..." he murmured to himself. "What do I do now?"
The bed creaked lightly as he leaned back, looking at the simple ceiling of aged wood.
He only knew part of that story. He had only watched up to the fourth episode of the second season, remembering enough about Rick's group to know they represented the "safe route." Or, at least, the closest thing to it that one could have in an apocalypse. Surviving alone? Sure, it was possible... but not for long. There were limits to what someone could face without support, even for him—someone who, technically, possessed the ideal body for survival and a mind adjusted to learn whatever he wanted in a short time, using that knowledge to his advantage to survive more easily and get stronger. Still, that fact remained unchanging: no one lasts forever alone.
Well, knowing all that, he decided he wouldn't face a zombie apocalypse alone. Now, he just needed to define the next steps. He also knew that Rick's group would end up arriving there... sooner or later. Until then, his best option was simple: he needed to be accepted. He needed to become someone Hershel would have no reason to expel.
Beyond "being accepted," he would need to get stronger. He would need to learn to shoot, to fight, and to do everything necessary to survive. Technically, he could learn just by studying books—his [Perfect Mastery] was a true cheat—but on the farm, he wouldn't have access to that kind of study material, even if he didn't have much.
He would have to find a way to go to the city and explore.
He intended to use his benefit to the fullest. And he would use it without hesitation. Medicine, engineering, electrical, hydraulics, mechanics, programming, applied chemistry, architecture, agriculture, heavy maintenance, welding, biotechnology, civil construction, carpentry, metallurgy, telecommunications... everything. Absolutely everything.
If he learned enough, he could rebuild a stable electrical grid. He could fix engines, tractors, cars, and generators. He could recreate irrigation systems, restore plumbing, set up antennas, internal networks, maybe even establish a local internet if he had the right equipment. It was almost absurd: he could even come close to discovering a way to cure whatever had caused the zombie outbreak.
But all that was just a possible future. In the present, his priority was convincing Hershel to let him stay on the farm.
Although he hadn't seen much about the man, from the episodes he remembered and with the advantage of being a psychology student, he had a reasonable notion of who Hershel was. And for that very reason, he had the feeling that it wouldn't be easy at all...
Perhaps it was his enhanced intuition?
Anyway, he quickly snapped out of his thoughts upon noticing someone approaching.
The door creaked softly as it opened again, and Maggie entered carrying a simple wooden tray. On it was a reused glass water bottle, a well-worn metal cup, and a plate with two thick slices of homemade bread, a piece of slightly hardened cheddar cheese, and some slices of raw onion, whose smell was still strong and fresh.
She didn't even knock. She just pushed the door with her hip and crossed the room with calm but unhurried steps. She placed the tray on the nightstand, producing a soft clink when the cup touched the wood. Then she went to the corner, grabbed the chair she had used to care for him, still leaning against the wall, and dragged it to the bed. The sound of the legs scraping on the plank floor was the only thing that broke the silence for a few seconds.
Jason raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised. He thought she would just leave the food and rush out, like someone fulfilling an order. But no. Maggie turned the chair, sat facing him, crossing her legs and resting her elbows on her knees, as if she had all the time in the world.
"Dad said not to overdo it, but you look like someone who hasn't eaten in a week," she said, in a light, almost playful tone, but with her green eyes fixed on his. "Eat slowly, okay? Otherwise, you'll get sick."
Jason adjusted himself better in the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. He grabbed the bottle, opened the cap, and took a long sip. Although he wasn't really hungry or thirsty, he needed to pretend, so he drank all the water to the end and let out a satisfied sigh.
"Thanks. Seriously! I was dying of thirst...."
Maggie shrugged, but the corner of her mouth lifted in a half-smile.
"It was nothing. We have plenty of water and food stored... for now."
A brief silence settled. She didn't take her eyes off him. Jason realized that Maggie was... interested in him? Maybe. It made sense, after all—he technically possessed a "perfect body," which probably meant he was extremely handsome or, at least, close to it. But he had no way to be sure: he still hadn't seen himself in the mirror.
"So..." she began, tilting her head. "You have a family name, right? Vellgrace. It's not very common around here."
"Not where I came from either," he replied, taking a bite of the bread with cheese. He chewed slowly, thinking. "I'm from the north. Way north. Almost Canada."
"Hmm," Maggie made a sound as if noting it mentally. "And what was a guy from almost Canada doing lost in Georgia in the middle of the end of the world?"
Jason laughed softly, embarrassed.
"Good question. I was... passing through. Doing an exchange. Studying psychology at the University of Athens."
Her eyes widened a bit, genuine surprise.
"Psychology? So you can read minds or something like that?" she asked, tilting her head.
"Not exactly..." he replied with a sideways smile, in a joking tone: "Psychology is only useful for trying to understand why people do what they do. But honestly, I think it's a pretty useless profession in the situation we're in now. To be fair, I never imagined we'd end up... in this...."
Maggie let out a short laugh, almost surprised by his honesty.
"No one imagined..." she replied, resting her hand on the edge of the chair again: "But... I don't think it's useless. My dad keeps saying that, in this world, understanding people is almost as important as understanding how to do surgery or use a gun..."
Jason raised his eyes, curious.
"He said that?"
"He did...." She crossed her arms: "And he really believes it. He says desperate people do stupid things. Bad people do worse. If you understand what's going on in their heads... it's easier to know who you can let in. And who you can't...."
Jason absorbed that in silence for a second.
"So what I learned might be useful after all..." he commented, with a light irony, but sincere.
"Maybe it is..." Maggie replied in the same tone, but with a smile that betrayed more personal than practical interest.
She observed him a little closer, her eyes scanning his face as if trying to fit pieces of a puzzle.
"And how old are you?"
"Twenty-three," he replied without hesitation. "Turning twenty-four in January. If the world still remembers birthdays."
She laughed. A short, hoarse laugh, from someone who hadn't laughed like that in a long time.
"I turn twenty-three in March. If the world still cares."
Maggie leaned forward a bit, her brown hair falling slightly to the side.
"You know... you don't look like a psychologist," she said, with a provocative tone. "You look more... I don't know. Athlete. Or military. You don't have the face of someone who spends the day sitting listening to people complain about life."
Jason raised an eyebrow, amused.
"And what's the face of someone who listens to people complain about their mom?" he retorted.
She laughed again, this time louder. Then she lowered her voice, as if sharing a secret:
"Skinny. Glasses. Scraggly beard. You..." she pointed with her chin at him, "are way off the standard...."
Jason tilted his head, looking at her while various thoughts ran through his mind; he replied with a slight smile: "...If you consider a standard, I really am not like it...."
Maggie smiled at his response, and the two stared at each other for a few seconds.
"You... didn't talk about what your life was like before...." she commented, tilting her head: "I mean, besides college. Twenty-three years... you must have lived something interesting...."
"Nothing as exciting as this here," Jason said with a half-smile, gesturing vaguely to the world outside: "Normal life. Classes, internship, boring job, bad coffee... and trying not to fail at everything at the same time...."
Maggie laughed, and she seemed to like the simplicity of the response.
"Normal life sounds almost like a dream now..." she murmured: "Sometimes I wish everything would go back to just... routine. Work on the farm, fighting with Beth over silly things... helping my dad."
Jason observed her attentively, and she noticed. Her gaze lowered for half a second, perhaps embarrassed at having been too vulnerable.
"Sorry..." she said, tucking her hair behind her ear: "I don't want to dump things on you. You just woke up after almost dying...."
"I don't mind..." Jason replied, his voice low and calm: "It's no problem to talk. In fact, I've been alone since everything started. There were few times when I really had the opportunity to talk to someone..."
Maggie blinked, her green eyes softening a bit, as if those words had touched something she herself felt. She leaned back in the chair, her fingers drumming lightly on her knee—a nervous gesture that didn't match the tough girl who shot walkers without blinking.
"Alone the whole time?" she asked, her voice low, almost a whisper. "It must have been... hard. At least I have family here. Beth, my dad, Otis, Patricia, and Jimmy... we fight, but it's what keeps me sane."
Jason nodded slowly, looking at the empty plate on the tray. He wasn't lying about that, at least not completely.
"Yeah. Hard is a good word..." he replied, with a half-smile that didn't reach his eyes. "At first, I tried to stay with a small group. College friends, you know? But... things went wrong fast. I lost contact with them in the first week. After that, it was just surviving day by day. Avoiding cities, stealing what I could from abandoned gas stations. Nothing glamorous."
"And family?" Maggie inquired, hesitant, as if she knew the question could hurt. "Parents? Siblings?"
Jason hesitated for a second, building the lie in his mind. He needed to be convincing, but not too dramatic.
"My parents were in Canada when everything started. I tried calling, but the lines went down soon. Siblings... just a younger sister. She was in New York. I don't know if..." He stopped, shaking his head. "It's better not to think too much about it. It makes it easier that way."
Maggie nodded, her eyes lowering to her hands for a moment.
"I understand. My mom... she was gone before all this. And my brother, Shawn... well, he didn't last long after the walkers appeared." Her voice trembled just a little, but she straightened her shoulders, forcing a smile. "But anyway... The important thing is we're surviving. That counts for something."
"It does," said Jason, holding her gaze longer than necessary. He noticed how her pupils dilated slightly, how the corner of her mouth lifted in a shy smile. "And you? What did you do before all this? I think it's fair to ask, since you asked me first...."
Maggie rested one foot on the base of the chair and swayed her torso forward slightly, thoughtful.
"Before all this," she continued, "I was in college too and helping my dad on the farm. Nothing too exciting. Woke up early, took care of the horses, studied when I could. On weekends, sometimes went out with friends for beer and to complain about life."
Jason smiled at the idea. "Quiet life."
"Quiet to a fault." She snorted a laugh. "Sometimes I thought everything was... too predictable, you know? Those little things we find boring when we have them... but now..."
She stopped, biting her lower lip.
"Now we miss them."
Jason observed the way she looked at the floor, not sad, but nostalgic....
"I imagine," he said softly. "I'd give anything for a week of that absolute boredom back."
Maggie raised her eyes quickly, as if the phrase had hit something inside her.
"Yeah..." she murmured. "Me too."
For a moment, the silence between the two wasn't uncomfortable. In fact, it seemed almost... natural. The kind of silence that happens when two people finally relax around each other.
Maggie took a deep breath, straightened her back, and pointed with her chin at the empty plate.
"So... it seems you're already eating better than my dad expected."
Jason laughed.
"I needed it. I think I hadn't eaten properly in days."
"If you want, I can bring more later..." Maggie offered, but quickly added in a playful tone: "But only if you promise not to faint. I'm not dragging you across that floor again."
Jason raised an eyebrow. "Wait... You carried me? Wasn't it that Otis guy?"
"Otis just brought you here. Jimmy and I brought you up here after Dad examined you..." She admitted, rolling her eyes. "But half the weight was on me, because he almost fell with you. And you're not exactly light."
"I... don't remember that."
"Yeah, you were so hot I thought you'd explode." She shook her head. "I thought you'd die before I could get you into bed. But... you didn't. So I must have done something right."
The compliment was simple, but sincere.
Jason opened a softer smile.
"Looks like I owe you thanks twice, then."
Maggie looked away, clearly uncomfortable with direct recognition.
"...Yeah. Maybe you do..." She replied, with light irony, but letting a hint of pride slip through.
Jason observed her manner more attentively.
"You're kinder than you try to seem...." he commented, with a neutral tone, almost analytical.
Maggie froze for a second, then narrowed her eyes, tilting her head.
"Huh?" she said, with that tone of amused suspicion. "Was that... psychology?"
"Maybe," Jason replied, giving a light smile. "Pure observation."
"You observed wrong, then," Maggie replied quickly, but there was a light color in her cheeks. "I just did what I had to do. Anyone here would have."
"No." Jason disagreed gently. "Not everyone would."
She stared at him for long seconds, as if trying to gauge how much truth was in those words, and for the first time, she didn't quite know how to respond.
But she didn't even need to think of another question, because Jason ended up bringing up another random topic.
The conversation flowed naturally after that. The two talked about various things; Maggie asked countless questions about him, and Jason answered mixing facts from his past life with half-truths and small, well-placed lies. He also asked a lot about her, about the farm, about how everything had been since the start of the outbreak... and, little by little, the conversation became lighter, more familiar, almost comfortable.