Fear flickered in the kid's eyes, but his jaw stayed set. "Go ahead! Kill me! I won't tell you shit anyway! You assholes will never find them!"
Merle's grin widened. "Then die."
He raised the axe.
"Merle! Stop!"
Rick lunged forward, grabbing Merle's arm. T-Dog came from the other side. Daryl threw himself into the mix.
They wrestled Merle back, all of them fighting to control him. The axe blade stopped inches from the kid's skull, the momentum arrested by three grown men hauling on Merle's arms.
The prisoner had gone white. A wet stain was spreading across the front of his jeans.
Rick yanked his pistol out and jammed it against Merle's temple. "I said stop!"
For a second, Merle looked like he might keep going anyway. His eyes were wild, every muscle in his body straining against their grip.
Then, slowly, he lowered the axe.
"You're no fun."
Rick kept the gun pressed to Merle's head for another few seconds before stepping back. "Listen to me. We don't kill people."
Merle spat on the floor. "Fuck your rules."
He shook off the hands holding him and stalked to the far side of the room, still gripping the axe like he might change his mind.
Rick turned back to the kid, who had toppled out of the chair and was now sprawled on the floor, hyperventilating. Piss and terror had a very distinctive smell.
"Hey." He crouched down, keeping his voice as calm as he could manage. "We're not going to hurt you. We just want to talk."
The kid's eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape that didn't exist. He didn't say anything.
Rick tried again. "The people you took—they're my friends. One of them is just a kid, like you. We need them back safe. That's all we want."
Still nothing.
Daryl's patience ran out.
He crossed the room in three strides, grabbed the kid by his collar, and hauled him up off the floor. The chair came with him, still tied to his back, making him look like some kind of human turtle.
Daryl leaned in close. "You listening? That cop might not kill you. But he's not the only one here. Me or that psycho with the axe decide we want to take one of your hands, maybe a foot, he can't stop us. You understand? We'll do it slow. Then we'll throw you out on the street and let the walkers finish what's left."
The kid was shaking now.
"So you got a choice." Daryl's grip tightened. "Talk to the nice cop, or find out if I'm bluffing. What's it gonna be?"
"I'll... I'll take you to them."
Daryl let him go. The kid slumped back to the floor.
Rick shot Daryl a look. "That's good. Now let's—"
"Hold up." T-Dog was looking out the window. "We got a problem."
Everyone turned.
Outside, three more members of the prisoner's crew had arrived and taken up positions around the building. They had clearly been waiting nearby, ready to move in and provide backup if things went bad.
---
Elsewhere, inside the Atlanta Nursing Home.
"Alright, easy now. Breathe with me… that's it, breathe out…"
Sunlight streamed through the window of a small, quiet room. Lucien stood behind an old man's wheelchair, one hand resting gently on his back as he guided him through slow, steady breaths. The man was frail, with paper-thin skin stretched over brittle bones and white hair as wispy as cobwebs, but his breathing began to even out, bit by bit.
It had taken twenty minutes to get him calm after his last episode. Lucien had done this twice already today. The routine was becoming muscle memory: position behind the chair, hand flat between the shoulder blades, match your own breathing to his and let him follow.
Then the cough hit again.
It came out of nowhere. The sound was terrible, like something was breaking apart inside his chest.
"His inhaler!" Lucien's hand shot to the bedside cabinet, yanking it open and rummaging through the contents. Bottles, cotton swabs, a half-empty tube of something that might have been antifungal cream. But no inhaler. "Damn it, there's no spare in here!"
"Oh my goodness…"
The elderly woman in the wheelchair beside them wrung her hands. She'd been watching Lucien work, occasionally offering quiet encouragement in the way grandmothers did.
"I remember Felipe organized the medicine box just yesterday," she said anxiously. "He should know where the spare is."
Lucien gave the old man's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Just hold on. I'll be right back."
He turned and ran.
---
The nursing home sat on the edge of what used to be a residential neighborhood, all red brick and white trim, with a half-dead garden out front. It looked peaceful.
Rick's group arrived with their prisoner in tow. He had been sullen and tight-lipped the entire way. Now he was back among his own people, and the atmosphere had shifted from tense to potentially lethal.
Two groups faced each other across Atlanta Nursing Home's front entrance.
On one side: Rick, Daryl, Merle, and T-Dog.
On the other: Guillermo and his crew, five men, all carrying guns, all looking like they'd be happy for an excuse to use them.
Guillermo stood front and center. Early-thirties, with a thin mustache and a thick gold chain that probably used to mean something in whatever corner of Atlanta he'd claimed before the world ended. Now it just made him look like he was trying too hard.
He stared at Rick.
Rick shoved the kid forward. "Your man. We brought him back. Now give us our people."
Guillermo didn't move. His eyes swept over Rick's group.
"You still don't get it, do you? You're not in a position to make demands."
"We returned your guy unharmed," Rick said, keeping his tone level. "We're asking for the same courtesy."
"Unharmed?" Guillermo's eyebrow went up. He looked at the kid, who was standing there with dried piss stains on his pants. "Looks pretty harmed to me."
"He's breathing. That's more than I can say for most people these days."
Guillermo's expression hardened. "Where's my gun? The Beretta should've been in the bag."
"That's not your gun."
"Like hell it isn't."
Everyone had weapons up now, fingers on triggers, waiting to see who'd blink first.
Then Guillermo's crew racked their slides in near-perfect unison. Daryl and Merle responded instantly, crossbow and rifle coming up to aim at heads.
T-Dog had his pistol out.
Rick's hand moved to his weapon, though he did not draw it. He was already calculating the odds, estimating how many of them would die if the situation turned into a firefight and whether they could even get Glenn and Lucien out alive if they won.
The math didn't look good.
"Last chance," Guillermo said.
Rick was about to respond when a voice interrupted him.
"Felipe! Felipe, where are you?!"
Everyone froze.
A blond kid burst out of the nursing home, wearing a clean T-shirt that looked like it had just come out of the wash. He immediately spotted one of Guillermo's crew, the bald guy who had been shot in the ass by Daryl's crossbow earlier, and headed straight for him.
"There you are! We've got an emergency... Mr. Gilbert's asthma is acting up again and we can't find the spare inhaler. Do you know where it is?"
Rick's brain stuttered to a halt.
"Lucien?"
The kid turned, and his face lit up. "Rick! You're alive!"
He looked at the rest of the group, his eyes landing on Merle. "Oh, you're here too. Perfect, we should change your bandages anyway, make sure there's no infection setting in."
Then he grabbed Rick by the arm with one hand and the bald man with the other, and started herding them both toward the nursing home entrance.
"But first, Mr. Gilbert needs his medicine. Come on!"
Guillermo's crew lowered their weapons slightly, looking at each other like they weren't sure what the hell was happening. Daryl and Merle kept their aim steady, but the certainty had gone out of their posture.
T-Dog just stared.
This was Lucien? The same kid who'd been feverish and delirious according to Merle? He looked fine.
"What the hell?" Merle muttered, lowering his rifle slightly. "Kid's supposed to be dying, and he's out here playing nurse?"
Daryl was equally baffled. "That's Rick's kid?"
"Apparently," T-Dog said.
From his position, Guillermo opened his mouth to reassert control of the situation, maybe throw out another threat to remind everyone who was supposed to be in charge here.
Lucien didn't give him the chance.
He glanced back over his shoulder, flashing him a bright smile. "This'll just take a minute! Then we can sort out all the confusion!"
After a beat of awkward silence, Guillermo sighed and gestured for his crew to lower their weapons. "Alright. Let's go inside and get this over with."
His men followed, looking distinctly less threatening and more confused.
Daryl and Merle exchanged a glance.
Lucien did not look back at them. He was already moving, already talking, his words spilling out fast and bright as he pulled Rick along.
"Oh, and I should mention, the men who brought me here have been protecting the residents this whole time. They're good people. They just act tough so nobody gives them trouble."
Rick allowed himself to be pulled into the main hall of the nursing home. What he saw there was far beyond anything he had expected.