Chapter 9: VI's Revelation
POV: Rick
The alarm cut through the dinner conversation like a scalpel through flesh, sharp and insistent and wrong. Rick's hand moved instinctively to his Colt Python, muscle memory from years of police work overriding the false sense of security the CDC had provided.
"What's that?" Lori asked, her voice tight with the kind of controlled panic that meant she was thinking about Carl's safety above all else.
Jenner stood slowly, his wine glass forgotten, and Rick caught something in the doctor's expression that made his blood run cold. Not surprise. Not confusion. Recognition.
"VI," Jenner said to the empty air. "What's the emergency?"
The computer's voice filled the dining room with artificial calm: "Facility lockdown initiated. Decontamination protocol in twenty-eight minutes, fourteen seconds."
The words hit Rick like a physical blow, but their meaning took precious seconds to penetrate his consciousness. Decontamination. In a building this size, with systems this sophisticated, decontamination could only mean one thing.
"Jenner," Rick said slowly, his voice carrying the deadly quiet of a man trying very hard not to kill someone. "What does that mean?"
The doctor's smile was serene, beatific, the expression of a man at perfect peace with his decisions. "It means we have twenty-eight minutes to say our goodbyes."
Chaos erupted around the table. Chairs crashed backward as people lurched to their feet. Shane's hand went to his weapon, Glenn started babbling questions, Carol instinctively pulled Sophia closer. The civilized veneer they'd maintained over dinner shattered like glass.
But Rick's attention was fixed on Jake.
The young man sat perfectly still while mayhem swirled around him, his face a mask of resignation so complete it was almost supernatural. Not shock. Not disbelief. Not even fear. Just acceptance, as if this moment was exactly what he'd been expecting all along.
"You're not surprised," Rick said, his voice cutting through the noise.
Jake met his eyes and something passed between them—an acknowledgment, a confession, a plea for understanding. Jake's mouth opened as if to speak, then closed again. He shook his head mutely, and Rick saw tears beginning to track down the younger man's cheeks.
The pieces clicked together in Rick's mind with the terrible clarity of a completed puzzle. Jake's nervous energy all evening. His cryptic warnings about the CDC being dangerous. His countdown on his fingers, tracking something invisible to everyone else.
"You knew," Rick breathed. "You've known this whole time."
Jake tried to speak. Rick could see the effort in every line of his body, the way his throat worked as he struggled to force out words. When they finally came, they were gibberish: "Eye blue diss hood happen!"
The young man doubled over and vomited onto the pristine floor, his body rejecting whatever force was preventing him from speaking the truth. Rick stared at him in horror and growing understanding.
"He's been trying to warn us. All this time, he's been trying to warn us, and something won't let him speak."
POV: Jake
The truth was out, or as close to out as it could ever be with his cosmic gag order still firmly in place. Rick knew. Maybe not the details, maybe not the how or why, but he understood that Jake had foreknowledge of what was coming.
Jake wiped vomit from his mouth with shaking hands, tasting bile and desperation. Around him, the group was fragmenting into panic and accusation. Shane had his shotgun half-raised, his face a mask of suspicion and barely controlled violence. Andrea was demanding explanations that Jake couldn't give. Glenn was checking doors that wouldn't open.
"Twenty-eight minutes. That's all the time we have left, and they're wasting it on questions I can't answer."
"I knew this would happen!" Jake tried again, forcing each word through the crushing pressure in his throat. But what emerged was: "Eye gnu disk wood apple!"
Andrea stared at him in horror. "He's having a breakdown. The stress finally broke him."
"No," Rick said quietly, his sheriff's instincts reading between the lines. "He's trying to tell us something. He's been trying to tell us all along."
Jake collapsed into a chair, tears streaming down his face. The weight of his failure was crushing—twenty-eight minutes to live, and he still couldn't make them understand the danger they'd been walking into all along.
But then he noticed Jacqui.
The woman sat apart from the others, her dark face serene in a way that reminded Jake of martyrs in religious paintings. While everyone else raged and panicked and demanded answers, she had found a different kind of peace.
"I'm staying," she said quietly, her words cutting through the chaos like a blade through silk.
"Like hell you are," T-Dog shot back immediately. "We stick together, Jacqui. That's how we survive."
"No." Her voice was firm, final. "I'm tired, T. Tired of running, tired of being afraid, tired of watching people die. If this is how it ends, at least it'll be quick."
Jake stood on unsteady legs and walked over to her. His voice was still locked, his words still scrambled, but maybe he could offer something else. Something the entity that had cursed him couldn't take away.
He knelt beside Jacqui's chair and took her hand in both of his. The moment their skin touched, he felt his death sense respond—not the usual cold detection of corpses and walkers, but something warmer. A recognition of approaching transition, of a soul preparing to let go.
"Peace. If I can't save her, maybe I can give her peace."
Jake reached out with the gentlest touch of his power, not commanding or controlling but simply offering comfort. He thought of quiet places, of rest after struggle, of the soft darkness that came at the end of pain. It wasn't much—he wasn't even sure it was real—but Jacqui's eyes widened slightly as something settled over her like a warm blanket.
"Thank you," she whispered, understanding somehow that he was giving her a gift. Her smile was radiant, transformative. "I can feel it. The fear's gone."
Jake nodded, tears flowing freely now. For once, his power had been used to heal rather than fight, to comfort rather than control. It was the first time since arriving in this world that he felt truly human.
But around them, the clock was still ticking.
Twenty-four minutes and counting.
The group had discovered that the doors were locked, the elevators disabled, every exit sealed by Jenner's final protocol. They were trapped in a tomb of their own making, and Jake was the only one who knew how to break them free.
If his alchemy was strong enough. If his body could handle the strain. If he could transmute metal and circuitry and whatever other barriers stood between them and escape.
Big ifs. But they were all he had.
Jake kissed Jacqui's forehead gently—a benediction, a farewell—and stood to face the group. His voice was still scrambled when he tried to explain their options, but his actions would have to speak louder than words.
Twenty-three minutes.
Time to find out if his powers were strong enough to cheat death one more time.
Author's Note / Promotion:
Your Reviews and Power Stones are the best way to show support. They help me know what you're enjoying and bring in new readers!
Can't wait for the next chapter of [ In The Walking Dead With 3 Wishes ]?
You don't have to. Get instant access to more content by supporting me on Patreon. I have three options so you can pick how far ahead you want to be:
🪙 Silver Tier ($6): Read 10 chapters ahead of the public site.
👑 Gold Tier ($9): Get 15-20 chapters ahead of the public site.
💎 Platinum Tier ($15): The ultimate experience. Get new chapters the second I finish them (20+ chapters ahead!). No waiting for weekly drops, just pure, instant access.
Your support helps me write more .
👉 Find it all at patreon.com/fanficwriter1