Dwayne's passionate declaration instantly made the atmosphere in the ward feel strange.
Morgan, Jenny, and Dr. Gale exchanged looks, all of them caught between laughter and helpless exasperation.
Louis, who had just been publicly proclaimed a "savior," recovered from his brief shock with startling speed.
Instead of denying it, he leaned into Dwayne's words completely. His deep blue eyes widened, and his expression shifted into one of sudden revelation.
"So that's how it really is!"
He hurried to Dwayne's bedside, his voice full of excitement.
"I always thought Mom and Dad were just lying to me before. After all, I never managed to learn any magic."
He clenched his fists tightly, his eyes shining with conviction, and declared in an unusually solemn tone,
"I didn't expect that I really am the savior!"
The adults in the room smiled instinctively. Their smiles carried a familiar bitterness, the kind only adults could understand.
Almost immediately, they recalled the suitcase filled with strange books, the wand, and Louis's talk of Hogwarts and magic. In their minds, this was simply a lonely child clinging to a heroic fantasy in a world that had stripped him of everything else.
Dwayne, delighted to find someone who believed him, nodded vigorously.
"That's right! That's exactly what God told me!"
To the adults, it was nothing more than playful imagination between children, and they did not take it seriously.
On the surface, Louis eagerly chatted with Dwayne about "God's mission" and "saving the world," acting every bit the excited child. But beneath that cheerful expression, his thoughts were racing.
Could this kid really have some kind of prophetic sensitivity?
Louis vaguely remembered that in the original story, there had been people who sensed future dangers through dreams and visions. Still, it was just as likely that Dwayne's mind had stitched together fragments of reality while he was unconscious. Louis saving Paul, keeping watch over him, and the desperate hope of a scared child.
There was no way to confirm it now.
He sighed inwardly and quietly filed it away as a long term question.
Just then, a loud crash echoed from the far end of the corridor, as if something heavy had been knocked over.
The cheerful mood in the ward vanished instantly.
Morgan, Jenny, and Dr. Gale all stiffened. Morgan moved without thinking, stepping in front of his wife and son while grabbing the iron shovel from the corner.
Only Louis reacted differently.
At the sound, his eyes lit up, a thoughtful glint flashing across them.
This timing. This kind of noise.
"Everyone stay here," Dr. Gale said quietly, her expression turning sharp. "Don't move. I'll go check."
"That's too dangerous for you alone," Morgan said immediately. He hoisted the shovel, the old shotgun on his back standing out starkly. "I'll go first."
"Wait."
Louis spoke up suddenly, stopping them both.
"I don't think you need to worry too much."
Under their puzzled gazes, he continued calmly.
"The sound was loud, but very brief. There was no follow up, no growling, no movement from Walkers."
"If I'm not mistaken, it's probably a patient who just woke up."
His words struck Dr. Gale like a jolt.
She fell silent at once and tilted her head, listening closely.
In the stillness, a weak, hoarse voice drifted faintly through the corridor.
"Doctor… Is anyone there?"
Dr. Gale's face lit up with unmistakable joy.
"Someone really woke up."
She turned and hurried out immediately.
Morgan, still cautious, followed close behind with the shovel. Louis insisted on coming along, trailing quietly at the rear.
Guided by the sound, the three of them soon stopped outside a ward on the third floor.
There, beside an overturned metal tray, a tall man in a hospital gown lay sprawled on the floor.
His curly brown hair was matted with sweat, his limbs trembling as he struggled weakly to push himself up.
The moment Louis saw his face, the tension in his chest finally eased.
Safe.
It really was Rick Grimes.
Louis had been worried. His arrival in this world was like a butterfly beating its wings, and even the smallest deviation could have caused unpredictable consequences. He had feared that Rick might never wake up at all, or worse, die quietly in his coma.
But now, seeing him here, alive and breathing, Louis could only think one thing.
The halo of the chosen protagonist was still firmly intact.
Rick's consciousness was still trapped in the moment of the gunshot. The sudden tearing pain. The ground rushing up to meet him. Shane's face, pale with terror.
Then darkness.
When he finally opened his eyes again, he did not see heaven.
He saw silence.
A quiet hospital ward, empty except for himself. The room was clean. Flowers sat neatly in a vase, and the sheets had clearly been changed regularly.
Someone had been taking care of him. A doctor, maybe a nurse.
Rick did not dwell on it.
He glanced down at his body. The wound had healed, but his limbs felt stiff and useless, as though they no longer belonged to him.
What happened outside?
He tore the tubes from his arms and stumbled out of the ward, only to freeze in place.
The hospital was deserted.
The corridors were in ruins. Bullet holes scarred the walls, dried blood stained the floor, and overturned equipment littered the halls.
A wave of dread crashed down on him.
Lori. Carl.
Where were they?
His mouth was dry, his legs barely supported him, and every step felt like walking through water. He searched desperately for someone, anyone, but the hospital was eerily empty.
Was this some kind of elaborate joke?
But the smell of blood in the air and the unmistakable decay around him told him the truth. This was real.
"Doctor?" he croaked. "Is anyone there?"
His voice scraped painfully out of his throat.
As he staggered forward, his weakened body betrayed him. He clipped a metal tray, sending it clattering to the floor, and collapsed beside it with a dull thud.
Footsteps.
Rick looked up just as figures appeared around the corner.
A woman in a white coat.
A tall dark man gripping a shovel.
And a blond-haired, blue-eyed boy watching him quietly.
"Hey! Don't move!" the woman said urgently. "Your body's still very weak!"
Dr. Gayle and Morgan rushed to his side, helping him sit upright and lean against the wall.
In fragmented sentences and disjointed explanations, Rick was told the truth.
He had been unconscious for weeks.
In those weeks, the world had ended.
A mysterious flu had swept the globe. The dead were walking. Society had collapsed. The army had fallen. Cities were gone.
Rick listened in stunned silence.
It sounded absurd. Impossible. Like a nightmare stitched together from bad dreams and panic.
For a moment, he genuinely wondered if he was still unconscious.
Dr. Gayle saw the disbelief in his eyes and said nothing more. She knew words would not convince him. Only time would.
"Rest here," she said gently. "I'll get you some water and antibiotics."
She turned and headed toward the pharmacy.
Morgan hesitated, worry flickering across his face, then nodded to Rick. Thinking of his wife and son, he turned and headed back toward Dwayne's ward.
The corridor fell quiet again.
Only Rick and Louis remained.