The Protagonist System

118 Dead Days Go Bye (The Walking Dead TV Show)

118 Dead Days Go Bye (The Walking Dead TV Show)

I felt the world form around me as I regained consciousness and groaned in pain, because my body felt terrible. I opened my eyes to assess the damage and saw that I was inside a hospital room. It was kind of dark, despite the sunlight coming through the window. That was odd, as was the complete silence.

My eyes darted to the IV attached to my arm and it was nearly empty, which meant I had been here for a while. The electronic leads taped to my chest were connected to a silent machine beside the bed and I realized there was no power going to anything in the room. I also saw a dried out bouquet of flowers on the nightstand.

I sighed at not getting the normal memory download and I had no idea what world I was in or what I had to handle. When I tried to move, searing pain in my side stopped me and I took several panting breaths to work through it. My shoulder was also extremely sore and I glanced down to see both wrapped in bandages.

I also saw that I was thin as a rake and emaciated, almost starving, and my stomach felt both empty and ravenous. That meant I had lost the divine body that Fate gave me at the start and I barely had any muscles, so I couldn't rely on always being fit and good looking. It was a disappointment and also expected, since I knew I would be made to suffer.

When I checked my inventory, I saw a severely limited version instead of my normal unlimited one. I could still feel that everything I had was still there, only just barely out of reach. I somehow knew that usage, effort, and time would let me access more of what I had and I would just have to deal with things the normal way for a while.

For now, I only had access to a normal sized room and it was filled with the year of MRE rations, my two guns, some ammo, my various swords, my two endless snacks, the endless water container, several changes of clothes, and the souvenirs I bought in the shop.

I also had a single rack of 30 potions instead of the huge store of them I had packed back in the Harry Potter world. It was only 10 healing, 10 headache, and 10 mana potions and that severely limited my options. I was only slightly confused that I also had access to one of the trunks of treasure for some reason.

I took out a healing potion and drank it, hoping the world didn't screw me over and made the thing almost ineffectual. I only had 9 left and would have to try and find some kind of substitute ingredients to make more. Either that or abuse my limited inventory to open the next 'room' and hopefully gain access to more of them.

The pain in my side abated by about half and my shoulder stopped aching so much, so I sighed and drank a second potion, reducing my limited supply even more. Then again, if I started out handicapped too much, I was pretty much screwed anyway. It was better to be fully functional right now and not have to wait to recover normally.

The pain disappeared completely and I felt much better as I sat up and pulled off the eletronic leads and then carefully removed the IV. I was still kind of thin and starving, however. The potions only healed me to a certain point and didn't make me buff or anything. Only time and working out would get me close to being like my previous self and I would have to be happy with walking around in a regular body.

I slid off the bed and stretched, as if I just had a great sleep, and took a single step towards the nightstand when I felt something like a burning lance was shoved through my mind.

“GAAHHHHH-AHHHHHHHH!” I screamed and screamed as 34 years of memories were very painfully forced into my head and I collapsed onto the floor in a tight ball to ride it out.

It took a very long ten minutes of torture before the flood finally ended.

I silently cursed and raged at both the system and Fate for making me go through that and I wasn't surprised when a popup appeared and it apologized and told me they had to re-calibrate the memory transfer protocols.

“Yeah, fuck you, too.” I said and stayed there on the cold floor as I tried to recover. My head was pounding from the abuse it went through and I took out a headache potion. Thankfully, I only needed one to stop the pain and sighed with relief.

I now knew who I was and where I was. My name was Rick Grimes and I was a Deputy Sheriff in King County, Georgia. I had a wife and a son, too. I had also been assaulted and shot by a criminal several weeks ago and put into the hospital.

Unfortunately, this was where my own memories came into play. I knew this story. I had watched it eagerly in anticipation as the very first television show about the zombie apocalypse called The Walking Dead. I also knew there wasn't a cure after you died, no matter the cause or if you had been bitten or not. Bites just turned you much much faster.

Well, they'd turn other people. I was immune, thanks to Fate and Death buying me that. I thought and stayed on the floor for several more minutes, since I wasn't in any rush. I also had a handgun and a shotgun with unlimited ammo and they were going to come in very handy very soon.

I climbed to my feet and I didn't feel wobbly or dizzy, which was great. I tore off my bandages before I sat on the bed and took out an MRE to prepare it and eat it. I did this three more times and then took out the pack of endless potato chips and my container of water. Several handfuls of chips later, my hunger was sated and I felt full. I even topped it off with some liquid courage, namely tequila.

It burned down my throat and I felt better, even better than back in the last world. I paused and let the ache in my heart throb for several moments as I thought of the people I left behind, then I raised my container in a salute and took another drink, then let it revert back to water and put it and the chips away.

I went to the bathroom first and there was running water, so I spent some time taking a sponge bath. When I felt relatively clean, I went back out into the room and over to the dresser. I opened and checked several of the drawers and found my sheriff uniform, bloody shirt and all.

What I did not find was my old gun, my badge, my handcuffs, or the holster that should have been there. The bulletproof vest was gone as well, not that it had helped me much, considering I had been shot right where it didn't cover.

“We don't mean you no harm.” The man said and lowered his weapon. He didn't put it away, though.

“That's a double negative, so that means you do.” I said with a smile and lowered my own weapons, hearing a sigh of relief from the boy. “You need to be more clear about things.”

The man smiled as well and tucked the gun into his waistband as he held his hand out to shake. “Name's Morgan and that's my boy, Duane.”

“Sheriff Rick Grimes.” I said as I shook his hand, embellishing myself a little. Technically, anyway. If everyone else was dead, I was in charge, wasn't I? It just wasn't officially documented.

Morgan's smile disappeared and he let my hand go as if it burned him.

I laughed. “Relax, Morgan. Martial law applies in this situation. I won't be disputing squatter's rights or kicking you out of somewhere safe you've found to hole up.”

The man let out a loud sigh and nodded.

“I only came by here to get the keys to the station from my house here.” I told him and hopped off the bike. “Feel free to keep that. Appropriated vehicle in an emergency situation and all that.”

Morgan smiled and Duane looked conflicted.

“As long as you stay in the yard with it.” Morgan ordered.

Duane was no longer conflicted and hopped on the bike to ride it to the backyard.

“Thank you, Sheriff.” Morgan said and we watched the boy have fun, probably for the first time in weeks.

“I'm not wearing the hat or badge, so you can call me Rick.” I said and motioned for him to follow me into the house. I grabbed a picture of my wife and kid, went to the cupboard with tons of keys on it, and grabbed the spare set to the station and this house. “Give me a hand locking up the house, will you?”

“Sure, Rick.” Morgan said and we spent several minutes locking and securing the windows and doors of the place. There wasn't much we could do about blocking the windows unless we found a ton of wood from somewhere to cover them up.

“Thanks.” I said and shook his hand. “I'm heading out, so you might not see me again for a while. I'm going over to Atlanta where a survivor's camp is to look for my son. If there are any spare weapons at the station, I'll come back here and give them to you with some ammo.”

Morgan looked shocked at the offer. “Rick, I... that's more than generous and...”

“...you think I'm crazy for giving weapons away.” I finished for him and he chuckled.

“With the way the world is going, it's soon going to be every man for himself.” Morgan said.

“Or every man for his kid.” I said as I reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It's always been that way, only with a whole lot more of society's rules to abide by.”

Morgan laughed. “Yeah, that's true.”

I patted his shoulder and let it go. “I'll see you in a few hours.”

Morgan nodded and I walked down the street and towards the police station. I had some looting to do and some walkers to blow the heads off of.