Chapter 72 I’m the One Who Got Hurt

Why Were You Gone So Long?

Magnus Vane stood in front of the large prison layout mounted inside the warden’s office and traced the complex with one finger. “We’re in the administration building now. The structure beside us connects into Cell Block C, and farther back are Cell Blocks A and B, which look like the main inmate housing sections.” His eyes moved over the rest of the diagram, picking out the prisoner dining hall, library, recreation areas, and workshop spaces used for prison labor. From overhead, the prison itself wasn’t especially complicated, but knowing where everything was and actually clearing those places were two completely different problems.

Large portions of the facility were almost certainly packed with walkers, and many of the deeper sections had no natural light at all. With the power grid dead, electronic doors, surveillance cameras, control panels, interior lighting, and most other systems were useless, making every hallway more dangerous than it needed to be. Magnus glanced toward the computer sitting on the warden’s desk and frowned thoughtfully. If the prison’s internal network was still functional, a warden-level workstation should normally have access to at least part of the security system, possibly even the cameras covering the major cell blocks and corridors.

“That means we can’t just bulldoze our way through this place,” Magnus murmured. “We take it one section at a time.” His attention returned to the facility map, and he began searching for the utility spaces he remembered from the television storyline. “First priority should be the generator room. This place had backup power strong enough to keep critical prison systems running, and if we can restore electricity, clearing the interior gets a lot easier.”

Magnus remembered another problem almost immediately. In the original prison storyline, restarting the generator had triggered the facility’s alarm, filling the corridors with noise and attracting walkers from every direction. If that happened here, they could accidentally turn a controlled clearing operation into a disaster. “So before anybody turns the main generator on, we need to find the alarm controls and shut them down.”

The most logical location would have been the warden’s office, but Magnus had already searched every drawer, cabinet, wall panel, and obvious control point without finding anything useful. That left the correctional-officer control rooms. He leaned closer to the diagram and slowly moved his finger through the various corridors. “Control room… control room…”

There were several throughout the prison.

That made sense.

A facility this large couldn’t rely on one central post for every door and section.

But one control room stood out.

It was positioned between Cell Block C and Cell Block B and carried a different marking from the smaller officer stations scattered elsewhere. Magnus tapped the location with one finger. “If there’s a central alarm control anywhere outside this office, I’d bet it’s here.”

That alone made the trip upstairs worthwhile.

They now had a rough clearing order.

Secure the administration building completely.

Move everyone inside.

Then work toward the marked control room and generator before attempting to clear the deeper cell blocks.

Magnus nodded to himself. “Everyone can move in here tonight. Daryl said the first-floor cafeteria has a heavy steel door, so it should be secure enough for sleeping once we finish checking everything.”

With the useful information collected, Magnus moved into the deputy warden’s office for one final search. He opened drawers, cabinets, and storage compartments, only to discover another collection of personal items that looked suspiciously similar to what he had already found next door. One filing cabinet contained almost nothing except lingerie, bedding, and other obviously private belongings. Magnus stared at the contents for several seconds before rubbing his forehead.

“Seriously?”

He glanced toward the one-way mirror.

“The warden and deputy were both running this place like this, and somehow nobody got anything done when the world ended.”

Magnus pulled open another drawer.

No weapon.

He frowned.

“Not even a gun?”

Apparently offended by the waste, he swept the useful-looking personal items into his system backpack anyway. Leaving potentially valuable fabric, clothing, or other materials behind simply because their original purpose was embarrassing made no sense in the apocalypse. Whatever could be cleaned or repurposed belonged to the group now.

Down on the first floor, Shane slowly descended the stairs.

Rick noticed him immediately.

Their eyes met.

For one strange moment, the administration building seemed to disappear around them.

The people moving bodies, checking doors, and talking quietly faded into the background as Rick looked into Shane’s face and saw something he hadn’t seen in a long time. Not the jealous anger, the resentment, or the constant challenge that had defined Shane since Rick returned. Something older.

Familiar.

Rick suddenly remembered the first days they had worked together.

A younger Shane standing outside the sheriff’s department, posture straight with nervous energy, trying to look more confident than he felt.

“Rick Grimes?”

“Yeah.”

“Shane Walsh. Looks like I’m working with you.”

Back then, neither man had carried the weight they wore now. Rick hadn’t woken from a coma into the end of the world, and Shane hadn’t spent months trying to hold together a family that wasn’t his while believing his best friend was dead. Time had changed both of them so completely that the men standing in the prison barely resembled those younger deputies anymore.

Rick’s face was rougher now, covered with short stubble and exhaustion that made him look years older.

Shane had changed just as much.

The reckless confidence of his younger years had hardened into the shoulders of someone who had spent months carrying responsibility, fear, anger, and guilt all at once.

Neither moved.

The conversations around them gradually quieted as other members of the group noticed the strange tension.

Glenn paused.

Maggie looked from Shane to Rick, then instinctively glanced toward the staircase as if wondering whether Magnus might need to come back down before something happened. Andrea stopped sorting equipment, while T-Dog lowered the walker body he had been helping drag.

Shane finally stepped forward.

He stopped directly in front of Rick.

For several seconds, the silence was almost unbearable.

Then Shane spoke.

“Sir.”

Rick blinked.

Shane swallowed.

“I’m sorry.”

Another pause.

Then he added, “I’m back.”

The sentence sounded strange to everyone else.

But Rick understood.

His expression changed immediately.

Shane wasn’t apologizing for being physically absent.

He was telling Rick that the man who had once stood beside him—the friend, partner, and brother who existed before resentment poisoned everything between them—was finally trying to come back.

Rick’s eyes flickered.

Then he stepped forward and wrapped both arms around Shane.

The others stared.

Rick’s fingers tightened against the back of Shane’s protective gear until his knuckles turned pale. Whatever composure he had been holding onto cracked just enough for his eyes to redden. He leaned closer and spoke quietly enough that only Shane clearly heard him.

“Man… I’m the one who got shot.”

Shane froze.

Rick’s voice trembled.

“So why the hell were you gone for so long?”

Shane shut his eyes.

For months, Rick had been angry.

Confused.

Hurt.

But beneath all of it, Shane had still been his best friend.

The apocalypse had destroyed almost everything around them so quickly that assigning blame had become almost meaningless. Rick could blame Shane for Lori, blame Lori for turning to Shane, blame himself for being unconscious, or blame the hospital, the military, the walkers, and the entire ruined world. None of those choices would change what had happened.

And Rick knew one thing he could never ignore.

Shane had gotten Lori and Carl out.

Without him, Rick had no idea whether either of them would still be alive.

He didn’t want to imagine the answer.

That was why Rick had endured far more from Shane than he would have tolerated from anyone else. Unless Shane had truly forced the situation into a life-or-death confrontation, Rick had never wanted to destroy him. The bond between them had existed too long before Lori ever became part of the conflict.

Shane felt the embrace tighten.

For the first time in months, he returned it without reservation.

Sunlight spilled through the dirty administration-building windows and fell across Rick’s face, reaching Shane as well. Neither man said anything for several seconds, but both seemed to understand that the wall between them had finally cracked. It might not disappear completely in one morning, but there was finally a way through it.

Rick pulled back slightly.

“Welcome back, brother.”

His voice remained rough.

Shane looked at him.

Rick tried to regain his usual composure, but his mouth still trembled faintly. In a world where almost everyone they had once known was gone, Shane was more than an old coworker. He was family, in much the same way Daryl and Merle were family despite all the damage between them.

Rick patted Shane firmly on the shoulder.

Shane was just about to answer when a third voice came from the staircase.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Everyone turned.

Magnus was walking downstairs with the Stone Sledgehammer resting over one shoulder.

He looked at Rick and Shane standing together and showed absolutely no surprise. If anything, his expression suggested this was exactly what he had expected to happen eventually. Shane stared at him for a moment, clearly realizing that Magnus had probably engineered more of this reconciliation than anyone downstairs knew.

Rick quickly wiped near one eye and changed the subject. “How’s the third floor?”

Magnus pretended not to notice.

“Pretty useful.”

He stepped off the final stair. “Not much in the way of real supplies, but I found some things we’ll need later.”

He did not mention the contents of the deputy warden’s filing cabinets.

Some discoveries did not need to become group knowledge.

Magnus turned toward Shane. “Second floor completely clear?”

Shane took a breath and nodded. “I checked every room, bunk area, office, bathroom, and storage space. No more walkers. Looks like the ones that came through the ceiling were all that was left.”

Magnus nodded approvingly.

He had already done a quick check himself on the way downstairs and hadn’t noticed anything suspicious, but asking Shane publicly served another purpose. Everyone now heard that Shane had personally secured an entire floor after killing the walkers there himself. Magnus wanted the group to begin seeing Shane’s value through his work rather than only remembering the arguments and tension surrounding him.

“Good.”

Magnus moved into the middle of the group.

“Then the administration building is officially clear.”

A visible wave of relief went through everyone.

Magnus continued before the mood could turn into another celebration. “We’re not finished for the day. Keep the protective gear on and help move every walker body out onto the yard. I don’t want decomposing corpses sitting inside the building we’re about to sleep in.”

Several people groaned quietly.

Magnus ignored them.

“After that, everyone moves inside tonight. We’ll use the first-floor cafeteria as our main sleeping area for now because it has a solid metal door and enough room to keep people together.”

That announcement instantly improved everyone’s mood.

This was only the first real day of clearing the prison, and although most people had tried to act confident, anxiety had followed them through every hallway. Nobody knew how many walkers might be hiding behind doors or whether the building could actually be secured before dark. Now they had accomplished exactly that.

The first section of their future home belonged to them.

Daryl came out of the cafeteria carrying several dusty food packages. Merle followed him with far more enthusiasm. “Good news! Found some spaghetti, cornmeal, and a couple portable burners back there.”

Several heads turned immediately.

Merle raised his rifle triumphantly.

“That means tonight we eat like civilized people!”

He attempted something resembling a celebratory dance.

Daryl stared at him.

Then kicked him in the leg.

“Jesus Christ, Merle. Can you act normal for five minutes?”

Merle nearly stumbled into the wall.

The entire room broke into laughter.