Chapter 88: Is Magnus Dead? The Lights Come On!

Everyone had gathered inside the administration building’s first-floor cafeteria by the time Rick and Shane returned. The moment they stepped through the door, both men felt the oppressive atmosphere hanging over the room, and when Rick looked toward Lori, she quietly met his eyes and shook her head. Carl was sleeping with his head on her lap, exhausted after spending nearly the entire day practicing with the Primitive Bow Magnus had made for him before leaving that morning. He still had no idea Magnus was missing, and Lori had no idea how she was supposed to tell him if the worst happened, because nobody understood better than she did how important Magnus had become to her son.

Rick silently moved to the table and sat down, his gaze passing over everyone before stopping on an empty stool near the center of the cafeteria. A bowl of mashed potatoes and another bowl containing venison had been placed there, both still giving off a little steam as though Magnus might appear at any moment and sit down to eat. Compared with the laughter and warmth that had filled the room the previous night, tonight felt almost unnaturally cold. Nobody talked much; only the quiet clinking of spoons against metal plates could be heard as everyone lowered their heads and forced themselves to eat, each person feeling the empty space Magnus had left behind.

The cafeteria door suddenly creaked, and nearly every head lifted at once. Hope flashed across several faces before they realized it was only Jim entering, his complexion noticeably better than it had been that morning. The disappointment was immediate, and most people lowered their heads again as Jim quietly sat beside Amy. “Feeling any better?” she asked, and Jim nodded hesitantly. “A lot better… but there’s something I need to say.” He slowly set down his food and raised his voice enough for everyone to hear. “This morning I dug into that pit Magnus made on the lawn. I didn’t know why I was doing it, but when I reached the bodies, there was an empty space in the middle. Then today I realized something, and I think I finally understand—”

Carol abruptly stood before he could finish. Her eyes were already wet, and she walked straight into the kitchen without saying a word. Andrea watched her leave, then looked coldly at Jim. “Go ahead. Why’d you stop? You were about to tell us Magnus is dead, weren’t you?” Jim opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat when he saw the expressions around the room. It wasn’t only Andrea; Rick, Shane, Daryl, Glenn, Maggie, Hershel, Amy, and almost everyone else was staring at him with the same mixture of fear and refusal. They all understood in their hearts that Magnus might not come back this time, yet none of them wanted to hear someone say it aloud.

Jim finally clenched his jaw and forced himself to continue. “Whether Magnus is alive or dead matters. If he’s alive, then of course we do everything we can to bring him back, but if he’s already dead, I don’t know if sending everyone into that prison tomorrow is the right choice. Even if we want to recover his body and bury him properly, we can take time, make a better plan, and not just rush in there and…” Jim stopped again, but nobody needed him to finish the sentence. He meant rushing in to die, and however painful it was to admit, the logic wasn’t wrong.

Magnus himself had warned them before leaving that if he and Shane failed to return by dark, nobody was supposed to blindly enter the prison after them. Rick understood that perfectly, and he also understood that if even Magnus had fallen inside, anyone else could die there just as easily. Yet he still had no intention of abandoning the search, because leaving Magnus’s fate unknown could tear the group apart worse than any answer. Shane had said it plainly enough earlier: alive, they brought him home; dead, they brought his body home.

There was another truth Rick didn’t say aloud. Magnus had become the group’s anchor. He had survived Atlanta, rescued people others would have written off, brought them through the farm, the road, two Blood Moons, and finally to the prison. His presence had slowly become a kind of certainty in everyone’s minds; when something went wrong, Magnus would find a solution, when walkers broke through, Magnus would stand at the front, and when the group started pulling itself apart, Magnus somehow found a way to hold it together. Even Rick had spent nights feeling calmer simply because Magnus was nearby. If that pillar vanished, morale could collapse with it, and a group without morale wouldn’t survive winter no matter how much food or ammunition they had.

Rick sighed and was just about to settle the matter once and for all when every light in the cafeteria suddenly came on. Yellow-white bulbs flickered overhead, flooding the entire room with electricity so abruptly that Rick, Shane, Daryl, T-Dog, Merle, Glenn, and several others shot to their feet. Everyone stared upward in disbelief, shielding their eyes after months of relying on daylight, lanterns, candles, and flashlights. “What the hell?” T-Dog muttered, while Carol rushed out from the kitchen with tears still on her face and stared at the glowing fixtures.

Shane stepped forward first. “It’s Magnus.”

Every person in the cafeteria turned toward him.

Then the lights went out again.

Darkness swallowed the room, leaving only the weak candlelight from the tables. Shane’s confidence wavered for half a second, but when he met Rick’s suddenly bright eyes, it returned immediately. Carol pulled Sophia closer and hurried forward. “What did you say?” Shane looked around at everyone before answering, “Magnus is alive. He reached the generator and turned it on. That’s why the lights came on.”

“Then why did they go back out?” Maggie asked immediately.

“The generator would be loud,” Hershel said slowly, and Shane’s expression changed as the answer clicked into place. “Exactly. If he’s trapped somewhere dangerous, leaving it running could pull walkers toward him. Maybe he only switched it on long enough to let us know he made it.” Shane quickly pulled the worn prison map from his pocket and spread it across the nearest table, tracing the route through Cell Block B toward the passage connecting it with Cell Block A. His finger stopped near the utility section. “The generator room is right here.”

Shane stared at the map for several seconds, then looked up with the fire back in his eyes. “I knew it. Magnus is in the generator room.” His hand tightened around the edge of the paper, crumpling it slightly before he turned toward Rick. “Tomorrow morning, we go into the prison.”

This time, nobody argued.

Somewhere else, Magnus Vane was standing behind the counter of a butcher shop.

At least, that was what his mind believed.

An elderly man shuffled up to the display case and tapped one of the fresh cuts of pork with obvious satisfaction. “How much a pound today, Magnus?” Magnus glanced down at the meat. “Three seventy-five.” The old man cupped a hand to his ear. “Three what?” Magnus repeated himself, louder this time. “Three dollars and seventy-five cents.” The man frowned. “Seventy what?” Magnus stared at him for a second before sighing. “Three seventy-five.” “So three dollars and how much?” Magnus finally gave up. “Pick whichever piece you want. I’ll give it to you for three dollars.”

The old man immediately smiled. “Now that sounds fair.” Magnus wrapped the meat while shaking his head. “You use this same bargaining trick every week.” “What?” the old man asked. “I said have a good day.” “Don’t have any hay.” Magnus watched him shuffle away and couldn’t help laughing despite himself. “Unbelievable.”

Another customer approached the stall, and Magnus recognized her immediately as a woman from the neighborhood who seemed to buy fresh meat far more often than any normal household needed. She wore a fitted purple dress and smiled as she leaned against the counter. “Morning, Magnus.” He returned the smile. “Back again? Need another couple pork chops?” She covered her mouth and laughed softly. “You make me sound greedy. I’m almost forty, you know.” “You come here four times a week,” Magnus replied. “That’s because the butcher’s friendly.”

She reached across the counter and gently took Magnus’s hand, her fingers slowly stroking his palm. “My husband isn’t home today. Maybe you could help carry my groceries back.” Magnus smiled awkwardly and tried to withdraw his hand. “That sounds like the beginning of trouble.” She held on. Magnus pulled away again, only for her hand to follow. He moved once more, and she caught him again, but this time a sharp pinch came with it.

Magnus frowned. “Hey.”

Another bite of pain followed.

“Hands are one thing, but could you stop using your teeth?”

No answer came.

Magnus’s smile slowly disappeared.

“Ma’am?”

The pressure suddenly became much stronger.

He raised his head.

The butcher shop vanished.

Magnus’s eyes snapped open.

And his heart nearly stopped.