Edwin stared at Jim, clearly thrown. The statement had sounded almost prophetic, the kind of thing you'd expect from a fortune cookie or a motivational poster, not from a man who'd been half-catatonic for most of the meal.
"I..." he started, then stopped, clearly unsure how to respond to something that felt less like conversation and more like divination.
Rick stepped in before the silence could linger too long.
"I get it," he said. "Feeling like there is nothing left worth fighting for."
"When all of this started, I was in a coma," he said. "I was lying in a hospital bed in King County. When I woke up, this was what I saw." He gestured vaguely toward the ruined world beyond the CDC's walls. "I had no idea what had happened. I did not know if anyone I cared about was still alive. I thought I had lost everything."
Shane shifted uncomfortably at that, but Rick did not look at him.
"If someone had not told me they were still out there, that there was still a reason to keep going…" Rick's voice trailed off. He shook his head slowly. "I do not know if I would have made it this far."
"But you did," Andrea said quietly.
"Yeah." Rick picked up his glass again. "I did. And I found them. So Jim's right. You can't give up. Not while there's still a chance."
Amy spoke up then. She rubbed her arm without realizing it, her fingers tracing the spot just below her shoulder.
"When it first started, I thought every day would be my last. I was terrified. I could not sleep or eat. All I did was wait for the moment when it would finally happen." She swallowed. "On my birthday, one of them almost got me. I still see its face sometimes when I close my eyes. I thought I was going to die, come back as one of those things, and that everything that mattered would be over."
Andrea reached for her hand and held it tight.
"But I didn't die," Amy continued. "I'm still here." A shaky smile crossed her face. "Looking back, it was just a really bad birthday. That's all."
The table had gone quiet, everyone processing their own versions of the same story.
"Yeah, well." Merle took a pull from his wine, grimacing at the taste. "There's also times when assholes leave you handcuffed on a goddamn rooftop to die, and then some kid shows up outta nowhere and saves your ass." He pointed his glass vaguely in Lucien's direction. "World's fucked six ways from Sunday. Who the hell knows what's gonna happen next?"
The sentiment was touching in a Merle kind of way, which was to say, deeply uncomfortable and wrapped in profanity. But it shifted the energy in the room, breaking the spiral of trauma before it could drag everyone down.
Lucien noticed the attention beginning to drift his way and stood up quickly, before anyone could ask him to elaborate on the rooftop rescue or, worse, start treating him like some kind of good luck charm.
"Dr. Jenner," he said.
Edwin looked up at him, clearly surprised to be addressed directly.
"I think everyone here has been through something similar," Lucien continued. "Moments when we thought it was over. When we believed we were the last ones left, and that there was no point in trying anymore."
He glanced around the table.
"But we're still here," he said simply. "We are looking toward tomorrow, even when today feels like a nightmare."
He turned back to Edwin. "This morning, we drove here under the worst of the sun. We saw the bodies outside. We thought this place had fallen, just like everywhere else. Then you opened the doors. You did not have to. You could have stayed hidden and stayed safe, but you chose to let us in."
Lucien lifted his glass of grape juice, and raised it slightly. "You might be right. The world could be ending, and there may be no stopping it. We could all be doomed."
He paused, then smiled faintly. "But if we are going to burn tomorrow, we might as well enjoy the shade today. You gave us a meal, a safe place, and a moment to breathe."
He inclined his glass toward Edwin. "So, thank you."
Then he tipped the glass back and drank. The liquid hit his tongue, and he realized his mistake immediately.
It was not grape juice, but wine.
The taste was awful. It was sour, bitter, and burned all the way down his throat. His young body rejected the alcohol violently.
He snapped his head to the side and spat, wine spraying across the floor.
"Who..." He coughed, eyes watering. "Cough... who switched my juice for wine?"
"That was me!" Duane raised his hand, grinning like he'd just pulled off the world's best prank. "I tried some of Dad's and it tasted pretty good, so I poured you some too!"
Lucien stared at him in betrayal.
"You could've warned me," he managed between coughs.
"Where's the fun in that?" Duane asked innocently.
The table exploded in laughter.
It started with Glenn, who'd nearly choked on his own drink. Then T-Dog joined in. Andrea was covering her mouth, trying to maintain some dignity while her shoulders shook. Even Shane cracked a smile.
"Are you alright?" Lori asked, though she was laughing too. She grabbed the pitcher of grape juice and refilled Lucien's glass. "Here. Try not to drink this one like you're making a dramatic statement."
"Noted," Lucien muttered, his face burning.
In his previous life, back when he'd been a university student, he could handle a pint or two without embarrassing himself. Nothing impressive, but acceptable. But this body was young. Nowhere near developed enough to process alcohol without consequence.
The laughter continued. Even Edwin was smiling now.
---
After the meal wound down, Edwin stood.
"Come on, I'll show you where you can sleep."
He led them through more corridors.
"Power is limited," he explained as they walked. "Most of the dormitory areas are offline, so you will have to make do with what is available."
He stopped at a hallway lined with doors. One by one, he opened them. Each door revealed a space that made the group slow, then stop entirely. These were not dormitory rooms. They were offices. Large, comfortable offices, furnished with couches that could pass for beds, chairs that looked sturdy enough to last, and floors that were clean.
Morales stepped into one of the rooms, running his hand over the back of a leather sofa. "You call this making do?"
"I haven't slept on something this soft since..." Andrea trailed off, staring at the furniture like it might disappear if she looked away.
Carol was crying again, quietly, one hand pressed to her mouth.
Dale just shook his head. "Your definition of 'making do' and mine are very different."
"There's a recreation room down that way," Edwin continued, gesturing toward the end of the hall. He looked at the kids. "You can play in there, just don't touch anything that requires electricity."
"Recreation room?" Carl perked up slightly, fighting through his exhaustion.
"Games, books, that kind of thing," Edwin said.
Lucien's attention sharpened. "Books? Is there a library?"
Edwin paused. "The recreation room has some reading material. As for a proper library... Most areas are without power. I haven't explored much lately. There might be something."
"Alright. Thank you."
Lucien filed that information away. What he really needed was a copy of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Specifically, the scene where Barty Crouch Jr., disguised as Mad-Eye Moody, demonstrated the Unforgivable Curses.
The Imperius Curse.
It was mind control. The ability to override another person's will completely and force them to act against their own choices.
In the wrong hands, it was horrifying. In his hands, it would be a way to neutralize threats without killing, and to survive situations where brute force would fail.
The textbooks he currently possessed were part of the standard Hogwarts curriculum. Most covered first-year material, including basic charms, simple transfiguration, and theory. There was nothing on the Dark Arts, and certainly nothing on the Unforgivable Curses.
Still, if he could find that book and study Crouch's explanation of how to cast the curse and how to resist it, he might be able to piece things together. Trial and error would be unavoidable. He could practice on walkers first, and then, if it worked, use it only when necessary.
He was not naive enough to believe he would never need it. This world was not kind to those who insisted on playing fair.
The group soon dispersed to claim rooms. Their voices echoed down the hallway as they called dibs, argued good-naturedly over space, and debated who deserved the best couch.
That was when Edwin dropped the real bombshell.
"Oh, and if you want to shower, the hot water still works."
The hallway went silent.
"Hot water?" Glenn's voice came from the side. "Did you just say hot water?"
"Yes," Edwin confirmed, looking slightly confused by the reaction.
The corridor erupted.
People were already moving, grabbing their bags, and arguing over who got to go first. Merle let out a whoop that probably violated several noise ordinances.
"Dibs!" Glenn shouted, sprinting toward the nearest bathroom.
"Like hell!" T-Dog was right behind him.
Edwin watched the chaos with something approaching amusement, then quietly slipped away while everyone was distracted.
---
The laughter and shouting faded behind him as Edwin made his way back to the lab.
The interaction with living people had loosened something in his chest. It was something he had thought locked away. For a few hours, he had almost felt alive again.
Duty, however, pulled him back. There were blood tests to review and results to file.
Everyone was infected. The entire world carried it now. You died, and you turned. If you were bitten, you died faster and then turned. The process was simple and inevitable.
The group downstairs was healthy. Reviewing their results was little more than a formality.
Still, habits were hard to break.
He sat down at his workstation and pulled up the analysis files. The computer screen glowed in the dim lab.
He began to scroll through the reports.
Rick: Infected.
Shane: Infected.
Lori: Infected.
One after another, exactly as expected. There were no variations, and nothing out of the ordinary.
His eyes began to glaze over as the repetitive data blurred together.
Andrea: Infected.
Glenn: Infected.
Carol: Infected.
He was about to close the file and call it a night when one report caught his eye.
His hand froze on the mouse.