A few hours later, as the truck rolled down the country road, Shawn took a right turn and after several minutes, they pulled up to a quiet farm. He stopped the truck, and both Chet and Wolfe hopped out.
"Hey Shawn... I'm gonna run on home. My mama's gonna be in a snit," Chet said, then glanced at Wolfe and added, "Hey, think you can let him stay here a while? Till he gets his memory back? It's not safe out there."
"No sweat, man. I'll catch you tomorrow night," Shawn replied.
Chet turned to Lee and Clementine. "It was nice meeting you both." Then he looked at Wolfe, nodded silently, and jogged off toward home.
As soon as Chet left, the front door of the farmhouse creaked open and an older man in his late fifties stepped out, visibly relieved.
"Thank God you're okay," the man said. It was clear he was Shawn's father.
Shawn walked up and gave him a quick hug. "I thought it might be bad here too."
"Been quiet as usual the past couple days," the man replied. "Ol' Breckon down the way said he saw his mare get eaten by a man, but... that ain't anything too unusual."
"I wouldn't have made it back without Chet and these guys," Shawn said, gesturing to Lee, Clementine, and Wolfe.
"I'm glad he was with you, then," the older man said, eyeing the new arrivals. "You brought a couple guests, huh?"
"Your boy's a lifesaver," Lee spoke up. "Helped us out of a real mess. We were hoping to stay the night."
"I'm glad he could help," the man nodded, still suspicious. "So, it's you and your daughter?"
"She's not his daughter. He's her neighbor—her parents are out of town," Shawn explained. "And this guy here's Wolfe. We met him on the road. He got in an accident, says he doesn't remember anything. Chet and I brought him along. Can he stay a few days?"
The older man gave Wolfe a long look before nodding. "Alright."
He turned his gaze to Clementine. "Honey, do you know this man?"
"Yes," she replied softly.
"Okay then," the man said, turning back to Lee. He noticed the limp and the injury on Lee's leg. "Looks like you hurt that leg pretty bad. I can help with that."
He glanced at Shawn. "Go see your sister inside. I'll take a look at this."
"I'm Hershel Greene," the man said as he knelt to inspect Lee's leg.
A few minutes later, Shawn returned from inside.
"Hey Dad, I was thinking—first thing tomorrow, we need to reinforce the fence around the farm."
Hershel waved it off. "That doesn't seem necessary."
Shawn's tone hardened. "I don't know what you saw on TV or heard on the radio, but there's some serious shit hitting the fan. Nobody really knows how big this is yet."
"He's right," Lee added. "You'll want to fortify this place."
Wolfe and Clementine silently nodded in agreement from behind.
"Stuff like that doesn't happen around here, Shawn," Hershel said, unconvinced.
"Dad, I'm serious. Ask Chet. Lee, tell him what you saw out there."
Lee looked him square in the eyes. "I saw dead people walking. Guts spilling out, and they were still walking—eating people."
Hershel finally relented. "Well, do what you think you should. We've got enough chores as it is."
"Don't worry. These folks'll help. We've got to do this," Shawn insisted.
"I already said okay," Hershel muttered, annoyed. After finishing the bandage on Lee's leg, he added, "There are blankets and such in the barn. We'll see you bright and early. Tomorrow, which way you two heading?"
"Macon, I suppose," Lee answered.
Hershel looked at Wolfe. "And you? You're stayin' here for a while."
Wolfe nodded silently.
That night, they settled in the barn. It was dark and smelled of hay and livestock. A man inside quietly gestured to an open spot on the ground where they could rest. Wolfe noticed stairs leading to a loft and climbed up, finding a spot near the window. The cool wind drifting through pushed away the animal stench.
Lying down, Wolfe stared out at the moonlit sky. His thoughts stirred.
How am I still alive? Is this really my face? Who am I? Why can't I remember anything?
He ran his hand over his face again.
Am I even in my own body...?
He remembered flashes—the man the others called Dr. Kurt, the needle, the lab, the firestorm of the helicopter crash. He was sure no one could've survived that. And yet... here he was. No burns, no broken bones. But when he saw his reflection in the truck's side mirror, the face staring back wasn't his. When they asked his name, he had blurted out the one he'd heard from Dr. Kurt—"Wolfe."
I don't know anything else, he thought. If they believe I lost my memory, maybe I can figure things out.
He felt lucky to be alive... even if he didn't know how or why.
I was ready to die. It was a suicide mission. After the tumor diagnosis, I had nothing to lose. All I wanted was revenge—kill the bastards who murdered my family. I crossed borders, bribed informants, tracked the organization. But I failed. Got captured, tortured. They wanted to know who I was working for...
His hands clenched.
I was prepared to die. At least I tried. Then the explosion. I woke up in a lab—in America—in someone else's body. I must be an experiment. Or maybe… maybe they want me for something.
He stared at the stars.
There must be a reason I'm still alive...
And with that thought, Wolfe slowly drifted off to sleep.