The twilight deepened into a heavy dusk as the thirteen survivors stood before the imposing, silent facade of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. The massive steel gates were shut tight, the concrete walls unyielding. No lights shone from within, no hum of machinery reached their ears, only the unsettling quiet of a place that felt more like a mausoleum than a beacon of hope.
Rick Grimes moved forward first, his hand resting on his holstered Python, his eyes scanning for any sign of life or entry point. Shane flanked him, equally tense, his shotgun held at the ready. The others fanned out slightly, watching their surroundings, the memory of the roadside camp attack still fresh and raw.
"Anything?" Lori whispered, her arm around Carl, who clung to her side, his small face pale as he stared at the giant, dark building.
"No cameras visible from here, no obvious intercom," Rick called back, his voice low. He reached the gate and rattled it; the heavy steel didn't budge. "Hello!" he shouted, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness. "Is anyone in there? We need help! We have women and children!"
Only silence answered him. A cold breeze rustled the leaves in the nearby trees, a mournful sound.
Dale, from his position near the RV, surveyed the building's upper floors with his binoculars. "I see nothing, Rick. No lights, no movement at the windows. It looks… empty."
Shane let out a frustrated sigh. "Told you. Waste of time. We're sitting ducks out here."
"We came all this way, Shane. We have to be sure," Rick retorted, his determination unwavering. He banged his fist against the unyielding metal of the gate. "Open up! Please! We're survivors!"
It was Ethan who first tensed, his head tilting slightly. His Danger Sense, a faint but persistent thrum at the base of his skull, had begun to activate. "Movement," he said, his voice quiet but clear. "East, along that access road. I think walkers."
Daryl, already scanning in that direction, confirmed it a moment later. "He's right. Got shamblers, maybe half a dozen, comin' our way. Attracted by the noise, probably."
"Alright, form a perimeter!" Rick ordered, his attention snapping from the silent CDC to the immediate threat. "Conserve ammo if you can. We don't know what else is out here."
The group quickly formed a defensive line, using the vehicles as partial cover. The approaching walkers were standard, slow moving ones, but in their exposed position, any number was a threat. The drizzle from earlier had stopped, but the air was thick with a damp chill that promised a cold night.
As the first walkers closed in, Rick shouted again towards the CDC, his voice filled with desperation. "If anyone can hear me, we are under attack! We need sanctuary!"
The engagement was short but sharp. Daryl's crossbow thudded. Andrea's rifle cracked. Shane's shotgun boomed once, taking down two walkers that had gotten too close. Ethan, with his machete, and T-Dog, with a tire iron, dealt with those that breached the initial line of fire. Glenn, though visibly nervous, stood his ground with a handgun. The children were sheltered in the RV, Lori and Carol trying to keep them calm.
"There's more coming!" Jacqui called out, pointing towards another small group emerging from the shadows. "They're being drawn to us!"
The situation was rapidly becoming untenable. They could not fight off an endless stream of walkers out in the open with their limited ammunition. Rick's hope for the CDC was fading, replaced by a grim urgency. He looked up at the dark, impassive building, at the unblinking, unseen eyes of cameras he was sure were there.
"Please!" he yelled, his voice hoarse. "For God's sake, help us!"
Just as Shane was about to yell for a retreat back to the vehicles to try and flee, a sudden, blindingly bright halogen light flared to life above the main pedestrian entrance of the CDC, a heavy, multi-locked steel door set within the larger vehicle barricade. The light cut through the gloom, making them all squint.
For a heartbeat, everyone froze, survivors and walkers alike.
Then, with a series of loud, metallic clanks and the hiss of pneumatics, the massive steel door began to retract upwards, revealing a dimly lit, sterile entryway beyond.
A figure was silhouetted in the doorway. Tall, lean, wearing a lab coat.
"You all better come in quick, if you're coming," a voice, slightly distorted by an unseen speaker system but clear enough, echoed out. "The welcome mat is getting a little crowded out there."
There was no hesitation. "Go! Go! Go!" Rick yelled, shoving Carl and Lori towards the opening.
The survivors scrambled, firing a few last, desperate shots to deter the closest walkers, then poured through the opening into the CDC. Daryl and Shane were the last ones in, Shane firing his shotgun one final time into the grasping hands reaching for them before he ducked inside.
With another hiss and a resounding thud, the heavy steel door slammed shut behind them, plunging the entryway into a dimmer, artificial light and cutting off the sounds of the dead. They were inside. Safe, for the moment.
They found themselves in a wide, sterile corridor or reception area. The air was cool, filtered, and smelled faintly of antiseptic. The figure who had spoken stepped fully into the light. He was a man in his late forties or early fifties, with tired eyes, a haggard expression, and a lab coat that looked like it had been worn for days. He held a P90 submachine gun with an air of weary familiarity.
"Vi, run the decon sequence on the new arrivals," the man said, not to them, but seemingly to the air. A calm, synthesized female voice responded from unseen speakers. "Initiating decontamination protocol, Dr. Jenner."
Dr. Edwin Jenner. The last man in the CDC. He looked at the thirteen stunned, mud-spattered, and heavily armed survivors who had just burst into his sanctuary, his expression a mixture of resignation and something unreadable.
"Welcome to the CDC," he said, his voice flat. "Such as it is."