For the next three days, Rick remained lying in the isolation ward.
Wu Fan would stop by every day to check on his condition.
Dr. Abraham came even more frequently—the Old Professor was full of research interest in every "living miracle."
On the afternoon of the third day, a group of people gathered in the ward.
Abraham held a medical chart, flipping through the monitoring data from the past few days.
Gail stood by the bed, looking nervously at the instruments. Wu Fan leaned against the doorframe, waiting for the results.
"The brain waves have been normal."
Abraham pushed up his glasses. "There are no signs of a vegetative state. But he just won't wake up."
He closed the medical record and looked at Wu Fan. "BOSS, I suggest using drug stimulation. Inject him with a Central Nervous System Stimulant and combine it with strong external stimulation. He should wake up then."
Wu Fan nodded and was about to speak when Gail couldn't help but interject.
"Wait—"
She bit her lip but said it anyway. "BOSS, I know I shouldn't question you... but as a doctor, I must say that forced awakening carries risks for comatose patients. It's best to let him wake up naturally, relying on his brain's own will. That way, there are no side effects or long-term consequences."
Wu Fan looked at her.
There was persistence in Gail's eyes, but also a hint of uncertainty—she had just arrived and wasn't yet clear on this BOSS's temperament.
Wu Fan was silent for two seconds, then asked, "How much longer for a natural awakening?"
Gail hesitated. "That... it's hard to say. Maybe tomorrow, maybe a week, or maybe..."
"Or maybe he'll never wake up."
Abraham chimed in. "The longer the coma, the more severe the brain function degradation. If we wait any longer, even if he wakes up, he might suffer from cognitive impairment."
Gail opened her mouth but couldn't find the words to refute him.
Wu Fan thought for a moment and said to the young researcher, "Prepare the injection."
Gail lowered her head and said no more.
She knew she had no say in the matter.
This was Wu Fan's territory, and she was just a newcomer.
But she silently walked to the bedside, took Rick's hand, and whispered, "Hold on."
The young researcher brought over a syringe with a long, thin needle and clear liquid.
He walked to the bedside and, under Abraham's guidance, aimed for the heart—
And plunged it in forcefully.
The moment the needle pierced his chest cavity, Rick's body jolted violently.
"Hoo—"
A long, heavy exhale.
Rick's eyes snapped open.
Those grayish-blue eyes were wide, staring straight at the ceiling, his pupils contracting sharply.
His chest heaved violently as he gasped for air, like someone who had just surfaced from underwater.
"This is..."
His voice was so raspy it was barely audible. "Where is this?"
Wu Fan walked to the bedside and looked down at him. "The CDC. You're safe."
Rick tried to prop himself up, but his arms had no strength at all.
He struggled to sit up, his legs moving uncontrollably, nearly tumbling off the bed.
"Hey, hey—"
Wu Fan held him down. "I think you'd better lie down for a few more days. Don't be in such a hurry to stand up."
Rick panted and lay back on the bed.
His eyes slowly focused as he began to take in his surroundings—white walls, instruments, people in white coats, and the woman in a hospital gown by his bed.
"How long... have I been unconscious?"
He asked.
Wu Fan gestured with his chin toward Gail. "Gail, this is your patient. You tell him."
Gail stepped forward, medical record in hand.
She opened it and cleared her throat. "Rick Grimes, male, approximately thirty-five years old. Hemorrhagic shock caused by a gunshot wound, comatose after surgery. Today is—"
She paused.
"The twenty-eighth day."
Rick was stunned.
"Twenty-eight days?"
He murmured, his eyes full of disbelief. "Twenty-eight days..."
Then he suddenly remembered something and grabbed Gail's arm. "My wife! My son! Lori, Carl—what about them? Where are they?"
Gail felt a sharp pain from his grip, but she didn't pull away.
She looked at Wu Fan.
Wu Fan walked over and patted Rick's shoulder. "Calm down, buddy. We'll help you contact them and have them come over right away. But first, you need to recover. You've been lying down for twenty-eight days; your muscles have atrophied. You can't even stand up, so how are you going to look for them?"
Rick looked at him with eyes full of anxiety and pleading, but upon hearing Wu Fan's words, his whole body relaxed.
"Thank you!"
Wu Fan softened his tone. "I said I'll help you contact them to get them here as soon as possible, but for now, focus on getting better."
Rick slowly released Gail's hand and lay back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Wu Fan turned and walked out of the ward.
Gail stood where she was, watching his retreating back thoughtfully.
Leaving the medical area, Wu Fan walked to the isolation zone.
Through the observation window, he saw Morgan lying on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
The television next to him was on, playing a comedy from God knows how many years ago, but he clearly wasn't watching.
Wu Fan pushed the door open and entered.
Morgan sat up and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was him. "BOSS."
"How are you?"
Wu Fan leaned against the wall. "Any physical discomfort?"
Morgan shook his head. "Physically, I'm fine. It's just..."
He gestured to the small space around him. "It feels like being in prison."
Wu Fan laughed. "You should be glad it's not a real prison."
"What do you mean?"
"A real prison..."
Wu Fan said with a straight face, "There would be five or six 'girls' who couldn't stand the loneliness and would look for you every day to 'pass the time.' Here, you have a private room, three meals a day delivered to you, and people to talk to—be content."
Morgan was stunned for two seconds, then realized the joke and looked horrified. "Y-Your joke is too terrifying!"
"Terrifying? I think it's quite realistic."
Morgan shook his head helplessly, then asked, "What about my son? How's Duane?"
Wu Fan made an exception and opened the isolation door, letting Morgan follow him. "Come and see."
Morgan walked to Duane's observation window.
Duane was sitting on the bed, back against the wall, holding a comic book.
The book was thick and old, with a superhero in a classic pose on the cover.
The kid was reading with rapt attention, not even blinking, occasionally letting out a silly giggle.
Morgan watched his son, a smile creeping onto his face.
"Kids are like that."
Wu Fan said from the side. "With comics and cartoons, they never get bored. To him, these three days have flown by."
Morgan nodded and didn't say anything, just watching his son.
After watching for a good while, he finally turned and walked back to his own bed.
"Relax."
Wu Fan said at the door. "You can come out tomorrow."
Morgan gave a grunt of affirmation and lay back down.
Wu Fan closed the door and left the isolation area.
The corridor was very quiet.
Through the window, he could see the sky outside had already darkened.
In the distance, toward Atlanta, he could occasionally see the glow of fires—perhaps survivors resisting, or buildings burning.
He pulled out that Umbrella Corporation ID card and looked at the red and white logo on it.
Rick was awake.
Morgan and his daughter—no, Morgan and his son, plus the Andrea sisters, and that female doctor Gail, there were now over twenty people in the base.
But the points still weren't enough.
The second level of the Hive was still a little short.
Wu Fan put the card back in his pocket and walked toward the elevator.
He was going underground.
To see that world waiting to be unlocked.