The Walking Dead: Days Gone Bye (Comics) | Review

Few comic-book series manage to transcend their genre limitations as effectively as The Walking Dead Vol. 1: Days Gone Bye by writer Robert Kirkman (Brit: AWOL, Brit: FUBAR) and artist Tony Moore (Battle Pope: Genesis, Battle Pope: Mayhem), which introduces readers to a zombie apocalypse on the brink of extinction.

Without any flashy superheros or fancy colored costumes, it gives us small town sheriff's deputy Rick Grimes, a man completely out of time; thrust into a nightmarish world of horror that tests every single moral boundary he thought he'd ever known.

When Rick Grimes awakes in an abandoned hospital, groggy from a coma, the silence hits him first. It is as if the world simply stopped and he's the last to know. The corridors echo with death and the emptiness isn't just around him– it seeps into him.

Rather than bogging down the narrative with heavy exposition about how the deadly outbreak began, we're thrust directly into Rick's deeply disorienting experience of discovering this nightmarish new reality. The haunting hospital sequence alone with its eerie emptiness sets a chilling tone of dread for the rest of the story.

The genius of Kirkman's approach lies in how he strips away all modern conveniences and communication networks, forcing Rick to navigate this terrifying horror with nothing but raw instinct and sheer determination to somehow survive.

It's a moment of unsettling stillness before he meets the first walker when opening the elevator door. He was even more shocked after finding a group of zombies behind the blocked cafeteria, only to run off to streets and meet the half-eaten Bicycle Girl.

In Rick's journey to Atlanta, we glimpse at glimmers of hope– and the price they demand. Meeting Glenn feels like seeing a bright glimpse of light through the overwhelming darkness, and finding Lori and Carl finally gives Rick something truly meaningful to fight for.

Rick's journey from confused awakening to reluctant leadership feels authentic and earned. His reunion with his family– wife Lori and son Carl– provides emotional anchor points that ground the supernatural elements in recognizable human experiences.

Yet trust comes at a cost and the group's tenuous bond snaps abruptly when unforeseen violence erupts in the campsite. The ending lands like a gut punch– not because it's flashy but because it feels inevitable and heartbreakingly human.

What separates Days Gone Bye from typical zombie fiction is its commitment to psychological realism over spectacular gore, showing how ordinary people gradually process extraordinary trauma through small, deeply human details and authentic emotional responses.

Shane's increasingly complex relationship with Rick and Lori hints at much deeper conflicts to come, while characters like Dale and Glenn represent vastly different approaches to survival. Each character feels genuinely purposeful rather than expendable, which makes the constant looming threat of death much more meaningful.

If there's a weakness in this opening volume, it's that some zombie encounters feel slightly repetitive. While the threat of the walkers remains constant, a few of the action sequences blend together without distinct characteristics.

Kirkman's writing is deceptively simple but absolutely brutal in its honesty. There are no quick answers, no hero's journey checklist met. Rick desperately scraps for basic survival– gun, boots and directions, while persistent fear and doubt constantly gnaw at him as every single decision carries the enormous weight of life or death.

We watch him adapt to life in this new world from officer to refugee and the way he eventually morphs into a leader of a small group of survivors feels earned. The quiet questions– "What am I living for?"– become louder than any zombie moan.

Tony Moore's black‑and‑white art suits the story perfectly. His clean yet uncompromising line work breathes life into every detail. The walkers are grotesque in their simplicity but the livings are drawn with fragile realism that holds tension in every glance.

Kirkman's central thrust isn't zombies– it is how quickly society fractures under fear. Despite its monochromatic art style, the moral landscape of "Days Gone Bye" is anything but black and white. Kirkman presents scenarios where traditional ethical frameworks break down, forcing characters to make a lot of impossible choices.

Days Gone Bye is a master class in hush-horror– a zombie apocalypse completely stripped of spectacle, laid bare in stark black and white. It's a deeply personal story of grief, leadership and survival that doesn't feel like a typical genre exercise– it feels like a genuine warning.

At times conversations drag slightly and character beats feel somewhat brief but they effectively set the solid foundation for the massive emotional weight to come. For those genuinely ready to see humanity brutally tested in the worst possible scenario, this volume delivers completely– and does it with genuine heart.

For readers new to zombie fiction, this provides an ideal entry point that prioritizes character development and emotional stakes over simple gore. For horror veterans, it offers a fresh perspective on familiar themes with many genuinely surprising elements.

The volume leaves you immediately wanting to continue Rick's increasingly harrowing personal journey, which is perhaps the highest praise any first installment can possibly receive. It's a deeply compelling beginning that promises even much greater emotional depths to explore in the many gripping volumes that inevitably follow.