Don't Get Dead | TWD | Volume 1

[42] Stealing Contraband

Things didn't seem to get any easier. Well, maybe they did.

As Hershel started to get better, everyone seemed more confident that we would actually be able to live in the prison. I had a much harder time accepting that outcome, knowing all the work that had to go into this place that some of the other members seemed to be neglecting. Not only that, but the mere thought of the prisoners being in the other cell block also threw uncertainty into our plans for the future.

Future.

I guess I was wrong about that, because we were already living through this. I tried to draw on the excitement I remembered feeling when we took over the field, but I remembered that being short lived when we found the civilian walkers inside the prison, and then again when we found the prisoners. Safe to say, the prisoners ruined everything.

Rick wanted to get the cars back from the road today, a simple task. He got a small group of people ready while I sat in my cell, comparing all the old plugs I had taken from the cars, to the new ones we scavenged from that garage a while back. They were like new, which meant they might've been better than the old ones who had been in each of the cars for God-knows-how-long. Every car, except the truck, was unknown, and if any plugs needed replacing then now would be the time to do that.

A shadow blocked her door while I was in mid-task, definitely obstructing her view of any important details of the plugs. Cracks in the surface would be very serious, something that apparently didn't matter to—

I turned my head to look at the person, nodding subtly when I saw Daryl to acknowledge his existence. "Do you mind stepping to the side?"

Daryl entered the room, and stepped to the side, standing at the end of the bunk bed and out of the way. He didn't say anything, which I found to be strange when I realised he was still here. I looked back over my shoulder to confirm that he did not actually leave.

"Are the others ready?" I asked. "I'm just making sure there's nothing wrong with these plugs before they go back in the cars. If they need to be changed then its better to do it now so its done."

"S' fine," was all he said.

"I won't be long," I added. "I'm basically done. I'll be out now."

"You don' have to."

I knew he was referring to the trip in general, because it would be a very boring day if he was insinuating that I didn't have to leave my room. As homely as the cell was, my restlessness would not let me sit around in here all day.

"I want to," I said simply.

Daryl didn't say anything else, didn't huff or sigh like he normally would have if I had pissed him off, which probably meant that I didn't. Strange. Then again, if he didn't want me going on this trip to fetch the cars, then he would've let his feelings be known, I would have argued and it would've ended with me not going.

Surprisingly, we had not had a scenario like this yet.

I put all the plugs I needed into a small ziplock bag and then into my own backpack. "I'm good."

"Gear," Daryl nodded to the riot gear that had been dumped on the floor at the end of my bed. I guess because I decided I was coming he needed another way to humiliate me— I mean, ensure my safety. I didn't know who else was coming, but none of them would be wearing the gear. Not to the extent that Daryl was expecting me to. Maybe T-Dog would have a chest piece, but no one else seemed too keen on wearing the gear.

"Do the walkers have weapons now?" I asked, partly trying to joke, and partly confused. When his answer was just a simple nod to the armour, I frowned. "What happened to we-got-this-far-without-it?"