𝐆𝐎𝐃'𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 - 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍

thirty-three - "few more days"

"In the morning, we'll find the cafeteria and infirmary. There were maps in the guard tower that will help us find our way." Rick explained.

"And... we sleep in the cells?" Beth asked, her voice unsure. Rick nodded.

"They're bunks, so you can double up if you want. But there are more than enough to go around." Maggie cut in, giving her sister a look that said leave it. Madeline knew that look all too well.

"Yeah, well I ain't sleeping in no cage." Daryl said as he walked out of a cell on the upper level, tossing his bag down. "I'll take the perch." Madeline rolled her eyes, separating from Lori as the mother and Carol started talking about what room would be best for the baby. Madeline walked up the stairs, scanning the top floor.

"Decisions, decisions." She muttered to herself as she walked down the catwalk, looking into each room.

"It's not apartment hunting, Walsh, it's a prison cell." Daryl scoffed from where he stood by his packs, a smirk on his lips as he watched her.

"Yeah, well, I would prefer one with no blood splatters." Madeline chuckled, finally setting her bags outside of one of the cleaner cells. If that was even possible. "You can tell this was a men's prison. It's a pig sty."

"Totally not because it's the apocalypse." Maggie chuckled from the bottom floor. Madeline snorted, squinting her eyes as if to say tomato, tomato.

Slowly, as everyone found their cells, the group fell into a peaceful silence. Madeline sat on the bottom mattress in her room, sighing as she took it all in. Covering the floor were ripped up papers, the handwriting illegible. On the walls was the same illegible script, but there were also taped up photos and newspaper clippings. In the corner was a small stack of books, dusty from the months of abandonment.

She laid down, finally, padding her head with a rolled up shirt from her pack. She traced the marks on the wall, dozens upon dozens of tally marks staring back at her. She found the last one easily, the final tally shaky, the spaces after it blank. The prisoner, the man, had lived so long here, and yet it was ended so quickly.

She rested for a while, committing every crack and cobweb to memory. She watched as the sun moved across the back wall, and how it grew a rich gold color as it began to set. She leaned over the side of her cot, rummaging through her duffel bag. She pushed aside folded bundles of clothing and her toiletries, her hand finally hitting something hard. She pulled out the book, trailing her finger over the dust cover. She smiled, reaching in once again to grab the other two she had managed to finish over the winter. She peaked out of the cell door slowly, her eyes easily finding Daryl's form just a few steps away.

Her legs seemed to move on their own accord, carrying her to his cot soundlessly. She knocked softly on the cinderblock walls, causing the man to jump slightly before he looked over his shoulder. "May I come in?" She asked, referencing the empty spot on his mattress by his covered feet. He nodded wordlessly, watching as she stepped over his feet before dropping to her knees. She adjusted her form until her knees pointed out towards him, her feet tucked under her thighs. "It's quaint." She said, jerking her head in a joking manner.

"Have you begun renovations yet?" He snarked, holding her stare. "Thinking about the backsplash? A nice walk-in closet?"

"As nice as that sounds, I think I'll start by cleaning up the blood and dust bunnies." She sighed, leaning her head against the cool wall. They fell into a gentle silence until she finally remembered her purpose for interrupting him. She reached inside her jacket, pulling out the three books she had read and annotated over the winter, placing them before him in almost a ceremonial display.