By dawn, everyone was awake. Breath puffed white in the cold air as they broke down camp.
Their stomachs growled, they were counting on the prison's mess hall and commissary to hold what they needed.
If not, they'd starve.
Joe and Rick took point, leading half the group. Twenty people, that was two fifths of the group.
Even with the women they'd rescued from the school, their numbers had dwindled severly.
The outer fence had drawn a handful of stragglers overnight. The survivors dispatched them quickly, blades cracking skulls through the chain-link.
When it was clear, Joe pulled the gate open and waved the others through.
They moved in formation, a tight circle... backs guarded, weapons ready.
Every walker that staggered their way was dropped. But when the armored ones appeared, clothed in riot gear, the fight grew desperate.
Blades and blugens glanced off helmets and shields. Glenn nearly went down before Joe barked for them to aim high.
The neck or visor slit, up into the brain. The group adapted fast, carving through the armored dead one by one.
The yard quieted, but only for a moment. Groans swelled again, spilling from a narrow alleyway that cut deeper into the compound.
A slow, endless tide of walkers funneled through the choke point.
"Shit," Daryl muttered, loosing one of his last bolts.
"Hold formation!" Rick snapped.
The survivors braced. The alley forced the dead to stagger through in ones and twos, and they cut them down as they came.
Their steel striking bone, boots pushing bodies back into the snow. Still, more pressed forward.
Joe's eyes flicked to the heavy gate at the mouth of the alley. Without hesitation, he broke formation, sprinting across the blood-soaked yard.
His katana cleaved through anything that lurched into his path. He slammed the gate shut with a metallic clang, winding a chain through the links until it was secure.
The pounding started immediately... hands, teeth, and bone slamming the steel. But it held.
With the choke point sealed, the survivors made short work of the few stragglers left inside.
At last, silence fell. Snow lay trampled and dyed red and brown with rot and bile.
The group sagged, catching their breath. Glenn let out a shaky laugh. "It looks secure. Perfect."
Daryl killed the mood, pointing toward the far end of the yard. Two corpses slumped against the wall, frozen stiff.
Their clothes weren't prison garbs. "Not from the looks of that courtyard. Those are civilians."
The words landed heavy.
Rick's voice was measured. "Let's not jump to conclusions. Could've been family members visiting. Got caught in the panic."
Joe didn't believe it, not for a second. But he let them hold onto that hope.
Instead, he cut in, his tone firm. "We can't risk blind spots. Every inch of this place has to be cleared. We push in."
Rick nodded grimly. "We won't know for sure unless we check it ourselves."
No one argued.
Weapons tightened in tired hands, they fell in behind Rick and Joe, heading deeper into the prison.
...
The group forced open a heavy metal door into Cellblock C, the hinges screaming in protest.
Outside, the rest of the survivors waited anxiously at the fence, watching as they disappeared inside.
Joe held the door steady for Rick, and they filed in one by one. The interior was swallowed in shadow, lit only by thin shafts of light filtering down through barred windows high above.
Rick pushed open another heavy door into the visiting area. The groan of iron echoed through the block like a warning.
They descended a narrow set of iron stairs, boots clanking against the grating. Each sound carried too far, bouncing off concrete and steel.
The room below was empty of walkers, but the floor told its story.
Papers were scattered everywhere, overturned chairs, half-eaten trays of food long turned to dust.
Panic had happened here, and it had happened fast.
Every weapon was ready, every head on a swivel. Shadows stretched deep across the corners, and every one of them felt like it could hide death.
Rick broke from the group and ascended the guard tower, moving step by deliberate step.
He yanked open the door, his machete ready for anything... only to find a corpse slumped against the glass.
A single bullet wound through the head. Behind it, a streak of dried blood painted the clear panel like a grim mural.
Rick crouched, unfastening a ring of keys from the guard's belt. He clipped them to his own and took one last look around.
A snub-nosed five-shot revolver lay tucked under the dead man's arm. Rick slipped it into his belt before descending back to the group.
He showed them the keys with a small jingle, then led them to a barred door at the far end of the room.
The lock clicked open, and together they pushed it just wide enough to slip through, metal scraping faintly against the frame.
The groans started immediately. Faint, hollow, carrying from deeper within.
Rick glanced at Joe. He returned a silent nod, katana already in hand.
They crept forward. No walkers roamed free, but inside the cells they saw the shapes... motionless, skeletal, or clawing weakly at the bars.
The floor was a mess of debris. Glenn bent down, picking up a scrap of paper. His voice was low as he read:
"God… please forgive me. I don't want to starve to death in here. I'm sorry for all the wrongs I've done."
The words fell heavy in the silence.
Joe's lip curled. "What a joke. Pleading forgiveness only when your back's against the wall."
A few nodded in agreement. Glenn only sighed, shaking his head, and tossed the paper aside.
They split up, clearing methodically. Rick and Daryl climbed the stairs to the second tier.
Soon throwing bodies down into the common area below. Each corpse hit the ground with a dull thud.
Joe sealed off the far door to make sure nothing would sneak up on them. By the time he turned back, the block was secure.
Together, they dragged the dead outside, piling them in the snow of the inner yard.
From there, Joe caught sight of Amy and Andrea waving him over at the fence line.
Amy's voice carried, hopeful. "How is it?"
Joe allowed himself a grin. "Perfect. We've got a cellblock cleared."
He turned to the others, raising his voice. "It's safe to come in now. We're done freezing our asses off out here. Time to move inside."
Relief swept through the group like a wave. Andrea blew him a teasing kiss before turning back to help the others.
Joe only smirked before hefting another body and dragging it toward the pile.
...
Soon the block was clear and the rest of the group filtered inside.
Rick scanned the room, his voice low but steady. "What do you think?"
Hershel looked around the concrete walls and rusting bars. "Home sweet home."
Carol hugged herself. "Is it safe?"
Rick nodded. "This block is."
Hershel frowned. "And the rest of the prison?"
Joe answered before Rick could. "We gotta push further. Find the infirmary, the cafeteria. Otherwise this is just four walls."
Beth spoke softly from the back. "We sleep in the cells?"
Rick gave a small nod. "For now. Me, Daryl, and Joe have the keys."
Daryl grunted. "Ain't sleepin' in no damn cell. I'll take the tower." Without another word, he stomped up the stairs. Carol and Sophia trailed after him.
The others glanced around. They were too exhausted to argue. It was warmer here than out in the snow, and for the first time in weeks, safe.
People split off to claim their cells. Andrea lingered near Joe, muttering under her breath, "Kinda bleak."
Glenn overheard. "We can paint the walls or something." He tried a weak smile, then led Mary into a nearby cell.
Joe pulled Andrea into a hug, quieting her nerves. Then he guided her and his other women toward two corner cells.
They stripped the bunks bare, tossing the stained sheets into the hall and layering their own inside. It wasn't much, but it was theirs.
The moment of peace broke when Emma's stomach growled loud enough to draw a laugh. Joe smiled faintly. "Time to keep pushing."
The women gave him warm, worried looks, telling him to be careful.
Joe crossed the block, spotting Rick locked in an argument with Lori.
"We should stop here," Lori hissed. "The vending machines still have food. Let the group rest."
Joe cut in flatly. "We need real food. Not candy bars and stale chips."
Rick nodded firmly. "Joe's right. We clear the rest as soon as possible."
Lori, realizing she wouldn't win, huffed and stormed off to her cell.
Joe and Rick gathered a handful of the more capable fighters, heading for the barred door at the far end.
Carl jogged up, a riot helmet bobbing on his head. "Let me come with you."
Rick shook his head. "No. I need you here. Watch over the group."
Carl's face hardened, trying to look older than he was. "I won't let you down."
Rick clapped his shoulder. "I know."
The strike team moved through the door, locking it behind them.
The prison swallowed them in silence. Flashlights cut narrow beams across cracked tile and peeling paint. Joe led, his katana drawn, his voice steady.
"Glenn... mark the walls as we go. Arrows. Make sure we can find our way back."
Glenn nodded, chalk scraping against the wall.
The deeper they went, the heavier the air became. Corpses littered the floor, half-mummified in the cold.
Cell doors hung open, rust eating at their hinges.
"Solitary," Rick muttered grimly.
Joe crouched near a body. "Make sure they're dead before we move on."
The group nodded, driving blades into skulls as they passed.
A sudden snarl broke the silence. A walker lunged out of a darkened cell, teeth snapping inches from Maggie's arm. She cried out, stumbling back.
Joe was on it in an instant... grabbing the dead man's shirt, slamming it to the ground, and burying his knife through its skull. The sound echoed, wet and final.
Maggie's breath came quick, her eyes wide. Joe offered a reassuring pat on her shoulder. "Stay sharp."
They pressed deeper, passing more cells... more corpses.
Some were starved to husks, others torn apart, blood smeared across the walls in desperate streaks.
The silence was suffocating. Every drip of water, every shuffle of boots, felt deafening.
Maggie unconsciously stepped closer to Joe as they rounded a corner.
...
They crept forward, flashlights cutting narrow beams across the dark hall. Rick rounded the corner too fast... and froze.
Ten… maybe twenty walkers clogged the passage ahead.
Rick's voice was sharp. "Get back!"
The formation faltered. Panic rippled through the group, boots scraping as people stumbled backward.
Joe barked over the noise. "Everyone! Stay calm!"
The command snapped them out of it. They moved quickly but with purpose, retreating in an orderly line.
Joe stayed in the rear, his katana flashing, slicing down any walker that lurched too close.
For a moment, it worked. For a moment, they were in control.
Then they rounded another corner and froze again.
The hallway ahead was packed. A wall of dead bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, moaning and clawing toward them.
The sound was deafening.
"Back! Go back!" Rick shouted.
Panic erupted for real this time. The survivors bolted, sprinting back the way they came and veering into another hall.
The narrow corridors became a maze, echoing with screams and the pounding of countless feet.
Suddenly, another group of walkers burst from a side hall, cutting straight through their line.
The survivors scattered... Glenn and Mary cut off from the others.
"Glenn!" Mary screamed, her voice cracking.
Glenn grabbed Mary's wrist. "This way!"
They bolted through a half-open steel door and slammed it shut behind them.
The lock held. They leaned against it, gasping for breath.
The room was eerily quiet. Then their flashlights revealed bars, rows and rows of cells.
It was another block, nearly identical to the one they had just secured. Walkers shuffled and snarled behind the locked bars.
Their teeth gnashing, hands scraping through the gaps. But none could reach them.
Relief washed over them both. Mary exhaled shakily. "Thank God…"
Glenn tightened his grip on his pike. "Watch the door. I'll take care of the walkers in here."
Mary's head snapped toward him. "What? No! We don't have to do this. We need to find the others, stay together!"
Glenn pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. "We came here to clear the prison, remember? They're locked up. This is the safest chance we'll ever have."
Mary bit her lip, hesitating, then finally nodded. "Fine… but please be careful."
Glenn nodded once and moved to the nearest cell. His iron pike thrust through the bars with a sickening crunch, dropping the first walker.
Then he moved on to the next. And the next.
Mary stood by the door, knuckles white on her weapon, every groan and rattle of chains sending chills down her spine.
...
Joe, Rick, Daryl, Maggie, Hershel, and T-Dog filed into a narrow chamber. A walker lurched out of the shadows, but Joe's blade flashed, dropping it in an instant.
Rick scanned the room, eyes darting. "Where are Glenn and Mary?"
T-Dog's voice was tense. "We gotta go back for them."
"Which way?" Rick asked.
Daryl pointed down the adjoining hall. "That way." He led the charge, crossbow raised. A walker rounded the corner slowly.
Daryl loosed a bolt straight through its skull, then moved forward and yanked the shaft free, and kept moving.
Rick called softly into the dark. "Glenn… Mary…"
A reply drifted back, shaky but clear. "Rick!"
Glenn and Mary emerged slowly from a side door, weapons ready. Relief flickered across the group hearing a reply.
Hershel got distracted and broke formation, heading down another hall to check a noise.
Joe cursed under his breath and followed the old man.
It happened fast. As Hershel stepped past a corpse slumped against the wall...
The body sprang to life, clawing at his leg. Hershel yelped, collapsing to one knee.
Joe didn't hesitate. He leveled his pistol and fired...
BANG!
The walker's skull burst, collapsing to the floor. But the blast echoed through the prison, drawing more groans in the distance.
Worse, Hershel clutched his chest, gasping.
The shock from being grabbed had nearly stopped his heart. He let out a low, pained whine as he crumpled forward.
Maggie's scream tore down the hall. "Daddy!" She and the others rushed to him, panic breaking their formation.
Glenn and Mary rounded the corner at the same time and nearly took a bullet from Rick's twitch reflex.
Rick swore. "Watch it!"
Hershel writhed, pale and sweating, pain etched deep into his face. They didn't have time to tend to him.
Walkers were already shambling toward them, drawn by the gunshot.
Joe slung Hershel over his shoulder with a grunt. "Move!"
Rick fired in controlled bursts, covering their retreat as the group bolted. Boots slammed against steel and concrete, breaths ragged, the dead's groaning getting closer every second.
They turned a corner and came up hard against a set of double doors.
Heavy, locked tight by a pair of police handcuffs looped through the handles.
The moans grew louder, the horde closing in from behind.
...
Glenn rammed his pike through the chain, snapping it.
The doors burst open and the group piled through. Rick and Daryl shoved against the steel, holding it just long enough for Glenn to jam his weapon through the handles, pinning the doors shut.
Joe laid Hershel out on a cafeteria table. The old man's skin was pale, sweat beading across his forehead. Maggie clutched his hand, her eyes wide with panic.
Joe pressed two fingers to Hershel's throat, jaw tight. "His pulse is erratic. We need to get him back to the group... now."
The others clustered around, their attention fixed on Hershel's shallow breaths. But Daryl stiffened, crossbow raising toward the far side of the room. Behind a steel serving screen, shadows shifted.
"Prisoners," Daryl muttered.
Joe spun, 1911 snapping up. "Come out! Slow and steady!"
A stunned voice answered. "Holy shit…"
Figures emerged from behind the metal screen... five men in tattered uniforms, faces gaunt from months of confinement.
Daryl barked, "Who the hell are you?"
A massive Black man shot back, "Who the hell are you?"
Joe's eyes narrowed, his weapon steady. "I said move... slow. Hands where I can see 'em."
They shuffled forward nervously.
Then one of them, a wiry Hispanic with sharp eyes, pulled a revolver from behind his back, pointing it at Maggie.
"What happened to him? Is he bit?"
Joe didn't blink.
BANG!
The man's face exploded, his body collapsing to the floor.
The room went dead silent.
Joe's voice cut through, calm and cold. "You... kick the gun over."
The nearest prisoner shoved the weapon across the tiles. Joe stepped closer. "On your knees."
Three men dropped immediately, hands up. Only one held his ground, a wiry Black man with a sneer.
"Andrew!" a scrawny white inmate hissed. "Get down!"
"I ain't doin' shit!" Andrew spat.
Joe's tone never changed. "I don't got time for bullshit."
BANG!
Andrew crumpled, lifeless.
The others froze, trembling. Fear plastered across their faces.
Joe stepped closer, voice cold as ice. "You got medical supplies? Aspirin, Advil... anything?"
The inmates shook their heads quickly.
Joe holstered his pistol. "Rick, we're done here."
Rick nodded tightly.
Daryl pushed through a side door, lugging a bulging sack. "Found food. A lot of it."
Glenn grabbed a rolling cart. Together, Joe and Rick hefted Hershel onto it. Joe glanced at the sack. "We'll come back for the rest."
Rick turned to Glenn. "Get the door."
Glenn hesitated, then moved fast, waiting for Joe's nod before yanking the pike free.
Walkers shoved through, snarling and grasping.
"Forget being quiet!" Joe barked. "Clear us a path!"
Gunfire roared. Pistols cracked, crossbow bolts whistled. Walkers dropped in heaps as the group blasted their way out.
The inmates could only kneel and watch, stunned.
They'd thought Joe was just one psychopath, but the entire group moved like soldiers.
They were fast and efficient, cutting through the dead like nothing.
Then they were gone, dragging Hershel out with them, doors slamming shut behind.
Silence settled.
Oscar, the big man, got to his feet. He shoved the door shut and barred it again, breathing hard.
Axel licked his lips nervously. "What now?"
Theo, Big Tiny, shifted uncomfortably, his massive frame dwarfing the others.
Oscar muttered, "We wait. Hope we can reason with 'em."
Axel shook his head, pale. "Reason? Did you see that guy's eyes? Their leader didn't look like a man you could reason with."
Big Tiny rumbled, "He shot Andrew. And Tomas."
Oscar shrugged. "They asked for it. Tomas pulled a gun. Dumb move."
Axel gave a shaky chuckle. "Yeah… if I had a gun, I'd shoot that psycho too."
Oscar shot him a look. "Please. You're in here for tax evasion. You've never even held a gun."
Axel bristled, then sighed. "…Yeah. But still."
Big Tiny tilted his head, clearly not following the banter. "So… we just wait, right?"
Oscar and Axel both exhaled heavily. "Yeah."
The three men sat in uneasy silence, the echoes of Joe's gunshots still ringing in their ears.