The group thundered through the darkened halls, boots pounding against the concrete.
Joe and Rick cut a path at the front, katana and machete cleaving through any walker that lurched into their way.
Behind them, T-Dog strained to keep the cart rolling steady while Daryl and the others held the rear, steel and gunfire cutting down the dead that pressed too close.
It took precious seconds to find the chalk markings Glenn had left behind, but when they did, the group surged forward with renewed urgency.
At last, the familiar barred door came into view.
They slammed into it hard, the jolt making Hershel groan weakly from the cart.
Joe pushed his key into the lock, swinging the door open wide.
The noise drew the others instantly. Carl came running, wide-eyed and armed.
Beth's shriek cut through the room as soon as she saw her father. "Daddy!" Tears streamed down her face as she stumbled forward.
Maggie wasn't any better, wringing her hands helplessly, having been little use on the run back.
Her eyes darted to Joe, desperate. "Is he gonna be okay?"
Joe gave a firm nod, voice even. "Everyone back up."
He turned sharply. "Nicole, medicine bag. Now!"
Nicole bolted off without hesitation, returning moments later with the supplies.
Joe crouched, pressing his fingers to Hershel's throat again. Relief flickered in his eyes.
His heartbeat was still erratic, but it was steadier than before.
He tore open the bag, pulling out a bottle of aspirin and handing it to Rick. "Crush three. Mix it in water."
Rick worked fast as Joe dug deeper, finding nitroglycerin tablets. He crushed two into the same bottle, shaking it before tipping it to Hershel's lips.
The old man coughed, struggled, but managed to swallow every drop.
When it was done, Joe and Rick carried him carefully to a cell. Maggie and Beth clung close, eyes never leaving their father.
They laid him down gently, the flickering flashlight beam painting shadows across his pale face.
Joe stayed at his bedside, checking his breathing. Finally, he looked to Rick. "Take some people. Go back for the food."
Rick hesitated, his eyes flicking toward Joe. "And the prisoners?"
Joe's gaze was flat, unblinking. "I trust your judgment."
For a moment, the two men held each other's stare, silent understanding passing between them.
Rick gave a sharp nod and turned. "T-Dog. Daryl. Glenn. Jack."
He paused, then surprised everyone. "Carl, too."
Carl's face lit up with determination as he tightened his grip on his weapon.
Lori gasped. "Rick, he's just a kid!"
Rick's jaw was firm. "He's not just a kid anymore. He needs to learn."
Joe glanced at Carl, then back at Rick. Joe agreed with Rick's decision.
The door clanged shut behind them, leaving Joe with Hershel, Maggie, Beth.
The fragile silence of a group trying to cling to hope.
...
The group pushed out of Cellblock C before Lori could fire off another complaint.
They hadn't gotten far when shadows moved up the hall ahead of them.
The prisoners.
Rick spun, gun raised. "What are you doing here?"
Oscar lifted his hands calmly. "This was our cellblock. We didn't know you'd be here."
Daryl snarled, crossbow steady. "Well now you do."
Axel, jittery and pale, stammered, "What are you even doing here anyway? Why don't you just take that old guy to a hospital?"
T-Dog stared at him like he was crazy. "You don't know about the infection?"
Oscar shook his head. "We been locked up in the cafeteria the whole damn time. A guard stuck us in there when it started, said he'd be back soon."
Theo's voice cracked. "But… he never came back."
Rick's face was stone. "Outside, there's nothing left. No military. No hospitals. No police. It's all gone. Just walkers and ruins."
The words hit the inmates like a hammer. Theo blinked rapidly, tears streaking his cheeks. "Mama…"
Oscar's chest heaved. "My kids. My old lady."
Axel swallowed hard. "For real?"
Rick met his eyes. "Dead serious."
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Then Oscar shook his head in disbelief. "You gotta have a phone or something. So, we can call our families."
Daryl barked out a laugh, bitter and sharp. "You just don't get it, do you?"
Rick's voice was flat. "No phones. No internet. Nothing."
Glenn spoke quietly. "Half the population is gone. Maybe more."
T-Dog added grimly, "Closer to most."
Axel muttered, "Can't be."
Daryl jerked his head toward the doors. "Go see for yourselves."
---
They led the prisoners outside. The men blinked hard against the white glare of winter.
Snow crunched beneath their boots, stained in places with old walker blood. Corpses were stacked like firewood along the fence.
Theo shivered. "I forgot what the sun felt like."
Axel's breath caught. "They're all dead…"
Oscar's eyes swept the razor wire above them. "Ain't never been so happy to see these fences."
Theo poked one of the corpses with a nervous finger. "So it's some kind of virus?"
Rick nodded. "Yeah. And we're all infected."
Axel frowned. "Like AIDS or somethin'?"
Daryl fixed him with a cold stare. "Say I put an arrow through your chest right now... You'd turn into one of them"
Glenn's voice was heavy. "It's gonna happen to all of us, eventually."
Oscar steadied himself. "So, you're staying here."
Rick nodded. "Yeah."
Theo asked the question none of them wanted to say. "What about us?"
Daryl's reply was sharp. "You could try your luck out there."
Oscar's face hardened. "You already said there's nothing out there. Let us stay. We'll help you secure the place. You can have all the food we have."
Rick shook his head. "That food's already ours."
Oscar's eyes widened, but he said nothing.
Axel jumped in quickly. "We can get the generators up. Me and Oscar worked maintenance before this."
Rick was silent, weighing it. Then finally, he shook his head. "Too loud. It'd draw more walkers."
Oscar's shoulders slumped. "Fine. We'll go."
Rick's eyes narrowed. "Carl, head back to the others."
Carl frowned, but obeyed.
Rick led the prisoners down the path toward the gate. Snow flurries swept in on the wind, carrying the faint stench of death.
Daryl leaned close. "We just gonna let 'em walk?"
Rick's eyes stayed forward. "No."
The prisoners had barely made it ten feet when Rick raised his Colt.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Each shot dropped a man where he stood.
Daryl nodded in satisfaction.
Glenn staggered back, eyes wide. "Why? They were leaving!"
A few others murmured in shock, their faces pale.
Rick's face was carved from stone. "Too risky. We can't take the chance of them coming back... or leading someone else here."
The explanation sat like lead. The others quieted, unsettled, but they didn't argue any further.
As they filed back inside the prison, Rick lingered at the gate, staring at the fresh bodies in the snow.
His face didn't change, but behind his eyes, the weight pressed hard.
He wanted to trust them. God, he wanted to. But not with Carl here. Not with the kids.
Not when Joe wouldn't either.
Rick drew in a breath that felt like ash. "Let's get back inside."
...
Joe stepped out of Hershel's cell, leaving Maggie and Beth to sit with their father.
The old man would pull through... it was just a minor heart attack.
Weak, maybe, from weeks of scraping by on scraps and too little protein. That problem, at least, was over.
The food they'd pulled from the cafeteria meant they wouldn't be starving anymore.
Down the block, a cluster of women had already started cooking.
The rich smell drifted through the air, something Joe hadn't realized he missed until now.
His stomach growled at the scent, sharp and impatient.
One of the women waved him over, handing him a tray stacked with steaming bowls.
He offered a rare smile of thanks and carried it carefully back toward Maggie and Beth.
Both women looked worn from worry, but their eyes lit up when he passed each of them a bowl and a spoon.
"Eat," he said simply. They didn't need telling twice.
Leaving them to settle, Joe returned to his own cell.
He set the tray down, and Amy, Andrea, and Emma eagerly reached for their portions.
Clem was still with Sophia and the other kids, giggling in the corner.
Amy cupped her hands around her mouth. "Clem, sweetie! Come eat!"
The little girl waved goodbye to Sophia before hurrying over, plopping down beside Joe with her bowl.
The soup was simple, beans, broth, canned vegetables, and canned chicke but when Joe raised a spoonful to his mouth, the taste nearly floored him.
Warm, savory, filling.
Heaven.
"This is the best soup I've ever had," Joe said, half to himself.
Amy laughed, Andrea rolling her eyes in amusement. Even Emma cracked a smile.
For a moment, the cellblock didn't feel so bleak. It felt… almost normal.
Joe finished quickly, setting the empty bowl aside. When everyone else had eaten, he went back for seconds, not caring if anyone saw.
It had been a long time since he'd felt full.
...
He spotted Rick sulking alone in a corner. Joe walked over, lowering himself beside him.
"I reckon you took care of the prisoners," Joe said evenly.
Rick sighed, eyes heavy. "Yeah. I wanted to give them a chance. But I couldn't trust them."
Joe nodded slowly. "I'd have done the same. I'd like to tell you it gets easier. But it doesn't. You just… learn to live with it."
Rick studied him. "How many people have you killed, Joe?"
Joe exhaled through his nose. "Too many. Can't even remember all of them. In the military, the official number was 216. But I know it's more."
Rick's eyes widened, shock visible even through the hardened mask he wore. Minutes later, he finally sighed, the weight sinking into him.
Michonne approached then, handing Rick a bowl of soup. Elize did the same a moment later.
The two women locked eyes awkwardly, tension flickering. Joe excused himself from the situation, heading back to his cell.
Inside, Clem slept soundly on the top bunk. Amy and Andrea were curled together on the lower.
Emma sat alone on the opposite bed, watching them peacefully. Joe sat beside her. She leaned against him, quiet.
He kissed her head, then picked at the last of his soup.
"Are you going out again tonight?" Emma asked softly.
Joe nodded. "Yeah. We need to clear this place. Can't have any more accidents."
She touched his face, kissed him gently, and pulled back. "Be careful."
Joe held her until she drifted to sleep, laying her down and pulling a blanket over her.
---
He checked on Hershel, still breathing evenly, and his color was returning.
He tugged at the man's restraints just in case. Then Joe made his way to the iron door.
Most were already asleep, but Daryl watched from the shadows, giving Joe a knowing nod. Joe nodded back and slipped out.
The halls of Solitary stretched silent before him. He whistled faintly as he walked, katana ready.
One by one, he peered into the cells. Most were filled with prisoners that had starved and turned, still clawing weakly at the bars.
Joe ended them quickly, blade sliding through the gaps.
At the cafeteria, he searched the back room. Shelves stacked high with rations. It was enough to feed hundreds of inmates for months.
Hundreds of men, three meals a day… no wonder there's so much left.
Joe locked the room with a heavy chain to protect it from any walkers that might stumble inside.
He moved on, sword flashing as he cut through stragglers.
Finally, he reached the warden's office. The place was untouched... immaculate. The warden must've fled before the fall.
A black trench coat hung on a coat rack. Joe slipped it on. It was loose, but once he gained weight it would fit perfectly.
He looked through the wardens desk, opening the desk drawer.
It creaked open, and tucked under a stack of yellowed reports was a folded sheet of paper.
At first glance it looked like some kind of medical chart, rough sketches scrawled across it in precise but frantic lines.
The more Joe looked, the worse it got. Three human figures, drawn in a row, mouths stitched to the rear of the one in front.
Notes in tight handwriting circled the sketches, "tendons severed," "teeth removed," "single digestive tract."
It read like the crazed ravings of someone who had taken too much joy in imagining other humans suffering.
Margins were filled with calculations, arrows pointing from one body to the next, as if this was supposed to be an improvement on nature.
Whoever made this had thought it through in detail... every cut, every stitch, every humiliation carefully noted.
Joe felt disgusted, even his iron stomach twisting. "Jesus Christ," he muttered. "This guy's a sick fuck."
Joe ripped up the paper and kicked over the desk. Walking out of the room calmly, having vented his disgust.
He crossed the catwalk between buildings, checking every door, making sure no breach was possible.
Outside, the night air bit cold. Walkers still lingered beyond the chainlink fence.
Joe whistled, drawing them in, then stabbed through the mesh one after another until they piled lifeless at his feet.
Satisfied, he returned to Cellblock C. Daryl gave a small wave as Joe slipped inside. Joe waved back, stripped off his dirty clothes, and crawled into bed.
Emma stirred in her sleep, her warmth spilling against him. He pulled her close, resting his chin in her hair. His palm rubbing her baby bump slowly.
For once, with a full belly and walls around him, Joe drifted into sleep without any issues.