CHAPTER 9
Vietnam veteran John Boyd had a smirk on his face as he and Floyd Townsend walked towards Cell Block D, but once he stepped inside the vestibule, he let out a boisterous laugh and slapped the retired postal worker on the back.
"Did you see that idiot leap into the field?" John asked.
"Yeah," Floyd answered, as he adjusted his heavily framed glasses.
"Standing in front of an oncoming vehicle," John grinned as he shook his head in amazement, "is that what they taught him in the police academy?"
"The plan worked, didn't it?" Floyd asked irritably.
"Yeah, the plan worked, I just hope Officer Grimes doesn't have another one in his log book that could get me and my wife killed."
John opened the barred door and he and Floyd stepped into the common room, where they and their fellow Woodburians had spent the night when they moved into the prison. Donna Floyd was sitting at one of the tables, but when she saw her husband, she smiled with relief that he was all right.
"John, we heard gunfire," Donna said as she walked over to her husband.
"Nothing to worry about, hon," John smiled as he held up a calming hand. "Me and Sasha had to kill some of the walkers along the fence line."
"Are Rick and his people all right?" Donna asked.
"Yeah, they're fine," John answered as he slipped his arm around Donna's shoulders. "Merle's little brother, Michonne, and that mousy woman drove off to do whatever the hell they needed to do."
"Are they coming back?"
"I didn't ask and they didn't say," John answered.
"What do we do now?"
John and Donna walked deeper into the common room; both were careful to not step on the dozens of sleeping bags and personal items strewn about the floor. Floyd sat down in an empty chair, and placed his aluminum baseball bat down on the table.
"'What do we do now?' Fall in!" John answered.
The Woodburians —men, women, and children—looked at each other doubtfully.
"Fall in!" John repeated.
The Woodburians ran to form a single line like a group of army recruits.
"Oh, God," Donna muttered in embarrassment as she covered her face with her hand.
John ignored Donna's statement, and he stepped away from his wife, adjusted the matted Atlanta Braves cap on his head, and faced the line of Woodburians.
"All right, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you all had a good night's sleep, because we've got a lot of work to do."
The Woodburians turned their heads slightly and looked at each other worriedly.
"The first thing we have to do," John said as he began walking up and down the line like an army drill sergeant, "is open up the door to the cell block and start dragging those poor dead bastards outside."
The Woodburians murmured in agreement.
"And after that, we're going to leave that door open so we can get some fresh air in this goddamn place!"
The Woodburians laughed and a few applauded.
"Rick Grimes said this cell block is safe, so after we drag out the dead, we'll find some mops and buckets, and make this place cleaner than Alice's kitchen on the Brady Bunch!"
All the Woodburians laughed and applauded this time.
"Finally, in case you didn't hear me tell Donna, I'll repeat that Merle's little brother and his lady friends flew the coop. I don't know if they're coming back or not, but if they do, they have to go through those walkers again. So I expect Rick and his group will do some target practice very soon."
"How many walkers are in the field?" a blonde woman asked.
"Alicia, there's enough walkers in the field to make a football team and throw around the pigskin. Hell, they can't be any worse than the Cleveland Browns."
The sports fans amongst the Woodburians chuckled at John's joke about Cleveland's struggling football team.
"Are Rick and his group going to shoot them?" a scholarly man wearing wire rimmed glasses asked.
"Why, Michael, I thought you hated guns," John said with a grin.
"I do, but there's just one chain link fence between us and the walkers." Michael explained.
"The only guns I've seen have been the ones Rick and his group were carrying when they brought us here. But if there was any firepower left when they took this prison, you can bet your ass they've got them under lock and key."
"If Rick has guns, will he give them to us?" a man with receding grey hair asked.
"Whoa! Hold up, cowboy," John said, his hands raised ups to signal a halt. "Did you participate in Martinez's shooting lessons?"
The man chuckled in surprise. "Christ, John, it was only one day."
"Yes or no," John asked coldly.
The man gulped with fear. "Yes," he answered.
"Do you remember anything from it? I don't want to hand you a gun and see you shoot your foot off."
The man blushed and lowered his head in embarrassment. "Well, I…I don't remember much."
"Did you hear that, ladies and gentlemen?" John asked the line of Woodburians. "Sam Dunbar 'don't' remember much from his shooting lessons. That's why Sam is not going to get a gun, because an asshole with a gun is the most dangerous weapon on the face of God's green earth!"
The silence in the common room got heavier and Sam's complexion got redder. Finally, a sturdy man with calloused hands and curly, grey hair stepped out of line and faced the Vietnam veteran. "Will you relax, John? We're all that's left of Woodbury, and we're either too old or too young for you to treat us like this!"
The former soldier dropped his stone expression and he took off his cap and ran a hand across his grey crewcut. "Goddamn, Eddie Nowak. For a Polack, you're bright as a bulb."
Eddie glared at John for a moment and said, "Thanks."
John slapped his cap back onto his head and looked at the line of Woodburians. "My apologies, Ladies and Gentlemen. When you sign up with the army, the fine print reads that you'll always be a solider, and I'm afraid that's right.
"After Karen told us that lying bastard Governor killed our people, I've been kicking myself in the ass for listening to him when he said I should go out to pasture. Maybe if I had joined Merle's security team, that massacre wouldn't have happened, and we'd be having a barbeque in Woodbury. But this prison is our home now, and Rick Grimes is our host. All we can do is chip in and keep this prison secure, because if it falls, there's nowhere for us to run to."
John's sincerity touched the Woodburians and they applauded him. Donna had tears in her eyes as she walked over to her husband and embraced him. John blushed, but he embraced his wife in return.
"Okay people, the man told us what we need to do, so let's get started!" Eddie cheered.
The Woodburians cheered in agreement. John dug into his pocket, took out the set of keys Rick had given him last night, and unlocked the cellblock door. The men walked inside and they began to drag the corpses of the executed prisoners out into the courtyard, while the women and children wrapped up the sleeping bags and beddings.
"Good speech, dear. Maybe now you'll try to be like Dr. Phil instead of Gunny R. Lee Ermey," Donna joked.
John chuckled. "If any Goddamn marine could survive this shit, it would have to be him."
Donna patted her husband's shoulder and left to gather up their sleeping bags. Floyd returned from opening the vestibule door and walked over to John.
"How does it look outside?" John asked.
Floyd watched two men carry a corpse out into the courtyard and looked back at John. "Pretty much the same; the walkers go about like they're in Piedmont Park." Floyd chuckled nervously. "Ever been to Piedmont Park? It was on my route with the post office. I can't believe my biggest fear used to be getting bit on the ass by a Rottweiler."
"Well, those bastards out there can give you the worst case of rabies you'll ever have." John said.
"No shit. If Rick asks me to help kill those things,
John snorted in contempt, and Floyd placed his hands on his hips in an attempt to intimidate the Vietnam veteran.
"Is something wrong?" Floyd asked.
"Yeah, Rick Grimes," John answered.
"What's wrong with him?"
"He's a boy scout," John spat.
"Excuse me. I forgot that having a moral compass was a problem with you soldier boys."
"Hey, don't piss in my cornflakes, buddy," John grinned. "We both worked for Uncle Sam, didn't we?"
Floyd waved a hand dismissively. "But not in the same job. The bottom line is, from what I've seen of Rick Grimes, he's all right by me."
"We all thought the same about the Governor, and look how he turned out," John warned.
A chill ran through Floyd's body. He glanced at two men who were carrying a corpse out to the courtyard and he stepped closer to John. "What are you saying?" he whispered.
"I'm saying what's obvious; we put our lives in the hands of one man, and he went crazy with power. Who's to say it won't happen again?"
"John. I think…I think you're getting a little paranoid here," Floyd said worriedly.
"Hell no, I'm being careful," John said. "Remember what I told everyone about this prison; 'If it falls, there's no place for us to go.'" We've got to keep an eye on Rick, because if he turns into the next Governor, we'll have to kill him."
•••
In Cell Block C, Maggie and Beth Greene—both still wiping tears from their eyes—walked across the common room and out the side door and onto the courtyard, with their father Hershel hobbling behind them on his crutches. Rick watched them leave and glanced down at Judith, who was beginning to awaken in his arms.
"Looks like your little sister's naptime is over," Rick joked to his son Carl.
"I'll get her some formula," Carl said as he stood up from his chair.
On the other side of the common room, Glenn, Tyreese, and Karen stepped out of the anteroom; Karen closed the door and locked it. Glenn was struggling to carry a duffle bag laden with guns, but he was grinning broadly.
"Rick! We did it! We did it!" Glenn shouted happily.
Rick smiled and held Judith carefully as he stood up from his chair. "Perfect! Bring them here!"
Glenn had barely taken two steps when the duffle bag's weight started to take its toll on his right shoulder and posture. Tyreese stepped alongside him and put a hand on Glenn's chest, making him stop in his shaky tracks.
"Hey, let me take it," Tyreese offered.
Glenn chuckled nervously and offered Tyreese the duffle bag's shoulder strap. "If you insist," he said as his arms trembled.
Tyreese took the duffle bag's shoulder strap with one hand and effortlessly slipped it onto his right shoulder while Glenn's exhausted arms fell to his side. Tyreese and Karen continued on to Rick's table while Glenn sighed with exhaustion.
"Carl, can you put Judith in her crib and watch her?" Rick asked.
Carl huffed in frustration, knowing that the cleanout of the walkers in the field was going to start soon and his father had refused to let him help. Carl took Judith into his arms and left the common room through the open cellblock door.
Tyreese put the heavy duffle bag on the table and stood back. Rick leaned over the duffle bag, opened it wider, and looked at the rifles and submachine guns stuffed inside it.
"Did you have any trouble?" Rick asked the three volunteers.
"Oh yeah," Tyreese admitted as the memory of walkers staggering towards him in the tombs ran through his mind.
"How many walkers did you kill?" Rick asked.
"A lot," Glenn answered as he stood across the table from Rick. "I don't think the ones left in the tombs will bother us anytime soon."
"Uh, Rick? Do you need me to stick around?" Tyreese asked. "I'd really like to see Sasha if that's cool with you."
"Sure," Rick said. "She's on sentry duty; Maggie, Beth, and Hershel are with her."
"Thanks," Tyreese smiled as he began to walk towards the side door leading to the courtyard.
"Tyreese!" Karen called as she ran to catch up to the former football player.
"Yeah?" Tyreese asked.
"Do you…mind if I come with you?" Karen asked hopefully.
"Sure," Tyreese smiled as he put his arm around Karen's shoulder. "I know Sasha will be happy to see you too."
Rick and Glenn watched as Tyreese and Karen step out into the courtyard and closed the side door behind them. "Are those two a couple now?" Rick asked the young Korean.
Glenn chuckled. "I think so. It's kind of like how me and Maggie started out at Hershel's farm."
Rick chuckled too, remembering the farm and its hypnotic lure of security. Did the prison have the same teasing call? It had fences and strong walls, land to plant crops, and he had used the walkers in the tombs to drive away the Governor, but how could he not worry that history would repeat itself?
No, Rick thought. He wouldn't let it happen again. He wouldn't lose the prison. Carl, Judith, the group, and the survivors from Woodbury were counting on him. He'd keep the prison secure, even if it meant making the hard decisions that Shane always warned he couldn't make.
"Rick?" Glenn called out worriedly.
The voice pulled Rick out of his thoughts and he saw Glenn looking at him worriedly. "Yeah?" Rick asked.
"I was just talking about the time me and you drove out to Patton's Bar to bring back Hershel, and I told you that Maggie said she loves me, but I didn't tell her I love her back, and—"
"Let's take a look at these guns," Rick interrupted as he pulled an M4A1 rifle out of the duffle bag.
"Uh…sure," Glenn said awkwardly.
Rick aimed the rifle at the floor, looked down the iron sight, ejected the magazine, examined it, and put it back in the magazine well.
"Fully loaded," Rick told Glenn as he slid the rifle back into the duffle bag.
"Uh…that's good," Glenn said.
Rick next pulled the AKM assault rifle out of the duffle bag, and repeated the aiming and magazine check. "Half empty," he told Glenn.
"Uh…that's bad," Glenn said.
Rick slipped the rifle back into the duffle bag, ran a hand through his hair, and stared at the guns again in contemplation.
"So are these enough guns to put the walkers down?" Glenn asked.
"Definitely," Rick nodded.
Glenn nodded in return. "So when do we, you know…put them down?"
"Now," Rick answered as he picked up the duffle bag and slipped it over his shoulder. "But I have one last thing to ask of you."
Glenn smiled and stood straighter. "Name it," he said immediately.
"Find a glass bottle, a rag, and fill it with gasoline." Rick said.
"What? You want me to make a Molotov cocktail?!" A startled Glenn asked.
"Yeah. We're going to light it, throw it over the fence, and distract the walkers with the fire before we step onto that field again. We can't risk damaging the fence with gunfire and we need to put some distance between us and the walkers before we open fire."
"No problem," Glenn said as Rick started walking towards the side door. "But who's going to be on the shooting line?"
Rick opened the side door and stood in the doorway as he looked at Glenn. "I was thinking me, you, Maggie, Sasha, and that vet from Woodbury…John Boyd."
TO BE CONTINUED
