Chapter 50
Sarah dreamt she was running through the forest, alone and breathless, unsure of where she was going or what she was running from. There was a curious, rhythmic pulsing in the air, like giant wingbeats or a thunderous heart. It took a few moments before she realized it was a helicopter.
And all the while, she had this awful feeling that something bad was going to happen, something unimaginable. Some lingering dread that made her heart sink…
She woke up with a sharp exhalation, blinking in the grey light of her quiet cell. Out of habit she scanned her surroundings carefully, but she was alone. Safe – quiet – her own cell. It was luxuries she still needed to get used to, although it had been five days since they'd slept indoors at the prison. Already, she'd made it feel more like home by laying out her clothes and other meagre possessions; the novel she and Daryl had finally finished reading, a tattered sketchbook half-full of cartoonish scribblings. Her wristwatch was also there, broken and scratched now, but she'd held onto it for sentimentality's sake. It was one of the few things she still kept from Before. Her only other keepsake was the dog-eared photograph of her trip to Paris a lifetime ago.
She stumbled over to the cracked mirror above the sink that didn't work in the corner of her cell and examined herself critically. Steely blue eyes (glazed with just a hint of drowsiness) stared back at her out of a lean, tanned face. She had looked worse, certainly: she didn't have bags under her eyes anymore, and her complexion was about as healthy as could be expected under the circumstances. She wasn't that dirty, for once, another advantage of their change in lifestyle from nomadic to sedentary. She glanced at the smiling face of herself in her old photo, and smirked. Back then, she'd worn a full face of makeup and felt self-conscious. Her gaze shifted back to her reflection, appreciatively taking in the confident quirk of her mouth. Now… she could say with certainty when she looked in the mirror: This is me. I like this person. And most importantly… This person can fight, and she will survive.
She turned and padded barefoot to the door of her cell, trying not to make any noise.
Daryl was sleeping on the steel walkway, lying on his side while using one arm as a pillow. The other rested next to him – and also within reaching distance of his hunting knife and crossbow.
His hair had been getting long, and now several long strands had fallen forward over his face. Sarah fidgeted, but resisted the temptation to go over and brush it back. She would just linger quietly for a while, before-
Daryl's eyes blinked opened, even as his consciousness returned within a few moments.
Sarah hid a chuckle by faking a yawn as he immediately lurched upright, trying to be alert whilst still half-asleep. He sent her a questioning look, but then relaxed when she smiled at him. He had a knack for waking up when others were around – some sixth sense that made it nigh impossible to sneak up on him. Sarah, on the other hand, usually tried to sleep in. So it was a rare occasion for her to see his sleeping face, and she would have preferred to have had a little more time…
"'Mornin'," he yawned, messing up his already messy hair before rising.
She heard his spine crack as he stood, stretching.
"We've been here a week already. You should choose a cell and sleep on a real bed," she chided him, looking critically at the pile of rags under his horse blanket/ poncho that was currently serving as his sleeping spot.
He glanced at the grey sky through the dusty windows and raised an eyebrow at her, "Sun's not even up and you're already naggin' me about stuff. Today's gonna be great."
"Shut up." She replied, and stuck an elbow into his ribs as she sauntered past.
He pulled a face and clutched his side as if she'd seriously wounded him.
"Good morning," she greeted Rick cheerfully, as the others also started stirring. Lori and Herschel would be spared given their conditions, but for everyone else there was a busy day ahead of them. Rick delegated their jobs for the day and they all got started.
Rick, Carol, T-Dog and Daryl went down to check on the fences and survey the prison exterior, while Sarah stayed inside on "Lori-duty", which had turned into "Herschel and Lori duty". With Carl and Beth's help, she redressed Herschel's wounds and tried to keep the mood cheerful. Maggie and Glenn were nowhere to be seen, but no one mentioned anything, knowing that their "guard-duty" in the guard towers had turned into an over-night couple's retreat. After living on the road in close quarters it was frankly surprising it had taken them this long to sneak off together.
Next, Sarah went upstairs and looked thoughtfully at Daryl's pile of rags. Then she walked slowly to the cell to the right of hers, and to the left, pondering…
"What are you doing?" Lori's sudden question made her jump and spin around. The woman was standing at the top of the stairs, her hands on her ever-growing stomach.
"Oh…d- um… Nothing." She spluttered, feeling foolish.
Lori regarded her, amused. Then she shrugged and pointed to the cell to the right of Sarah's. "I think he'd prefer that one."
Sarah blinked. Then she turned and looked into the cell, feeling sheepish after her embarrassing reaction. "Mm. You're probably right." She looked back to Lori. "I want to clean it out today, kinda… like a surprise… I wonder if he'd appreciate it or not, though…"
"I'm sure he'd be- ah…" Lori suddenly broke off to give a soft groan, steadying herself on the railing.
Sarah was instantly at her side, alarmed. "Are you okay?"
"I'm… fine." Lori said, straightening. She gave a tense smile when Sarah didn't look reassured. "It's just getting a little tight in there, you know?"
Sarah didn't reply, but silently took her wrist, feeling her pulse. It was strong, though these days Lori was looking pale and exhausted all the time. Somehow, she managed to be pregnant and still look way too thin. "You should go and lie down for a while." Advised Sarah.
"Yes… I'll do that." She agreed weakly, far too submissively in Sarah's opinion. She was obviously scared out of her wits about the baby. Sarah took her arm firmly as they carefully descended the stairs.
"I'm a little jealous of you two," Lori admitted unexpectedly, interrupting Sarah's thoughts.
"…What? …Who?"
"You and Daryl. You still have so much to look forward to." Her voice was wistful, though she sounded as if she was rambling. Sarah felt concerned – Herschel had mentioned that a lack of lucidity was a warning sign-
But then Lori's gaze caught hers and she saw a glimpse of her old, bossy self again. "You shouldn't waste any more time." She said decisively, giving Sarah's arm a little shake. "It's clear to all of us he likes you… you like him. What on earth are you two waiting for? Rather than becoming neighbours, why don't you just move in together?"
Sarah felt her face reddening at the thought. "That's… it's not like that." she spluttered, "He wouldn't… That is to say, we're only friends…"
Lori snorted, exasperated. "You're not fooling anyone."
They'd made it back to Lori's cell, and she sat down carefully, bracing herself with her hands on her knees.
Sarah hesitated, but she really wanted to know. "What about… You and Rick?"
Lori's expression didn't drop, as Sarah expected, but instead seemed to soften.
"Something happened?" Sarah's eyebrows rose.
"Just… something small." Lori smiled down at her hands, thinking of the way Rick had laid his hand on her shoulder a few days previous. It had been the first caring physical contact he'd initiated since the whole Shane incident. "Something hopeful… maybe."
"That's good," Sarah said softly. "We could all do with something hopeful." Her thoughts turned again towards Daryl.
Lori rested for a couple of hours, but was soon up again, in time to see Sarah triumphantly returning from another sojourn to the infirmary. This time, she brought back crutches. Herschel tried them out, standing upright for the very first time, and then insisted on going for a walk.
"Doctors make the worst patients." Sarah teased, while Beth and Lori hovered nervously. "Vets, too, it seems."
"Aren't you coming with?" Carl asked Sarah, as she made no move to follow them outside the cell block.
"Nah, I'm heading back in." she indicated the gate that led towards the infirmary, "I saw a storeroom that might have cleaning products," she said, rubbing her hands in excitement. She never thought she'd feel this way about bleach and floor cleaner, but she was just so sick of smelling dirt and sweat everywhere.
Lori and Herschel exchanged glances. "That part of the prison is still unsafe, isn't it?" Lori said worriedly, "You should wait for the others to go with you."
"Nonsense," Sarah waved off their anxieties. "I got the crutches, didn't I? It was really quiet, I didn't see any walkers at all. I'll be ten minutes in and out."
Lori narrowed her eyes at Sarah. This was so she could clean out the cell and surprise Daryl with a bold step forward in their glacially-paced relationship, wasn't it? She sighed. "Okay. But be careful."
"I always am. Oh, and tell the others to come in soon, it's almost lunch time." Sarah could already feel her stomach growling.
With one final wave, she watched the group disappear out of the cellblock, and listened until their cheerful chatter had faded. With the prison secure, Herschel awake and up… things seemed to be going pretty well.
She smiled absently to herself as she picked up the large ring of keys and went over to the gate at the end of the cellblock, entering the cool passages, dark beyond. She carefully locked the gate behind her, very aware that now she was in (potentially) walker-territory. They still weren't sure where the walkers were getting into the building, but the back fence was down and occasionally a couple drifted inside.
It was quiet now, though, and she stepped quickly through the dark, following the thin beam from her torch as she headed towards her goal.
As she stepped into the long passageway that held the storeroom and the infirmary, she paused, her sixth-sense for danger tingling. Something was wrong. But what?
Even though it went against her instincts, she covered the beam of the torch, plunging the passage into darkness, and froze, straining her ears for any sound.
Dripping echoed down the empty halls, and distantly, some rusty metal scraped against something else. But nothing out of place, no movement. So what was it?
She sniffed the air, but it was just damp, cool air pressing on her face…
That's it. Alarm bells rang in her head; she'd been here just half an hour ago, but there had been no air movement. It had been musty and still, now, something had changed. Somewhere, a door was open. Walkers didn't open doors, they-
The now-disturbing silence was suddenly broken by the distant sound of groans – walkers – and more than one, approaching from somewhere. She hesitated, unsure where they were coming from. They could be behind her – there were other passages she'd passed – or coming from somewhere in front. At any rate, she had to go back and warn-
Gunfire. The faded sound of popping echoed through the building, though it sounded like it was outside. She went cold. No. No, this can't be happening. It's supposed to be safe here! She broke into a run, back the way she came, sprinting down the passages with the thin beam of light dancing before her.
As she ran, their names ran through her head like a mantra. Daryl – Rick – Lori – Carl – T-dog – Carol – Glenn – Beth – Maggie… Daryl… – Please, be okay… Don't-
She raced around a corner only to almost rush head-long into a group of walkers.
With a hiss she managed to stop herself in time and backtracked swiftly, ducking around a corner and behind a door, pressing her back to it and trying to breathe without making noise.
The walkers stumbled after her, but couldn't catch her scent. They paused, confused by the sudden silence after her loud footsteps had abruptly stopped. They waited, and she waited too, frozen in the dark, unable to risk moving until she could tell how many there were. It seemed like it was more than she could handle. But if she could just wait long enough, they would lose interest and move on…
Her heart sank as more and more walkers seemed to be converging on her location. They were ambling around in both directions, coming from the infirmary side and from the direction of the cell-block. It didn't make sense. Where were they coming in? Why now, so suddenly?
As the minutes crawled by, her frustration only grew. She had to know what was going on. Five times, she almost burst out of her temporary hiding spot, blade swinging, but five times her nerve failed her. What if today really was the day she died? It could happen so easily, alone and in the dark, with no one to hear her scream.
Then she heard a distant shout – Maggie, she realized, and the clang of a metal gate. They were inside the prison – and in trouble!
The walkers also heard it, and turned, shuffling eagerly towards the sound, a tide of walking dead. Adrenaline surged, and dissolved her fear, and she pushed out of her hiding place, shouldering her way through the dead. Ironically, heading in the same direction as the corpses turned out to be a good strategy, as they didn't see her until she had already pushed by. The ones behind her however broke into a shambling run, and she had no time to waste with their grasping hands clawing at her thick leather jacket as she ducked and pushed recklessly through the crowd.
One enterprising walker managed to latch onto her arm, slowing her down and almost causing a horrible death-by-walker-pileup, but she twisted and lashed out with her ever-present machete-sword, splitting it's skull from ear to spine before it could bite.
Right when she'd almost reached the cellblock, she was yanked back by the back of her leather jacket, and with a curse she had no choice but to let her arms slip out of it, leaving it in their rotten hands. She put her head down and made a mad dash through the last walkers towards where she could see the light of the cell-block.
She noticed immediately that the gate she'd locked when she'd come through was now open – who had done that?- and the cellblock was overrun. But she was out of options, so she slipped through the gate and shut it quickly behind her, locking it in a swift movement even as the walkers that had pursued her threw themselves uselessly against it.
On the far side of the cellblock, the other gate, the one that led to outside of the prison and the other wing, was locked, and a group of walkers were clustered there. She put two-and-two together; the other members of the group had come past and locked the gate when they'd seen the cell-block had been overrun, and then retreated deeper into the prison.
She needed to rejoin them – they could be pinned down, in trouble!
Sarah glared murderously at the walkers, even as they turned and slowly became aware they were suddenly locked into the cellblock with fresh prey.
She sprinted half-way up the stairs and prepared to make her stand from slightly higher ground, doing a rough headcount.
"Twenty-five of you bastards." She said through bared teeth. She felt a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead. "Well, come on! I haven't got all day!"
Her loud voice certainly got their attention, and they shambled towards her, pushing each other for the chance at getting her first. Suddenly a loud siren rang out, the dusty prison speakers blaring to life. Her heart sank as she realized more walkers would now be drawn towards the prison. Who was responsible? Unlocked doors, alarms ringing… someone was doing this to them. It had to be one of the two remaining prisoners, but they hadn't seemed dangerous…
She didn't have time to think about it, or even come up with much of a plan beyond "bash in their heads". She did however make herself take note of three things; one: the number of walkers left to kill, two: the number of steps she could retreat up to the walkway, and three: the number of bullets she had left in her gun (fifteen).
Keeping all of that in mind, she hacked and slashed her way through the first three walkers messily, kicking them down to slow their fellows. The staircase was narrow enough for her to cope, but then a couple of walkers snuck around and started coming up the other steps behind her, and things got a little hairy. With no time to spare, she dropped her machete-sword to the ground and drew her gun, firing quickly left and right to stop them from getting around her. She was a good shot, but aiming under pressure wasn't easy, and she wasted four bullets out of the fifteen.
With nine walkers left, and her machete-sword kicked out of reach, she retreated to her cell and slid the bars shut, wedging her battered shield underneath. Then, she fell back for a brief respite, panting raggedly on the floor of her cell.
Just that morning, it had seemed safe. It felt like the world was getting back at them for daring to hope for better days.
She stood and drew her knife, eyeing the nine walkers reaching through the bars for her.
She thought of the group, and stabbed the closest walker viciously through the eye.
Stab…
It was going to be alright.
Stab.
I'll see them all again soon.
Stab. Stab. Stab.
No one was going to die…
It'll be okay.
Author's note:
But yeah, as we all know, things definitely are not okay in episode 4…
What do you think of my action scenes? It's fun imagining them, but I hope it's not too repetitive, and not too unrealistic. I think Sarah is badass enough to take down 25 walkers single-handedly, using her blade, a gun and a knife, but what do you think? I'm just having fun writing a character that's not a damsel-in-distress :D
