52—Finding the Prison pt. 5
Aibileen walked around the cellblock for what felt like the hundredth time. She kept biting her fingernails, a little anxious about what was going on with the others. She had spent a good amount of time helping Selena and Carol with Lori.
Lori had voiced her concerns on the baby. She was thinking she miscarried, which was something that weighed heavily on the others.
"I don't want Rick to know," she said, her voice trembling. "He'd probably blame himself."
Running her hands through her hair, Aibileen sighed.
There was hardly anything to do until Rick and the others came back. They were still negotiating on what to do in their new home. Hershel's idea of harvesting fruits and vegetables still stood, so did T-Dog's idea of digging a canal under the fences.
Aibileen glanced over, and she briefly saw Carl walk down the steps from the upper level of the cellblock. He wore his father's sheriff hat proudly, but there was a small frown on his face. She knew that he was probably worried about his father and the others.
"Did ya check on your mother?" Aibileen asked softly, once Carl was in earshot.
He glanced up at her, his frown deepening. There were still signs of obvious resentment toward his mother, and Aibileen was hoping that he could let go of those bitter emotions and just treat his mother respectfully. It wasn't acceptable to treat a parent like that, especially if they're expecting a child in such horrid conditions.
Carl simply shook his head; his shaggy hair falling a little around his eyes.
Aibileen sighed. Kneeling down to his eye-level, she took the sheriff hat off his head and gave him a frown. He seemed surprised by the sudden removal of the hat but made no move to take if off his friend's head.
"Ya need a haircut," she sighed, rustling his shaggy hair.
Squirming under her hand, the young boy gave a small, crooked smile.
"No I don't," he said with a chuckle.
"Mmhmm," Aibileen hummed. "Havin' all this hair in your face won't be good when you're fightin' walkers."
"I've done pretty good so far." The way Carl said it, proudly, made Aibileen's heart clench. Carl Grimes hadn't experienced the kind of childhood he needed, the way Aibileen saw it. He grew up too fast; had to learn the dangers of the world too quickly. It seemed like everything that was ever wrong in the world crashed down all at once, and then throwing in the walkers just made things even worse.
"I know," she said softly. Standing up, Aibileen sighed. "I want ya to go talk to your mom."
Carl visibly tensed when Aibileen said that, his eyes hardening.
"She's still your mother like it or not." Placing her hands on her hips, Aibileen looked at the young boy in front of her with firm brown eyes. "Not to mention she's pregnant, Carl. It's disrespectful to be treatin' her like this."
Before he even had a chance to respond, sounds echoed through the cellblock, getting everyone's attention. Briefly, they heard the sounds of people shouting and what sounded like something rolling across the ground.
"Open the door!" Rick called. "It's critical!"
Carl opened the door, Rick, T-Dog, Glenn, and Maggie rushed in with Hershel lying on a wheeled metal makeshift table. Aibileen rushed over to them and noticed one of Hershel's legs was just a bloodied stump. Maggie's hands were covering the wound the best she could—they were all covered in blood, wide-eyed and a little disoriented.
Aibileen looked at Hershel's face—pale, almost deathly white. His breaths were shallow, a bloodied hatchet laying on his stomach.
"What happened?" she exclaimed, looking at either of them.
"He got bit," Maggie cried.
They led Hershel into one of the cells, carefully placing him on one of the beds while Carol and the others tried to stop the bleeding. Aibileen only knew a little about medicine—only what Hershel had taught her—but it didn't take a genius to know that he had lost a significant amount of blood, and if the wound wasn't properly cleaned and covered, then he'd get an infection and die.
Aibileen rushed over to the barred door, closed securely. T-Dog and Daryl were still on the other side, Daryl aiming his crossbow at something. She bit her bottom lip. Looking behind her, Aibileen saw everyone rushing to help save Hershel.
"Aibileen, we need your help." Selena poked her head out of the cell Hershel was residing in, looking worried. "We need pillows to keep his leg elevated."
Nodding, Aibileen followed Selena to the unused cells and started looking for as many pillows as possible. When they found enough, they hurried back to Hershel's and helped place them under the bloodied stump. Carol had tried using some sheets to stall the bleeding, everyone exclaiming something or asking if Hershel was going to die.
Lori was sitting beside Carol, trying to make herself useful.
"Where's Carl?" Aibileen asked shakily. She couldn't remove her eyes from Hershel's form. He already bled through the sheets, and it seemed like he was getting paler by the second.
"He went looking for medical supplies," Glenn said quickly. "We used everything we had on him before we even came back."
Nodding without a word, Aibileen stepped out of the cell for a moment, rubbing the back of her hand against her forehead. She hadn't noticed her hands were trembling, or that she had gotten some of Hershel's blood on her. He was bleeding a lot.
Hearing Daryl's and T-Dog's voice from the other part of the cell, the one with the metal tables and chairs rooted to the ground, nearly yelling at voices Aibileen didn't recognize, she felt her heart skip a beat. There were others in the prison?
Seeing Rick and Glenn walk out of Hershel's cell, Rick looking frustrated and Glenn seemingly upset, Aibileen watched them walk by for a minute before Glenn was told something by Rick and left.
"Who's out there?" Aibileen asked softly.
Rick looked at her, frowning slightly.
"Prisoners," he said. "Survivors. We found them back there, when...we were dealing with Hershel."
"Are they dangerous?"
"They could be."
Aibileen glanced over to the locked door. Daryl and T-Dog were still arguing with the prisoners.
"Would it be OK if I went out?" she asked, trying to steady her voice. "I have my gun." She took her gun out from the back pocket of her pants.
"I don't know if that's a good idea," Rick said carefully. "They're armed..."
"And I can handle them," she assured. "Hershel's bein' taken care of. I could help, I could be the back-up."
Rick didn't seem to like the idea, but knew that Aibileen had a point. Carol and the others were doing their best to take care of Hershel and with everyone else trying to hold back the walkers, that left the young woman with nothing to do but stand and watch.
Aibileen wanted to be more than the extra, but she knew in tense situations, when everyone else had a job to do, she couldn't just stand around and wait for something to appear.
Opening the locked door with the ring of keys, Aibileen and Rick rushed into the other room. Daryl and T-Dog were aiming their weapons at five prisoners; one of the prisoners was aiming a gun at them.
"Relax! There's no need for this," Rick exclaimed, silencing the arguing.
Aibileen stood next to Daryl, her gun in hand in case it was needed. His crossbow was still raised, glaring at the prisoners before glancing down at the woman beside him.
The prisoner who had his gun raised, a Hispanic man with long hair, did a long look over at Aibileen. It had been a while since he'd seen any women. She was petite; her short black hair was shaggy, framing her face; not to mention she had very good figure. Her skin was colored with a light tan, one that probably came naturally.
Daryl took notice to the look the gun-wielding prisoner was giving Aibileen. His glare deepened as he took a protective step in front of her, not lowering his crossbow for a second.
"How many of you are there?" the largest African American man said.
"Too many for you to handle," Rick said harshly.
"Why don't you take him to a hospital?" the Hispanic man asked quickly, his eyes lingering on Aibileen longer.
Aibileen's heart quickened in fear. The look on the Hispanic man's face was one bordering desire. She had to wonder how long it had been since those men had left the prison, how long since they had seen a woman before. But it was only the Hispanic man who was giving her a dirty glance, the other four men seemed a bit more confused on what was going on.
"There ain't no hospitals," Aibileen said.
"No hospitals?" a white man with a bushy mustache asked, looking genuinely concerned.
"How long have you been locked in that cafeteria?" Rick asked.
The five men exchanged a look, shifting on the balls of their feet.
"Going on ten months," the Hispanic man said lowly.
"A riot broke out," the larger African American man said. "Never seen anything like it."
"Heard about dudes going cannibal, the dying coming back to life. Crazy."
"One guard looked out for us. Locked us in the cafeteria and told us to hang tight," the Hispanic man said, "threw me this piece and said he'd be right back."
"That was two-hundred ninety-two days ago," another man said.
"Ninety-four..."
The Hispanic man hissed at them to shut up, silencing his companions' talking. They seemed to tense at the man's voice, almost as if they were uncomfortable around him.
"We thought the Army or the National Guard should be showing up any day now," another African American man said.
"There is no Army," Rick said.
"What do you mean?" one of the men asked.
"The Army's gone," Aibileen said softly. "Far as we know, they could all be dead. Ain't nobody comin' here to save y'all."
"No government, no hospitals, no police," Rick counted off. "It's all gone."
"For real?" the mustache guy asked.
Aibileen walked up beside Daryl, nodding at the man.
"There's a chance more than half the population's dead," she said. "Maybe even more. No one's safe out there."
There was a heavy silence between all of them. The four prisoners behind the gun-wielding ones seemed hit the hardest. There were looks of pain on their faces, the one wielding the gun seemed to borderline disbelief.
"Ain't no way," he said.
"Go see for yourself," Rick said harshly.
The prisoners were led outside. They stretched, looking around. Bodies of the walkers they had taken down earlier still littered the outside of the prison and the smell of rot hung heavily in the air.
The others waited near the side entrance of the prison, watching the prisoners carefully.
Each of the prisoners talked amongst each other, looking down at the bodies in horror or disbelief. Those could've been a friend of theirs.
Aibileen took note of each of the prisoners. Four of the prisoners seemed like they were genuinely good people—being locked in a cafeteria for ten months probably changed the way they acted drastically. It was the Hispanic one Aibileen was the most concerned about. He seemed more hostile, more willing to cause harm. If it wasn't harm he was after, then it was some kind of selfish desire he probably hadn't experienced in a long time.
One thing Aibileen did notice was how close Daryl was to her.
The huntsman was standing almost protectively beside her, his crossbow held in both hands as he eyed the prisoners with a deep-set scowl. If the situation didn't seem so terrible, Aibileen would've smiled at that.
"How the Hell did you get in?" one of the prisoners asked.
"Cut a hole in that fence near the guard tower," Aibileen said, pointing to where the closed up hole was.
"That easy, huh?"
Aibileen settled for a shrug.
"This like a disease?" another prisoner asked.
"Yeah. And we're all infected," Rick explained, almost dismissively.
"What do you mean infected?" the man with the mustache asked. "Like...AIDS or something?"
"I could shoot y'all right now," Aibileen said. "Kill y'all. If I did that, you'd come back as one of them."
She pointed dismissively to one of the walker bodies. They looked around, then looked at each other.
"It's gonna happen to all of us," she said.
"Must be fifty bodies out here. Ain't no way you killed all of them," the Hispanic man, Tomas, exclaimed. "Where'd you come from?"
"Atlanta," Rick answered.
"Where're you headed?"
"As of right now, nowhere."
"What about her?" Tomas nodded to Aibileen, looking her over almost hungrily. "Doesn't sound like she's from around here."
Aibileen tensed.
"Ya better leave her alone," Daryl almost snarled. He took a step toward Tomas, holding his crossbow a little tighter.
"She your bitch or something?" Tomas exclaimed, stepping toward Daryl. "You can share. No harm in that."
Before the situation could get a little more out of hand, Rick intervened, stepping between the two men. T-Dog had his gun elevated, just in case he needed to do something.
"Stay away from my girl," Daryl snarled.
Aibileen felt her face heat up at that statement. She had found it flattering that Daryl was standing up for her, protecting her from Tomas' harassing motives, but never did she expect to hear Daryl Dixon call her 'his girl'.
"You can have that cellblock near the fields," one of the prisoners said, trying to ease the situation. "You should be comfortable.
"We've got a cellblock already," Rick said, not taking his eyes off Tomas. "Those fields will be used for crops. We took out the walkers, the prison is ours."
Tomas scoffed. "Slow down, cowboy."
"You snapped the locks off our doors," another prisoner exclaimed.
"I'll get you new locks, if that's what you want," Rick said.
As Rick negotiated with Tomas and the other prisoners, Aibileen stayed near Daryl. He led her a little bit away from the others, keeping his crossbow in one hand as he eyed Tomas with a burning glare.
"Thank you," Aibileen said softly.
Daryl looked down at her before he glanced over at the prisoners again.
He simply grunted in response.
Aibileen leaned over and brushed her lips against Daryl's jaw. She wasn't tall enough to reach anything above that. The scruffiness of Daryl's facial hair itched at Aibileen's lips as she did that. Leaning back, Aibileen gave the huntsman a small smile.
Rick had informed T-Dog, Daryl, and Aibileen that he was able to snatch an agreement from them—help clear out a cellblock for the prisoners in exchange for half of the food supply in the cafeteria.
"We should be safe as long as they stay on their side of the prison," Rick said.
"What'll happen if they come over to our side?" Aibileen asked.
"They'll be killed."
The answer was so quick, so immediate, that Aibileen wasn't sure how she felt about it. The only prisoner that seemed dangerous was Tomas, the others were perfectly fine.
Aibileen knew better than to argue with Rick, though.
"Shoulda kicked 'em out," Daryl muttered bitterly.
The corners of Aibileen's mouth twitched at hearing him say that. She knew that the main reason was because he didn't trust them, the other reason was because Tomas was making crude remarks about his girl.
Walking through the cafeteria—filled with trash bags, piling up the wall—the small group looked at it warily.
"You never tried to break out?" T-Dog asked.
"We tried to take the doors off. But if you make one peep in here, those freaks will be lined up at the door growling and trying to get in. Windows got bars on them that even he-man can't get through."
"Bigger than the five-by-eight," Axel, one of the prisoners, explained.
"Don't hear me complaining. Doing fifteen. My left leg can barely fit on one of those bunks," the big African American man said.
"They don't call him Big Tiny for nothing."
Tomas interrupted the little moment, impatiently waiting for the others to follow. When they followed Tomas and the other prisoners to the back of the cafeteria, they found it was pretty much full of canned goods.
"This what you call a little bit of food?" Daryl asked, a harshness underlying his words.
"Goes fast," Tomas said, sounding defensive. "You can have a bag of corn, tuna fish..."
"We said half," Rick interrupted. "That's the deal." Looking at a closed door near the food, Rick looked at the prisoners with a questioning look before opening. A stench more foul than the walkers seeped through, causing Rick to jerk back a little before shutting the door as quickly as he could.
"Can't wait for my own pot to piss in," Axel said.
Rick and the others were able to grab as much food as they could. Some bagged corn and canned goods that could last them months if they rationed it correctly.
Making their way back to their cellblock, there seemed to be a relief that they all felt, but the tension of the prisoners still stayed. Rick, despite not really saying a word, had expressed the most distrust in the prisoners. Especially Tomas. The long-haired prisoner put Rick on edge.
Hearing the door open to their cellblock, Carl stood on the other end, looking at them excitedly.
"What'd you get?" he asked.
"Canned beef, canned corn, canned cans," T-Dog said in exasperation. "There's a lot more where this came from."
Aibileen followed T-Dog to where the food would be stashed for the time being. Rick went to check on Hershel, and everything seemed relatively normal.
As normal as it could possibly get.
Author's Note:
I hope you guys enjoy these updates. Let me know what you guys think.
If I could own the 'Walking Dead', I'd be the happiest person on the planet! Sadly, I don't own the television series or the comics. I only own Selena, Aibileen, any other characters I add to the story, and my fillers. That's all I'll ever own.
Leave a helpful review, please!
Thank you.
Susan Strong
