AN: Here we are, another chapter here!
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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It took them a little longer to take full control of the prison yard than Daryl had daydreamed it might. They slept in the fenced in section at the bottom of the yard for three more nights—content not to move their tents just to sleep a few feet closer to the building.
The final leg of the taking over was the most difficult.
From the area where the fences had been destroyed, Walkers spilled into the space around the building. Their fires, conversations, gunshots, and other noises—including Sophia's cries—had drawn every Walker in the area to investigate. The fences kept them out without a problem, but many of them stumbled around and spilled into the back of the prison yard where the destroyed portion of the fence granted them access.
From there, they filtered into the upper section of the yard, thus making it very difficult for the small group to get control of them. As soon as they picked them off enough to seem like Glenn and Daryl might be able to make a run for the gate, more Walkers seemed to appear from nowhere and come rushing in like water.
Finally, the only way they'd managed to take the final section was to, essentially, flood the area themselves. They left Sophia behind with Lori, and the rest of them—right down to Hershel—rushed the area with knives, axes, machetes, and hatchets that they'd gathered along the way. Instead of Glenn running for the gate with Daryl to cover him, and the rest of them calling Walkers to the fences or trying to pick them off with stray bullets that would only attract more Walkers, they all fought as hard as they could against any and every Walker they could see.
By the time they took the upper yard, all they'd wanted to do was go back to their tents, wash, eat, and sleep.
But at least they'd won the final piece of the yard that they had to win before they could start clearing the building.
The building, when they reached it, granted the access to a cell block—one of many, but they weren't trying to be too over-enthusiastic, too quickly.
A guard with his brains blown out spotted them a master set of keys that Rick lifted off his body, and they cleared out the cell block. Someone had to have come through the cellblock, probably when the whole thing had started and people hadn't known how to react, and done a lot of work of taking out prisoners. Walking up and down the rows of cells, they saw the same thing over and over—one bullet to the brain, each prisoner slumped against the wall. There had been a mass execution. They knew the exact moment, though, when either the bullets had run out or those doing the executions had run out of luck. The final cells had Walkers reaching out to try to snag a taste of something. They were easy to kill through the bars of their cages, though, before the cells were unlocked and the bodies were dragged out.
It took a solid day just to clear the cell block.
Then it was time for the cleaning to begin. For another two days, they hauled water into the prison and up to the top of the yard where Carol, Beth, and Lori constantly built and tended fires over which they boiled water in the heavy pots they'd found along the way and carried around with them in their truck. With the water and hoarded soap, they washed blankets and sheets and other items and hung them to dry on rope tied up around the prison yard to create space for so many linens.
Because Lori couldn't be around the chemicals, she was given the job of keeping the laundry going while Carol scoured and scrubbed the cell block with bleach, and Beth helped tend to Sophia and made trips back and forth to help each of the women with their various tasks.
For at least two days, Lori assigned laundry related tasks while Carol assigned other general cleaning tasks. Hershel dragged people to help him dig decent latrines and to discuss the possibility of building a pump system. Daryl hunted to keep them eating fairly regular meals. And everyone jumped in to help where they could.
It was the first time that they'd all worked together—truly worked together—in as long as Daryl could remember.
Those nights, they all slept in the freshly scrubbed cells on linens they'd brought with them, while the prison linens dried in the open air. They all slept soundly, too, from having worked from the time they'd woken until the time they'd gone to sleep.
The cots were small—barely large enough to fit one body—but Carol and Daryl made them fit two bodies. Daryl put his back against the wall and focused on making himself as small as he could. He wrapped himself around Carol and held her through the night, only allowing her up when she had to get Sophia out of her pen to feed her or change her.
Carol tried to wake at Sophia's first whimper to save the rest of the prison from a rude awakening each time she cried, but sometimes she wasn't successful. They'd chosen a cell that was somewhat removed from the others, but the baby's cries still echoed through the prison since every sound there seemed to go on forever, bouncing off the walls. Daryl told Carol not to worry about it. She was doing her best and, for any criticism they might have, none of them would do any better when it was their turn to raise babies in the cellblock.
Daryl, no matter what, was awake every time Sophia stirred Carol from her sleep.
While Carol sat on the edge of the bed with her back to Daryl and nursed Sophia, Daryl reached a hand up and rubbed her back with his fingertips. She hummed at him, quietly, to let him know that she felt him.
"She's hungry," Daryl said. "I can hear her—focused. Swallowin'."
Carol laughed quietly, barely breathing out her humor.
"You'd think she was starving," Carol said. "As greedy as she acts when it's time to feed."
"Sometimes she is," Daryl said. "I don't think you get enough to eat, all the time, to make what you need to feed her all she wants. I think that's why she eats as much as she does. As often, I mean. Keep gettin' a couple mouthfuls here an' a couple there of what you got to offer."
"You're an expert on breastfeeding now?" Carol asked.
Daryl kept running his fingertips over her back because he liked the comfort of feeling her there, and he liked the repetition of the action. Carol didn't complain about the touch either.
"I'm not completely stupid about things like breastfeeding," Daryl said with a yawn. "I mean I know some about animals feedin' their young. Same idea, really. Besides—I talked to Hershel about it 'cause I worry about you an' Sophia. Both of you."
"What'd Hershel say?" Carol asked.
"Same as I already suspected," Daryl said. "That and what I already knew—this place? It's gonna be good for all of us. So much potential to rest. Build somethin' worth having. Really build that life we been talkin' about since we left the farm. We gonna go on runs and gather shit."
"What kind of shit?" Carol asked, laughing quietly.
"Shit to plant crops," Daryl said. "Build a pump. Maybe some simple irrigation canals. A smokehouse for meat." He hummed to himself, trying to remember everything that he'd ticked off that he'd be interested in during one of the rest intervals when he'd sat with Hershel and T-Dog to share a cigarette, some water, and a little time spent reveling in the potential of what they'd found. "Hershel wants to find medical supplies."
"He's worried about Lori," Carol said.
"He didn't say that directly," Daryl said. "She looked OK to me. Hell—she's been at least hangin' sheets on the lines."
"I didn't mean he's worried now. Not immediately. She's got a little while, still," Carol said, keeping her voice barely above a whisper and reminding Daryl that he had to watch his own volume, as well. "I mean—she had Carl by c-section. She wasn't able to push him out on her own."
"I coulda gone my whole fuckin' life without that thought rollin' around in my brain, Carol," Daryl offered.
"It's serious, Daryl," Carol said. "She could die if she can't push the baby out. The baby could die. And if he doesn't have the supplies that he needs, she won't live through the surgery to get the baby out. The respirator's a good start, but he'd be better off if he had more supplies." Carol sighed. "She'd have a better chance if he had more supplies. I'm worried about her."
"Really?" He asked.
"She's the only girlfriend I've got," Carol said.
"She don't help you with shit," Daryl said. "She don't—don't hardly seem to give a damn about you."
"Stop," Carol said.
"I'm sorry, but it's true," Daryl said.
"She's not perfect," Carol said. "But Beth's too young and…Maggie is too, really. Our experiences are too different. And Andrea's dead, Daryl."
Daryl patted her back before he went back to scratching at it.
"We'll find Hershel what he needs," Daryl said. "But—can I ask you a question."
"Hmmm?" Carol hummed.
"Just—makin' sure an' all…" Daryl said. "But—if you were to have a baby…just to remind me in case you told me but I wasn't listening or I forgot…and not that I'm sayin' you gotta have one or I'm expectin' you to have one, but just if it was to happen…"
Carol laughed. She interrupted him with her words.
"I had Sophia naturally," Carol said. "No scar means no c-section. You'd be able to tell."
"So, there wouldn't be no worry?" Daryl asked.
"There's always a worry," Carol said. "But—at least with Sophia, I could push her out. My baby was able to fit through my hip bones, if that's what you're worried about."
"Jesus," Daryl growled. "Fit through your hip bones? That's another damn image I coulda gone my whole damn life without."
Carol laughed.
"How'd you think they got through there, Daryl?" Carol asked.
"They went the fuck around," Daryl said. "Hell—I don't know. I try not to think about it, really. To be honest, never really had a reason to think about it. They go through your hip bones?"
"Well, the space between your hip bones," Carol said. "It opens up. Gets bigger. That's why we—it's why we waddle."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"Did you waddle?" He asked.
Carol laughed.
"Terribly," she said.
"I bet you it was cute," Daryl offered.
"I was huge and gross," Carol said.
"Fuckin' adorable," Daryl replied. "Beautiful."
"Ed didn't think so," Carol said.
Daryl's stomach tightened and he kneaded her back muscles in response.
"Yeah, well—may he rot in hell," Daryl said. "I'da been different."
"I'm sure you would have," Carol agreed.
"Never thought about all that before, though. Not like that. Not—not all detailed like that."
"You may never have a reason to think about it again," Carol said.
Daryl hummed at her.
"Either way," he offered, "I'm a fuckin' expert on it now. And breastfeeding. Told you—I talked to Hershel. When we go out gettin' everything we need? We're gonna look for food, but we're also gonna start producin' our own as soon as we can. Look for some animals, too. You gonna eat 'til you can't eat no more. Then Sophia ain't gonna need to feed all the damn time 'cause she's gonna get full when she eats—not just give up 'cause there ain't enough an' she's gotta wait for you to fill back up."
Carol laughed to herself.
"You make me feel like—like a bucket or something," Carol said.
"Is it all that different?" Daryl asked. "I mean—I know you ain't a bucket. But I mean—like the milk fills up and it empties out."
"I guess you're right," Carol said.
She pulled away from him, but it didn't take him long to see that she wasn't abandoning him in any way. She'd fed Sophia what she could, and she'd burped the baby. Sophia hadn't wanted to wake in the first place, really, so she'd fallen back asleep easily. Her cries had been only a plea for food. They'd been cries brought about by an aching belly she wished was full.
It made Daryl sad to think that it might not even be full then. She might still be hungry. Her mother was giving all she had, though. She was, perhaps, giving more than she even had to spare. At least the hunger was quelled a little because she'd gone back to sleep, and all was quiet now.
Carol, after putting the baby down, was coming back to sleep, too.
"Come on in here," Daryl said, welcoming Carol back to the cot and wrapping himself around her to protect her from accidentally falling off.
She hummed at him and curled tightly into him.
"You're so comfortable," she mused.
"I'ma make sure you get all you need," Daryl said. "One day? You and Sophia—you ain't gonna have to be hungry."
"You want me to be fat," Carol said with a laugh.
"I just want you to be comfortable," Daryl said.
"I am comfortable," Carol said. "Right here. We can sleep, Daryl. Both of us. At the same time."
"All three of us," Daryl offered. Carol hummed happily. "When we go out lookin' for stuff, what do you want?"
"I'm fine," Carol said.
"What'cha want?" Daryl pressed.
"Anything?" Carol asked.
"Anything within my power," Daryl said with a laugh.
"A bed," Carol said. "Like the one we had at the farm. Big enough for us to spread out." She laughed quietly and burrowed a little tighter against him. "So you don't have to hold me on the bed all night long."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"Yeah," he said. "Sure thing. I'll get you a bed. But—I'm happy to hold you, too. For just a little while longer."