A/N: I hate following the main story so closely, but I liked this setting, so it remains.

I promise we'll branch off canon soon.

Not beta'd. There will be mistakes.

Harry seemed entirely alone in his reaction.

Tomas was visibly flabbergasted at the sudden circumstance, and with him, there was Andrew, Big Tiny and Oscar. Axel was the only who to be even remotely perturbed about the sight when Harry took a moment to look as they left him in the kitchen, but even he faced it still, despite his light dismay. Had they all been witness to this sort of blood and gore before? Was it something so normal and inconsequential to them, that it meant just about nothing?

Harry knew he was the least experienced of the inmates that had been trapped here. At least it felt like it. Harry wasn't entirely sure what he's experienced, if he's ever seen someone hurt to this extent, or if he's even hurt someone else. His past was a blank for him, so inconceivable to him that he got a headache whenever he truly tried to remember something, anything.

With this... He knew he had never inflicted or witnessed. Beyond just the feeling of disgust that had bubbled within him, and the subsequent vomiting - it was an innate feeling he had.

Harry spat onto the floor, before straightening with a breath and trying to steel himself once more. It was revolting and almost frightening, but it wouldn't do him well at all to sit here and do nothing whilst they confronted this group with the bleeding man. If the world truly was what he now believed it to be, he would have to see and endure a lot more than this, especially if those creatures that had once been people were roaming about

He turned to and approached the door, but he paused when one of the people with the bleeding man rushed in, grabbed one of the dish trolleys and turned everything on it onto the floor, before turning and pushing it out of the room.

"Come on, we gotta go!"

Again he was hesitating against his own logic, pausing at the door, not looking at the scene playing out next to him. It sounded so easy to his mind, what he thought he was meant to do, what he thought was best. And yet, and yet...

He caught the familiar growling just as heard the door to the cafeteria open, and that was enough to draw his eyes.

It was covered in riot gear, with dark plates over its chest, padding covering its arms and legs and with a helmet over its head, its transparent visor over his face - and he peered through it to see what it looked like behind the visor. Its face was a rotten green, blended in with dried blood and shambling skin. It walked in like a drunken old man and looked to want to raise its hands upwards when the dark-skinned man pinned it to the closed door.

Harry had had to endure the sounds the monsters things made for ten months, had to listen to their non-ending growls every time he closed his eyes. He had never seen one that look this bad, but he still remembered the sound they made all the same, from even when the riots began.

The man pierced the metal bar he held through its chin, blood spewing from it as he did, before leaving it to fall lifeless.

If it had even been alive before.

Harry turned again, bent, shut his eyes and heaved - feeling as though someone had grabbed his innards and was pulling them up through his mouth.

Hoping this final blast was his last, he remained bent to get some air. Someone shuffled up next to him.

"We gotta go, man, everyone's leaving," Axels' voice beckoned.

Far from wanting to be alone in what the bloody hell this was, he rose.

"Okay," He took a final breath, but Axel was already by the door, and Harry began to make for him.

The lone limb sitting in a pool of blood with a boot on it caught his eyes and gave him a moment of pause, as did the slumped body of the thing in the riot gear. Despite the growing disgust, no bile rose, and he was grateful enough for that.

The corridor was dark and dusty, with many of its barred doors hanging open and...bodies, all dead on the floor, dried blood staining their bodies or the floor around them. The smell here was even more horrid than when it strayed into what had become their staying area.

Realizing he was getting left behind, Harry bolted in the direction he thought he went after a moment of guesswork, only hearing their voices in the opposite just as he rounded a corner.

But something was already on him before he could already think to turn around. It seemed to almost grab onto him, pushing him backwards and down onto his back, enticing a grunt from him as he fell down and it on him. Harry had managed to catch his hands onto its shoulders and held it up away from his face and torso, even as it tried to pull itself down to him.

More than the smell of its rot, Harry knew it was one of those monsters from the strained wheezing that left its throat.

He made a sound as he began to fight it off; if it was a cry for help, a shout or a simple scream, he did not know. The sheer panic running through him didn't avail him of anything he did that was not holding it away from him, as it continuously snapped at him with its mouth.

Though for one, useless moment, he remembered how the man had killed one in the cafeteria and realized he didn't have the pipe he had grabbed earlier.

And so began the scenario of what it would do to him, what would become of him if he couldn't push it off - the death he knew was waiting.

Its head exploded above him, splattering blood and brain over his face.

When he felt only the weight of it press down on him and not its effort, he didn't waste a second getting away.

He threw its body to the side and was quick to stand, almost slipping as he rushed up in the direction he was meant to take.

The sound of his hammering heart filled his ears, and that of his jagged, quick breathing filled the corridor as he turned and ran - the fright still coursing through his entire being.

"...a bit of pussy."

He heard Tomas' voice through one of the open bar doors, and he turned to it with a huff, rounding as he went through to close and hold it.

There, he held himself, his hands stretched out onto two bars to keep the door sealed, even though he heard none of the things groaning towards it. With his heart beginning to settle, he tried to gather himself.

He'd nearly died.

It had been trying to kill him.

If such a thing had ever been a doubt in his mind, those things were out for blood, and one had tried to kill him.

"Looks a bit smarter than you fools," A voice said from behind him, one of the men who'd come rushing into the cafeteria, he realized.

"Better off too," Another voice he did not know.

"Kid got lucky," Harry knew Tomas' voice, "You won't be, though, if you don't leave my place."

"You good man?" Axels' voice broke through as he neared Harry.

Harry wasn't. He felt his heart clench, felt the tears welling and hoped his face was hidden in enough gore to hide them, but by the look he got from Axel, he knew it wasn't. So he let them flow then, but he did not choke, did not begin to sob - he controlled his breathing as they slid from his eyes, and resigned himself to silently crying.

This, at least, felt natural.

"One of them...caught me, looked like he was trying to bite me," His voice was low, but steady enough.

He'd seen it, briefly in passing, when the riots broke and the prison was in chaos - some prisoners taking a bite at the guards, being shot and walking on as if they hadn't been, guards that had bled out rising again and acting as their killers had. It had all seemed a bit too bizarre to be true to him then, and perhaps he had held onto a little hope himself.

But after this...

"That's that crazy shit," Oscar put in.

"Guess we know what happened to that guard for sure," Tomas shrugged, and only then did Harry turn to the scene.

It was a standoff, and Tomas had his gun pointed to the dark-skinned man that Harry had seen kill one of those things in the cafeteria, who had one pointed at him in return. A dark-brown-haired man had his crossbow set on Tomas too. The bearded man next to him had a weapon holstered at his side and a machete in his hand.

Oscar, Axel, Andrew and Big Tiny held up behind Tomas. Taking a breath, Harry did too as his crying held, but still realised the idiocy of the situation.

"No, that's what happened to everything," The bearded man said.

"What do you mean?" Tomas inquired.

"Almost everything you've known doesn't exist anymore. No police, no army, no hospitals, no government. Everything out there, it's all gone."

There was the confirmation, which Harry wasn't quite sure he needed anymore. The world was gone, reduced by whatever those things were.

There was a small pang in him, one he couldn't understand. He should feel more, he should be as devastated as most of them were, but there was no memory holding him to what had been the life before, no person to mourn or institution to miss. If there was someone who cried out from him as the world collapsed, he did not know them. Despite it all, he hoped there was.

"What about my moms?" Big Tiny asked, as if to no one, but Harry saw he already knew.

"My kids? And my old lady?" Oscar started, doubt in his voice, before he stepped forward, "Yo, you got a cellphone or something that we can call our families?"

"You just don't get it, do you?" The one with the crossbow questioned.

"No phone, no computers," The machete wielder elaborated, "As far as we can see, almost half the population has been wiped out. Maybe more."

"Ain't no way," Tomas was quick to try to shut it down, but his weapon was lowering.

"Go on and see for yourself."

They were taken outside, and Harry joined, despite his reluctance, already having a feeling of what it would be like. The warmth of the sun greeted them as they went through the door and to the brown, rusted mesh sheet that surrounded the stairs.

"Damn the sun feels good," Oscar commented, stretching as he broke into the courtyard.

"Good lord, they're all dead," Axels' eyes were on the corpses on the ground.

Harrys were too, flicking to each one sprawled on the floor, most in prisoner jumpsuits, a question springing.

"Why aren't they getting up like the rest?"

"If you damage the brain," The one with the machete retorted, "They go down like any man."

That made sense, considering his own encounter.

"How the hell did you get in here in the first place?" Andrew asked.

"Cut a hole in the fence over there by the guard tower," The crossbow wielder answered.

Andrew glanced to it, and then back, "That easy, huh?"

"If there's a will, there's a way."

Andrew snorted, "Easy for you to say."

Big Tiny was hitting one with a bar, "What is this, some sort of disease?"

"Yeah," The bearded one answered, "And we all have it."

That drew most of their eyes to him, but Axel was the one to speak first, "What do you mean infected? Like AIDS or something?"

"If I was to kill you," said the brown-haired man, "Put an arrow through your chest. You'd come back as one of these things...It's gonna happen to all of us."

There were some of the monsters wheezing at the fence close to the gate, and they leaned on it with their arms up, as if the fence would someone give way to them if they did.

"Ain't no way this robin hood cat's responsible for killing all these freaks," Tomas shook his head.

"Must be 50 bodies out here," Andrew sured him up.

Tomas turned to the bearded man, edging a bit closer, "Where'd you come from?"

"Atlanta," he answered after a moment's pause.

Tomas edged closer again, "Where you heading?"

The man turned to face Tomas, his face unthreatened, "For now, nowhere."

Tomas pointed to the field behind him, "I guess you could take that area down there near the water. Should be comfortable."

"We're using that field for crops."

"We'll help you move your gear out."

"That won't be necessary," He shrugged his disagreement, "We took out these walkers. This prison is ours."

"Walkers," Harry muttered. That's what they were called, then. The name seemed fitting, for the mindless way in which they seemed to trot about, even as they were trying to get to them.

Tomas chuckled, "Slow down, cowboy."

And where Tom had a goal...

Andrew walked up next to Tom, "You snatched the lock off our doors."

"We'll get you new locks if that's how you want it."

"This prison is ours," Tom spread out his hands, "We were here first."

"Locked in the broom closet?" He chuckled, "We took it, set you free. We spilt blood. It's ours."

Stubborn as ever, Tom persisted, "We're moving into our cell block."

"You'll have to get your own."

"It is mine. I still got personal shit in there," Tom drew the pistol, "It's about as mine as it gets."

In that instant, there was a crossbow pointed toward Tom, and a gun drawn from the dark-skinned man. Andrew formed up aggressively, and Big Tiny hovered over Tom, but clearly less willing to fight. Oscar didn't even join them at all, and Harry too lingered some ways away.

It was all a bit strange to him, even as he was still absorbing it all.

Leave it to Tomas to destroy any chance at conversation.

Harry didn't know these people, but he wouldn't at least given negotiation a chance - for all he knew, they might've welcomed them if they had offered to help with settling, with their crops and more.

Then again, they likely wouldn't trust convicts.

"Maybe let's try ta, make this work out so everybody wins." Axel became the voice of reason.

"I don't see that happening," Tomas shook his head.

"Neither do I."

"I ain't going back to that cafeteria for one more minute," Tomas went on.

"There are other cellblocks," The blond-haired convict insisted.

"You could leave," The man with the crossbow put in, "Try your luck out on the road."

If there was a long moment of resolute silence, the only sound filling the air being the Walkers moving on the fence.

"If these three pussies can do all this, the least we can do is take out another cellblock."

"With what?" Big Tiny asked.

"Atlanta here will spot us with some real weapons," Tom gestured to them, "Won't you boss?"

Harry zoned out from their conversation, not sure how eager he was to go back in there if he wanted to put himself in the position of fighting more of those... Walkers. He'd just made it out of his first real encounter with them, and he'd had his fill of blood for a lifetime. He hadn't even washed off the gore that covered him.

Though, he realized that, as they were beginning to argue about the food in the cafeteria, he didn't have a choice. He would be left out and alone if he didn't help, and he didn't need to think about what would become of him out there, with his lack of survival knowledge being the insurmountable hurdle that would get him killed if the Walkers didn't get to him first.

"I don't like it either," Oscar voiced quietly from next to him.

The machete wielder drew in close to Tom in the middle of their negotiation, "If we see you out here, anywhere near our people -"

More threats, Harry realized, sighing lightly, turning back to his conversation with Oscar "But..."

"We gotta."

"Yeah," Harry nodded, as the others finally reached some deal.

"You give us the food before we clear anything," The bearded one backed away from Tom, "Or give you the weapons for it."

"Fine by me."

"Go on then," The man with the cross stepped aside, opening the way into the prison.

Tomas plastered on a little smirk, before going on back the way they came. The other survivors opted to let them all walk ahead, doubtless to catch them if they tried anything.

Harry almost asked them if they could let him wash his face, but something told him they wouldn't let him. And so he refocused his effort on trying to ignore it, and stop himself from reacting to the feel of the gore on his face.

The barred door, unlocked, had opened itself lightly, and silently, they made their way back towards the cafeteria. Strangely enough, he caught the bearded man glance towards him as they did, and that made him wonder what it was about.

Again, though, he doubted asking would get him anything.

Back in the cafeteria, he could safely say he didn't miss it at all.

"Pastries' this way," Tom went through towards the kitchen.

"You never try to break out of here?" The dark-skinned man asked from behind as they filled in.

"Yeah, we tried to take the doors off," Oscar started, turning to them, "But if you make one peep in here, then those freaks'll be lined up outside the door, growling and trying to get in. Window got bars on there that He-Man couldn't get through."

Who?

"Bigger than 5 x 8," Axel put in.

"You won't find me complaining," Big Tiny shrugged, "Doing 15. My left leg can barely fit on one of those bunks."

"Yeah, they don't call him Big Tiny for nothing."

"You guys done jerking each other off?" Tom leaned on the kitchen door, "Sick of waiting back here."

They went around Harrys' vomit close to the door inside the kitchen, and he lingered back towards the stoves as they walked into the storage - the dark-skinned man in plate lingering to watch him.

"Got a name?" He asked Harry, unexpectedly.

Harry turned to him, surprised, "I... Harry. Harry Potter."

"Theodore Douglas," He offered in return, "My friends call me T-Dog."

"Nice to meet you."

That earned him a queer look, but the man said nothing from then onwards, and Harry was still not of the mind to ask him.

"This what you call a little food," The crossbowman was saying as he walked into it, bringing up a torch.

"It goes fast," Tomas retorted quickly, "You can have a bag of corn, some tuna fish - "

"We said half. That's the deal," The bearded man returned, enticing a shrug from Tom. He then turned to regard the door next to storage, "What's this?"

"Don't open that."

But it was too late, he had opened the door, and choked on the smell of their faeces fast enough, closing it quickly.

Tom was the only one who found it funny, "You wanted to know."

The man sent a piercing look towards him, "We'll be taking the food."

"Why do I need this," Tomas raised the crowbar they had given him the table, before showcasing his gun, "When I got this?"

"You don't fire guns. Not unless your backs up against the wall," The brown-haired man replied, "Noise attracts them. Really riles them up."

"We'll go in two by two, Daryl will run point with T," The bearded man put in, before pointing to Andrew with his machete, "I'll run rear with you. Stay tight, hold formation, no matter how close they get. Anyone breaks ranks, we could all go down. Anyone runs off, they could get mistaken for a walker...Get an axe to the head."

"That's where you aim," Daryl put in, "These things only get down with a headshot."

"You ain't gotta tell us how to take down a man," Tomas shook his head.

"They ain't men," T-Dog voiced, "They're something else."

"Just remember to go for the brain."

Harry was far from wanting to face those things again, even with the bat they had given him, even with a formation and the knowledge of how to kill them. His last encounter was more than a little fresh in his mind. He remembered his fear all too well.

Yet, he went in with them all the same - it needed to be done, and he understood that with each passing second. Every time he imagined facing the Walkers outside, alone and with his current lack of experience, he realized how much they had to make this work.

They needed to make it work.

And so, with his heart racing and the bat in his hand shaking, he treaded slowly in their formation in the dark as they made their way through the hall towards the cellblock, walking next to Axel.

"Man, it's too dark in here," Oscar said from near the front.

That was true enough. The corridors were illuminated by what little light made it in, or the little flashlights that they had in their grasp.

"Gotta hold it up high, out in front of you," Daryl glanced back to Oscar, enticing the man to raise his axe, "You're gonna hear em before you see em."

They saw a humanoid shadow down the corridor, cast by the light that pierced the holes of a vent up ahead.

"It's coming!" Axel said, his voice nervous.

"Shhh," Daryl quietened him.

Another shadow came in close behind, and Daryl bid them slow down from the front, his arm up.

Then they came to view, growling and rotten, in blue prison jumpsuits.

Daryl raised a finger, and Harry understood that he began to count.

But then there was shouting, the roar of charging men as everyone around him seemed to run towards them, and Harry joined in too.

Big Tiny managed to round to the back of one, and held its hands, with Tom showing to its front and stabbing it twice on the stomach with his crowbar, before giving way for Axel with his own bar, who pierced it once on the stomach to before he dropped his bar.

Harry was next, and something in his mind screamed the head, so he went for it - raising the bat upwards, he swung downwards to ping as it connected to its head.

That seemed to almost incapacitate it, and it did fall when Big Tiny let it go, but it made to stand again sluggishly.

Remembering his last encounter, the blood over his face, the fear the had these things had induced within him for months and months on end... Nothing seemed to exist in that moment but the bat and the Walker on the floor, and he pounced.

He was swinging the bat on its head again before it could rise, each swing that connected quieter than the last, its skull getting crushed into its brain, cruor rising with the bat, the now dry blood on his face being covered by another layer.

He didn't know how long he went on with it, but he stopped when he felt the slap of the concrete on his final swing, his breathing heavy and the bat marred with a brain.

The other Walker was on the floor, surrounded by Andrew and Oscar, but with an arrow through its head.

"That little scream fest you had there oughta draw them all to us," Daryl walked up to the down Walker underneath Oscar and Andrew, "The kid's the only one with the right idea."

"You all broke formation," The bearded man voice, his voice mildly irked, "Draw up."

They all pulled up in their places again, rounding the corner as more growling came rose up ahead.

Harry felt a sense of relief after the first, though the extra layer of blood on his face added a bit to the remaining tension.

It felt good, to not be scared, to be the ones bringing ruin to the monsters. They had only brought up worry and terror in him a few moments past, now they brought about with them relief, a wave of anger that pulsed him into wanting to kill them more and...revenge.

"Gotta be the brain," Daryl said, as they neared an intersection in the hall, Walkers groaning up through the door on it, shooting an arrow through one's head, "Not the stomach, not the heart. The brain."

It fell to the floor.

"I hear you. The brain," Axel said, as Daryl backed up.

Oscar was the one forward, piercing the next one's with a head and backing into formation as it fell, "Like that?"

"Uh-huh," Daryl nodded.

Axel stepped forwards when another came slugging up to them, puncturing his bar through its eye socket. He backed into the group again.

"Stay in tight formation. No more of that riot crap."

The walkers were crowding into the hall then, but they were ready for them.

Harry didn't know if he should feel anything with each one he killed. Even in their state, they had been people, they had had families and lived lives. How much of that life was left in them? Were they truly and irrevocably not gone?

Despite the growing realization, he did not stop. Only swinging as each one stepped towards him, stopping when there was no room to manoeuvre, then continuing when there was space again.

There was human screaming behind them, but he was smart enough to not draw his eyes away until all of the walkers ahead were dead. And thankfully, the last one went down just as gunshots rang out behind him.

He was quick to check himself when he spun around but paused when he realized Tomas was the one that had shot, the gun in his hand as it hung over his side.

Something happened, he was quick to ascertain when he saw the machete bearer staring at the former inmate, his expression almost passive.

The man spun to Big Tiny behind him, who raised a hand of blood from his back, panting.

"Bit?" Harry muttered as the others drew towards Big Tiny.

"Aw man," Axel groaned next to him.

"I'm fine," Big Tiny was quick to assure.

"Turn around, let me have a look at it," The Bearded man said, and the giant did so eagerly as if that would prove his health.

It didn't look like a bite, more like a scratch, and Big Tiny assured as much as he turned, "I'm telling you I'm fine. I don't feel anything. It's just a scratch."

The bearded man shook his head, averting his gaze to the floor, "I'm sorry man."

"I can keep fighting."

"You cut that old guy's leg off to save his life," Andrew put in, his voice accusatory.

"Look at where the bite is," The man argued.

"But it's not a bite," Harry said, to stop the conversation from heading the way he hated it would.

"Guys, I'm fine!" Big Tiny interjected, "Just...I'm fine. Look at me. I'm not changing into one of those things."

As Harry understood it, the change didn't happen quickly. As much as he wanted to believe Big Tiny was indeed fine, they wouldn't know until much later. But the big man deserved the chance.

"Look man there's gotta be something we can do," Oscar spoke from the back, "We could just lock him up."

"Quarantine him," Axel agreed.

"We gotta do something," Andrew said, turning to the man, "Why are you just standing there? We gotta save him."

He sighed ."There's nothing we can do."

Andrew shook his head, "You son of a bitch."

"I'm fine -"

Tomas was so quick that Harry had only just begun to hear him move, and he struck Big Tiny on the back of the head with the edge of his crowbar with a grunt, sending the tall man down with a thud. He paused to turn the side of his weapon, before swinging downwards to strike the unconscious man once more, spreading gore about to those standing around.

Harry backed away, feeling his mouth water from the need to vomit, but it did not come. Watching a healthy person's head come undone was different, it looked different. It felt viler. It felt wrong.

And it was. Big Tiny might not have been infected. He could've been fine because it had been just a scratch.

Yet, Harry watched, doing absolutely nothing to stop Tom from killing him.

It was too late anyway.

Big Tiny's head was undone, nothing but a destroyed mess of mash on the floor that Tom rose from.

They had spent months together in the cafeteria, and it was difficult to see him motionless as he was on the floor, dead.

Harry pushed those feelings away. He'd felt enough for one day.

Yet, there was more to them - there was a sprouting hatred, one that grew with his sadness despite his attempt.

Tomas was... Tomas was cruel.

There was a long silence when he finished, and they fell back into their formation not long after that, but the tension now was palpable. It had been always there before, but now... One wrong move, and he was sure something would happen. They would turn on each other faster than a click.

Harry knew who he would kill first if it came down to it, but he hoped it never would.

The thought made him sick.

The way forward was silent, and it was clear that they had drawn out and killed all the Walkers within that part of the corridor.

They reached the laundry room, which they found clear after some initial inspection, but the shut doors towards another corridor had growls resonating from it. It was clear there were still many more to go as they prepared behind it.

Daryl threw the keys to the door to Tomas's feet.

"I ain't opening that."

"Yes you are," The bearded man asserted," If you want this cell block, you're gonna open that door. Just the one, not both of them. Because we need to control this."

Tom bent to pick up the keys after a pause, glancing back to Andrew before walking up towards the doors. He searched for the right key, and there was a light click when he found and turned it, "You bitches ready?"

He pulled, but the door didn't budge. Then again.

"I got this," He glanced back at them.

He did, but he opened two instead of the ordered one, and the Walkers began to flood.

"I said one door!" Shouted the bearded man, rearing.

"Shit happens!" Came Tom's response.

There was more killing to be done, and Harry grew ashamed to admit that he was beginning to enjoy it. It was like retribution, each swing filling him with a sense of gratification.

Yet, Tomas mistake nearly cost them their formation - there were simply too many coming at them at once to hold it tight and keep from getting bit. So they spaced themselves, with Harry taking the back left flank, getting any that they tunnelled through.

He'd only gotten one when he saw Tom push one right onto the bearded man, sending him down with a Walker atop him.

And so Harry saw the deal they had made go into flames because of Tomas's homicidal nature. That was the one wrong move, the one that would send them all packing or dead. What Tomas hoped to achieve in the long run, was beyond Harry. They could have easily lived in cooperation and helped each other out. But such a simple thought process seemed to be too charitable for him.

He wondered if Tom had thought it all through. Somehow, he doubted it.

Harry swung at the side and did in the Walker on him all the same, turning to the door again just as the older man pushed it off himself.

The front cleared by that point and the last one collapsed to the floor with an arrow through its head.

The man up quickly enough, turning to Tomas.

"It was coming at me, bro," he defended, shrugging.

Harry saw the man switch his machete to his right hand and inwardly winced, turning away.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I get it...Shit happens."

There was a long moment of silence, and Harry dared to hope.

"No!" He heard Andrews shout before the crack of flesh and bone.

Tomas's body audibly slumped, just as the machete was pulled from its skull.

Harry spun to see Andrew charge at the man with his bat, before being handily kicked to the floor.

"Easy now," Daryl grunted, pointing his crossbow at the down man, who was quick to scramble up and run through the hall they had just cleared.

"I got him," The man ran after him, disappearing into the corridor.

Harry hadn't even done anything, but he had a gun pointed at him all the same by T-Dog.

"Man, get down on your knees," Daryl said, his own weapon pointed to Oscar, but they all complied, throwing their own melee weapons on the floor.

"We don't have no affiliation with what just happened," Axel was the first to speak amongst them, his voice panicked, "Tell, them Harry, Oscar!"

Harry shook his head.

"Stop talking man," Oscar did too.

He supposed he should've been fearing for his life too, begging for them to understand that he didn't have anything to do with that.

Yet, left to his own thoughts in the rigid silence, he wondered what exactly he would be begging for. What life did he remember to want to live in the memory of? What would be the point of fighting so vehemently if he didn't remember where he even came from?

This was all he would ever know if what was his life didn't come to him.

Harry didn't know if he wanted to give it the chance. If it would yield any results. He'd been here for nearly a year and nothing had been forthcoming. He still recalled nothing.

What would he live for?

He sighed, and that seemed to make T-Dog visibly nervous.

The man returned, his features hard, and raised his revolver to Oscars' head, "Did you know?"

"We didn't have nothing to do with that."

"You didn't know?" His voice was disbelieving, and he rested the barrel on Oscars' head, "You knew."

His turn to Axel was violent, "Daryl, let's end this now."

The crossbowman shifted closer to Oscar.

"Sir! Please! Please, listen to me! It was them that was bad. Not us," Axel was on the verge of crying.

"Oh, that's convenient," he pressed.

"You saw what he did to Big Tiny," Axel defended, voice rising, "He was my friend. Please, we ain't like that. I like my pharmaceuticals but I'm no killer. Oscar here, he's a B and E, and he ain't even good at it either. I don't know why Harry's here, but he's been the kindest of us. We ain't the violent kind, they were. Please, I swear to God. I wanna live!"

The man spun to Oscar, his gun pointed again, but there was less anger in his movement now, maybe a bit more hesitation, "What about you?"

"I ain't never pleaded for my life," Oscar began, not even a shake in his voice, "And I ain't about to start now. So you do what you gotta do."

The man held his gun to him, but he mauled over the situation before his gaze extended to Harry.

'What, no gun?' he bit the retort down before it rose, instead opting to say, "I just saved your life. If you still have it you kill me after that. What's there to say?"

Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Harry saw the battle he fought within himself before the man averted his own eyes. That looked to win him over, because he raised his weapon away from Oscar then, something that made the others lower theirs.

"We keep to the deal," he said, turning towards the open hall, "All of you in front."

"Move," Daryl said, prompting them all to stand, and just as quietly step around the pile of Walkers and into the corridor towards the cell block.

With all the Walkers cleared, it was a quiet journey, and Harry couldn't say if he was relieved because it had all resolved itself or not.

He was going to live.

Yet the question lingered.

The cell block had the doors of the cells open, and the decaying bodies of the inmates lined the floor outside of each cell, all with holes in their heads.

"Ah man," Axel muttered, taking in the site, still fretful from nearly dying, "I knew these guys...They were good men."

"Let's go," The man said, turning towards the exit, where T-dog stood.

"So you just gonna leave us here?" Oscar stopped him, "Man this is sick."

"We're locking down this part of the cell block," he shook his head, "From now on this part of the prison is yours. Take it or leave, that was the deal."

He walked into the corridor, but Daryl paused near them, "You think this is sick? You don't wanna know what's outside."

The man spoke through the bars of the door, "Consider yourselves the lucky ones."

Daryl paused still, "Sorry about your friends, man."

That's when he left too.

He looked to mean it.

"Word of advice," T-Dog said from next to the door, "Take those bodies outside and burn them."

He left too then, and Harry listened to their receding steps until it was nothing but silence.

And...It was over.

There was a breath that left him that he didn't know when he'd started holding, and relief enveloped him like a tide, pulling him to the floor as a sigh left his mouth, the hammering in his chest he didn't recall feeling subsiding.

"You good kid?" Oscar kneeled close to him, and Axel hovered standing.

"Yea," He exhaled, "Just...Not sure how much I like those guys."

Oscar looked up to the cellblock door, before standing and walking to sit by the metal stairs that led to the upper cells, "I ain't holding it against them."

"At least they didn't kill us," Axel put in, still off-put.

"Whatever's out there made them this way."

Harry conceded Oscar's point, trying to imagine it from their perspective. They'd probably trusted the wrong people before and had been betrayed a few times as a consequence. Then two people from another group try to kill one of them, and the others claim to not know. He thought he might've been a bit more distrusting too if he was in their position.

Yet, he wasn't.

He was in a cell block full of dead bodies.

"We should - " He stopped, shaking his head for a moment.

"We should pile the bodies close to the door. We'll try to get rid of them tomorrow."