CHAPTER 8

The side door to Cell Block C opened and Rick stepped inside the common room. With the exceptions of Glenn and Maggie, the whole prison group was present; they looked up from their bowls of hot oatmeal, and Rick nodded as he shut the door behind him.

Carl sat a table with his baby sister Judith in his arms. Also seated around the table were Hershel, and his youngest daughter, Beth. "How are Maggie and Glenn?" the old farmer asked.

"Glenn's got his arm around Maggie's shoulders and they're staring up at the stars," Rick answered with a grin.

"Eww," Carl said as he made a disgusted face.

"I think that's sweet," Beth said cheerfully.

"No way," Carl answered as he shook his head.

"You won't say that when you get older," Beth teased.

Carl looked at Beth, blushed, and pulled the brim of his worn Stetson hat down on his face.

Rick walked towards Carl, took the Stetson off his son's head, and placed it on the empty chair at the table. Carl looked up at his father. "Judith," he said as he gestured with his hands.

Carl slipped his hands underneath Judith's arms and lifted her up partially. Rick bent down, put his hands on his baby daughter's sides, waited until Carl let go of her, and he brought her to his chest and stood tall.

"Has she eaten yet?" Rick asked Carl as he adjusted his hold on Judith.

"Yeah," Carl nodded as he brought a spoonful of oatmeal to his mouth, and swallowed it reluctantly, "she loves oatmeal."

Judith cooed and Rick smiled. But then he remembered what Hershel told him about Judith after he rescued Glenn and Maggie from the Governor: "Eats like a horse, sleeps like a rock."

Rick knew that description neither fit him or Lori, and it was early confirmation that Judith wasn't his daughter, but was instead the daughter of his best friend and partner in law enforcement…Shane Walsh.

Rick shook his head and looked around the common room at the rest of his group: Daryl and Carol were seated across from each other at nearby table, picking at their separate bowls of oatmeal. Michonne ate alone, with her katana lying across the table.

"Daryl. Carol. How are you both doing tonight?" Rick asked.

Daryl scooped up a spoonful of oatmeal, swallowed it with much effort, and gave Rick a thumps-up.

"I'm fine," Carol answered unenthusiastically, as she stirred her spoon in the bowl of oatmeal.

Rick looked at Michonne. "How are you doing, Michonne?" he asked.

Michonne swallowed her oatmeal, placed her spoon down on the table, wiped her lips with a napkin and answered, "Well, Rick, this is my second dinner back at this prison…and if have another like it, I'm going to pack up and leave."

Michonne's comment stirred up a light chorus of laughter amongst the group, even Daryl snorted in amusement.

"Okay, I can see that we're all in agreement that the menu needs to be changed," Rick smiled as he bounced Judith lightly in his arms, "so now is as good a time as any to tell everyone who I'd like to take on the supply run."

Carl's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree and watched as he father walked into the center of the common room.

"Michonne, you told me this morning that you'd volunteer to go on the supply run. You haven't changed your mind, have you?"

"You asked me if I was sure, Rick. I was sure then, and I'm sure now," Michonne answered.

Rick nodded and looked at Daryl. "Daryl, we're going to need a scout. Will you help us out?"

Daryl gave Rick an enthusiastic thumbs-up. Rick nodded in appreciation.

Rick next looked at Carol. "Carol, I've heard you were good in that gunfight at the feed mill, but I think it'd be best if you helped guard the prison. I hope you understand."

Carol remembered when she and Daryl recently drove to the feed mill to bring Merle's body back for burial here at the prison; there were walkers in the field, so she and Daryl shot them down, but the gunfire attracted the attention of a Latino gang. Carol and Daryl succeeded in killing all eight gang members and retrieved Merle's body just as a herd of walkers staggered out of the woods, and they escaped in one of the gang's Jeep Cherokee's as the herd feasted on the gang's bullet riddled bodies.

Carol looked over at Daryl, her eyes pleading for him to give his opinion. Daryl nodded solemnly, and Carol looked at Rick again. "I understand, Rick," she answered regretfully.

Rick nodded and looked at the table where Carl, Hershel and Beth sat. "Hershel, I told Maggie and Glenn that they're not going on this run."

Hershel nodded in appreciation. "Thank you, Rick."

"Carl, what about you?" Rick asked his son.

Carl blinked at his father. "Wha-what do you mean, Dad?" he stammered.

"Do you want to help me on this supply run?"

Carl's eyes widened and he leapt out of his chair. "Really?!" he asked.

Rick chuckled at Carl's enthusiasm. "Really," he answered.

"Yeah!" Carl shouted as took his Stetson hat and tossed it up into the air. Carl watched as the Stetson tumbled in the air and as it fell towards the ground, he caught it with both hands and put it back on his head.

Hershel watched worriedly as Carl celebrated; the old farmer cleared his throat and looked at Rick. "Rick, are you sure that's a good idea?"

Rick shrugged and walked towards Hershel's table. "Well, I have my doubts too, Hershel. But Carl has earned the chance to help on this supply run. Besides, I can't hide him from what's beyond those fences. He can't be afraid of it. He has to be prepared for it."

"I understand, Rick. But with this being our first supply run in days—"

"Carl and I talked about this a few days ago, and he agreed to stay close to me and do exactly what I tell him. Right, Carl?" Rick interrupted as he handed Judith to his son.

"Right, Dad!" Carl said happily as he sat down with Judith in his arms.

Hershel shook his head. "Rick—"

Rick put a hand on Hershel's shoulder, and the old farmer fell silent. "I hear what you're saying, Hershel, and I appreciate it," the prison group's leader said as he bent down to look the old farmer in the eyes, "I've run the pros and cons in my mind and I'm still worried about Carl going on this run. But he's proven himself, and like I said, I can't keep hide him from what's beyond those fences."

Hershel looked at Rick, and nodded his head in defeat.

Rick patted Hershel's shoulder, stood up, and faced the prison group. "I'm going to talk with John Boyd and see if I can get some of his people to go on this run."

"Do you have anyone in mind, Rick?" Michonne asked as she stood up from her chair.

Rick ran a hand through his hair and sighed as he thought about his options. "Sasha and Eddie are my first two choices."

Michonne shook her head. "I've heard Sasha's a good shot, and Eddie is a carpenter. They should both stay at the prison."

Rick considered Michonne's statement and he finally nodded. "All right. I'll talk with John, and see if he can come up with some names."

Rick walked towards the side door, opened it, and stood profile so he could watch a smiling Carl bounce Judith on his knee. Please, God, let everything go all right tomorrow, he thought as he stepped onto the courtyard and closed the door behind him.

•••

Rick walked up the staircase to Cell Block D and knocked three times on the iron door. He stepped back, stood profile and looked at the new gate in the distance. A minute later Rick heard the iron door unlock, and he faced the doorway as the iron door slid open. John stood in front of him, with the vestibule lit up by the one lightbulb set in the ceiling.

"Evening, officer. Are there some walkers along the fence you want me to shake my fist at?"

Rick adjusted his posture and sighed wearily. "John, does it have to be this way between us?"

John leaned against the doorway and picked at his fingernails as if he were deep in thought. A few moments later he looked at Rick and answered, "I'm afraid so. Maybe we should see other people."

The palm of Rick's left hand his the other side of the doorframe, but it was sudden enough to make John stand up straight.

"Damnit, John! You just don't get it, do you?" Rick asked.

"What's that, Rick?"

"That this prison is never going to work if you and I argue constantly!"

John glared at Rick. "Okay, so do you have an idea on how to fix that?"

"I just might."

John blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I could use your advice."

John stood a bit taller and he smiled. "Okay. Shoot."

"I'm putting together a group for the supply run. I could use some of your people; any suggestions?"

"Are you serious?" John asked.

Rick nodded.

"I'll bet you a pack of Lucky Strikes that you don't want Floyd and Sam to go along on this shopping spree."

"I don't bet, and I don't smoke, and I want those two cowards on run," Rick answered coldly. "After what they did today, they better start pulling their weight, or they can take their chances on the road."

John laughed. "I agree with you there! No goldbricks! I saw enough of that from the FNGs in 'Nam! "

"Any other picks?"

"How about Sasha?"

Rick thought about what Michonne told him and shook his head. "No. She's a good shot. She can help Glenn guard the prison."

"What about her brother, Tyreese?"

"I don't know," Rick admitted. "Tyreese is a strong guy, but he already helped Glenn and Maggie collect the guns from the tombs, and he helped put up the new gate. I think he's done his share for a while."

"I'll get Tyreese to go along," John smiled. "That guy needs to grow some balls. It's no wonder he washed out in the NFL."

Rick thought about defending Tyreese, but chose not to because he apparently mended his relationship with John. "Anyone else you'd like to bring along?" he asked.

"How about Eddie?"

Rick shook his head. "No. Eddie's a carpenter, and we'll need him to help carve the cheval de frise that'll flank the new gate."

"The giant pincushions, huh?" John asked as he scratched his temple. "Okay, how about…Karen and Juan?"

"Why did you pick them?" Rick asked.

"Karen's got experience as a guard, and her aim's pretty good. As for Juan, I heard the Governor took him along on a few of his earlier supply runs."

"Okay, so including me and my people, that gives us nine people for the supply run."

"Ten," John grinned as he raised his index finger.

"You want to go, John?" Rick asked.

"Hey, you need someone who can shoot, and you can testify to my aim," John answered.

"I can, but if you're going along you follow my lead," Rick ordered.

John studied Rick for a moment before he held out his hand. "Deal," he said.

Rick shook John's hand.

"So are we going into Atlanta tomorrow?" John asked. "The cities have to be clear by now."

"Well…not exactly," Rick answered.

"What?" John asked.

"Do you remember that new hotel and casino they opened a few months before...all of this?"

John nodded slowly. "Yeah, the El Dorado: the first legal casino in the state of Georgia."

"Well, I hope it was so new, it's stocked with supplies, and nobody else who's survived this long has thought about raiding it or forting up in it."

John chuckled. "I never thought I'd tell you this, Rick, but it sounds like a good idea."

"Thanks," Rick smiled. "Do you mind if I step inside when you ask your people to join the supply run? If they have any questions, I might be able to answer them."

"Hey, you're the boss around here, right?" John quipped as he gestured for Rick to step inside.

Rick smiled and stepped inside Cell Block D. As Rick walked past, John's smile faded and he glared at Rick as he walked into the common room. I almost called that son of a bitch 'the Governor, and he threatened to kill me over it earlier,' John thought. I don't doubt that he would kill me if he had the chance.

•••

In Cell Block C, Beth lay on her stomach on the bottom bunk of her cell, reading a worn paperback copy of Bridget Jones's Diary, when Judith began crying from the common room, a few moments later, Beth heard the baby's cries growing louder over the sound of rushing footsteps. "Beth!" Carl shouted.

Beth sat up on her bunk and dropped her book just as Carl reached her cell's doorway, with his sister Judith crying in his arms.

"What's wrong, Carl?" Beth asked worriedly.

Carl looked wide-eyed at Beth and held Judith away from his body.

Beth gasped. Oh my God! Judith's dead and she turned into a walker! The teenage girl thought.

"Judith needs a diaper change!" Carl shouted.

Beth blinked a few times and she dropped her head in disbelief and sighed. "Carl…you've got to be kidding me," she muttered angrily.

A moment later, Beth got up from the bunk, took Judith into her arms.

"Thanks," Carl smiled.

"Don't mention it," Beth grumbled as she stomped out of her cell.

Carl walked out of Beth's cell and followed her as she walked down the hallway and into his father's cell. Beth placed Judith on the bottom bunk, and then she got the diaper bag Rick kept beside Judith's crib.

Beth opened the diaper bag, took out a folded blanket, and spread it out beside Judith. Beth then picked Judith up, placed her down on the blanket, and began to unbutton the baby's onesie pajamas.

Carl pulled the brim of his Stetson down in a rakish fashion and leaned against the cell's doorway with his arms folded across his chest. "Well, I'll be going on the supply run tomorrow," he bragged.

Beth removed Judith's soiled diaper and dropped in the wastebasket beside the toilet. "Uh-huh," she said with disinterest.

Carl looked puzzled at Beth for a moment, and then he lowered his head again. "Yeah, it'll be like the old days."

Beth stopped cleaning Judith with a baby wipe and looked over at Carl. "What?" she asked in disbelief.

Carl pushed the brim of his Stetson up and stood straight. "You know…the old days. When we were on the road," he explained meekly.

Beth shook her head in disbelief. "That was last year, and it sucked," she spat angrily.

Carl lowered his head bashfully, while Beth dropped the baby wipe in the wastebasket and sprinkled a light coat of baby powder on Judith's bottom; Judith waved her limbs up in the air and giggled.

"I don't know what's gotten into you, Carl," Beth complained as she rummaged through the bag for a fresh diaper, "you're always begging your dad to let you go outside the fence and kill some walkers. Is that how you want to spend your life?"

"No," Carl answered as he looked at Beth longingly.

Beth found a diaper and looked at Carl. "Then prove it. Tell your dad you changed your mind about going with him on the supply run. Start learning some new skills, like cooking, cleaning, and changing a baby's diaper."

"Changing a baby's diaper?! No way!" Carl shouted as he waved his hands fearfully.

"Come on, you're going to do this one day when you have a baby of your own!" Beth argued.

The image of Beth holding her own baby—a baby she conceived with Carl —flashed through the young boy's mind. Carl shut his eyes, blushed, took off his Stetson and waved it in front of his red face like he was trying to swat away an annoying fly. "No!" he shouted.

Beth held up her hands in surrender. "All right! All right! No diaper changing!" she then unfolded the diaper, and slipped it around Judith's bottom. "Jeeze! Refusing to change dirty diapers must be part of male DNA!"

Carl's complexion lightened, he sighed weakly, his shoulders slumped, and he put the Stetson back on his head. "Well…I still want to go on that supply run. Is…is there anything I can get you?"

Beth picked up Judith, stood up, and faced Carl. "Are you serious?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," Carl nodded enthusiastically, sensing he had another chance to impress Beth.

"I thought this supply run was for food."

"Yeah, but I might find something cool when we get to wherever my dad is going to take us," Carl explained. "I can get you some new books. An iPod. Maybe a guitar to help with your signing—"

Carl stopped talking the moment he realized that he just insulted Beth's singing talent, and he blushed again.

Beth stood still in the center of her cell with Judith cooing in her arms. "You'd…really get me a guitar?" she asked doubtfully.

Carl stared at Beth's beautiful face; sweat drops began to roll down his forehead and his heart started beating faster. "Yes," he answered.

Beth smiled a moment later. "It wouldn't be any trouble…I mean…with your dad?"

Carl smiled too and he shook his head. "Oh, no way would it be any trouble! I mean, how much space does a guitar take up?"

"Not too much, I guess," Beth giggled as she brushed the yellow locks off her left ear.

"All right! I'll find you a guitar, Beth!" Carl said as he looked over his shoulder and walked backwards out of her cell, "an accoustic guitar. An electric guitar, the guitar that Kermit the Frog played, I'll find you one!"

Carl stepped out into the hallway and ran towards the common room. Beth—with Judith in her arms— ran to her cell's doorway and peaked out into the hallway to watch Carl running away.

"Kermit played a banjo, but an acoustic guitar would be all right!" Beth called out happily.

•••

Inside Cell Block D, Marianna sat on the vestibule's steps while her group went about the common room, talking excitedly about tomorrow's supply run, and wishing John and the five other volunteers luck. Marianna's husband Juan was among them, but it wouldn't be the first time he'd risked his life to bring back supplies. Marianna put the knuckle of her right index finger to her lips and bit down softly as she remembered what happened when she and her husband were on the road with Philip Blake, the man who'd later be known as the Governor.

•••

It was the evening of the day the Zavalas' joined Philip Blake's small caravan in the outskirts of Atlanta, Georgia. They had set up camp in the middle of a field, and a low campfire was burning in the center, with the group gathered around it for warmth and camaraderie. Their leader, Philip, had gone to scout the area.

Marianna walked over to the wounded Merle Dixon, who sat Indian style with a heavy blanket drapped over his shoulders and the gauze wrapped around the stump at the end of his right arm visible from the light of the campfire.

"Here," Marianna said as she sat down and offered Merle a cup.

Merle leaned forward and sniffed the aroma drifting up from the cup. "That ain't coffee," he grumbled.

"Si, it's chicken noodle soup," Marianna said.

"Where'd you get it?"

"From my pantry. Juan packed some supplies before we left our apartment."

"Soup huh? I thought the only thing you people ate were tacos."

Marianna gasped in shock, and clenched the cup in anger. She was tempted to toss the cup's hot contents into Merle's face but she held her arm steady. "You need your strength. Take it, por favor."

Merle looked at the middle-aged Latina woman for a few moments and he raised his open left hand. Marianna gave the cup of soup to the gruff redneck, stood up, and began to walk away.

"Hey, senorita," Merle said softly.

Marianna stopped and turned around. "Ci?" she asked.

"Gracias," Merle said as he raised the cup of soup.

Marianna smiled in return, walked over to her husband Juan, and Philip's young daughter, Penny, and sat down between them.

"When's my dad coming back?" Penny asked worriedly as she brushed her doll's hair.

"Soon, bebè," Marianna answered as she put her arm around Penny's shoulders.

"He's been gone for over an hour," Juan grumbled as he looked at his watch.

"I wouldn't worry too much about him, Mr. Zavala," Milton said as he stirred a spoon inside his cup of soup.

"Què?" Juan asked.

"Philip kept all nine of us safe in the heart of Atlanta for nearly a month," Milton explained. "The day before he decided we should leave, he went on one last supply run and brought back that…ignoramus over there," Milton whispered as he gestured across the campfire at Merle, who was drinking his soup. "Philip's a good man, and a wise man. He'll be back."

"Sooner than you think, Milton," a friendly voice said in the distance.

Milton dropped his cup and jumped like he'd heard a rattlesnake. He spun around and saw Philip outside of the camp, with an AR-15 rifle slung over his shoulder, a flashlight in his hand, and his Beretta 92SB pistol in its cross draw holster.

"Daddy!" Penny cried happily as she stood up and ran to her father. Philip knelt down, and Penny threw her arms around his neck, and he hugged her with his left arm. "I was so worried!" she cried.

"I'm fine, Penny. Just fine," Philip said as he stood up and led his daughter back to camp by the hand. "In fact, I've got good news."

"What news is that, Philip?" Nick asked, as he stood up from the campfire and slung his own AR-15 over his shoulder.

"I found another camp of refugees about four or five miles from here," Philip answered. "There's not a lot of people, but they have plenty of supplies, and we'll need both if we're going to make it to Ft. Benning."

"What are you saying, Philip?" the woman with two kids asked.

"I'm saying we should go into their camp and ask them to join us," Philip answered.

"Do you mean right now?" Milton asked.

"Absolutely," Philip answered.

"I agree with Philip," Nick said as he looked at his wife, Alice.

"Maybe we should finish dinner and talk about it," Alice suggested.

"No. We can't waste time and we can't waste the daylight," Philip insisted. "I'll take the Dodge and drive to their camp. But I need two volunteers to go along and help convince them to join us."

"Shit, if these idiots have American food, I'll volunteer to go over there and say howdy," Merle said as he threw the blanket off his shoulders and struggled to stand up.

"No, Merle," Philip ordered as he walked around the campfire and put a hand on the wounded redneck's shoulder, "you stay here and get your strength back."

Merle nodded and sank to the ground. "If I ever see that Officer Friendly again…" he muttered as he struggled to put the blanket over his shoulders again.

Philip bent down, patted Merle on the back, and stood straight. "Juan, could you help me and Nick out?"

Juan's eyes widened. "You want me to go with you?" he asked.

"Let me put it this way: if you're going to stay with us, you need to contribute," Philip grinned.

"Si," Juan said nervously as he picked up the Remington 870 shotgun he took from the wrecked squad car.

Marianna grabbed her husband's forearm, and they looked at each other. "Juan, I don't like this," she whispered.

"I don't either, but we're a part of this group until we get to Ft. Benning," Juan said.

Marianna shook her head, "He can't be serious about throwing us out of the group."

"I'm not going to give him that chance, Marianna," Juan said as he gently pried himself free of his wife's grip and walked away.

Penny ran over to Marianna's side, and put her arm around the Latina woman's waist. Mariana put her hand on the little girl's shoulder comfortingly as they both watched the three men climb into the Dodge Grand Caravan.

"Be careful, Daddy," Penny said as she waved at her father.

"I'll be fine, sweetie," Philip smiled as he waved from the driver's seat.

A moment later Philip turned the key, and the Dodge's engine rumbled to life, and they drove across the field, onto the empty road, turned left, and drove down the road until they disappeared from sight.

•••

Mariana blinked a few times and found herself in Cell Block D's common room. She stood up, walked past the Woodburians milling about the room, entered the cell block, and walked along the hallway until she reached the cell she shared with her husband. She peered inside and saw Juan sitting at the iron desk bolted onto the wall, using a whetstone to sharpen his pocket knife.

"Juan," Marianna said.

"Què?" Juan asked as he looked at his wife.

Marianna stepped inside the cell. "I don't want you to go on this supply run," she ordered.

Juan sighed and folded the knife's blade into the handle. "Miel, I have to," he said sadly.

"You don't have to! Not this time!" Marianna pleaded as she knelt down beside Juan and grabbed his hand.

"Marianna, stop it," Juan ordered as he pulled his arm away and stood up from the cell room's chair.

Marianna leapt to her feet and faced her husband. "Juan, I don't trust Rick!" she shouted.

"Si, you think he's going to kill us all."

Marianna blinked.

"Jeanette told me what you said yesterday. I've asked her not to tell the rest of the group."

"Well, at least I don't have to tip-toe around it," Marianna muttered.

"Miel, we're just going to get some supplies," Juan said reassuringly.

"Like you did that time with the Governor?" Marianna asked.

Juan sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I told you, I didn't have a choice—"

"Not after you agreed to go with him!" Marianna shouted.

"We needed those supplies."

"At what cost?"

"I've told you before that I'm sorry. I've asked God for forgiveness, but I don't think He's answered anyone's prayers for a very long time!"

Juan brushed past Marianna and stepped out of the cell, but she grabbed him by the forearm, which made him stop in his tracks and look at her.

"Don't go with Rick," Marianna pleaded again.

"I have to. If we don't contribute to this prison we'll be thrown out, and we'll die," Juan explained.

"Don't you see? Rick's no different from the Governor," Marianna insisted. "He'll kill us all, one way or another."

Juan looked at Marianna for a few moments, and then he nodded at his forearm. Marianna looked down, saw that she had grabbed her husband, and let him go. Juan walked away and Marianna began to weep, she stepped out of the hallway, and wiped the tears from her eyes as she watched her husband enter the common room.