CHAPTER 9
The iron door to Cell Block C slid open and Rick stood in the doorway and watched irritably as the rain poured down from the overcast sky. Has it been raining all night? Rick thought.
Rick, wearing his jacket and his gun belt, looked out at the field and saw the small column of rocks that shielded the campfire, but Glenn and Maggie weren't there. He looked at the ruined guard tower alongside the new gate and saw a dim lit emitting from its partially closed doorway. No doubt the young couple went inside the tower when it started raining. Next, Rick looked down at the main gate and saw one walker tangled up in the barbed wire fence that protected its right flank. Rick took a deep breath of the cold air and slid the iron door shut.
Rick walked across the vestibule, down its staircase, and entered the common room. At the same moment, Carol entered through the cell block. The sheriff's deputy immediately noticed how slowly the housewife was walking, along with the dark circles under her eyes, her uncombed short, grey hair, and her rumpled clothes; she had obviously slept very little. "Good morning, Carol," he said warmly.
The exhausted Carol didn't acknowledge Rick and continued walking towards the shelves where the group kept the hot plate, the utensils, the boxes of oatmeal that served as their meals, and the coolers containing the tap water they collected for cooking.
"Good morning, Carol," Rick repeated a bit louder.
Carol gasped in surprise and she spun around to face Rick, her right hand crossed her waist to grab the Colt Detective Special she usually kept tucked in her waist belt, but it wasn't there, and Rick was no danger to her if it was.
"Oh, Rick!" Carol laughed when she realized who it was that startled her, "you scared the hell out of me!"
"I'm sorry," Rick apologized.
Carol wiped her hands down her face. "It's all right."
Rick knew that Carol was exhausted, but decided now wasn't the time to address that. "So are you getting breakfast ready?" he asked.
"Yeah," Carol nodded, "it's our last oatmeal breakfast, right?"
"It will be our last one way or another. We've got just two boxes left."
"Are you really taking Carl on the supply run?"
"Carl's been pleading for the chance to help the group," Rick explained as he walked across the common room. "After he protected the guns yesterday from that coward Sam, he's definitely earned his chance."
Carol folded her arms across her chest and looked at the floor. "Keep him beside you, Rick. Don't make the same mistake that I did."
A chill ran through Rick's body and he thought back to that dark day a year ago on the highway when Carol's young daughter Sophia fled into the woods with two walkers following her.
•••
Rick was hiding underneath a truck, waiting calmly for the herd of walkers staggered away from the dozens of abandoned vehicles that halted the group's journey to Ft. Benning, when he heard Sophia's screams and he crawled out from underneath the truck and ran into the woods to her rescue. When Rick caught up to Sophia, he carried her to a creek bed, and told her to stay there while he drew the two walkers away.
"No! No! No! No! Don't leave me!" Sophia pleaded.
"They don't get winded; I do. I can only deal with them one at a time or I won't be able to protect you," Rick explained quickly.
Sophia was scared, but she nodded that she understood.
Rick put a hand against Sophia's cheek, so she would look at him and hear what he had to tell her. "This is how we both survive, you understand?"
Sophia nodded again.
"If I don't come back, run back to the highway, straight the way we came. Keep the sun on your left shoulder."
The two walkers staggered up to the creek bed. Rick drew them away and killed them. But when he returned, Sophia was gone.
Rick ran back to the highway, hoping that Sophia had followed his instructions in case he hadn't returned, but she wasn't there either. Carol broke down and cried as Lori and Andrea tried to console her. A search with Daryl in the lead was organized, but Carl was shot in a hunting accident, and the overweight, remorseful hunter Otis, pointed the horrified Rick in the direction of Hershel Greene's farm.
Shane brought back the medical supplies that saved Carl's life, but the cost was Otis' life. As the days went by, and Carl's health improved, the hopes of finding Sophia grew dimmer, and every time Rick searched the woods, ate his meals, or lied down to sleep, the last words he heard Sophia speak rang through his mind.
"No! No! No! No! Don't leave me!"
Then one day Glenn told the group that there were walkers in Hershel's barn. The old veterinarian was convinced the dead were in fact sick, and he had gathered up his dead wife, stepson, and neighbors into the barn in preparation for the day when science found a cure.
Rick wanted to cooperate with Hershel so the group could stay on the farm, but Shane wanted to break open the barn and gun the walkers down…and that's what he did.
And just when it seemed all the walkers had staggered out of the barn, the last one did.
Sophia.
A devastated Carol ran towards her daughter, but Daryl grabbed her and held her back. The rest of the group watched in sorrow or shock as the walker girl continued staggering towards them, growling in hunger. Rick—on the verge of tears—walked forward, drew his Colt Python revolver, and took aim on the girl he'd failed to save.
BLAM!
•••
Rick blinked several times and found himself back in the common room of Cell Block C. Carol stood a few yards in front of him, with her arms folded across her chest, and looking down at her boots, unaware that he had been briefly carried away on a wave of bad memories.
"Carol," Rick said softly.
Carol looked up at Rick, with tears in her tired eyes.
"That…that wasn't your fault. It was my fault," Rick admitted, "There were at least a dozen things I could've done differently, and Sophia would be alive today. I'm sorry."
Carol smiled softly and the tears ran down her face. "Thank you, Rick," she said as she wiped her tears away with her fingers.
Rick smiled in return. "You're welcome. So why don't you sit down and let me cook breakfast?"
"No, Rick. You don't have—"
"I've cooked a pot of oatmeal before," Rick interrupted softly, "besides, you look tired."
Carol's shoulders slumped, and a moment later she yawned; it seemed as if she realized that Rick had discovered the truth and there was no point in carrying on the charade. "All right, you win."
Rick removed his jacket, folded it up, and placed it on one of the common room's tables. Then, he placed the hotplate atop one of the folding tables, and plugged it into a nearby outlet. Meanwhile, Carol sat down at one of the common room's tables, leaned forward, and placed the palm of her hand on her forehead as she struggled to stay awake.
"Couldn't sleep last night, huh?" Rick asked as he removed a cooler's lid and poured the tap water slowly into the cooking pot.
Carol thought back to last night, lying on the top bunk of her cell, and thinking about Daryl going on the supply run tomorrow. At some point thunderclouds burst outside the prison and within moments the sounds of heavy rain followed, but it didn't lull her to sleep. "No," Carol admitted softly.
"Were you thinking about the supply run?" Rick asked as he placed the cooking pot filled with water atop the hot plate, its coils starting to turn red.
Carol thought about Daryl, with his crossbow slung over his shoulder and riding away on his motorcycle. "Yeah," she answered softly.
Rick took a box of oatmeal from the shelf and looked at Carol for a moment. "Were you upset that I didn't pick you to join the supply run?"
This time, Carol thought about Daryl, with his crossbow in his hands, stalking the deserted streets of Atlanta…alone. "A little," Carol answered with a twist of the truth.
Rick poured the oatmeal into the now boiling pot and threw the empty box into a nearby trashcan. "You know, Carol, Daryl told me about the shootout you both had against that gang at the feed mill. You held your own, but I thought after what you went through when the Governor attacked us, I would be asking too much of you."
Carol lowered her hand to the table, and thought about the Governor's first attack on the prison.
•••
It had been a difficult 24 hours: the rescue mission for Glenn and Maggie had been successful, but Daryl had left with his big brother Merle. Rick had seemingly gone mad and had forced Tyreese and his group out of the prison at gunpoint. Now, Carol stood on the courtyard watching as Rick searched the tree line for Lori, who days earlier bled out from an emergency Caesarian section.
The timid inmate Axel ran onto the courtyard and stood beside Carol. "Stress, in your man, Rick?" he asked as they both watched the group's leader walking back into the woods after a brief conversation with Hershel.
"Can you blame him?" Carol asked.
"Nah, not at all," Axel admitted. "In here I've seen plenty of dude's crack. Not me; I got along better in the inside. Things made more sense, you know? There're rules. Life was more…simple."
"Didn't you miss your brother?" Carol asked.
"My brother? Hell no! He had a real money problem." Axel said.
"What kind of problem?"
"He didn't lend me any!"
Carol laughed, and Axel laughed too. For a moment, all of the stress and fears were forgotten.
Then Axel said, "One time that son of a—"
BRAKKA!
Axel's head exploded, blood and brain matter flew onto Carol's face and hair, and then his dead body knocked her to the ground. The Governor was attacking and the group was caught unprepared.
A sniper had discreetly climbed atop one of the guard towers and fired several shots at Carol, who used Axel's body for cover until Maggie killed the sniper. By then, the Governor was gone...but Daryl was back, and he brought Merle with him.
•••
Carol blinked and she saw Rick staring at her, as if he was expecting her to say thank you for keeping her out of danger. "You still could've asked me, Rick," she said firmly, with her blue eyes burning.
Now, it was Rick who blinked. "Uh, I'm sorry, Carol, but—"
"I'm not afraid anymore, Rick," Carol interrupted. "I'm not afraid of the walkers. I'm not afraid of men like Ed or the Governor. I'm not afraid to do what's necessary to protect the group."
"Uh, okay, Carol. I'll…keep that in mind," Rick said meekly.
Carol placed the palm of her hand against her forehead again and looked down at the table, the fire in her blue eyes faded and the exhaustion returned. Rick looked back at the boiling pot of oatmeal, picked up a wooden spatula, and began stirring it.
•••
A lantern set upon the first step of the staircase lit the interior of the cold, grey guard tower. Lying a few feet away, naked and inside a sleeping bag, were Glenn and Maggie; their clothes were in a pile underneath the staircase, and their shotguns and blade weapons lay nearby.
Glenn lay on his back, with his forearm underneath his head. He was looking up at the trap door high above him and Maggie. Maggie was pressed to Glen's side, with her head resting atop his shoulder and her arm across his chest. They both listened to the rain pelting the sentry box roof, and the walker caught in the barbed wire fence outside, growling in a low voice.
After a minute of listening to the walker's growls, Glenn asked, "Uh…do you want me to go outside and, you know…take care of it?"
Maggie opened her eyes and raised her head slightly to hear the walker better. "No," she said as she lay her head down on Glenn's shoulder again, "it's not going to get free."
Glenn kissed the top of Maggie's head, and pulled her closer to his side.
After another minute, Glenn said, "I think we better get dressed. You know, before Rick and the replacement sentries show up."
Maggie yawned and moved her hand over to Glenn's neck. "Five more minutes."
Glenn and Maggie continued to lie quietly inside the sleeping bag. Finally, Glenn sighed and said, "I should be going with them."
Maggie raised her head and placed her hand on Glenn's chest. "What do you mean?" she asked worriedly.
"The supply run," Glenn answered. "I should be going with them."
"You can't be serious," Maggie said.
"I am," Glenn admitted.
"Rick said you—we—didn't have to go with him."
"I know. But if he asked me, I would have said yes."
Maggie sat up and the sleeping bag fell off her back and pooled around her thighs. "Stop risking your life every time Rick gives you the chance!" she ordered.
Glenn sat up and he held onto Maggie's shoulders. "Hey, Maggie. Don't—"
"No!" Maggie shouted as she brushed off Glenn's hands and glared at him with her hands squeezing her knees. "You risked your life trying to get that walker out of the well. You just risked your life getting those guns out of the tombs. You don't have to prove anything to Rick or to me!"
Glenn looked on in surprise as tears started to fall from Maggie's eyes. Glenn held up a hand to signal a pause, and when it appeared she had calmed down, he leaned forward, wrapped his arms around Maggie, and pulled her gently into an embrace.
"I'm sorry," Glenn whispered as his hand brushed up and down Maggie's unkempt hair.
"Me too," Maggie sniffled.
Glenn smiled, kissed Maggie's temple, and then he pulled her back so he could talk to her. "Look, scavenging…that's what I contributed to the group when we got together at the quarry. I didn't know the first thing about it! I mean, the term "scavenge" is just a polite word for "theft", but I helped keep the group fed. I helped keep the group warm. I helped keep the group safe. But lately, I haven't been able to do that. I feel so …useless."
Maggie's wet eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. "No. No, Glenn. You're not worthless. You're just as important to the group as Rick!"
"Really?" Glenn asked in bewilderment.
"You stepped in for Rick when he broke down after Lori died!" Maggie answered.
Glenn shook his head. "Yeah, and I wasn't here when he attacked the prison. Some leader I was."
"We survived it, didn't we?"
Glenn didn't answer and lowered his head.
Maggie held Glenn's head and tilted it up so he could look at her. "I love you, and I believe in you. Start believing in yourself."
The young couple gazed at each other for a few moments, until Glenn said, "Well, today is a good day to start."
"Maggie smiled. "Yes, it is."
Glenn stood up, and held out a hand; Maggie took it and he pulled her to her feet. "Come on, our five minutes are probably up, we better get dressed."
"I guess so," Maggie shrugged, "I mean, you remember the last time we were caught with our pants down."
Glenn blushed and covered his face with his hand. He remembered waking up inside the tower that overlooked the courtyard to the sound of Daryl calling their names. Glenn quickly put on his boxers and jeans and stepped out onto the tower's observation deck to see Daryl, Rick, Carol, and T-Dog all looking up at him from the main gate, and from the grins on their faces, they all knew what he and Maggie had been doing last night.
"Oh, God," he muttered.
"Uh-huh," Maggie agreed with equal embarrassment.
•••
Inside the common room of Cell Block C, the rest of the prison group slowly ate the last scoops of their oatmeal breakfast. Carl sat with Beth (the girl was spoon-feeding Judith, who sat on her lap) and Hershel. Daryl sat with Carol. Michonne sat alone, with a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of coffee in front of her.
Footsteps echoed from the vestibule and a moment later Rick appeared. The prison group looked up from their breakfast and at their leader as he walked down the staircase.
"It's still raining," Rick announced as he pulled off his jacket and draped it across an empty bench.
The prison group muttered apprehensively amongst themselves while Rick poured himself a cup of coffee.
"We're still going on the supply run, aren't we, Dad?" Carl asked worriedly.
Rick looked down at his cup of coffee, and moved it slowly in a small circle to let the beverage slosh around inside the cup. "Yes, Carl," he answered.
Carl breathed a small sigh of relief and smiled.
"Driving on the highway, towards Atlanta, is dangerous enough, Rick. The rain will only make things worse," Hershel said.
"I know, Hershel. But we've got to make this run. Hopefully the rain will let up before noon and we can get on the road."
"Ain't no way we go to El Dorado and back in one day," Daryl said.
Across the table from Daryl, Carol looked down at her bowl of oatmeal and her fingers tightened around the spoon discreetly.
"I know," Rick nodded as he filled a bowl with oatmeal, "I thought we could spend the night at the casino and return to the prison in the morning."
"A lot can happen in forty-eight hours," Hershel said.
"I know what can happen here: all of us starving to death," Michonne said.
"She's right. That deer I brought back was barely an adult," Daryl said. "We're goin' to need that food until more game shows up."
"We just don't need food: we're almost out of gasoline," Rick said.
"And we'll need medicine too," Carol said, hoping the revelation would make Rick reconsider his decision to exclude her from the supply run.
Rick nodded and sat down with Carl, Judith, and the Greenes. "I'm sure the casino's hotel has an infirmary."
Carol glared at Rick and said nothing.
"Rick, have you considered the chances that you'll encounter survivors?" Hershel asked.
"Yes, I've considered that," Rick answered as he picked up a spoon, scooped some oatmeal from his bowl, and ate it.
Beth put down the spoon she was using to feed Judith, and looked nervously from her father to Rick. Carl appeared angry that Hershel suggested bringing new people to the prison, because he picked at his oatmeal with his spoon. Daryl and Carol were eating their breakfast slowly, but it seemed they were preoccupied with their own thoughts. Michonne at her oatmeal slowly, and sipped from her cup of coffee.
Hershel looked at Rick again and asked, "If you encountered survivors, and they weren't violent, would you bring them here?"
Rick picked at the oatmeal with the spoon and ate the next portion with less enthusiasm. "The priority is food and other supplies, not rescuing survivors."
Carl smiled at his father's answer and nodded in agreement.
Hershel brought his cup of coffee to his lips, took a sip, and put the cup down on the table. "What if they don't take no for an answer, Rick? What if they follow you back here?"
Rick picked at his breakfast with his spoon for a few moments before he looked up at Hershel. "We'll take another route back to the prison; that should keep anyone from getting an idea as to where we're from. And if anyone does follow us, they'll wish they hadn't."
Rick and Hershel stared at one another; there was no hate in the moment. Rick scooped up a spoonful of oatmeal, put it in his mouth, and swallowed it slowly.
•••
By 10 o'clock a.m., the rain had eased to a drizzle, so Rick decided it was time for the 10-man group to leave for El Dorado.
Inside his cell, Rick checked his gear: his primary weapon would be a M4A1 rifle, with two magazines holding 30 rounds of 5.56x45mm ammunition. Rick slipped one magazine into the rifle's receiver, and slipped the spare into his back pocket.
From his other back pocket, Rick took out his Gerber DMF Folder pocket knife. He flipped it open, looked at the blade, and then he folded the blade into the handle, and returned the pocket knife to his back pocket.
Next, Rick drew his Colt Python revolver from its holster, opened the cylinder, and ejected the six casings into the palm of his left hand, and placed them on the cell's iron desk. Six casings, four spent. Rick had fired three rounds to kill walkers outside the fence line the day Daryl, Carol, and Michonne left on their separate missions: Daryl and Carol to retrieve Merle's body, and Michonne to hunt the Governor. But the first spent casing had held the bullet Andrea used to commit suicide because she had been bit by the walker Milton in the Governor's torture chamber.
Rick picked up the first spent casing and stared at it. A moment later he heard Andrea's voice in his head.
"I know how the safety works."
Rick placed the spent casing upright on his desk, and loaded the two remaining live rounds into the Python's cylinders. Rick then dug into his shirt pocket, took out four .357 magnum rounds, placed them into the empty chambers, closed the cylinder into the Python's frame, and holstered it.
Rick then picked up his secondary weapon from the desk: a Glock 19 pistol with a homemade suppressor made from a Maglite flashlight. A year ago on Hershel's farm, Shane intended to use the pistol to kill Rick, but Rick convinced his best friend and partner in law enforcement to lower the weapon, and when Shane did, he stabbed him through the heart with a knife. Rick took the pistol with him when the group fled the herd of walkers invading the farm. Soon after that, Rick took a Maglite flashlight and made it into a suppressor so he could fire the pistol without attracting attention, especially from walkers.
Next, Rick picked up a small Maglite flashlight, pressed its button "on" and "off" to see if the batteries were still fresh, and placed it in his jacket's left pocket.
Finally, Rick picked up his Motorola walkie-talkie. The prison carried the same brand as the King County Sheriff's Department, so Rick planned to use them to keep in contact with Daryl, who would be the group's scout.
Rick looked at the walkie-talkie and thought about Morgan Jones, the man who saved him shortly after waking up from his coma to a world overrun with the dead, and his family missing. Rick decided to go to Atlanta and find Lori and Carl, but Morgan decided to stay behind in King County with his son Duane. Rick gave him a walkie-talkie that could receive, but not respond, so he told Morgan to turn it on at dawn every day, and he'd keep him posted on his journey to Atlanta.
It had been over a year since Rick sent Morgan a message. Did Morgan and Duane go to Atlanta as they said they would? Did they get the message he left for them back at the quarry? Had they stayed in King County? Did they get cut off by walkers and tried for somewhere else? Were they dead? It was likely Rick would never know.
Rick thought about one of the last things he told Morgan over the walkie-talkie.
"There's just a few of us now. So we've gotta stick together, fight for each other, be willing to lay down our lives for each other if it comes to that. It's the only chance we've got."
Rick buttoned up his jacket, and stuck the walkie-talkie in a pocket; next he slung the M4A1 rifle over his shoulder, and holding the Glock 19 pistol by its frame, walked out of the cell block, out the common room's side door, and stepped into the cold, mid-morning drizzle.
•••
"Dad!" Carl shouted happily.
Rick looked in the direction of Carl's voice and saw him standing in front of Michonne. Carl wore his battered Stetson hat, jacket, and had his Beretta 92FS pistol holstered at his side. Michonne wore her hooded cape, and had both hands on her sheathed katana like it was a cane.
"All set, Carl?" Rick asked as he walked over to his son and Michonne.
"You bet!" Carl answered with a grin.
"Okay, you and Michonne will ride with me in the Dodge."
Carl nodded and ran towards the four vehicles lined up on the courtyard.
"It's like he's going to the mall," Michonne smiled as she and Rick watched Carl run to the truck.
Rick thought back to when Lori was alive and their marriage was happy and strong, and how Carl would run a few steps ahead of them as they walked along the corridors of the local mall, pleading with his parents if they could go to Toys R Us, Spencer Gifts, Pet Express, and if they could get pizza at the food court. "Yeah, just your typical kid," he agreed wistfully.
Rick looked around the courtyard: the four vehicles that were being used for the convoy were ready to go. Daryl's Triumph Bonneville chopper led the way, followed by the prison group's Dodge Ram 1500. Next was the bread truck that the Governor used as a 'walker bomb' for his surprise attack on the prison, its metal ramp was still attached to the rear. The vehicle bringing up the rear was a Chevy Silverado truck, which Daryl had hotwired from the prison staff's parking lot.
The members Rick and John selected from their respective groups stood in a circle, talking to one another; Daryl stood outside the circle and wore his Navajo print poncho, with his Stryker Strykezone 380 crossbow slung over his back, and he had a holstered revolver bundled under his left arm.
The Woodburians, along with the rest of the prison group, stood to the side, waiting for the convoy to drive off and bring back some real food.
"Excuse me. I've got to talk to John and the others before we head out," Rick said to Michonne.
Michonne nodded. "I'll be with Carl," she said. Michonne then held her katana by its scabbard, and walked towards the truck.
As Rick walked over to the Woodbury group, they lined up side-by-side like soldiers about to be inspected by a general. John wore his Atlanta Braves cap, a jacket, and his Colt M1911A1 pistol was holstered by his side. Karen and Juan also wore jackets, but Karen carried an M4A1 rifle, and Juan carried his Remington 870 shotgun. Tyreese wore his knit cap and a long-sleeved T-shirt, he carried a Mossberg 500 shotgun, and his framing hammer was at his side. Floyd and Sam both wore jackets and had a Beretta 92FS pistol stuck in their waistbands, and Sam wore a slouch hat, but the hat wasn't just to protect Sam's face from the light rain; he still bore the bruises from the beating Rick inflicted upon him from yesterday.
"Is everyone ready?" Rick asked.
Rick was answered by mutters and nods. Daryl stood still and silent.
"All the gasoline canisters loaded onto the truck beds?"
More mutters and nods.
"You've got your walkie-talkie, Daryl?"
Daryl raised his right hand, revealing a walkie-talkie.
"Okay. Tyreese and Karen: you two are in the bread truck. John, Sam, Juan, and Floyd: you four are in the Chevy. Any questions?"
There were none.
"Saddle up," Rick ordered.
The two groups headed to their vehicles as the Woodburians started to cheer. Donna walked over to John and they embraced.
"Be careful," Donna pleaded as her eyes filled with tears.
"Always am," John grinned before he kissed Donna's forehead.
Marianna walked over to Juan and embraced him tightly. "I love you, Juan," she said as she closed her eyes and hugged him tightly.
"I love you too, Miel," Juan said as he hugged Marianna back.
Juan and Marianna separated and looked at each other. "Remember, if there are people living in that casino and Rick tells you—"
"Rick's not the Governor," Juan interrupted as he squeezed her forearms tighter than he intended, "will you please stop it?"
Marianna winced in pain and lowered her head. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
Juan's expression softened and he placed a thumb under Marianna's chin and tilted her head up. "Listen, everyone's fled the city by now. Nothing bad is going to happen this time."
Marianna looked at Juan and smiled bravely. Juan leaned down and kissed her.
"I love you," Juan said.
"I love you, too," Marianna replied sadly.
Rick walked over to Glenn and Maggie (they got dressed before the replacement sentries arrived). Glenn wore his white baseball cap, and had Shane's Mossberg 590 shotgun slung over his back.
"Glenn, do you think you can take care of this place for twenty-four hours?" Rick asked.
Glenn nodded. "I've done it before," he said confidently.
Rick grinned and patted Glenn on the shoulder. "I know you have, thank you."
Glenn smiled and stood a bit taller. "Good luck, Rick," he said.
Rick nodded and walked towards the Dodge Ram 1500 truck. He opened the driver's side door and climbed inside. Michonne sat in the passenger seat, and Carl sat in the rear passenger seat. Rick fastened his seat belt and looked at his two passengers. "Seat belts," he ordered.
Carl huffed irritably, but fastened his seatbelt. Michonne shook her head in amusement, and fastened her seat belt too.
Daryl walked over to his Triumph Bonneville chopper motorcycle, and wrapped the gun belt that held his holstered Colt Official Police revolver around the handlebars. Daryl drew the revolver, and opened the cylinder: six rounds were loaded in the chambers. Daryl closed the cylinder into the revolver's frame and holstered it.
"Stay safe," a familiar voice said.
Daryl turned around and saw Carol, wearing her cargo jacket, walking towards him.
"Nine lives, remember?" Daryl grinned.
Carol stood in front of Daryl and flashed that elfish smile that Daryl had grown to love.
"Got any requests while I'm out? Chocolates, books, a Garfield doll for your cell?" Daryl asked.
"Just come back," Carol answered plainly.
Daryl nodded and mounted his motorcycle.
Inside the Dodge Ram, Rick turned the truck's ignition and its engine rumbled. "Let's roll!" he shouted.
Tyreese in the bread truck, and John in the Chevy Silverado, turned the keys and the engines of their vehicles rumbled also. The Woodburians started to cheer again.
Daryl looked over his shoulder, nodded at Rick, and turned the key on his motorcycle's ignition and its engine roared to life. Daryl nodded at Carol and she smiled again and goodbye. Daryl rode his motorcycle downhill and past the open gate. Carol watched Daryl ride off until he vanished on the horizon and she stepped away from the convoy.
Rick put the Dodge Ram in drive, and as he drove downhill, Tyreese and John followed in their vehicles. The convoy drove through the open gate and the two sentries Michael and Charlie, worked the pulley system and shut the iron doors. Atop the courtyard, the cheering died down as the Woodburians and the prison group watched the convoy fade away. A few moments later the Woodburians broke up and went about their business while the prison group stayed and watched the empty road.