Stray // Daryl Dixon

Get Off On the Pain

Love, family, and friends, are three of the most important things to have in this world now. You may even say that those three things came hand in hand with one another, that you can't have one without some extent of the other. When looking at it like that, there is one more thing that a person must have to obtain all three: trust. The rarest of characteristics or emotions for someone to produce and receive. Nevertheless, one could still argue that those four things had nothing to do with surviving the new age at all and they'd be right, but surviving and living, actually living, were two totally different things. And when you're not trying to survive to live a life worth living, then what is the point of all of this?

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Mark screeched the car to a halt, the tires skidding a couple of feet on the dirt road leading up to the prison. The sight before us collectively causes our blood pressure to rise. Mark's quick reflexes caused us to stay undetected, we were still hidden behind the tree line before the road opened up to the field around the prison's front gates. Mark shut the car off cutting the engine before we were spotted.

"What do we do?" Mark asked, his eyes not breaking from the scene before us.

"Let's get closer. See what's going on," I responded. Before either of them had time to object, I took the lead and slowly popped open my door. I made a quick dash into the bushes as Mark and Lincoln followed behind not long afterwards.

I peered through the leaves that kept us hidden, my eyes locked on the Governor's side profile. He had maybe fifty people with him, all of them standing around their vehicles and each armed with multiple weapons. The Governor stood in the very middle of his army, propped up on the hood of a military tank. Rick stood in our gated-in field, directly across from where the Governor stood, while the rest of the group remained in the courtyard keeping a close eye on the situation.

"Let 'em go right now," Rick called out to the Governor. I furrowed my brows, questioning what he was referring to.

"Scar, there," Lincoln nudged my shoulder before pointing to a spot just in front of the tank. The Governor had Herschel and Michonne hostage, tied up a knelt down in the grass.

"I'll stay down here. Talk as long as you want. But you let 'em go. You got a tank, you don't need hostages." Rick attempted to defuse the situation.

"I do," the Governor responded matter-of-factly, "this is just to show you I'm serious. Not to blast a hole in our new home," the Governor paused, "you and your people, you have 'til sundown to get out of here or they die," he explained.

Rick shook his head, frustrated, "Doesn't have to go down this way--"

"I got more people, more firepower. We need this prison." the Governor cut him off. "It's not about the past. It's about right now."

"There are children here. They won't survive," Rick pleaded. It caused silence to fall among them just for a moment.

"I have a tank and I'm letting you walk away from here," the Governor raised his voice at him, becoming agitated. "What else is there to talk about?"

I don't know what lies he spun up to convince these people to come and take our home, but it was working. "We have to do something," I whispered, my tone angered.

"Scar we can't do anything," Mark snapped back at me, "We have no weapons. What are you gonna do against all those guns with your fridge handle?" he asked, bringing me back down to reality.

I shook my head frustrated, Rick fell silent. He was unsure what to do with the impossible situation. We couldn't leave, but the Governor had ambushed them. I looked back up to the rest of the group, I could faintly see them passing around any guns we had stashed. My eyes focused on Maggie and Beth though. The two of them stood pressed against the fence, holding hands as they stared down at their father in the hands of the Governor.