Changing To Adapt ➵ TWD

➵ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏʀᴛʏ ᴛᴡᴏ

Everything was fine.

Heavy on the was.

What once was a simple task of searching the deeper parts of the prison for breaches, turning into something much more gruesome.

Now Lucas stands here, in the cafeteria, only a gun keeping the five prisoners behind the counter at bay.

Rick had taken almost half the group on this particular escapade - T-Dog, Daryl, Glenn, Maggie, Lucas, and even Hershel. But they'd been separated in the halls, the exit cut off by walkers. And things took a sudden, unwilling turn.

Glenn and Maggie were first to disappear in the maze of hallways.

Lucas, the idiot who'd turned around in search, caught sight of a closet door slamming shut with them inside - but realised pretty quickly that he was the next target for these starving walkers.

When he turned back around, the path in front of him was empty too. He'd had lost the others.

Split off from following, Lucas twisted down the halls and turned the corners with surprising wiliness, cursing when every exit was met with the dead.

He saw a door and went for it, snapping the lock with his machete and scrambling into the room.

Shaking, taking quick steps backwards, Lucas had lifted his blade, ready for a fight.

Thankfully, the door remained still.

He'd only just caught his breath enough to slump back against the closest table.

Which meant he promptly freaked the fuck out when five heads popped up simultaneously from behind the checkered wire.

So yeah, Lucas had thought things were going to be fine.

Until this.

"He's a kid. We can take him." One whispers. 

He feels his pulse jump, and he swings the gun from voice to voice.

Another hisses in reply, "Shut up, he's got the gun, bro."

"Yeah, and I want it." The first speaks again, his long hair oily, malicious eyes trained on Lucas's weapon.

"You already got one."

"Double the protection."

Someone scoffs, "He won't take the shot."

"You wanna fucking bet?" Lucas jerks a step forward, clicking the safety off. His eyes remain narrowed despite the pounding of his heart. "I'd have shot you already if it didn't attract the things outside."

This earns a nervous look towards the door.

Then the screaming starts.

Lucas flinches, starting on instinct for the door. That voice could very well belong to one of his people.

Movement shadows his, one of the men trying to take advantage of his distraction and reach for the gun at his waistband.

Lucas sharply swings his sight back around, "Make another move, I fucking dare you."

The yelling travels closer.

And the door jerks open.

"Lucas?" Daryl grunts out, pressing his back against the door to keep the walkers at bay. He's breathing hard and sweating from head to toe.

All eyes dart to him, relieved to find the kid alive, and then back to -

"Hershel?" Lucas has to force himself to breathe before he passes out.

The old man's screams of agony bounce off the walls, the spurting wound a clear, dark red against his calf.

Please no.

They drag him to the floor, and steady his leg and - and Rick grabs the axe. "There's only one way to keep him alive." He says, steadily, lifting it.

T-Dog and Daryl are trying their damnedest to keep the door shut; Maggie's crying, hugging her dad's head in her lap; and every breath Hershel makes is nothing short of a scream.

Everything happens too fast, Lucas can't remember why he has his gun free, his head like a scattered jigsaw puzzle -

until Rick shreds the axe into Hershel's leg.

"Oh fuck," the kid chokes, catching himself against the table and trying desperately to keep last night's mushrooms down.

Time moves quickly, from one steadying blink to the next, Hershel's lower leg is gone.

Rick sways up from his crouch and looks down at the blood, at the axe in his hands, not as held-together as he had seemed when he drags out a panicked, "Oh. . ." Moving his hands away like he's not sure what to do now.

Then Lucas remembers the threat lurking behind the kitchen counter and that's why his gun is still half-raised in his hand.

"Rick-" He gags, spotting the mottled flesh of Hershel's leg, but it's enough for Rick to turn, following the gun's aim towards the back.

Daryl quickly stands, crossbow lifted.

"Holy shit." The moustached blond breathes out.

"They were just here when I came in." Lucas serves as a blockade between the prisoners and the group, standing in the arch of the door. "The door was locked from the outside."

"Who the hell are you?" Daryl barks at them, hackles raised and coming to stand beside Lucas like his very own guard dog.

"He's bleeding out, we gotta go back!" Rick snaps them back to what's more important, ordering Glenn and Maggie to his aid.

Lucas doesn't move when Daryl gestures for the prisoners to come out, his aim focused on the first man with his conceited expression. 

"What happened to him?" the guy asks, jerking his head at Hershel.

"He got bit."

"Bit?" Stunned, the man tries retracting his gun from the waistband of his pants until he realises he's severely outmatched by T-Dog taking up their rear.

Glenn darts through the prisoners with ease, "You have medical supplies?" he doesn't wait for an answer, ducking past the door.

When he comes out, it isn't with medical supplies, but a table on wheels. A makeshift gurney.

"We gotta go, now!" Rick yells, heaving Hershel atop it. The blood streams out of his open leg and paints a trail across the floor.

T-Dog gets the door, slicing his way through walkers and the gurney quickly follows. 

"Lucas! Daryl!" Rick yells for them.

Keeping his back to the door, Lucas doesn't let up aim until he's through it and in the hallway with the others. Daryl leaves next.

"Let's go, let's go!"

Taking up the front are the same people that came out the door last, one leading the way out and the other taking walkers down to the ground.

"Carl, open the gate! It's Hershel!" Rick hollers, the jingle of keys pursuing his echoed call.

Lucas swings the door shut behind Glenn and the gurney, separating the cell block with the three of them left behind. "Keep an eye on number one," He breathes out, watching Daryl clock himself with a perfect view of the entryway, "He's a straight-up sleazebag."

T-Dog adjusts his aim, waiting by the entry, and Daryl nods.

Cracking his neck, Lucas exhales slowly.

As if they didn't already have enough to worry about.