my tears ricochet

Chapter Twenty

Daryl would never forgive himself for getting comfortable behind walls.

The sun had risen high in the sky and it seemed like the world was straightening out, a little bit of fortune for weary travellers who had risked lives and lost pieces of themselves to get here. Glenn had been the one to mutter about one good day and Daryl had stood back, admiring walls and fences and clean space between bodies.

They had all been okay for a handful of minutes. They had looked up at Hershel walking and suddenly the dead were wandering through the territory they won. If Daryl hadn't been so comfortable, he might have been quicker. He might have been the thing to keep their numbers from dwindling more. He might have stopped the world from caving in on itself just a little bit more.

It was the farm and that campsite down in the quarry. It was his brother. It was watching Ivy position herself at Hershel's heels, covering him and Beth as they sprinted for cover.

The prison was a stern building, all high and strong, everything Daryl had feared growing up. It was a fortress armed with teeth and they were fumbling to clear what had been empty, flinching at the sound of an alarm screaming from speakers.

Rick was the one thinking ahead, shouting about gates opening with full power, considering a bigger threat looming high above the situation. They sprinted blind, following passages like heartstrings in the dark, trying to run faster as the sirens blared in their ears.

Daryl felt a curious sense of what it might have been like living in a cell with some charge pinned to his name. Most of the guys he knew never really got out of prison even after being released. Jobs always had a clause right near the top of applications asking about criminal records and no one ever hired the fool who checked yes. It was the thing that made men cycle between good intentions and bad habits, catching scores of time in between.

Merle had never been the same after his first round of lock up.

There was little talk as they rushed the dark hold of the prison. Rick's anxiety was a whip that crackled with energy so strong they could each feel it and Daryl saw nothing but bodies blocking him from what might still be saved.Gun shots in tight spaces was deafening and it was relief seeing the door to the generator room.

"How do you shut these down?" Rick demanded, whirling around as he tried to take stock of the contents of the room. Daryl shoved hard against the door and dug his feet in, trying to keep the hands from the other side pushing it back open.

The jumpy little prisoner that was supposed to be dead jumped from behind a section of machinery with an axe, nearly catching at Rick's hands. The blade scraped against the metal and Daryl felt as if he were standing against a bonfire, heat burning at his skin as he stood helpless from his position.

Rick was pinned back and fighting with blood slicked hands. Daryl could not move, not to fight or to reposition himself; bound to the door by desperation. Each pulse of the alarm was his own heartbeat, a reminder that he promised a week to fix all that could be fixed. The fight kept shifting, Rick's chances splintering at each returned blow, and eventually Daryl gave into desperation and jumped backwards; hefting his crossbow up and letting the arrow sing as it made target. The following two walkers fell victim to his knife and he moved into position again, slamming the door shut with some weight dealt with.

Oscar threw an empty barrel at the attacker, knocking him off his heels by force of attack. He had gotten his hands on Rick's signature gun and had it raised up in an easy hand - and Daryl noticed how comfortable he held it, eye level and safety off-, taking his shot.

Oscar handed the gun back but Daryl stayed in position behind him with knives raised, ready to lash out with the blade and catch the man in a weak spot like his kidneys. Once, Daryl would have killed Rick himself. Rick was the man who had handcuffed his brother onto a rooftop in the middle of an infected city and a small part of him still hated him for it.

But Rick had never looked at Daryl like he was anything less than equal. He had covered his back all winter and let Daryl settle into the position Shane had once stood in. Everything Rick ever did was for the benefit of the group collectively and he wasn't blind to the toll that had on the once officer.

Rick wasn't Daryl's brother, but he'd go to war like a brother for him anyways.

The gun went down and they switched off the alarms without Daryl having to kill anyone. The silence felt thick in the air, like their ears were stuffed with cotton. "Gotta keep looking," Rick muttered, stepping over the dead man. "Lori is somewhere."

Maybe it was selfish, focusing on one person when half their numbers were lost somewhere. But Daryl had the luxury of having seen Ivy's pale face gazing down at him from that crosswalk, sandwiched between two locked doors. "Try the northern side," Daryl said, sliding his knives back into their sheathes. He touched the leather in an effort to ground himself in the moment. "Maybe they got pushed to the cafeteria."

"If they went through your cellblock they might have crossed into death row," Oscar suggested. "Big building. You can go in circles if you're not watching."

They plunged back into the corridors and kept pushing. To avoid attention they moved in a line, one taking down the first threat, the other two shifting to take the lead. The prison was alive with death and decay. Daryl saw the cracks in the walls and the way blood had stained floors, holes gouged from bullets.

It was a different agony when they found what was left of T-Dog slumped on the ground, the blood still wet and fresh. They each recoiled from the familiarity, recognizing the shape of the man's hands, how he had been just outside trying to save two prisoners from being pushed out onto the road. Daryl had been quick to throw his support against T-Dog and maybe if he hadn't done that the man could still be alive.

They didn't have to waste a bullet for T-Dog. Whatever was left of him wasn't coming back.