United We Fall

Epilogue

The prison yard wasn't much of a prison yard anymore. The fences had been modified to allow openings, ones that could be chained and padlocked shut during the night. But the fences remained in one area- the graveyard.

More crosses had been erected than anyone would have preferred. Even without walkers and the diseases forcing reanimation, nothing fixed itself right away. Sickness was still roaming free, fellow humans still had poisonous hearts, and injuries always happened because of the imperfection of human nature. One cross, though, was different than the rest. Upon first inspection, it appeared like all the others- just two pieces of wood nailed together with a name carved into it.

Leya J. Greene-Rhee

If it had been a typical tombstone, there might have been more writing, saying that Leya had been a loving girl, and she saved the whole world, but no tombstones existed anymore. Such a novelty was something so far off.

Marigolds grew around the base of the grave marker, flourishing in the sun and with consistent watering. They had large blooms of orange and yellow, some amber, others ochre. Each and every flower was beautiful, lovingly attended to by three people: Glenn, Maggie, and Carl. The seeds for the marigolds had been brought back to the former prison by Daryl, who had presented them to the deceased girl's parents a mere few day after the girl's death.

x-x-x-x

"I found 'em.. Little punk liked flowers. And these ones, they're important in Mexico for the Day of the Dead. The petals guide the visiting spirits back home, or somethin'." He had said, handing Glenn the packet. The seeds were a year old by this point, and it wasn't even guaranteed that they would ever germinate, but the gesture touched the couple.

"Thank you, Daryl." Glenn had replied. "She, uh, would've loved them."

"Where's Carl?" He asked.

Glenn jerked a thumb in the direction of the door to the prison's morgue. "He's been down there since soon after you left. We decided to give him some privacy."

Daryl nodded curtly, and approached the door to the morgue, yanking it open. Even without electricity, even though some was being generated, the morgue was cold, freezing. Any decay that might have happened had come to a harsh halt. Maybe it was coincidence, but maybe it was the universe atoning for killing such a young soul.

Carl sat on a stool next to the embalming table, hat bent low over his face, shadow obscuring tears that were being shed. Lit candles were around the embalming table, although reduced to stubby wax nubbins still flickering with an inkling of life, despite it being barely noticeable due to sun creeping in through the room's one, lonely window. Carl heard Daryl's near-silent footsteps, and started speaking without being prompted.

"She doesn't like the dark," He said tearfully, swallowing. "Hates it. It's why she hated sleeping alone, you know? Because it was so dark out? We couldn't keep her in the dark, even if we were here all night."

"I know. How long you been down here?" Daryl replied, even though he already knew the answer.

Carl shrugged his shoulders. "A day, I think. Maybe longer. Maggie kicked me out when they needed to give her a bath- they needed to get all the blood-"

Carl's voice stalled, choking on his grief. "Needed to get all the blood off of her."

Paper crumpled, and Daryl cast a look around the room, searching for the source. Carl slowly held up his hand, a lone piece of paper scrunched in his hold.

"It's these pictures. She told me to look under her bed, and I found these. A whole bunch." Carl said.

Reluctantly, he gave the piece of paper to Daryl for him to see. It was a portrait, one of Carl and her in the yard. It was almost like a picture, it was so lifelike, with no clumsy part to it.