Penance (Book One): Daryl Dixon x Sage Wilson

chapter 8

It's been a year.

Every thing had settled, we were all flourishing here at the prison.

The key word? Were.

After we saved all of those people from Woodbury, a lot had changed.

We lost Lori. Rick lost his marbles and is trying to gain them back. We have a farm, pigs. We gained a new member to the group which was hard to provide for. I've healed completely. Carl is stronger than every. Maggie and Glenn go at it like rabbits. Michonne, the girl from Woodbury, added herself to the group. Merle was in our jail, Daryl unable to process the fact he's back.

Hershel lost a leg but he never lost his spark. Daryl and I stayed on talking terms whenever I had the chance to see him- he was currently pissed off at Rick and Shane for booting Carol for burning Tyreese's girlfriend. And now? There was a virus going around the prison killing the people we worked out asses of for to save.

They were separated, put in a cell block that was riddled with death. We all had to wear protective gear, masks. And we all knew that was limited. Even with Hershel having the credentials he did, this scared him. It scared all of us.

First, it started with sweats. Then, a fever. Then, chills. Next thing you know, you start to cough up blood and your body shuts down completely while liquid finds ways to escape through other holes.

Our sanctuary become a death bed. It stunk of death, and every day we started digging new holes and making new wooden graves and building fires for the dead. It was like a crematory. And of course the smoke drew them close to us- the fence needed to be reinforced, and we had groups rotating on who would take fence guard and stab the walkers.

Every day it became more dangerous, more risky. And I hate to say it but if it wasn't for us taking all of these people in we wouldn't be in this position. Especially in a position where The Governor can come at any moment and attempt to obliterate us all. He had artillery we didn't.

"Fuck," I say as I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand.

"You ok?" I look to Daryl who squints at me through his hands.

"Yeah, just.. these damn holes." I sigh as I drop the shovel, feeling my shoulder release a ton of pressure.

"Just take a break. We dug enough for the moment." Daryl says.

"Yeah, until another drops dead." I kneel down, looking at the four foot deep pit. "This place has gone to shit. It's a hell hole now; no longer a sanctuary."

"What makes you say that?" Daryl asks as he kneels down next to me.

I scoff. "I mean look at this," I gesture to the prison and the bodies being thrown in fire. "We are a cemetery now. Every day we wake up, we don't hope we are breathing. We hope we don't have what ever the fuck they do."

Daryl grunts beside me in agreement, standing up.

"We should probably go out; get supplies. Medicine." Daryl says.

"And leave him alone?" I point to Rick, who manically digs at a hole."it's been a year."

"He's getting better." Daryl defends.

"A year, yes. But you saw him talking to the voices. You saw him kill those prisoner stragglers. Ruthlessly. Fucking split like a banana."

"I guess, yeah." Daryl says quietly. He looks down at me, his gloved hand branching out. "Let's go before it gets dark."

I take his hand, his grip firm on mine. I felt a certain way with Daryl- a way I wasn't permitted to explore because of the circumstances we were in. The rocks that kept hitting us over and over to no prevail. There was no time to figure things out.

It was either Daryl Dixon was cold to the touch or warm. But when he was warm, it lasted temporarily. But his walls were coming down, and that much I did know.