𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐡 | 𝐂. 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬

𝟣𝟦

Several Months Later

Blake Walsh took in the scent of the early morning as he smiled, staring out into the field. Things had been peaceful, to say the least. He was grateful for everything, especially since they were finally able to rebuild and unite as one, turning this Prison into a functioning safe haven. Things had been quiet with no sign of the Governor in months which helped everybody lower their guard down, assuming the man had either given up, left the area, or got killed. Blake hoped for the former. The early morning breeze always had a unique scent, one that was good, even if the decaying body odor of walkers lingered nearby. For once, they could finally enjoy some peace and quiet and focus on improving life here at the prison.

Blake looked over to the direction of the Prison door near him, hearing the metal creak open as Rick walked out, stepping down from the staircase. The boy let out a yawn, trying to keep himself awake this early in the morning and help Rick out with farming. He felt bad over letting Carl guilt trip him into staying up late at night, reading comics together despite knowing Rick wanted them to join him in helping him tend to the crops, especially since it was a good survival skill to gain experience on. Hershel taught Rick, now Rick felt it was responsible for teaching Carl and Blake. As revenge, with Blake always being an early bird, no matter how late he slept, he let Carl sleep in.

The two made their way down to the gate checkpoint but stopped. "Wanna take a second to grab some of Carol's coffee?" He asked the boy, dipping his hands into the barrel full of water to wash his face, splashing the water onto his skin; Blake backed away, not wanting to get hit with water. The boy shook his head, "no thanks. It doesn't even taste like coffee I remember, and I'm not saying I've forgotten what coffee tastes like–her coffee tastes like.... I don't know how to describe it, but it's not coffee." Rick smiled, chuckling over the boy's comment as he shook his hands in the air, drying them off. "Well she did say it's in the trial-and-error stages," he mumbled, pulling out his earbuds from his pocket as he walked down the gravel path towards the grassy field, putting his earbuds in each ear."

"What're you listening to?" He asked the man, noticing the man's actions as they both grabbed a shovel that was lying on the ground in their designated farm area. "Not sure, but it's catchy", he replied, grabbing a pair of gardening gloves that were lying on the wheelbarrow beside them, Blake doing the same. Rick began to dig into the ground, Blake doing the same, making sure to not tire himself off easily, especially since he was beginning to feel the heat grow as the morning aged with time. As Rick continued to dig more and more, making more of an impact than Blake was, he stopped for a moment and bent down, rummaging through the dirt to reveal a buried gun. Blake bent down as well, confused. How long had it been there? Why was it there? Where did it come from? Rick appeared to have disregarded the gun as he grabbed it and simply tossed it into the wheelbarrow. Taking one of earbuds off, he examined the gun for a moment, noticing the age and how most of it was still caked in dirt.

Walkers near them continued to hungrily claw against the fence, causing it to rattle amongst their snarls of desperation. Rick focused on one particular walker, eyes lifeless with dried blood dragging down its face. Blake disregarded the walker, assuming it was just some ordinary walker that might have died in some manner that left it looking like that. He resumed digging, wanting to take the opportunity to catch up to the progress Rick had made in such a short period. After a moment, Rick looked back down at the gun and pulled out its ammo, and tossed both into the wheelbarrow, resuming work on the farm.

"Thanks for waking me up, Blake," Carl called out, voice heavy with sarcasm as he walked down the slopey gravel road towards the field that was now becoming the prison's garden. Blake just grinned, shielding his eyes from the sun as he stared at the boy down who made his way over. "Dad, you didn't even think to send Blake over to wake me up?" He called out, a smile on his face. The man circled the pig pen, answering, "'cause I knew you were up all night reading comics with a flashlight."