After living in the San Fernando Valley her entire life, Reagan Martinez finds herself in Georgia during the midst of a strange outbreak, where the dead have begun to walk the streets.
Reagan always had an easy life. Born to an upper-middle class f...
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T-DOG AND RICK carried a couple boxes and bags of food into the cellblock. I trailed behind, still pushing the cart with Daryl behind me. Carl held open the gate and we walked inside, I set the cart off to the side.
I walked to the cell where Hershel was being cared for. Carol sat beside the bed where Hershel laid, unconscious. She had blood all over her forearms, and she held many bloody rags against Hershel's stump-- it looked awful.
"How's he doing?" I asked from the doorway. Carol turned her head towards me, still keeping pressure on the stump.
"He's not bleeding as much anymore, and he has no fever. But.." She sighed. I crossed my arms, waiting for her to tell me the rest. I was afraid, afraid that he wouldn't be okay, that we would lose him.
"He's still having trouble breathing, and his pulse is way down-- he hasn't opened his eyes at all." She spoke, turning her attention back to Hershel's stump. I leaned against the doorway, just looking at him.
"Gosh," I sighed, shaking my head. "is there anything I can do?" I offered her my help, she looked up at me again.
"You just keep helping the others." She smiled meekly. "I'm fine right here."
I smiled back. "Okay. Let me know if you need anything." I stood up now, she nodded and I returned to Rick and the others.
Glenn walked past me and into the cell where Hershel was. He held Rick's handcuffs, Rick probably just wanted to take extra precautions-- just in case Hershel does turn.
Rick had been talking to Lori, he turned away from her and began to walk away-- leaving her standing under the staircase alone. He told Daryl, T-dog and I to follow him. He led us to the dining area, where the prisoners were still waiting.
We had gathered weapons and arranged them on the table. Each prisoner examined the weapons, carefully choosing what they'd use. We'd help them clear out a cellblock-- where they would stay and keep away from our group. It seemed like a decent deal to me, everyone got what they wanted.
Tomas picked up an axe, he didn't seem pleased with what we'd given him to choose from. He held the axe up in front of him.
"Why do I need this-- when I got this?" He then proceeded to pull out his gun, also holding it in front of himself.
"You don't fire guns." Daryl told him. "Not unless your back's up against a wall. Noise attracts 'em. Really riles them up."
"Alright, Daryl will run point with Reagan. T and I will bring up the rear with you." Rick instructed, using his knife to point towards Tomas. "Stay tight, hold formation, no matter how close the walkers get. Anyone breaks ranks, we could all go down. Anyone runs off, they can get mistaken for a walker-- end up with an axe to the head."
"That's where you aim. These things only go down with a head shot." Daryl added.
"Ain't gotta tell us how to take out a man." Tomas said. He thinks he knows what he's dealing with, I sighed at his arrogance.
