Catch Fire | Daryl Dixon

UNSEEN DANGERS

As we burst into Cellblock D, the horrifying scene that greeted us was pure chaos. A horde of walkers were attacking the cellblock from within, their grotesque forms stumbling over the bodies of several fallen people. The metallic scent of blood mixed with the putrid stench of decay assaulted our senses.

Without hesitating, we jumped into the fray. I drew my knife, Daryl his crossbow, and we began taking down walkers alongside Glenn, Carol, Tyreese, and Sasha. The cellblock was a cacophony of groans, screams, and the sickening thud of weapons meeting flesh.

"Watch your back!" I yelled to Carol as I plunged my knife into the skull of a walker lunging at her.

She nodded, swinging her weapon to take down another. Sasha and Tyreese were working together, methodically dispatching the undead. Amid the chaos, Glenn was grappling with a walker that had launched at him from a cell.

"Glenn!" I shouted, trying to reach him.

Daryl was faster. He aimed his crossbow and fired, the bolt piercing the walker's skull. I finally reached Glenn, and we both stared at the now-dead walker.

"Patrick," Glenn whispered, his voice filled with horror and sorrow. The walker Daryl had shot was indeed Patrick, one of our own.

There was no time to grieve. We had to ensure the rest of the cellblock was secure. "We need to deal with the dead so they don't come back," I said, my voice sullen but determined.

We moved through the cellblock, finding and putting down the fallen before they could turn. It was gruesome, heartbreaking work but necessary. Each face we recognized tore at our hearts, but we pushed on, knowing this was the only way to protect the living.

As the last of the walkers fell and the cellblock grew quiet, we began to regroup. The sense of relief was profound, but it was overshadowed by the losses we had just endured. Rick moved cautiously towards a locked cell where he had spotted another walker. The bloody eyes and frantic snarls of the trapped creature were clear signs that it was one of us, turned.

Rick unlocked the cell and swiftly took down the walker, who was revealed to be Charlie. Daryl and I watched as Rick inspected the body, "No bites. No wounds. I think he just died."

Dr. Caleb stepped forward, kneeling beside the corpse to examine it more closely. "Horribly, too. Pleurisy aspiration," Caleb noted, his voice tense.

"Choked to death on his own blood. Caused those trails down his face." Hershel added.

"I've seen them before on a walker outside the fences," Rick said, pointing to the blood that had poured out of Charlie's eyes, ears, and nose.

I nodded, glancing at Glenn before speaking. "We saw them on Patrick, too."

Caleb leaned in closer to examine the body. "They're from the internal lung pressure building up," he explained, his voice clinical but urgent. "Like if you shake a soda can and pop the top. Only imagine your eyes, ears, nose, and throat are the top."

Bob frowned, trying to grasp the severity of the situation. "It's a sickness from the walkers?"

Caleb shook his head, his expression grave. "No, these things happened before they were around. Could be pneumococcal. Most likely an aggressive flu strain."

Hershel looked at the cell door, understanding dawning on his face. "Someone locked him in just in time."

"No, man. Charlie used to sleepwalk. Locked himself in," Daryl shook his head, correcting him. "Hell, he was just eating barbecue yesterday."

My face twisted in confusion and fear. "How could somebody die in a day just from a cold?"

"I had a sick pig, it died quick. Saw a sick boar in the woods." Rick added, his tone grim.