⋆ ★ REQUIEM FOR THE ACCUSED ⋆ ★

BIRDS DON'T SING

"she isn't crying, she's just making conversation. birds don't sing, they just fall from the sky." - tv girl

the morning light filters through the small windows of the cellblock, casting a pale glow over the concrete walls. salem's eyes peel open as she hears rick and a few others talking in the supply area. "we should get them out of here before noon, give them enough time to get on the road before dark." rick says, his voice low and steady. "we'll need to make sure they have enough food and water and we should give them some basic medical supplies, just in case." the southern woman adds.

salem moves to the end of the bed, jumping down off the bed. she looks at jack who is still asleep. salem reaches her hand and touches his shoulder, trying to shake him awake. jack groans as he rolls over drenched in sweat and pale as a ghost. a gasp escapes salem's mouth as she stumbles back, knocking something off the shelf and causing rick and his friends to rush in. "oh god." the southern woman says covering her mouth. "shit, he's sick like the others." rick says kneeling down beside jack's bed. salem pushes past rick and grabs jack's sweaty hand. "salem, go get our stuff. you can't get sick too." he coughs and salem shakes her head, still refusing to speak in front of rick and his people.

"i'll be fine in a day or two, just gather our things." jack mutters. "no, you can't leave like this. we sent out a group to get some antibiotics, you will stay here till they get back and you get better." hershel says, listening to jack's breathing with a stethoscope. the group works quickly to move jack to the quarantine cellblock, a grim and sterile area set aside for those who are sick. the cellblock is dimly lit, with a few makeshift beds and sparse medical supplies scattered around. the atmosphere is heavy with the scent of antiseptic and the murmurs of the other sick individuals.

jack is barely conscious, his feverish body trembling under the thin blanket. "salem, honey, my daddy's got it from here we should step out." the southern woman says watching me stand next to jack's bed. salem shakes her head and jack coughs. "go, salem." he mumbles, coughing up blood into his hand. the woman walks salem out and locks the door behind them. salem scoots down the wall, allowing her a view through the glass door straight to jack's bed. "jack is in good hands. my daddy's a good doctor. i'm maggie, my friend glenn is in there too." maggie says sitting on the floor across from salem. she wants to scream at her so she can stop treating her like she's four. 

"how old are you and jack?" maggie asks and salem ignores her question. "well, he seems like a strong kid, he will be fine. the supply run will bring back meds and they will both be okay." maggie says, reassuring herself more than salem. as the minutes tick by, maggie remains by salem's side, offering quiet words and quiet company. 

hours pass and the hallway grows colder. more and more people are brought into the cellblock. salem watches jack lay in his cot, shaking, as hershel walks into the room to pour some tea. "here." a voice says from beside her. salem looks over and the boy is standing there holding a sandwich on a paper plate. "i thought you'd be hungry." he says setting it down in front of her as he sits beside salem. "why don't you speak?" he asks and she reaches out for the sandwich. a moment of silence passes as she takes a bite, enjoying the taste of fresh bread in her mouth. 

"don't worry about your cousin. daryl and michonne went out with the group, they will be back any hour now with the medications hershel needs." carl says, trying to reassure her. he sits beside salem, filling the silence with his words. carl is no stranger to chatting; his words spill out in a steady stream, a river of conversation meant to comfort and distract.

he talks about his newborn sister, judith, and how his mother died giving birth to her. the pain is evident in his voice, but there's also a strength, a resilience that has come from living through so much loss. he tells salem about the people living in the prison, naming almost all of them, their makeshift family that has grown out of necessity. he describes their recent encounter with another group, a tense confrontation with people who reside in a nearby town.

carl is a good listener, even though salem doesn't speak. she has found comfort in his presence, in how he can carry a conversation and keep the loneliness at bay. he provides a chatterbox to her silent listener. salem sees jack's faint shadow stumble his way to the glass window next to her. she jumps up and watches the beads of sweat drip from his forehead. "people are dying in here." jack wheezes, his voice trembling. "how much longer, salem?"

salem turns to look at carl. "it should be soon." he stutters. salem peers through the glass. the sounds of coughing and groans fill the air, muted by the barrier between them. jack presses his hands against the glass, coughing up more blood into his clammy palm. salem reaches out and places her hand on the glass next to jack's, offering him silent comfort. she can feel his fear and wants to do more, but this is all she can offer right now. 

carl steps closer, his brow furrowed with worry. "we need to find a way to help him." he says, more to himself than to salem and jack. "daryl and michonne will be back soon with the medications. we just need to hold on a little longer." carl and salem exchange a worried glance, knowing jack's fear is justified. carl pulls out a small knife from his belt and hands it to salem. "we need to get this to jack. he needs to protect himself in case something happens during the night."

salem nods and they move toward the isolation room door. carl fumbles with the lock, trying to open it just enough to pass the knife through without breaking quarantine. as they struggle with the door, a guttural growl echoes from one of the cells down the corridor. a walker emerges, shambling toward them with hungry, vacant eyes. carl's eyes widen as he draws his pistol, but salem grabs his arm, stopping him. 

"i'll distract it." carl says, stepping forward. "try to sneak around behind it." salem watches, her heart pounding, as carl moves to intercept the walker. it lunges at him, but he's quick, sidestepping its grasp and pushing it away. as he fights, salem inches the door open, slipping the knife through to jack, who grabs it with trembling hands. "salem, i can't. you have to kill it." jack wheezes. salem shakes her head, still hiding in plain sight from the guts smeared on her clothes.

just as salem closes the door, she hears a shout. she turns to see the walker closing in on carl, its decayed hands reaching for him. her instincts scream to stay hidden, but then she sees jack, his face pale with fear. he coughs again, echoing through the cells. the walker shifts its attention, moving toward jack, drawn by the movement and sound. salem's hesitation vanishes. she grabs a broken metal pipe from the ground and charges the walker. the smell of rot fills her nose as she strikes, the pipe smashing into the walker's head with a sickening crunch.

it staggers but doesn't fall. salem strikes again, her blows fueled by fear and sadness. finally, the walker collapses, its head caved in. she stands over it, breathing heavily, tears running down her face, the pipe still clenched in her hands.

the corpse lay at her feet, blood dripping from its head as other sick people watched quietly from their cells. the dead's presence kept other threats at bay, and she had always relied on uncle john and jack to deal with them when necessary. now, she had taken that role, and it felt like a betrayal of the strange sense of security the walkers had provided. she looks at the lifeless body on the ground, guilt and sadness washing over her.