A Broken World

Fifty-Five

YN

The prison felt different without him.

The weight of Daryl’s absence sat heavy on my chest, but I pushed it down, forced myself to keep moving. I had to. There was no time to sit around mourning a man who had already made his choice.

Carol found me not long after we got back, her eyes searching mine as if she already knew what I was going to say before I even opened my mouth.

"Where’s Daryl?" she asked, voice tight with something between concern and disbelief.

I exhaled, crossing my arms over my chest. "He went with Merle since nobody wants Merle here."

Carol’s brows knitted together. "He just left? He chose Merle over you?"

I shrugged, keeping my face as neutral as I could manage. "Merle is family. He’s blood. I’m not."

She frowned but didn’t say anything. What was there to say? Everyone knew it was the truth. The Dixons had always stuck together, no matter what. I just didn’t think it would be at the cost of everything Daryl had built here.

The Next Day

Tension ran through the prison like an electric current. Rick was back to pacing the yard, eyes distant, muttering to himself. Apparently, while we were gone, Carl had let in a small group of survivors—people who had managed to find their way in through the damaged part of the prison. But Rick wasn’t having it.

He’d freaked out, told them they had to leave, and now he was outside the fences, wandering around like a man who had lost his grip on reality. Hershel had gone down there to try and talk some sense into him, but from the look of it, I wasn’t sure it was going to do much good.

The sun hung love in the sky, making the Georgia heat cling to my skin like a second layer. The air smelled of earth and sweat, a strange calm hanging over the prison yard. I stood beside Carol near the inner fence, listening as Axel talked, his usual easygoing grin on his face.

"I tell ya, it was just a water pistol. Didn't even look real. But the cops? They found me hidin' at my brother's house the next day-"

Crack!

A single gunshot cut through the air.

Axel's head snapped back, and blood sprayed across my face before I even registered what had happened. His body crumpled to the ground like a sack of bricks, lifeless.

"Axel!" Carol gasped, but there was no time.

Gunfire erupted from beyond the fences.

Pop-pop-pop! Bullets tore through the yard, kicking up dirt, slamming into the concrete walls.

"Get down!" I yelled, grabbing Carol and pulling her down behind Axel's body. My breath was coming fast, my heart hammering in my chest.

From behind the prison fences, the Governor's men had opened fire. I spotted muzzle flashes in the treeline, figures darting between the cover of the woods.

Carol clutched at me, panic in her eyes. "What do we do?"

I didn't get a chance to answer.

A deafening roar filled the air as a truck suddenly barreled through the outer gate, crashing through the chain-link barrier like it was paper.

"Oh, shit," I breathed.

The truck skidded to a stop inside the yard, its back doors flying open.

Walkers.

A horde of them spilled out, groaning and snapping, their rotting bodies toppling over each other as they poured into the prison yard.

Gunfire still rained down around us. I grabbed Carol's wrist. "We gotta move-now!"

We scrambled for cover, ducking behind the remnants of an overturned wheelbarrow as chaos exploded around us. Walkers stumbled toward us, drawn by the noise, their dead eyes locked onto fresh meat.

This wasn't just an attack.

This was a damn war.

Gunfire rattled the prison yard, each shot deafening, but the growls and snarls of the walkers were even louder. The air was thick with smoke and the stench of death. My hands tightened around the AR-15 Maggie had tossed me, sweat slicking my grip as I fired off rounds.

Walkers were everywhere, spilling in from the truck the Governor's men had let loose. Axel's blood was still warm on my skin, but there was no time to mourn. Carol was beside me, keeping her fire controlled, but I could hear her ragged breathing-she was barely holding it together.

Down near the outer fence, Hershel was crouched low in the tall grass, trying to keep himself hidden while Rick fought off the ones that had broken through. Michonne had emerged from the overturned prison bus, her katana flashing as she cut down anything that got too close.

Maggie and Beth had made it to the armory just in time, tossing rifles our way. I grabbed extra magazines, shoving them into my belt, then turned and fired at the approaching dead. A walker got too close-I kicked it back before putting a round through its skull.

The Governor and his men were retreating, their job done. Cowards. They'd left us with this mess, let the dead do the rest of their work.

A truck engine roared, and I turned in time to see Glenn speeding across the yard in the pickup, swerving around the walkers to get to Hershel. My heart pounded as he skidded to a stop, yanking the door open and pulling Hershel inside before slamming the gas. Walkers thudded against the side of the truck as he barreled back toward the prison.

But Rick-Rick was still outside the fences.

I could hear him shouting, fighting, struggling. More walkers pushed toward him. My stomach twisted-he wasn't going to make it.

Then, out of nowhere, a crossbow bolt slammed into a walker's head. Another shot followed, and then I saw him.

Daryl.

And Merle.

The two of them moved in sync, cutting a path through the dead toward Rick. Daryl fired, fast and precise, while Merle used his bayonet-hand to slash and stab through rotting flesh.

I should've felt relief. Maybe even gratitude.

But all I felt was cold.

By the time Rick was safe, the Governor's men were long gone, leaving us with a yard full of the dead. Glenn had parked near the entrance, helping Hershel inside, while Maggie and Beth kept taking shots from the tower.

The fight was over.

I turned, breathing heavy, and saw Daryl walking toward me. He looked exhausted, dirt and blood streaked across his face, but his eyes searched for me.

I didn't say a word.

Didn't let him explain.

Didn't let him think for a second that he could come back and everything would be fine.

I turned my back and walked inside the prison.