Safe haven | Rick Grimes

110. PRISONERS IN OUR OWN HOME

Chapter one hundred and ten

"Prisoners in our own home."

Sometimes I wonder if it takes more courage to live or to die.

We have all done terrible things just to still be standing here today. Things we would desperately like to forget. We became whoever we needed to be just to survive.

But who we are right now, and the choices we make today... maybe that is all that really matters.

Judith was writing furiously in her journal when young Daryl grabbed her arm, dragging her along as Caroline and Rick sprinted ahead through the chaotic, rioting streets. Uncle Daryl had left him in charge while he went to find Eugene, since the Commonwealth blamed Eugene for the riot and Sebastian's death.

The four siblings spent a tense night alone, with Dog keeping a watchful eye on the door. By morning, all four kids were fast asleep on the living room couch. Dog lay near the entrance, but his ears perked up at the sound of heavy footsteps in the hallway. The hound trotted over to the couch, urgently nudging Daryl's leg.

"Dog..." Daryl muttered sleepily, blinking open his eyes.

Suddenly, the window behind them shattered. A smoke canister skittered across the floorboards, filling the room with thick fumes. Dog began to bark frantically. Daryl bolted upright, guiding his siblings off the cushions. "Go, go!" he urged, ushering them toward the back bedroom.

The apartment's front door was forced open as several armed men stormed the room. "If they fight back, restrain them! We need them alive!" the leader commanded.

Daryl leaned out from the bedroom door frame, firing toward the intruders to keep them back. Before he could move again, a second smoke bomb came through the bedroom window. Rick, Caroline, and Judith began coughing in the blinding haze.

"Drop your weapons and get on the ground!" one of the men shouted, stepping into the bedroom doorway.

Dog launched himself through the smoke, catching the man's arm. "Get this dog off me!" the man yelled, shoving the hound away. As Daryl moved to defend his dog, he was caught off guard by a second man emerging from the smoke behind him. A heavy blow landed against the back of Daryl's head, and he collapsed onto the floor, knocked unconscious.

Judith drew her katana, Caroline notched an arrow into her bow, and Rick pulled out his knife. The three of them charged out of the bedroom and into the smoke-filled living room, but the haze was so thick they could barely see a foot in front of them.

Suddenly, a figure appeared through the smog behind Rick, quickly catching him off guard. Caroline spun around instantly, releasing an arrow that hit the intruder's shoulder, causing him to release Rick. The attacker then moved toward Caroline, disarming her and sending her toward the sofa as the room descended into chaos.

Judith, the last one standing, tried to hold her ground with her katana, but she was quickly overwhelmed by the number of intruders and lost consciousness.

The group was quickly moved out of the building toward a waiting armored vehicle. Just as they reached the courtyard, Uncle Daryl came sprinting around the corner. "Hey! Hey!" he shouted, realizing what was happening, but he was intercepted by guards before he could reach them.

Inside the vehicle, the group was secured for transport. The doors slammed shut and the locks clicked into place as the vehicle surged forward, driving them away toward an unknown destination.

As the sun began to set and darkness settled over them, the armored van ground to a sudden halt. The heavy back doors flew open.

Hershel, Maggie's son, was led into the vehicle, his hands bound and a hood covering his face. "Let me go!" he cried out.

"Believe me, kid. The ones already in here put up a bigger fight than you," the soldier remarked, guiding him to a spot next to Judith. The soldier then administered a quick-acting sedative to ensure the boy remained quiet for the duration of the trip. Hershel soon drifted into a deep sleep.

The soldier stepped out, pulling the heavy doors shut with a metallic clang. Moments later, the engine hummed to life, and the van continued its journey through the encroaching night.

The five children were kept drifting in and out of consciousness for days. It was like clockwork—the moment any of them started to stir, a soldier would administer another injection to knock them right back out. This cycle continued until the armored vehicle finally came to a complete halt.

When the back doors flew open, the soldiers showed no mercy. They hauled Hershel and Daryl out first, throwing them unceremoniously to the dirt, followed immediately by Judith, Caroline, and Rick. Dog was left behind, chained inside the dark van.

"Get up," one of the soldiers barked, dragging Daryl up by his collar and shoving him forward.

Another guard pulled Hershel to his feet, while three more directed Judith, Caroline, and Rick forward. As the heavy hoods were removed, the children squinted at their surroundings in shock. They were back in Alexandria. The guards led them straight through the community toward the Grimes house, up the stairs, and into a bedroom. They were ordered into chairs and kept under close watch as the door was secured from the outside.

Hershel looked around the room, realizing he was confined with the Grimes siblings. Without a word, the soldiers left the room and slammed the door shut, leaving them as prisoners inside their own home.

They sat in silence for hours without food or water, too exhausted to speak. Late that afternoon, heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway. The door opened, and a soldier stepped inside, followed closely by the Warden and a second guard.

The Warden scanned the room before pointing toward Daryl. "That one," he commanded.

A soldier stepped forward to bring the boy to his feet.

"Wait... wait! Who are you?" Caroline asked, her voice dry. She received no response.

The soldier led Daryl out of the room.

"Where are you taking him!" Judith voiced, her concern growing.

The Warden ignored her, turning on his heel and walking out. The remaining soldier followed close behind, shutting the bedroom door and leaving the others behind.

Having been marched through the ruins of Alexandria, Daryl was brought down into the dark basement that used to hold Negan's cell. The guards threw him violently onto his knees.

The Warden stepped into the dim light, pacing in front of him. "This is your home, right?" he asked.

Daryl kept his head down, refusing to speak. The Warden crouched down, grabbing Daryl's chin and forcing his head up. "I asked you a question."

Daryl glared right back. "Fuck you."

The Warden let go and stood back up. He gave a sharp nod to the soldiers standing behind. The guards hauled Daryl off the ground and moved him toward a large bucket of water, forcing his head beneath the surface.

"Okay, that's enough. Bring him back up," the Warden ordered after a moment.

The soldiers pulled him back. Daryl gasped for air, water dripping from his face.

"Let's start over, shall we?" the Warden said. "Ever since you and your people came to the Commonwealth, we've been watching you closely. You and your group are the only ones who never seemed able to adjust."

"It's a family trait," Daryl told him, his chest heaving.

The Warden hummed softly. "And is killing people a family trait, too?"

"Yeah," Daryl told him, raising his brows defiantly. "And I'm going to stop you. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but I'm going to be the one who ends this."

The Warden broke into a cold laugh, seemingly amused by the threat. He motioned with his hand once more, and the soldiers forced Daryl back toward the water.