Starting Over... |Daryl Dixon| |The Walking Dead|

Chapter 7: Friend or Foe?

AN:: Oh my gosh guys, I'm loving all the reads and votes! Thank you so much.

I just want to say that this is the first story I've ever written in which I feel like I actually live inside it with the characters. I feel like each chapter is another day in my life, and I'm so happy you're all enjoying it with me (:
((I even have some pretty solid ideas for a prequel & sequel, so hopefully you'll stick with me in the long-run :p))

I'd like to give an EXTREMELY huge thanks to my new wattpad buddy, coolkitty95! she has given me so much support, and I'm so grateful (: please please pleeeease go read her Carl Grimes story, I love it! <3

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When we entered the prison, Daryl led us across a large, empty cement lot, which was littered with old garbage and even a few walker bodies. It looked like the group had cleared most of the corpses out, but I could still see a few dark red bloodstains where they had collapsed to the concrete.

Eventually we reached a large door in the center building, which was just an enormous rectangle made of old, rusty colored bricks. A few long, cloudy glass windows lined the top of the building near the roof, and over to the right I could see a dark spot of mildew underneath where an old pipe had busted, probably dripping water on the bricks for years and years.

Daryl instructed our group of five to wait outside with Glenn and T-Dog while he went inside to warn Rick that we were there.

Great, a public showing...

He was only gone for about two or three minutes, but every second of waiting there was extremely awkward, tense and uncomfortable. By now, it had to be somewhere around 8:00 in the morning, and the hot Georgia sun was beating down hard, with not a single cloud in the clear blue sky to block its rays.

It was so hot, I felt like I could see my tan growing darker by the second. But I was used to harsh weather conditions by now. Compared to struggling against hypothermia in the bitter winter, a little blistering summer heat was nothing.

Finally, the creaky door swung open again, revealing Daryl standing in the frame.

"C'mon," He muttered, nodding his head toward the inside of the building.

My stomach twisted into a knot as we were paraded into a huge open room with a few tables and chairs, and stairwells on either side of us that led to an upper floor. There were cell blocks surrounding us, all around the boarder of the room, which looked like a cafeteria. I could picture a mass of burly prisoners crowding in this room in their jumpsuits and eating at the tables, before everything turned.

Just as I thought would happen, all eyes were instantly on us. The entire prison group hung around the cafeteria, scattered about and eyeing us skeptically. And, really, who could blame them? But still, it was a little off-putting...

In the middle of the huge cafeteria stood the man in the sheriff's uniform. He waited with his shoulders square and his head of curly brown hair held up high. A beefy silver revolver hung at his side in his right hand. He definately gave off the vibe of a leader.

As we approached, I noticed the man's eyes were almost the same piercing blue as Daryl's. His gaze was cold and intense, and his jaw was clenched, the tension showing through his scruffy five o'clock shadow.

I felt a tremendous, crushing pressure as we came to a stop in front of the man, who I could only assume was Rick. And when Glenn spoke up from behind me, I got my answer.

"Here they are, Rick.." He said quietly, "This is all of them... They say they don't know anything."

"Because we don't--" I turned and snapped at the young asian man, but Zach cut me off by reaching up and slapping my arm, giving me a look as if to say shut-the-fuck-up. I whirled my head back around to see Rick's fierce, blue eyed gaze locked onto me.