Red ~ TWD (Daryl Dixon)

Not Ready To Make Nice

"We're not leaving." Rick's tone left no room for argument, but Hershel didn't notice his tone or he simply didn't care. Probably the latter if I knew the old man.

"We can't stay here," he insisted.

The group had been arguing in an endless circle for what felt like days, but was only half an hour and we were still no closer to a consensus. I was leaning against the wall near Maggie trying my best to look casual and not like I was on the verge of collapse. If it wasn't for the wall I was leaning on for support I would have been face down on the floor a long time ago. Hershel offered to take a look at the newest bullet hole in my body when we first got back to the cellblock, but the wound wasn't fatal and could wait until our family feud session concluded. Although, at the rate we were going it was more likely I'd die from blood loss before this ended. I had nothing helpful to add so I kept my mouth shut and my eyes glued to the tips of my boots. Daryl was directly above me on the catwalk and while I had yet to look at him I could feel his eyes on me like a spotlight.

"If Rick says we're not running, we're not running," Glenn stated, hands on his hips.

"No, better to live like rats."

My eyes strayed from the ground to Merle who was locked outside the cellblock in the man cave. The sight of the gunshot wound in his shoulder made me smile. His eyes flicked down to the injury before he growled low in his throat, scowling at me. When I winked at him he shook his head.

My grandmother always said my need for vengeance was my least favorable personality trait. She was a devoutly religious woman so when my response had been "an eye for an eye" she promptly responded with "ends up making the whole world blind". I was by no means familiar with the "good book", but I was pretty sure that wasn't part of the original scripture. My grandmother did Bible remixes better than a DJ at a night club.

While the group was happy Daryl was back, Merle was a different subject. The argument to kick him out of the prison was more heated than the debate to run or fight The Governor. Personally, I'd take the older hillbilly over the younger in a heartbeat. At least he had a sense of humor.

"You got a better idea?" Rick asked him.

He appeared genuinely curious about his perspective. No one had more experience with The Governor than Merle. It would be stupid not to use that to our advantage.

"We should've slid outta here last night. Lived to fight another day." The superiority in his voice was in direct contrast to his circumstances. He was marooned in this death trap same as the rest of us so he should wipe the smirk off his face with the quickness. "We lost that window didn't we?" He was right and everyone knew it though they didn't look happy about it. I pressed my arm against my side, trying to stem the flow of blood as Merle's eyes shifted to me. "Ask Firecracker, she knows."

Rick looked at me and I licked my lips. Nothing ruffled my feathers more than agreeing with Merle Dixon, but the man had a point.

"We can't leave now." I kept my face blank and voice even. "The Governor isn't a military man, but he has men with him that were and they'll expect us to run after today. We can't sneak this many people out unseen in a reasonable amount of time."

"He'll have scouts on every road outta this place by now," Merle confirmed. Rick took a deep inhale, running his hand over the stubble of his beard.

"You agree?" he asked.

"It's what I'd do," I answered.

Truth was if I was on the other side of this conflict it would be nothing to take the prison by nightfall. Our group was too small in number to sufficiently cover the area, we had more blind spots than Stevie Wonder, no heavy weapons and limited ammunition. Bottom line, our hold on this place was an optical illusion. We still held it only because he hadn't strolled in here and taken it.