𝓬𝓾𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓭 | 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝔂𝓵 𝓭𝓲𝔁𝓸𝓷❌

two

"Huh." That's the only word Macon can allow to pass her lips. She kicks one of the dead bodies in front of her, a somewhat bored expression on her lips. "Do you guys know what this is?" she wonders aloud, kicking another corpse. "Rabies? Virus? Parasite?" she goes on.

"I don't know, but I know we're all infected." She freezes for a moment, turning her head towards the bearded man. Her brows furrow as her eyes squint, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation. But how can you make one up for people coming back from the dead?

"What do you mean, infected? Like AIDS or something?" Axel questions. Macon bites her tongue, having to hide her face behind her hands to stop the disappointed groan wanting to pass her lips.

"Let's say I kill you, shot an arrow in your chest, you come back like one of them things. It's gonna happen to all of us," Crossbow states. It takes a few moments of silence to let it sink in for the prisoners before it is broken by Tomas.

"Ain't no way these Robinhood cats responsible for killing all these freaks. Must be fifty bodies out here."

"They've also been doing this for ten months," she mumbles. When she turns her head towards Tomas, she sees him giving her a glare. "Just a thought," she shrugs, raising her hands in defense.

Tomas takes a moment, forcing his anger down before turning towards the bearded man. "Where do you come from?"

"Atlanta," he responds.

"Where you headed?"

"For now, nowhere." Tomas nods his head. He looks around the prison for a moment.

"I guess you could take that area down there near the water. Should be comfortable," he states, pointing in the general direction.

"We're using that field for crops," he states. His tone makes it sound obvious, but prisoners can tell Tomas took a hit to his pride.

"We'll help you move your gear out," he goes on. Macon can only roll her eyes, clicking her tongue in annoyance.

"That won't be necessary. We took out these walkers, this prison is ours."

"You snatched the locks off our doors," Andrew snaps, standing beside Tomas.

"We'll give you new locks, if that's how you want it." A sly grin forms on Macon's lips, loving the man's attitude.

"This is our prison. We were here first."

"Locked in a broom closet?" he scoffs. Macon allows a quiet snort to pass but swallows her chuckle. "We took it, set you free. It's ours. We spilled blood."

"We're moving back into our cell block."

"When did we agree to this?" Macon wonders aloud, getting ignored by the two.

"You'll have to get your own," the bearded man states.

"It is mine. I've still got personal artifacts in there, that's about as mine as it gets!" He tries to pull out his gun, only to grab nothing. "What the fu-"

"This is why I took the gun," she sighs, rubbing her face tiredly. Pulling her hands from her face, she looks to sees Tomas staring at her hip, finally noticing that she swiped the gun away from him. "I'm not giving it back," she shrugs, tilting her head the littlest bit. Despite the "terrifying" look on his face, she keeps her ground. "We could just move into B. It's on the other side of the prison so you'll barely see us," she proposes. She turns her attention towards Beard, giving a shrug.

"And how do you suppose we do that, chica?" Tomas scoffs.

"He," she points her finger at the civilian, "will give us a couple of weapons, hm? Help us out?" she raises a brow, waiting for a response. It takes a few moments, the man thinking for sometime before answering with another question.

"Is it stocked in that cafeteria? It must have plenty of food. Six prisoners lasting almost a year?"

"Sure as hell don't look like anybody's been starving." She rolls her eyes at Crossbow, but keeps her eyes on the leader.

"There's only a little bit left," Tomas states. "Little bit" is a definite understatement to Macon.

"We'll take half. In exchange, we help clear out B."

"Didn't you hear him?" Andrew snaps. "There's only a little left."

"We got it," she shuts Andrew up, waving her hand off in his direction. Taking a moment, she allows a thought to pass her lips. "On what conditions?" she asks.

"If we see you out here near our people, I will kill you." Macon looks around a moment, trying to find any other choices her and the prisoners have. Staring past the tall fences, she can just imagine Death standing there waiting to greet them at Hell's Door. Looking back at the bearded man, a tired sigh passing her lips before she allows one word to pass them.

"Deal."