The Third Dixon [The walking dead]

Chapter eleven

"We're not leaving."

Rick's voice cut through the cell block, flat and final.

Beth sat on the concrete steps beside Measi, her knees drawn to her chest. Measi leaned back on her hands, jaw tight, eyes fixed on Rick as if sheer will could make him reconsider.

"We can't stay here," Hershel said quietly, but there was steel beneath it.

Maggie shook her head. "What if there's another sniper?" Her gaze flicked instinctively toward the rifle leaning uselessly nearby. "A wood pallet won't stop one of those rounds."

"We can't even go outside," Beth added, her voice small.

"Not in the daylight," Carol said.

Measi glanced at Nathan. His mouth was set, shoulders rigid. She could feel the same thought pounding in both of them—if she had bullets, this wouldn't feel so helpless. One round, one clean shot, and at least one threat would be gone.

"Rick says we're not running," Glenn snapped. "So we're not running."

A dry laugh echoed from behind the bars.

"No," Merle drawled from his cell, leaning back like this was all some grand entertainment. "Better to live like rats."

Measi twisted toward him instantly. "You got a better idea?" she snarled.

"Yeah," Merle said, eyes gleaming. "We should've slid outta here last night. Lived to fight another day. But that window's closed, ain't it? Bet he's got scouts on every road by now."

"We ain't scared of that prick," Measi shot back, finally meeting her half‑brother's gaze.

Merle's grin faded. "Y'all should be. That truck through the fence? That was him ringing the doorbell. Might have thick walls, but he's got guns and numbers. And if he takes the high ground, he don't even gotta rush us. He can starve us out."

Measi scoffed. "And I can still kick you in the nuts if I wanted to."

Maggie let out a sharp breath. "Put him in the other cell block."

"No," Daryl said.

Measi's head snapped up. Daryl didn't look at her—his eyes were locked on Merle.

"He's got a point."

Nathan stepped forward, anger flashing across his face. "This is all you! You started this."

Beth moved down the steps, looking from face to face. "What difference does it make whose fault it is? What do we do?"

"I said we should leave," Hershel said, his voice rising. "Now Axel's dead. We can't just sit here."

Rick turned away.

"Get back here!"

Measi flinched as Hershel's shout cracked through the room. Hershel moved toward Rick, eyes blazing.

"You're slipping, Rick. We've all seen it. We understand why—but now is not the time." His voice shook, not with fear, but conviction. "You once said this isn't a democracy. Well, now you have to own that. I put my family's life in your hands. So get your head clear... and do something."

Silence followed.

Measi stared at Rick, waiting—heart pounding, mind racing, the walls of the prison suddenly feeling far thinner than concrete ever should.

Rick moved down the cell block, boots echoing softly against concrete. He slowed as he passed Maggie's cell, glancing in at her sleeping form.