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, 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆
"𝕺n your right, stands the Ward B. We keep the easiest patients to manage there. The most dangerous are locked in the Ward C on your left. This is the cell block." Jones was straightened to his full prominent height pointing a finger to the buildings cutting off each sides of Carl Grimes' vision.
The lay of the park in the centre of Asworth Institute was an immense field crackling with an immaculate activity. Crops curling up wooden and metallic trellises, sheep clustered within handmade pens leisurely grazing the fresh pasture. Men were milling around, working with one another and hammering the fertile black soil, glossy layers of hot sweat washed their skins like oil. He saw practically no women and the children were an element that didn't seem to be included in the scenery that crystallized in front of his dazed gaze.
The steep, gigantic walls of sienna bricks were lavishly crowned with tourbillons of security barbed wires like the surface of a cake topped with whipped cream. The intimidating pile of blocs that curved around the three wards made Carl's look baffled with both amazement and cogitation.
The boy's eye remained glued onto a dead bird of which inert corpse was stuck within the strangling grasp of the steel coil. Its tangle of plumes and partially exposed flesh fluttered randomly, as the wind blew against its charred wings. Indeed, the perimeter was electrified and the unfortunate bird has chosen the wrong place to refold its pinions against the psychedelic coat of glossy feathers the glorious animal was once clad in.
Except for the charcoal smoke that ascended softly from a hot grill full of meat and drifted graciously over the walls, there was was no way in and out of this place he could detect at the moment. A wave of paralyzing tension ran through the teen's muscle at the thought.
Jones led Carl towards the Ward B, a building of which facade was layered with twisting foliage of ivies and curtains of blossoming flowers. The vibrant network of viridescence and throbbing florescence climbed up the orange red surface with such an elegance that it became hard for the young man to fathom the fact that this place sheltered heads filled with unpredictability and insanity. A constellation of glimmers coruscated across the aequoreal backdrop of his orb with amazement. It was a place of grandeur that held an odd aura of quietude.
Carl trudged towards the doors of the four—floored building, his eye espied a man tending to the grass.
He wore manacled ankles that emitted a series of clang as he walked the ground with odd, duck like steps. Noticing the boy's attention flashing on him, the stranger (he had guessed to be a patient) waved at the teenager with an uncanny smile. Carl's heart braked into a halt as it got trapped into walls of static buzzing with uneasiness. With ribs pressing to his lungs as though they would concave like fingers crushing a can, he swallowed dryly and scurried toward Jones who was beckoning to him with a wide, hospitable grin.
