The Third Dixon [The walking dead]

Chapter two

TW: Graphic injury, amputation, blood, intense violence, medical trauma, screaming, loss of bodily autonomy, psychological distress, PTSD-related themes.

Measi was curled tightly in Nathan's arms, her forehead tucked beneath his chin, the familiar rise and fall of his breathing grounding her in the half-sleep she hadn't fully escaped yet. The cell was quiet—too quiet—wrapped in the illusion of safety they'd built with a bedsheet and routine.

Then the gunshot cracked through the prison.

Measi jolted awake with a sharp gasp, heart slamming into her ribs. Nathan was already moving, eyes wide, adrenaline snapping him fully conscious as they locked eyes for a split second—you heard that too—before he tore the sheet aside.

A walker slammed into the bars.

It lunged with a guttural snarl, fingers clawing through the gap, teeth snapping inches from Nathan's face.

Measi didn't think.

She was already up, already moving, her knife buried deep into the walker's skull in one brutal, practiced motion. It dropped instantly. She shoved the cell door open as another walker staggered forward, and another, and another—too many, too close.

"Gun!" she shouted, ripping one from her belt and tossing it toward Nathan without looking.

He caught it cleanly, flicked the safety off, and fired. The echo of the shot rang through the block as Measi shoved people into nearby cells, slamming doors shut behind them.

"Get inside! Inside—now!" she yelled, pushing, dragging, forcing survivors to safety as walkers poured through the corridor.

She backed up the stairs, knife slick in her grip, muscles screaming as she fought to keep her footing. She aimed low, precise, careful not to hit the living scrambling behind bars.

Then Rick was there. Glenn. Daryl. Carol. Weapons raised, shouting orders, trying to regain control of the chaos. Tyreese and Sasha barreled in moments later, sheer force and fury cutting through the horde.

The noise was deafening. Gunfire. Screams. The wet thud of bodies hitting the floor.

Nathan fired the final shot.

Silence slammed down like a held breath finally released.

"I think we—" he started.

The scream cut him off.

It came from above. High. Sharp. Agonizing.

"Measi!" Nathan's voice broke as he took the stairs two at a time.

Daryl was already moving.

They found her near the landing, tangled with a walker that hadn't gone down cleanly. Its teeth were buried in her right hand—pink and ring finger crushed between its jaws. Measi screamed, raw and feral, trying to pull free as pain exploded through her arm.