The Name of the Game

It seemed like the silence lasted forever, what had only been a couple of seconds, felt like minutes had passed. I stared down at Herschel's bloodied leg, no longer attached to his body. I scooted myself away from it as I tried to catch my breath.

"Who the hell are you?" an unfamiliar voice finally caught my attention, snapping me out of my state.

Daryl ran forward aiming his crossbow at a group of inmates that stood behind a wire cage in another room. We had no idea they were in here.

"Who the hell are you?" Daryl snarled back, his crossbow rested on his shoulder ready to shoot at any given second.

I immediately got back to my feet, raising my gun to back Daryl up. I stared down five men, three of them had visible weapons in their hands, old pipes and bats they must have found laying around. They were the only survivors we seemed to encounter.

"He's gonna bleed out, we have to go back!" Rick said, not paying much attention to the possible threats that stood in the same room as us. He was focused on keeping Herschel alive. "Maggie, come here, put pressure on the knee. Hard!"

"You come outta there, slow and steady," Daryl called out to the inmates.

Each of them shuffled out slowly, their eyes wide at the scene before them. A greasy, black-haired man in a wife-beater walked out first. He didn't pay any attention to Daryl's weapon, instead, he watched Rick as he scurried around Herschel, preparing to move him.

"What happened to him," the greasy man asked.

"He got bit," Daryl answered.

That's when I saw it, the small pocket pistol sitting in the front of the man's tied-together uniform on his waist.

"Bit?" he asked, visibly scared as he pulled out the gun.

"Woah, Woah, easy now," I said, raising my gun and pointing it in his direction.

"Nobody needs to get hurt," Daryl said as the man swung his gun around aiming it back and forth between Daryl, T-Dog, and I.

"Do you have medical supplies?" Glenn asked, walking past the inmates and into the room they came from.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" A large man asked. He had the arm sleeves ripped off his uniform, showing just how muscular he was, he'd be able to crush Glenn in a second. Glenn didn't answer and walked directly past him, moving fast.

The walkers at the door now drew all of our attention towards it, their groans and gurgles getting louder as more of them huddle outside of it trying to push their way in.

"Who the hell are you people anyway?" The greasy ball demanded answers.

"Y'all don't look like no rescue team," a short blonde redneck finally spoke up.

"If a rescue team is what you're waitin' for, don't!" Rick yelled as he sat Herschel up.

A loud crash then came from the room behind them before Glenn wheeled out a long trolly. "Come on, we gotta go," he said as he parked it beside Herschel's body.

Rick and Glenn picked up Herschel's lifeless body and hoisted him on top of the trolly.

"Scar, the door!" Rick yelled to me.

I finally broke eye contact with the inmates and rushed for the door, prying my crowbar from the handles and releasing the dead from the other side.

"You're crazy! Don't open that!" one of the inmates yelled. To my surprise, only one walker remained at the door now. I stood back and swung my crowbar at its head, putting a large indent to the side of its skull and knocking it to the ground.

"We got this!" Rick shouted before we left the inmates behind, wheeling Herschel back to C Block.

-------

Thankfully, we made it back to C Block without trouble, someone was on our side at the moment. The group wheeled Herschel into the main cell area as fast as possible, Carol immediately getting him to the bed to dress the wounds. The only problem was that we knew the inmates had followed us.

"Scar, yer with me," Daryl yelled after me before I entered the cell block. I stayed behind with him in the common room, waiting for the inmates to show up. Daryl stood behind one of the tables, resting his foot up on the bench and aiming his crossbow at the open door. I stood next to him with my Glock pointing in the same direction.

Sure enough within a couple of minutes, I saw the grease ball come into the light, the remaining inmates trailing behind him.

"That's far enough," I said, stopping them from coming in any further.

"Cellblock C, cell four that's mine Mamacita. Let me in," the black-haired man said. I could already tell by the way he conducted himself that he was controlling and cocky.

"Today's your lucky day fellas, you've been pardoned by the state of Georgia, yer free to go," Daryl said.

"Whatchu got goin' on in there?" the man asked.

"That ain't none of yer concern," Daryl answered.

That struck a nerve in him, "Don't be telling me what's my concern," he pulled out his gun.

I stepped forward, raising my gun directly at him.

"Chill man," the burly man tried to calm him, "dude's leg is messed up, besides we're free now. Why we still in here?"

"Man's got a point," I said, narrowing my eyes at the inmate.

"A group of civilians break into a prison you got no business being in, got me thinking there may be no place for us to go," the man said, catching on quicker than the rest of them.

"Why doncha go find out," Daryl spat.

"Maybe we'll just be going now," the redneck said, throwing his hands up in the air, clearly catching the vibe that they weren't welcomed with us. The cocky prick stood his ground though.

"Hey, we ain't leavin'."

"You ain't comin' in either!" T-Dog rounded the corner from our cell, his gun raised.

"This is my house, my rules, I go where I damn well please!" the man yelled back, pointing his gun back at T-Dog now.

"There ain't nothing for ya here!" Daryl shouted back over the guy.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Rick now came out yelling, "Everyone, relax, there's no need for this."

"How many of you in there," the inmate asked.

"Too many for you to handle," Rick said, which struck fear in his face.

"You guys rob a bank or something?" he asked, which nearly made me laugh at his stupidity. He had no idea of the world that laid beyond these fences. "Why don't you take him to a hospital?"

We all looked back and forth between one another, waiting for someone to break him the news.

"How long have you been locked in that cafeteria?" Rick asked.

"I don't know, like ten months," he answered.

"A fire broke out, never seen anything like it," the burly man spoke up.

"We heard about dudes going cannibal, dying, and coming back to life. Crazy right," a tiny inmate said, his voice sounded like it had barely even dropped yet.

"One guard looked out for us. Locked us up in the cafeteria, told us to sit tight, threw me this piece, and said he'd be right back."

"Yeah, that was two hundred and ninety-two days ago," another inmate added in.

"We've been thinking that the army or the national guard would be showing up any day now," the large man said. These guys haven't a clue what they were in for.

"There is no army," I said.

"What do you mean?"

"There's no government, no hospitals, no police, it's all gone," Rick tried to explain.

"For real?" said the redneck.

"Serious."

"What about my mom?" the large man asked, who now seemed more like a gentle giant.

"My kids? My old lady?" another inmate also asked like he expected us to know. But to be honest, we did know, the answer was that they were dead. "Yo, you got a cell phone or something so we can call our families?"

"You just don't get it, do you?" I now spoke softly to them.

"No phones, no computers. As far as we can see at least half the population has been wiped out, probably more," Rick broke it down for them.

"Ain't no way," the thick-skulled grease ball didn't believe us.

"See for yourself," Rick pointed to the door.

We walked the inmates outside, making sure they were in front of us so they couldn't pull any fast ones. The sunlight was blinding compared to the inside of the prison as we pulled open the steel door and walked down the steps to the front courtyard.

"Good lord, they're all dead," the redneck said as they each walked through the yard, looking at all the walkers we took out on our way in.

"So what is this, like a disease?" the large man asked as he poked one of the dead walkers with his bat.

"Yeah, and we're all infected," Rick answered.

"What you mean infected? Like AIDs or something?" the redneck asked.

"If I was to kill you, shoot an arrow in yer chest, you come back as one of these things,'' Daryl pointed at the walker, "it's gonna happen to all of us."

They looked stunned, this was a lot of heartbreaking information to take in at one time.

"Ain't no way this Robinhood cats responsible for killing all these freaks," the ringleader of the inmates doubted us.

"Must be fifty bodies out here," the little one agreed.

"Where'd you come from?"

"Atlanta."

"Where you headed?" the ringleader approached Rick.

"For now, nowhere," Rick turned to him, making his plan for the prison known.

"Guess you could take that area down there near the water," he pointed, "should be comfortable."

Rick nodded, laughing at him, "We were gonna use that field for crops-"

"We'll help you move your gear out," he cut Rick off.

"Watch him, get ready to shoot if needed," I whispered to Daryl. I didn't let my line of sight leave the inmate calling the shots. He was dangerous.

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

The man scoffed, "slow down cowboy."

"You snatched the lock off our doors," the little feisty one spoke up.

"We'll give you new locks if that's how you want it," Rick made fun of him.

"This is our prison, we were here first."

"Locked in a broom closet?" I couldn't help but laugh.

"We took it, set you free, it's ours we spilled blood," Rick said.

"We're movin' back into our cellblock."

"You'll have to get your own."

"It is mine, I still got personal artifacts in there that's about as mine as it gets!" he yelled, pulling his gun out once more.

Daryl, T-Dog, and I immediately stepped forward, raising our weapons while Rick remained calm. He would not show this man fear.

"Woah, Woah, maybe let's try to make this work out so everybody wins," the redneck stepped in between his friend and Rick.

"I don't see that happening," the inmate snarled.

"Neither do I," Rick agreed, not breaking eye contact with him.

"There are other cell blocks," the redneck compromised.

"Well, if these three pussies can do all this, the least we could do is clear out a cell block of our own."

"With what?" the burly man asked his ringleader.

"Atlanta here will spot us some real weapons," he looked at Rick. Then his eyes landed on me. "And we want the girl."

"Ain't a chance in hell she's going with you," Daryl walked up to him, pointing the crossbow at his face.

"What you got some sort of claim on her?"

"No, but I'll bash yer head in right now, end the problem."

I felt myself shrink as he stared at me, his dark eyes looking straight through me. Then I thought about how Rick handled himself, how calm and relaxed he presented himself not to show fear.

"You can have the weapons," I spoke up, walking up to the inmate, "hell I'll even help you clear out the cell, but we get half of whatever's in that cafeteria of yours."

"There's only a little left," he responded, sizing me up.

"You want our help, you give us half," I stood my ground, not breaking eye contact with him.

"Didn't you hear him, missy, there's only a little left," the small man spat.

"Bet you got more food left then you got choices. You pay, we'll play."