The Darkest Storm

“Home sweet home.”

As she enters the dry cool heart of the prison, the anxiousness of keeping on her toes for the next signal to leave quickly fades behind her. The straight path towards the cleared cellblock was dark; they only had the open rusted doors that lead them outside to light the way and whatever faded flashlights they could scrounge. The sound from the Georgian woods and the moans of the remaining walkers outside becomes a distant song.

Darcy drops the heavy roll of blankets and her pack along one of the concrete walls with a soft thud. She breathes in heavily a sigh of relief as her body acknowledges how exhausted she really is. She pushes it off a little while longer as she takes a look around while the rest of the group gathers in the empty cellblock.

“It’s secure?” Lori asks.

She draws in the scent of the tall un-mowed grass from the large cracks of the windows barred on the outside that hung high among the walls opposite of the cells. She can catch the redolence of leftover exhaust fumes from the generators and boilers, the sweat stained mattresses, and the soiled unwashed urinals of each prisoner’s hole.

“This cellblock is.” Rick responds.

“What about the rest of the prison?” Hershel asks.

“In the morning, we’ll find the cafeteria and infirmary.” Rick nods and reassures the group.

“We sleep in the cells?” Beth hesitantly asks.

“I found keys on some guards. Daryl has a set, too.”

Lastly, Darcy can recognize crimson liquid that stained the inner walls of the cells. Even in spite of it all though, it was a quiet and beautiful sight to see. Her body was soft and pliant, even her shoulders and neck, after a long day of fighting. All top and bottom levels of the cell doors were open, and she doesn’t hesitate to hurry up the staircase leading to the second floor and claiming the farthest left corner as her own. She passes Daryl and gives him a sly grin.

“I ain’t sleepin’ in no cage.” Daryl’s voice echoes. “I’ll take the perch.”

They had done it. What at first had seemed impossible was now deemed as a stroke of luck. There was still so much to do, to clear, to make the prison more secure, but for now, the group would celebrate with a decent nights rest.

These last months of winter, the group had moved along as if they wanted extremism, needing to see how far they could take themselves. How long could they fight? How long could they go without food? Without sleep? How far could they run? Bits of pieces of those long frozen days, the members would isolate themselves because it took time to fight that much, run that long, lose that much sleep.

A pattern of increasing physical, emotional, and mental challenges was familiar to them, and they all expected more and more to be thrown at them each day. Today, though, it finally felt as if they had gotten a break, a blessing in disguise.

Daryl pulls out one of the mattresses from an opened cell and drags it to the top of the staircase. He has gone his entire life fighting the ways of his brother, and would not settle to live in a prison cell. Daryl laid down and relaxed on his back.

It all fell quiet around him, and he turned his head from side to side to map out the area and eventually out the windows. He could see the fat spine of stars going down the middle of the sky. He gazed for a long time before his breath became steady and calm.

To his left in the far corner, he heard the rustling of Darcy in her cell. He wondered what she was doing, if she could sleep – or how she can even stay in one of those cages. She then enters the foyer of the main room and holds two thick blankets in her hands. He watches as Darcy leans over the railing and whistles at Rick who sits against the wall on the opposite side and tosses one to him. He gives her a nod of thanks.

Darcy then regains her footing and walks the long path towards Daryl who is still unmoving on his cot and folds the blanket into a tight square. “Already got the one you gave me.” He tells her.

She holds it up gently. “Pillow.”

“You got enough for yourself?” He asks, taking it in appreciation from her grasp.

Darcy nods, “I’ll be fine.”

Daryl raises his eyebrows with a gentle, intrigued look. “See ya tomorrow?” He’s not sure why he asks. His voice suddenly sounds abraded, probably the result of a long day – and his innocence whenever he expressed interest or care towards Darcy.

Darcy nods in response as she begins to walk backwards towards her cell. “See you tomorrow.”

-

Darcy sets the last of the gathered guns and ammo from the bodies of the guards on the table in front of Rick, T, Daryl, and Hershel. She picks up one of the semi-automatic guns and holds it up in her view away from the group. It is lighter than her rifle and easy to grasp in her small hands. She lowers it to inspect the chamber and smiles to herself; she never grows tired of the locking sound a gun makes when it is loaded.

“This is all of it?” Rick points to the table, impressed.

“Oh, wait.” Darcy pulls a hand-grenade out of her pocket and sets it down.

“Not bad.” Daryl says, clicking a flashlight on and off to test it. Everything seemed to be in top shape, which was expected. The entire prison, besides the wandering few civilians they found outside the gate, was untouched.

“Flash bangs, CS Triple-Chasers. Not sure how they’d work on walkers, but we’ll take them.” Rick nods at the stock they’ve managed to collect.

“We won’t use them though, right? The noise?” Darcy asks, slowly putting the weapon back down and eyeing Rick as she tries to figure out his plan.

He shakes his head, “No. Hand to hand. Just like yesterday – we don’t know what we’re dealing with or how many are in here. We only use these if our backs are up against a wall, like the guns.”

“And with that protective gear,” T-Dog points to the few helmets and gloves on the floor. “We should be more shielded.”

Daryl picks up a helmet and watches the thick slime of the slayed walkers ooze out and fall onto the floor around his feet. “I ain’t wearin’ this shit.”

T-Dog suddenly second guesses the gear too as he holds up an even more disgusting glove, “We could boil them.”

“Ain’t enough firewood in the whole forest, no.” Daryl shakes his head and looks to T like he is crazy. “Besides we got this far without ‘em, right?”

Rick laughs and shakes his head, “Alright we can use those vests still over there for those who want to. Let’s pack up.”

“Who’s all going?” Darcy asks, picking up a long rigid pipe and swinging it in her hands to get used to the feeling. She would carry this into the tombs; she didn’t want to risk the chance of shooting off arrows and then losing them.

“You, me, Daryl,” Rick points with a machete and turns to the prison cell. “T, Hershel, Glenn, Maggie.”

“That’s a lot of people.” Daryl said.

“Which is why we need to stay tight and keep an eye on each other.” Rick nods and sees Carl in the other room trying on a guard’s helmet. “I’m gonna to talk to him.”

“Hey Darcy, help me strap this would you?” T-Dog fumbled with the buckles on his bulletproof vest and she walks over to reach around for him. Everyone prepares in their own way, either putting on the equipment found or like Daryl and Darcy, going as they would normally if they were on the road.

Rick then passes them and goes to the entrance, “Alright. Let’s go.”

They walked through the tunnels of the prison with only the flashlights scrounged from the guards. The illumination was a white blue, but clear, and emitted the continuous cells and dead bodies around them. The black asphalt on the ground and the grey concrete of the walls made it even more demanding to keep an eye open. It was a harsh environment, but if it were able to be safe, beautiful.

The smell of the exhaust fumes and gasoline of the boiler room and generators that Darcy smelt before added to the skinless atmosphere. The shaking of the spray can Glen carried to mark their way through the tunnels was the only sound made among them.

Daryl un-hatched the cold lock of the first door and swung it open. The small space was empty, except for the erratically stained floors at the bottom of the darkness. He opened the door and let the others in first and then shut it behind them. The group stayed in tight rank just as Rick told them to; Darcy could feel the breath of the others hot on her skin. Her heart was racing – it was as if they were walking through a maze on Halloween just waiting for something to pop out at them.

They rounded each corner carefully and found the passages all looked the same; the only difference was that some were filled with decayed, half-eaten bodies while others weren’t.

Daryl and Rick lead the group while Darcy and T held the rear. It was weird, always being side by side with Daryl and now, in an unfamiliar environment, they were separated, even if only by a few feet. She always felt safer near him somehow; even more confident that she could take down anything that came their way. But the emptiness and vacant feeling that floated around her back made her skin crawl as if something was following her and would attack at any given time.

Maggie accidentally backs up into Glenn and yelps. The whole group is overwrought, making Darcy feel bit better that she wasn’t the only one. She keeps accidentally bumping into T-Dog. He steadily holds up a hand to keep her straight and make sure she’s okay. She raises a hand and nods her head. Darcy knows she needs to take a deep breath and calm down.

They come to a two-way intersection. Rick hesitates but leads them down to the left. His breath is loud and shaky, seeing more and more bodies littered along the halls. He shines the light down the dark corridor and it bounces off the end way like the ones before. Daryl walks briskly on his toes with his crossbow aimed.

They round another corner, still no sign of movement. Then, the sounds reach their ears of the walker’s snarls. Rick jumps backwards and runs into the people behind him. He yells for them to go back but the walkers have seen the flashlight.

They run, trying to keep the lights up to see where they’re going and where Glenn marked the arrows. It’s their only way to known safety. The distance between the group becomes thinner and thinner, and the tunnels are suddenly overwhelmed with walkers even from where they once came.

“This way, this way!” Darcy hears Rick shout. She tries to stay close to T with Maggie close behind her. There is a break in the gap and she suddenly hears a walker who seems way too close. She spins on her heels and whips the pipe up and smacks its jaw. A tug on her arm pulls her into a small closet and she is crouched down to the ground.

Daryl is clutching at her arm tightly. She can feel him shake slightly. “Where’s Glen and Maggie?” Rick asks.

Daryl gives her a nod before letting go of her arm. “We have to go back.” Hershel tells them.”

“But which way?” Daryl whispers.

“They must’ve gotten turned around, or blocked off because they were right behind me.” Darcy breathes heavily.

“Alright.” Rick stands slowly, still hunched over to avoid the sight of passing walkers. He opens the heavy door and all is quiet again. He and Daryl shine the light down the halls they pass, but there is no sign they were ever there.

Darcy grows frustrated and pulls her bow off her shoulder and readies it. The pipe is now in its place. She catches up with Daryl and hugs the corner wall before aiming down the open tunnel. They copy each other’s movements and they are back in sync.

“Maggie?” Hershel yells in a hoarse whisper. “Glenn?” No answer.

Darcy keeps an eye behind her for Hershel and T, and suddenly, Hershel isn’t there anymore. She doubles back without saying anything for fear of losing concentration when she hears a whisper in her ear and has a familiar grasp on her forearm.

“Stay close, don’ go wanderin’ off.” Daryl gives her a serious look.

“Hershel’s gone.” She responds.

Then they hear it, the ear piercing screams of Hershel crying out and echoing through the prison walls. They run towards it hopelessly, rounding each corner with a pipe dream that they will come across him. Rick runs out in front of the others and stops abruptly when he sees Hershel, sprawled out on the ground with a walker biting into his right calf.

“NO!” Rick screams, raising his gun and shooting without hesitation. Darcy runs over to Maggie who has rejoined the group with Glen and holds her back. They don’t have much time; walkers have heard the cries too and are making their way towards the group hungrily.

Glenn and Rick lift Hershel up and drag him while Daryl is at the rear, swiping at the oncoming walkers while trying to keep up. Maggie is in hysterics and Darcy tries to hold her steady as they move with Rick and the others.

It is all happening so fast. T-Dog slashes handcuffed doors open and the group moves inside, what can only be the cafeteria, and lays Hershel on the floor. He is still in frenzy, pleading and whimpering at the pain and the realization that he is going to die.

“Shut the door!” Rick yells. T-Dog and Daryl push with all their strength against the oncoming walkers pounding on the other side of the double doors. Darcy is on the ground with Rick, Glenn, and Maggie, helpless at the sight of Hershel with a three-inch deep bite wound.

Rick rips back the material of Hershel’s pant leg and looks to Darcy. “Hold-hold him down.” He unclasps his belt and pulls it from its loops. She hesitates because she knows what he’s going to do, and she can only watch as he loops the belt around Hershel’s leg.

“Darcy, hold him down!”

Darcy shuts her eyes and leans over, putting one hand on Hershel’s thigh and the other on his knee. Daryl is suddenly beside her, holding the other leg and resting his knee on Hershel’s arm. Maggie cradles her father’s head and Glenn is clutching Hershel’s other hand.

“All right.” Rick says, picking up the hatchet to his right. “Only one way to keep you alive.”

The sound of bone against metal made Darcy’s stomach twist. She put all of her weight on Hershel until he finally passed out from shock. She felt the splatter of blood on her face, and the crimson liquid oozed from the wound and coated her hands. The sudden difference in weight that she held onto was unmistakable.

The clash of the hatchet being dropped on the ground and Rick’s staggering reaction forced her to open her eyes. Hershel’s leg was gone, separated from his body by inches among the floor.

“He’s bleeding out.” Rick says.

Darcy looks over finally and is sure she is going to vomit. It is one thing to be used to the dead; the way their skin fell off their bones or sunk back into their bodies all together, the way their eyes glazed over with a gray yellow, the way their limbs would casually fall off…but this was different. This was Hershel, one of their own – a living, breathing person.

“Duck.” Darcy turns her head to look at Daryl who has his gaze focused across the room.

She lowers herself as does Rick and the others. Daryl jumps to his feet and points his bow steady across the way. Darcy tilts her head up, seeing five men on the other side of the locked cafeteria storage area.

And they aren’t dead.