Starting Over...

When we entered the prison, Daryl led us across a large, empty cement lot, which was littered with old garbage and even a few walker bodies. It looked like the group had cleared most of the corpses out, but I could still see a few dark red bloodstains where they had collapsed to the concrete.

Eventually we reached a large door in the center building, which was just an enormous rectangle made of old, rusty colored bricks. A few long, cloudy glass windows lined the top of the building near the roof, and over to the right I could see a dark spot of mildew underneath where an old pipe had busted, probably dripping water on the bricks for years and years.

Daryl instructed our group of five to wait outside with Glenn and T-Dog while he went inside to warn Rick that we were there.

Great, a public showing...

He was only gone for about two or three minutes, but every second of waiting there was extremely awkward, tense and uncomfortable. By now, it had to be somewhere around 8:00 in the morning, and the hot Georgia sun was beating down hard, with not a single cloud in the clear blue sky to block its rays.

It was so hot, I felt like I could see my tan growing darker by the second. But I was used to harsh weather conditions by now. Compared to struggling against hypothermia in the bitter winter, a little blistering summer heat was nothing.

Finally, the creaky door swung open again, revealing Daryl standing in the frame.

"C'mon," He muttered, nodding his head toward the inside of the building.

My stomach twisted into a knot as we were paraded into a huge open room with a few tables and chairs, and stairwells on either side of us that led to an upper floor. There were cell blocks surrounding us, all around the boarder of the room, which looked like a cafeteria. I could picture a mass of burly prisoners crowding in this room in their jumpsuits and eating at the tables, before everything turned.

Just as I thought would happen, all eyes were instantly on us. The entire prison group hung around the cafeteria, scattered about and eyeing us skeptically. And, really, who could blame them? But still, it was a little off-putting...

In the middle of the huge cafeteria stood the man in the sheriff's uniform. He waited with his shoulders square and his head of curly brown hair held up high. A beefy silver revolver hung at his side in his right hand. He definately gave off the vibe of a leader.

As we approached, I noticed the man's eyes were almost the same piercing blue as Daryl's. His gaze was cold and intense, and his jaw was clenched, the tension showing through his scruffy five o'clock shadow.

I felt a tremendous, crushing pressure as we came to a stop in front of the man, who I could only assume was Rick. And when Glenn spoke up from behind me, I got my answer.

"Here they are, Rick.." He said quietly, "This is all of them... They say they don't know anything."

"Because we don't--" I turned and snapped at the young asian man, but Zach cut me off by reaching up and slapping my arm, giving me a look as if to say shut-the-fuck-up. I whirled my head back around to see Rick's fierce, blue eyed gaze locked onto me.

I instantly regretted opening my big mouth.

"That's the little peepin' tom right'ere," Daryl scoffed, obviously talking about me, "Caught 'er from the guard tower."

My stomach dropped to my knees at the feeling of being completely thrown under the bus... I was humiliated.

"You guys just look like a bunch of kids..." Rick muttered as he raised one eyebrow slighty, studying all of our faces, "All right, well this is how it's gonna work. Quick pat down-- You confiscated their weapons, didn't you?" Rick averted his eyes behind us.

"No shit." Daryl grumbled back, and I heard the heavy sack of weapons hit the floor with a *thunk* .

"Good, so a quick pat down, then these four," He motioned to my brother and three friends, "Go in that holding cell with our other guest. As for you," He looked at me intently, "You'll stay out here... We're gonna have a little talk, after we get you some medical attention. That's a nasty cut you got there... Infection'll kill ya quicker than any walker could."

As I listened to his voice, I noticed that he, too, spoke with a southern drawl. It still wasn't nearly as strong as Daryl's, but definately noticeable.

So, just like Rick had said, he walked up to Danny, who looked a little nervous, and began lightly patting him down. Then, he moved onto Zach, repeating the same motion.

When he was certain they had nothing dangerous on them, he gave them a small nod, then turned to the far left corner of the cafeteria. The young woman with the short golden bob sat at a long fold out table in that area, sorting through a pile of clothes.

Across from her sat the older woman with the buzzcut hairstyle. She had a torn blouse in her hand, stitching it up with a needle and thread.

"Maggie, Carol." Rick projected his voice in their direction, and he motioned for them to come over when they looked up from their work.

They set the clothes aside, and stood up from the table. I didn't know which of them was Carol and which was Maggie, but I figured I'd find out soon enough.

The two women approached Jessie and Tina first, flashing them apologetic looks as they gently patted them down. When they cleared, the younger woman made her way over to me.

Her green eyes gave me the same apologetic look as she began to pat me down. She glanced up at me when she saw the gash.

"Ouch, that really is a nasty cut..." She muttered as she scrunched up her freckly nose, "Nothin' my daddy can't fix, though." Of course, she had a southern accent of her own.

She nodded her head over her shoulder towards the old man with the white beard, sitting on the righthand stairwell of the cafeteria.

I studied her face as she finished patting me down. She looked a little older than me, maybe two years or so... And she was actually very pretty. She looked really young to be that old man's daughter, but I didn't question it.

Finally, the girl stepped back, giving Rick a nod; A signal that I was safe.

Rick stuck to his plan, tossing Daryl a set of keys. The redneck then led Danny, Zach, Tina and Jessie away from me and to the back of the cafeteria. They disappeared around the corner, and I was alone... Alone in a room full of strangers.

Suddenly, I felt scared... I could hear my heart beat pound in my ears as everyone in the room stared at me.

"First thing's first," Rick spoke up, breaking the silence, "Let's get that cut cleaned up. Doesn't look like you'll need stitches, but we'll let Hershel be the judge of that."

I gulped slightly and followed behind Rick, after giving him a small, meek nod in place of a response.

The Sheriff led me over to the stairwell where the old man was sitting. I stared at his face and repeated Hershel in my head to make it stick.

"Can ya fix her up real quick, Hershel?" Rick asked the old man, who gave me a once over with his dark brown eyes.

"Boy, that's a good little scratch..." Hershel mumbled while squinting his eyes at my stomach. "What happened to ya, honey?"

Hershel spoke to me like I was a daughter or a granddaughter, not a criminal like Rick and Daryl had made me feel... His gentle tone of voice was very soothing.

"Mr. Man over there decided it would be fun to chase me through the woods with his crossbow..." I grumbled my response as I caught sight of Daryl coming back around the corner, keys in hand. "I fell a few times... It's not as bad it looks."

"Well, we'd better find out for sure." Hershel said as he pushed himself up off the stairs

The old man held himself up with one hand on the steel railing, reaching for a pair of wooden crutches with the other.

As I patiently watched Hershel steady himself on the crutches, my eyes dropped down to his leg... or lack there of...

It was his right leg, amputated just below the knee; Hence why he needed crutches.

I figured it might be rude to ask him how that happened, so I settled on lightly chewing my bottom lip and imagining the possibilities myself. I fought back the urge to grimace at the thoughts that followed.

When Hershel got going on the crutches, it actually looked pretty fluid. He moved at a regular pace, like it came natural to him.

I didn't have to slow my stride at all as I followed him across the cafeteria floor. He led me to a row of cells that faced a wall with a large, barred window. Outside the window, I could see the cement lot, and the walkers milling about on the other side of the fence.

The morning sun casted natural beams of light through the glass, high-lighting the floating dust particles that they touched.

Hershel ducked inside the second cell, and I followed behind, cautiously slowing my steps. When I peeked through the bars and saw Hershel preparing bandages and antibiotics, my mind felt a little more at ease.

I stepped inside the cell, taking Hershel's attention away from the medical supplies for a moment.

"On the bed is just fine," He said, nodding toward the bunk bed behind him, "Go ahead."

I followed his instruction, sitting down on the bottom bunk. The mattress pad was thin, but it provided just enough cushioning from the steel bars of the bedframe

Hershel turned and manuevered himself into a sitting position on a stool next to the bed. On his lap was a metal tray, and ontop of the tray was a small squirt bottle half way filled with a clear liquid, a clean, dry towel, a sheet of gauze padding and a roll of bandages.

He paused and took a look at my upright position.

"It'll probably be easier if you lay back, dear." The old man advised me.

"Oh, um...okay..." I stammered, hesitantly laying back on the small mattress.

I tried not to let Hershel notice how stiff with nervousness my body was.

"Let's have a look at the damage here..." He mumbled while lifting my tank top just above the wound.

My face flushed as I awkwardly stared up at the bottom of the bunk above me while Hershel examined the severity of the gash.

"Well, you're in luck," He announced after a few moments, "I don't believe you'll be needing stitches. Just a good antiseptic and fresh bandages for a few days should do the trick."

Hershel's disagnosis sent a wave of relief washing over me. Stitches were the last thing I wanted to deal with, ontop of everything else.

Hershel then grabbed the small spray bottle and held it above my stomach. He paused and glanced up at me.

"Now, you'll feel a little sting," He warned me, "This antiseptic is pretty strong."

I nodded, and Hershel began spritzing the liquid across my midsection. At first, it felt like a cool, refreshing mist... But as it soaked into the gash, it felt like fire had been set to my skin. I gritted my teeth and dug my nails into the mattress pad to keep from crying out in pain

A little sting?? Bullshit, that fucking hurt..

But the worst was over. Hershel patted off the excess moisture around the wound, and I let out an exhale as the intense burning sensation faded into a light, tingly sting. Hershel started to unravel the gauze padding, snipping it into the right shape with a pair of scissors.

"Well, you already know my name," the old man spoke to me in a friendly tone, "But I don't know yours." he smiled at me as he placed a layer of gauze over my stomach, then beginning to cut another piece just like it.

"It's Kayla." I replied, returning the small smile. Hershel nodded at the sound of my name, keeping his eyes down on his work.

"'Kayla'..." He repeated my name quietly, "That's unusual."

"Is it?" I asked quizically.

"I suppose I shouldn't say unusual. Unique is a better word for it. Still, very pretty... Feminine." Hershel explained, "Sit up, dear. I'm going to wrap the bandages, then you'll be good to go."

I sat up absent mindedly, my stomach turning as I remembered where I was going after Hershel was done with me... Back out into the cafeteria to talk to Rick...

My heart began to beat more rapidly, so I tried my best to focus on my conversation with Hershel.

"I always thought my name was pretty common," I said as he began wrapping bandages around my torso, "I always went to school with like, ten other Kaylas... It was names like 'Genestra' that used to get me."

"Genestra?" Hershel repeated in a chuckle, "Now that's unusual."

I nodded in agreement.

"Yea, she was pretty unusual herself... Every outfit she wore was one solid color, right down to her socks. People you meet in college..." My heart sank when I began to think about my dorm room and my college friends, before all this... And what more than likely happebed to all of them...

"I guess I'm just an old fashioned man, I stuck with strong, classic female names for my two girls... Maggie and Beth."

I assumed Maggie was the girl was the golden bob, and Carol was the woman with the buzzcut... That left Beth as the young blonde teen. Now I knew everyone's name except for Rick's son.

"Those are pretty names." I said to Hershel with a smile, and he flashed it right back.

"Okay, dear, you're all patched up." Hershel said to me as he began to tidy up his work area, "Go on, now. Rick's waiting."

I nodded nervously before slowly standing up. The fresh gauze and bandages felt stiff and foreign, but I knew I'd adapt.

I began to make my way to the entrance of the cell, when Hershel spoke up again suddenly.

"Kayla," He called out softly, and I turned to look at him. "Don't be too scared of Rick. He's not as cold as he makes himself seem."

I smiled at Hershel, truly appreciating his advice. He really was a nice man... I just hoped what he said was true

The walk out of Hershel's cell and across the cafeteria floor to the table where Rick sat seemed to pass by in slow motion. As I glanced around nervously, I noticed that he and I were the only souls in the cafeteria. I assumed he had asked the others to give him some privacy to interogate me.

Rick's sharp blue eyes cut into me like white hot daggers as I approached him.

When I took a seat across the table from him, an old memory was triggered of a time I was sent to the principal's office in second grade for starting a fight on the playground with a third grade boy. I could remember the scary feeling of shrinking under my principals angry, disapproving eyes.

This timid feeling Rick was giving me was very similar to that feeling I'd gotten, sitting in front of the principals desk all those years ago.

"So," Rick finally spoke up after what felt like an eternity, "Let's talk. How 'bout we start simple... What's your name?"

He gazed at me expectantly, and I shakily cleared my throat.

"Uh, K-Kayla.." I stuttered. So much for trying not to sound nervous.

"Kayla.. Pretty name," Rick said honesty while leaning back in his chair, and crossing his tan arms over his chest. "Kayla What?"

"Easton..."

"Hmm." Rick took in the simple information and nodded his head, "You look pretty young there, Miss Easton... How old are ya? 25, 26?"

"22," I corrected him, "23 in a few months."

Rick raised his eyebrows just slightly when I revealed my age to him.

"Guess you're younger than I thought..." He observed, "Where'd ya'll come from? You got accents that don't sound from around these parts."

I blinked at this question. I was unaware we had any kind of accents at all, except for Danny, and even his was barely noticeable now.

"Southern Indiana," I answered, "Ellettsville... It's, um... Right below Indianapolis. Been almost two years since we left now..." My voice trailed off, and Rick nodded in solumn understanding.

There was a short pause before Rick spoke up again, looking straight into my eyes. His tone was much more serious.

"Now, we get to the tougher questions... First, mind tellin' me what you were doin' spyin' on my prison?"

I hesitated for a second, trying to read him... I couldn't tell if he was angry or not. I sighed, realizing there was no way around this...

"Well..." I started out, slowly tracing invisible shapes onto the table top with my finger tip, "I honestly don't really know... I mean, yes, when we first set up camp, we saw this prison and we thought it was a goldmine... But you guys beat us to it, just barely."

I looked up from my invisible drawing to see Rick staring at me with intent interest. I took that as a sign to keep talking.

"I-I guess what I'm saying is... I was watching you guys because we were, um... You know, waiting it out."

"'Waiting it out'..." Rick repeated me slowly as he narrowed his eyes a bit, "...To see if we'd die. Am I right?"

My face flushed. That sounded so horrible... but it was true, so my body forced a nod.

"We would have moved on evetually.." I added in.

This was also true... My group and I were survivors, not pillagers. We held our own and took care of ourselves, only using force on the living only when absolutely needed.

Rick was silent for a moment, seeming to stare straight through me. He pursed his lips, deep in thought, before zeroing in on me again and diving right back into the interogation.

"So none of you know anything about those notes that showed up here..?" He asked skeptically, leaning a little closer across the table.

I quickly shook my head, feeling meek as a tiny mouse cornered by a hungry cat.

"No, nothing. We've never seen them before." I looked Rick straight in the eyes, praying he believed me.

I could tell he was taking advantage of my staring, studying my face and trying to read me, just like I had done to him a few minutes before.

I didn't mind him doing it, though. I had nothing to hide.

"And that woman...?" Rick extended his previous question, and I shook my head in response.

There was another long pause. Rick continued to stare, and I waited awkwardly.

Finally, his icey gaze softened and his shoulder released a little bit of tension.

"I don't think we have any problems here." Rick observed.

"You don't?" I asked, sort of dumbfounded.

I had almost expected him to take the innocent information I had given him and morph it into a conflict, giving him a reason to force us to hand over our weapons and supplies. We'd be dead then, for sure.

Rick shook his head.

"I'm good at readin' people, Miss Kayla," Rick informed me as he leaned his elbows on the table, "I'm a pretty good judge of character... Right and wrong, Good and bad..."

His voice was almost hypnotic as I listened to it.

"...And you, young lady... I gotta tell ya, I just don't see any bad in you, or your group. Is it just the five of you?"

"It's always just been us, since day one." I told Rick, feeling just a little more comfortable now, "I, um... I'm sorry we freaked you guys out like that."

Rick grinned at me.

"Well, I appreciate the apology." He said, "You'll have to excuse the way Daryl acted. He's... raw. Like you and your friends, Daryl's been by my side since the beginning of this mess, and he gets real protective. He'd die for this group, come close more than once," Rick rambled on about Daryl, and I found myself strangely fascinated.

"Daryl's got your typical tough guy, in your face, redneck I-don't-give-a-shit attitude, and he walks around here like he's got a problem all the damn time, but we all know he's got a good heart... So we just let him do it."

Daryl, a heart?? That sounded a little farfetched to me... But then again, I hadn't been traveling with him for over a year like Rick and his group had.

"You plannin' on stayib' around here?" Rick asked me, suddenly changing the subject.

"You mean our camp?" I replied with my own question, "I, uh... W-we can leave if you want, go down the tree line a few miles and set up camp there... If you'd be more comfortable."

I made my suggestion carefully, trying not to say the wrong thing. The last thing I wanted to do was piss off the man holding the only four people I had left in the world captive... Not to mention all the weapons and ammo we had collected over the past year.

"Well, if that's what you'd prefer, but it's not what I meant." said Rick as he ran his hand through his curly brown hair.

"I don't follow..." I admitted with slightly narrow eyes.

"Look," Rick began, "These notes showin' up all of a sudden, and that strange woman findin' her way here... That's not just a strange coincidence. I don't know, it's just got me thinkin'..."

I waited, watching his face change with his thoughts. He seemed to be debating something, or struggling to make a decision.

Suddenly, he pushed himself up from the table and began to pace a little bit. He put one hand on his hip, reaching up and wiping over his mouth and chin with the other... It seemed like a nervous habbit.

"It's got me thinkin'..." Rick picked up where he left off, "That this isn't someone's idea of a joke. Somebody out there wants what we have, and I think they're plannin' on tryin' to come take it. I can't be taking any chances, I've got my son here... And now my daughter..."

He gulped at the mention of his daughter, a look of fear and worry consuming his eyes. "I don't know who this 'G' person is, or how many people they've got on their side... So I need more people on mine."

Rick paused and turned to look at me. All the tension in his face was going straight to his eyebrows.

"I saw that bag of guns Daryl brought in... quite a collection. They all belong to your group?"

"Mhm.." I said back, "Took a while to get that many together."

"I'll bet.." Rick agreed, "Ya'll any good at using them?"

I gave him a confident smile, flashing my teeth.

"Well, of course." I stated matter-of-factly, "We're still alive, aren't we? Plus, we made it all the way to Georgia from Indiana."

This time, Rick was the one who smiled.

"That's a good point." He said, then layed his palms flat out on the table, "So, this is the deal I'm thinkin' of... You and your group can stay in this prison, there's plenty of cells up on the second level. Space isn't an issue."

My heart fluttered a bit. This was a huge offer... Shelter inside a barricaded, concrete prison? It was ideal now adays.

"But, if you do choose to stay, there'll be a three day probation period."

"Probation?" I repeated, tilting my head to the side a little.

"Yup. That means no weapons, no leavin' the prison lot beyond the fence, and at night you sleep in a holding cell, behind a locked door." Rick explained, "I don't mean any offense, I just have to make 100% sure you and your group are safe to have around my people... around my kids. Three days should be enough time."

"None taken." I assured Rick, "You have to do what's best for them... I get that."

"I'm glad you understand." Rick breathed, flashing me small, relieved smile, "And once those three days are up, you're all in the clear. You get your weapons back, and you're free to come and go as you please... Official members of our group."

Rick's eyes suddenly got dark. "But if you do anything, anything to defy my trust... That's it, deal's off. We keep your weapons, and you're back out there on your own."

I gulped, my eyes wide. That was a pretty big ultimatum... But we were trustworthy people. We'd be just fine.

"This goes entirely against my usual codes," Rick mumbled, "It's definately not every day I'm willing to take in even one extra body... But lord knows me we need more people to lean on around here... So what do ya say?"

I bit my bottom lip as a million thoughts raced through my mind. This certainly wasn't what I had been expecting while my group and I were being ushered into the cafeteria at gun point.

"Well, I have to talk to my brother about it," I said, "But I'm pretty sure we'll be staying."

"Not a problem." Rick obliged with a solid nod, "You have the right to talk it over."

With that, Rick motioned for me to follow him. So, I stood up, wincing at the soreness of my freshly bandaged wound.

He led me around the corner where I had seen Daryl disappear earlier, which led to a short hallway with a series of holding cells at the end.

I could see Glenn and Maggie, seated with their backs against the left wall, their guns at their sides. I figured they were supposed to be on guard duty... But they were slacking.

I watched as Glenn leaned in close to Maggie, placing a lingering kiss on her lips. They hadn't noticed Rick and I approaching yet.

Rick cleared his throat, causing the young couple to jump a little bit. They whirled around to face us, their eyes wide and cheeks red.

"Plannin' on givin' our guests a free show?" Rick asked them with a chuckle and a raised eyebrow.

I looked down at the floor for a second as they stammered for an answer. I thought about how nice it must be to have someone to love in this world.

I wondered if I'd ever find someone... I couldn't exactly use the phrase 'there's plenty of fish in the sea' to make myself feel better, either.

"I'm just kiddin',"'Rick assured them, "Just keep it PG. You got the keys, Glenn?"

"Oh, yea.." Glenn replied after clearing his throat. He searched through his vest pockets, pulling out a small silver ring with four seemingly identical keys dangling from it. "Here ya go."

Rick held his hand up, and Glenn gave the keys an underhand toss. They sailed through the air, landing gracefully in Rick's palm with a soft jingle.

The sheriff led me past Glenn and Maggie and up to the holding cell's door of steel bars. He located the correct key, and jiggled it into the lock.

"Kayla??" I heard Zach's voice call out hopefully, echoeing slightly and bouncing off the walls. I couldn't see him yet, though. Rick's tall, thin frame was blocking my view.

"He hasn't stopped asking about you." Maggie said from behind me, and I turned to see her smiling, "It's cute... You're lucky to have a brother like that looking out for you."

I felt my lips curve into the same smile Maggie was giving to me. She was a sweet girl.

"I know.." I replied softly.

At that exact moment, I heard the heavy metal lock of the cell door click. Rick held the door open for me, and he shut it behind me as I passes by. The lock clicked again.

With a final instruction for me to call him to unlock the door when we were all done talking, Rick retreated back down the hallway and around the corner with Glenn and Maggie in tow.

As they walked away, the members of my group shot up from their sitting positions around the cell.

As they made their way toward me, I glanced over into the joining cell. The African American woman lay unconcious on one of the cots, and her side was neatly bandaged... Hershel's work, no doubt.

"Kayla...!!" Jessie's relieved voice broke my gaze away from the woman, and back to my brother and friends. "I'm so glad you're okay..."

She gingerly embraced me, noticing the bandages around my midsection. When Jessie backed away, Tina was next in line, wrapping her frail arms around my neck.

"I'm perfectly okay," I said as I released Tina, "I'm... much better, actually."

Now, Zach approached me, seeming to examine my face. His eyes dropped down to the bandages, then traveled back up to my eyes. When he realized I wasn't distressed, the tension fell from his shoulders, and he looked a little confused.

"I'm fine, Zach," I assured my brother in a calm whisper, "Really."

"Soooo..." Danny suddenly spoke up from next to Tina, "What happened out there?"

"Not really much of anything... Hershel, the old man, fixed up this cut on my stomach... Then Rick and I talked; Rick's that guy in the cop uniform." I had to clarify names when they were mentioned, "And then he brought me back here... So here I am."

The four of them exchanged quizical glances. I waited for more questions.

"I'm confused..." Tina announced, but it was already written all over her face.

"Does that mean we're free to go?" Danny asked.

"Actually..." I slowly began, walking over to a cot and taking a seat, "I need to talk to you guys about that..."

-TO BE CONTINUED-