Daughter of a Dixon ✔️

23: The Prison

After that unforgettable night on the road, no one questioned Rick's leadership.

I didn't know if they were just scared, or actually trusted him, but whatever the reason, it was adamant from that night on; Rick was our leader. He told us where to go, what to do, and basically kept us alive.

And it remained that way for over eight and a half months.

We just drifted around from house to house, doing whatever Rick said we'd be doing that day. After awhile, everyone seemed to just fall into a routine, like we'd been doing it all our lives. We'd stay at a place for a few days, but as soon as we caught sight of any walkers, we'd get up and move out. It quickly got tiring, but I knew we were doing what was necessary to survive.

Then, on one, faithful spring day, Dad asked me to come hunt with him.

We weren't going far from where we were set up; we had decided to follow a set of railroad tracks, praying there was something worth finding.

We didn't have to walk too long before we actually found something.

As we were trudging along the train tracks, at one point, the trees surrounding them thinned, and opened up. From there, I caught sight of a little bit of hope for us.

There, directly in front of Dad and I, was a prison. It had two sets of tall, barbed fences, and a huge, well-protected building inside that. There were four watch towers on the corners of the fences, built up tall enough to see for probably miles. Although, there was one problem with all of that.

There were several walkers roaming the courtyard, and probably more inside.

But, a grin made its way across my face anyway.

"What're ya grinnin' about?" Dad asked, looking over at me.

I gestured to the prison, laughing incredulously. "It has fences, Dad, protection. If we clear out the walkers, make it safe... it can be a home for us."

"Well, a prison ain't really a place I'd call a 'home'," he said, scanning the place with his eyes. "And I'd know."

I furrowed my eyebrows and looked over to Dad. I don't remember him ever being in prison. He caught me looking at him, and we locked eyes for a mere moment before he cleared his throat uncomfortably, and looked towards the ground.

"I guess we should get back, tell everyone what we found," he muttered, already beginning to walk ahead of me. I watched him for a moment before jogging to catch up, coming to an even pace once I was next to him.

"Am I allowed to ask?" I questioned, quirking an eyebrow. There was no doubt that, by the way his face fell slightly, he knew what I was talking about.

"... It don't really matter anymore, does it?" he responded, shrugging.

That was subtext for a definite, "no." So, in response, I simply shook my head.

"No... Not at all... 'Cause, you're still a great Dad either way."

For some reason, after that statement, he stopped walking, and just looked over at me. Out of habit, I stopped too, and looked right back at him. My eyes immediately found his, and I saw them gleaming slightly. It could've just been the daylight bouncing off his blue eyes, but I had a feeling that it was something a little bit more.