Daughter of a Dixon ✔️

25: Blushing & Blaring Sirens

It took awhile, but eventually the rest of Rick's group returned from the cafeteria. Glenn told me that they had found some inhabitants of the prison, and Rick was, as Glenn put it, "interrogating them."

When the group finally came back, though, no one new was with them. I immediately went up to my Dad and asked him about the supposed prisoners.

"Glenn told me you guys found some new people?" I somewhat questioned, looking at him curiously as he polished his crossbow bolts.

"Yeah, we did," he said, somewhat emphasizing the last word.

"Okay... where are they?"

"Well, three are dead, and the other two we're keepin' in a separate cell block for now," he explained bluntly.

"Alrighty then," I mumbled, shrugging my shoulders.

Dad noticed my change of tone, and stopped what he was doing to look down at me. "They tried to get at us, Sid. They weren't any good, anyway; just a bunch of inmate-hoodlums."

"That doesn't make them bad people, Dad," I told him, shaking my head. "I got slapped with a ruler twice on my hands and put in the corner for thirty minutes in second grade because I stood up for Walter Cunningham. The teacher was shamin' him 'cause he was dirty, but Walter didn't have a shower at home. Now, I got in trouble, but does that make me a bad person? No, it doesn't."

"Sid, that ain't nowhere near the same thing," Dad said, chuckling quietly to himself and smiling.

"Okay, fine. Another example. You went to prison for some secret reason, and you ain't a bad person," I explained, shrugging my shoulders.

Dad chuckled. "Debatable," he murmured under his breath.

"How is it debatable? You're a good person, Dad, and an even better father," I told him, nodding my head.

He stayed silent for a minute before clearing his throat, and looking up to me. "Ya know, your story kinda reminds me 'a somethin'... I had a friend in school who was like 'at, always standin' up for people... her name was Bailey Hills. She-.."

"'She had the long, brown hair and the snaggletooth. I saved her from Johnny Paul Jason and Nat Pike on the swing set, and then she stood up for me in class when the teacher was pickin' on me. She invited me over for lunch, and from then on we always stood up for each other and were good friends'. I know, I know," I said, reciting what he always says when he talks about Bailey Hills.

I looked over to him, and saw that he was looking at me with narrowed eyes. "I've told you this before, ain't I?"

"More times than I can remember," I responded.

"Mmhm. Right," he said, returning to his arrows as he tried to fight a smile. After a few seconds, I thought I saw his cheeks begin to turn pink.

"You're blushin'," I said, teasing him.

He scoffed. "I don't blush, Sid. I ain't a damn schoolboy."

As he turned back to his arrows, I watched with a smirk on my face as his cheeks slowly began to darken further. And he knew it, too, because before too long, he looked up to me and sighed.

"Why are ya starin' at me like 'at?"

"'Cause you're blushin'."

He gave me a death glare, and I merely smirked in response. "Like I said, I don't blush. It's the heat, it's hot enough that the chickens are layin' omelettes."

"Mhmm, okay, Bashful, you go sing with Snow White, and I'm gonna go to the basketball court outside."

I gave him a sarcastic smirk as he continued to glare at me with harsh eyes.

With that, I turned and walked off with a smile on my face, heading out of the prison. I walked into the pavemented part of the courtyard, and rounded the corner of the prison until I found the basketball court. At the end of it, there was a small shed that was left cracked open. I walked over to it and opened it, pleased to find that it had a few basketballs in it. Most of them were flatter than a pancake, but it was still better than nothing.

I stood a few feet back from the goal and attempted to shoot the ball. To my dismay, it slammed against the rim and bounced off several feet back.

The following shots I took basically had the same outcome; apparently, I still wasn't tall enough to make a shot. I continued taking shots for awhile; I was able to make some, but only when I jumped up and shot the ball.

Then, as I was in the middle of shooting, a loud siren began to ring out from inside the prison. It was a blaring, obnoxious sound that probably could be heard from miles away. I immediately dropped the basketball in mid-shot, looking around warily.

As I suspected, I heard the familiar growls coming from around the corner.

I spun around quickly, drawing my knife, and saw that the walkers were coming from the entrance back into the prison. I was forced to run in the opposite direction, into a completely new part of the prison.

The first door I saw, I threw it open, ran inside, and slammed it shut behind me. I didn't know where I had gone, but I knew it was better than being stuck outside with a group of twenty-plus walkers. I pressed my back against the door for a minute, catching my breath and trying to get a feel for my surroundings.

The part of the prison I had walked into was almost completely dark, save for the light coming from underneath the doorway. I sighed as I looked around, beginning to carefully walk along the hall. Why was it that I was always alone in these situations?

The loud siren was still blaring outside; I had no idea what was causing it, but I hoped that it would be stopped soon. If it kept on going, it would attract walkers for miles, and that was the last thing we needed.

As I walked along the hallway, I noticed that it wasn't a normal cell block; instead of cells, there were metal doors, with only a dirty, tough glass window to see out of. I stood up on my toes and peeked into one of the rooms; it wasn't like the steel prison cells, this one was different.

This one was padded with some sort of softer material.

It was then that I figured out where I was, and my heart rate immediately increased. I had heard about padded prison cells from Uncle Merle; he was drunk one night, just rambling on and on about how some guy, a friend of his named Jack Wilson, got locked up in one because, in Uncle Merle's words, "the sumbitch didn't know how to keep his crazy ass-self in check."

He kept on talking about how you can never get out of those cells, that when you even enter the hallway the door slams shut behind you, and you're locked in forever. I didn't get to hear much after that, though, because Dad stepped in and told Uncle Merle to, "stop tellin' tall tales and get yer ass to bed." And then they tumbled around a little bit, fighting, before Uncle Merle passed out cold, and Dad toted him off to his room.

But, even if what Uncle Merle said was just a tall tale, I ran back to the entrance to the hallway just to be sure. Once I reached the door, I carefully turned the doorknob, and was pleased to find that it opened. Curious, I peeked out of the door. I wasn't surprised to see walkers still roaming the courtyard, the siren blaring loudly.

There was no way that I could take on that many walkers alone, so I had no choice but to close the door, trap myself inside the secluded hall, and wait it out.