Chasing Amy (Daryl Dixon/The Walking Dead)

Chapter 40 - Homely

"So..." Rick looked around as I walked back inside, the group clustered around him with arms full of bags and clothes that we'd left. As shameful as it was, I couldn't find it in me to wear anything other than the jeans I'd owned since before all of this, and the stupid t-shirt my brother found for me.

I'd washed my clothes many times, but there was a pretty obvious stink to it that came with the constant wear. And there was only so many times you could wash a shirt before the stains became part of the design.

"What do you think?" Rick asked. I looked around the dull grey block, taking in every inch of detail, to the cracked green paint job on the bars, the blood splatters on the walls of some cells... The cold rectangular bunk beds.

"Home sweet home," Glenn said, ducking his head as the sarcastic comment slipped from his lips.

"For the time being, yes."

"It's secure?" Carol spoke up, looking towards the leader as he wiped his hands down his jeans.

His facade of positivity was held plastered on his features, but I could only think it was a matter of time before he returned to the self-questioning, brooding, guilty-looking man he usually was.

"This cellblock is," He replied, his eyes wandering the building again as I slowly let out a huge breath. I may not have done much to help, but it sure was a huge feat.

"What about the rest of the prison?" Hershel gripped the strap of his shoulder bag, as he stepped forward.

"In the morning, we'll find the cafeteria and infirmary." His voice strengthened, echoing through the building as I shuffled on my feet.

"W-We sleep in the cells?" Beth asked, looking towards the dirty little rooms.

"I found keys on some guards. Daryl has a set, too." He held a whole bunch of keys in his hand, looking down to them.

"I ain't sleepin' in no cage." Daryl interrupted, his voice coming from the second storey. I'd forgotten he was even there, but as he looked down from the bars his eyes met with a few from below. "I'll take the perch."

Carl and I remained still, as the group dispersed in a rush to get the cleanest cells. Everyone went for the cells at the bottom, Carol immediately heading towards the closest bunk, near the metal barred doorway we'd all entered in. Beth headed off into her own cell, Hershel into his own, Maggie and Glenn finding one together. T-Dog went back through the doorway and into the dirty entrance area.

"Thank you," Lori said quietly to her husband.

It looked as though there was going to be an awkward situation to follow, so I quickly made my move for a cell.

There weren't many choices, with most cells being taken up by the others. Even Daryl was busy pulling a mattress from one of the upstairs cells, sliding it across the cement and pushing it onto the perch.

In fact, there were only three cells to spare on the bottom floor, and I was guessing Carl and Rick were going to be in the one closest to everyone else.

So I headed towards the direct end of the block, to where I'd taken out the roamer with my knife. It was one cell away from Rick's, but at least it wasn't right beside him.

I slowly peered inside the cell, my hand resting on the bar door as I pulled it open, taking in the sight before me.

In the cell was a toilet, a sink... Each as marked as the other with substances that I didn't even want to know about. Beside this was a small white desk, splattered with blood, with a metal stool placed in front of it, bolted to the floor.