The metal pole I thrust forward pierces the soft underside of the riot walker's jaw, causing it to crumple to the ground. Stepping on its chest for leverage, I yank the pole back out with a grunt, stumbling backward slightly, sweat dripping from my forehead. Jesus.

Panting, I turn to Glenn, Maggie, Rick, T-Dog, and Daryl, who have just finished their own kills, leaving the yard scattered with twice-dead bodies. "What now?" I question, wiping blood off my forehead with the back of my hand, disgust overcoming me. I feel like the outer layer of my skin is half walker blood, half dirt, and an extra quarter being sweat.

Rick glances around at my questioning, squinting in the bright morning light. "Let's try that building. C block," he suggests, nodding to the building to the left of us, closest to the yard, a large C on the side.

The six of us jog over, breaking down the door without difficulty, our weapons at the ready. Surprisingly, we don't need them. The vast building is void of walkers.

The huge room we cautiously enter has a little control tower against the back wall, overlooking the eight or so picnic tables scattered around. There's a small door to the left that leads into darkness, which Maggie doesn't waste any time closing, securing the room. To the right is a closed gate that leads to what looks like a two-story cell hall.

Daryl stalks slowly up the stairs to the guard tower, firing an arrow into the already dead guard's head. Wandering around the main room, I note the wide barred windows at the top of the walls and the useless phone station in the corner. On either side of the door, we entered are two large cages made with a chain link fence. I furrow my brows at the sight.

Despite the cold, brutalist, and seemingly uninhabitable facility we're in, that same bizarre feeling of hope flutters in me again. We really don't have to be on the run anymore. We actually found a place that we could make work.

I turn my head as Daryl calls out to us, jingling a large ring of keys in his spare hand. He tosses them to Rick, who tries a few keys on the gate to the cell hall until it finally unlocks with an echoing click.

The six of us spill into the lifeless cell hall, inspecting it carefully, our weapons drawn.

It's a narrow rectangular room with two stories of cells on one side and a wall with stairs and windows on the other. At the end of the hall is a door labeled 'BATHROOM' in faded letters. I duck into the empty and unsurprisingly disgusting room to confirm that it is in fact a dead-end and walker free.

As I walk out, grateful to be back in the better-smelling cell hall, I make eye contact with Rick, giving him the 'all-okay' nod to answer his questioning look.

"We should probably get the rest of them, huh?" Glenn suggests, slinging his shotgun over his shoulder. I nod in an agreement with the rest of the group.

"I'm sure they'll be grateful for the break from the sun, I know I am," T-Dog comments, and I have to agree. It's stuffy and humid in here, but much nicer than baking out there baking in the sun, unprotected.

Glancing over, I notice Rick is staring off into space, his face blank. My heart sinks at his exhausted expression. His eye bags are considerable, both dark and sunken. His eyes are cold as they gaze off into nothing. I thought he would be better, now that we found a place like he wanted for so long. He seemed happier about it yesterday at least. Maybe the reality of the difficulty of our cleaning out our new place is hitting him.

Rick suddenly snaps out of his trance-like state, glancing back at Glenn. "Yeah. Let's go," He agrees, and after a pause, we all turn to leave. Glenn walks out ahead, his arm around Maggie's shoulders, making me smile. At least they're happy.

I'm the last one to walk out of the cell hall behind Rick, who stops abruptly, causing me to bump into his back. He turns, gripping my forearm, his warm hand wrapping fully around my arm. My heart leaps to my throat at the sensation of his hand on me, my eyes flying to his.

For a second I'm taken back to my dream, where those eyes were questioning me. Then they were concerned, full of love. That image of his love in the warm light seems so stark against the reality of his dark and cold eyes boring into mine.

"Will this work?" He demands roughly, desperation written over his stressed face. I pause, not sure what he means.

"For Lori- is it enough-" He starts, his voice hoarse, those eyes burning into my soul. His expression is almost heartbreaking.

"Oh. Yeah. This will work. Hopefully, we can find some cleaning supplies. If I can fully sterilize a room and some tools-" I stop myself when I see his face, realizing I'm rambling. "Yes. It will work," I confirm simply, knowing that's what he needs. Rick nods to my words, dropping my arm before brushing past me.

Pushing past the sudden feeling of loss at the lack of touch, I give myself a moment before following.

"So... We're sleeping like prisoners?" Carol questions with apprehension, glancing around the cell hall with wariness. I drop some heavy bags at the entrance with a sigh, watching as the rest of our people check out their new home.

"Well, there are beds at least," Lori offers softly as she sits down gingerly on the bottom bunk of a nearby cell. I smile, handing her the prenatal vitamins she's been taking. It's good that she's being optimistic. For her and the baby.

My eyes linger on that stomach for a moment. I feel an overwhelming hope that this baby will survive. After all we had to do to keep it alive in her, to prepare, to bring it into the world. I don't know if Rick would be able to handle it if the baby didn't make it. It feels like I have incredible pressure on my shoulders to make sure it does live. It's hard, but I know I will be able to give the baby the best chance of surviving.

I'm jerked out of my thought at a loud noise, looking up to see its Daryl throwing down his stuff on the landing of the second floor.

"All I know is that I ain't sleeping in a cage," Daryl grunts as he plops down with a pillow to rest his head on. I snort lightly at him before turning back to Lori.

"Let me know if you need anything," I say softly to her with a smile, leaving her and Carol to talk alone.

As I scan the bottom floor cells, I can't help chuckling as Herschel basically shoves Carl away from sharing a room with Beth. I find a cell upstairs, a couple down the row from Glenn and Maggie with T-Dog in his own cell on the other side.

Standing in the doorway of my new room, I cringe at the stained mattress, flipping it over before tossing my bag on it. I sigh, dropping down on the bottom bunk beside my bag, cringing slightly.

There's definitely a... smell to this place. Not a nice one at that. I have to take a deep breath, reminding myself no matter how much I want to scrub down this downright repulsive room, I literally can't. And I have to live with that. This smelling but safe cell is a million times better than sleeping on the forest floor or jumping from abandoned house to abandoned house, exposed and at risk at all times. I'm glad Carl and Sophia have a secure place to stay. They deserve to have some stability in their lives.

It's a couple of hours later when Herschel, Rick, and Daryl lead the way through the dark, winding hallways with Glenn, Maggie, and I following in tow. We agreed to go exploring through the confusing hallways, hoping to find something resembling a cafeteria, armory, storage room, or infirmary. Honestly, anything that could be helpful. If the prison really has been secure since the turn as we suspect, we're bound to find some good stuff.

The six of us stalk through the winding halls carefully, our weapons drawn and at the ready. My heart pounds in my chest as we maneuver through the dingy and humid passageways.

I've been trying to create a mental map of our steps as we go. Though it's not easy when said steps are through a confusing tangle of identical hallways. The threat of danger at any moment doesn't exactly help either.

Rick silently leads us in the front, seeming especially determined. It's admirable for sure, his perseverance to keep his family safe. To provide for them. It doesn't make it any easier for me though. Just makes me long for a world where he cared that deeply for me. Loved me in that way. I look away from his dark figure ahead, focusing on my feet, my heart heavy and aching.

"Hey Cass, look," Glenn points out, nudging his head toward a door with a large sign on the door reading;

' Pharmacy - NO UNSUPERVISED INMATES ALLOWED UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES '

My heart leaps excitedly in my chest. "Oh great!" I enthuse, not wasting any time rushing over to inspect said door. I peek through a small window on the door, disappointed to only see a narrow hallway that turns abruptly, blocking anything interesting from my sight.

Trying to open the door, I turn the handle, pushing my whole body weight against it to no avail. The stubborn door still stands. It must be stuck on something. Next, I try throwing myself against the door with a grunt before Glenn ushers me out of the way only to not succeed himself. I hold back my snicker at Glenn's pained expression as he holds his shoulder.

"Alright, while you check that out, we're going to keep looking. I think those doors ahead are for a cafeteria," Rick tells us with a tired tone, and I nod, not allowing myself to look at him. I hear the three of their footsteps walk to the cafeteria leaving Glenn, Maggie, and I to struggle with the door. After a beat, I turn to watch the three of them leave, a strange feeling coming over me.

After a couple more of Glenn's body slams, Maggie eventually sighs loudly. "Oh God, just let me do it," She interrupts with an exasperated tone, making Glenn take a step back. Maggie smiles at him before turning and kicking the door right underneath the doorknob, making it slam open.

My eyebrows shoot to my forehead, thoroughly impressed. Maggie flashes a satisfied smile at us before walking into the pharmacy. I follow behind her with a proud grin, leaving a stunned Glenn behind.

The three of us maneuver around the narrow waiting area for inmates to collect their prescriptions before getting to the back. It's a small pharmacy counter, but with a protective wall of chainlink fencing to stop prisoners from getting back to the stockpile of drugs.

After pushing open the luckily unlocked gate, the three of us spill into the back of the pharmacy, scouring the shelves for anything useful. I wrack my years of medical knowledge for answers as I read endless labels, trying to remember what each drug name is, what they do, and their potential side effects.

"Aha!" I enthuse as I squat down to pull out a large bottle of painkillers from a dusty bottom shelf. Perfect. I turn the large bottle in my hands, brushing off the stubborn layer of dust and grime.

"What's that?" Glenn asks from somewhere in the shelves.

"It's a common painkiller-"

"No. What's that noise?"

Pausing, I stand up straight, straining my ears for a moment, trying to hear what he's talking about. The sudden and gut-wrenching groan of a walker echoes around the room, making us collectively jump back as it abruptly stumbles around the corner, headed right for our cage of drugs.

Screaming, Glenn runs forward and slams the gate, stopping the thrashing walker from getting to us. I jump back, holding my hand to my pounding heart.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit" I chant, gasping in fear as dozens of walkers pile into the small room, trapping us. Maggie rushes to help Glenn hold back the door, securing the lock for us, stepping back quickly.

"Rick!! Daryl!! Walkers!" Glenn screams with cupped hands. My hand comes up to my forehead in dread, hoping with all my being that they heard him.

Suddenly feeling lightheaded, I slump against the back wall, covering my face as I try to calm my breathing. Being trapped in a tiny metal cage while walkers barrage against our only escape isn't exactly my type of fun.

Claustrophobia has always been one of my weaknesses- not specifically small spaces but in places where I know I'm trapped. It makes another shudder go down my spine at the thought.

"Maggie?!" Herschel's faded voice calls out desperately from down the hall, drawing the walkers attention. A few of them moan, turning around at the noise.

"Daddy no! We're okay! Just get to safety!" Maggie shouts back, just as Herschel lets out a scream of pain. My stomach lurches, making me I jump up, my heart thundering in my ribcage.

"Daddy!" Maggie screams, banging against the cage to draw the walkers back to us. The sound of two doors shutting echoes through the hall, the groaning and gurgling of the walkers starting to die down.

The three of us just stand there for a moment, straining our ears. Maggie sobs quietly beside me, her face contorted with concern.

Then another scream, faded now. A twinge of relief that he's not dead flows through me, replaced quickly with a surge of worry. That was a scream of real pain. Extreme pain.

Maggie holds her hand to her mouth, slowly crumbling to the floor in a mess of tears. Glenn crouches down, bringing her into his body for comfort. Maggie cries against him, her mouth frozen open mid-sob.

I realize I can't stand it. Not when Herschel is hurt and I can possibly help him. Determination surging through me, I slowly turn in the small room, attempting to find a weapon to use. A gun isn't an option in this tiny cage, the gunshot alone would rupture our eardrums, it's not worth it.

On the back wall, I spot some old metal shelves holding up medicine bottles and informational signs. In a strange jolt of strength, I rip off the poorly hung up shelves, grunting as I stumble backward.

Inspecting the thin and rusty metal in my hands, I realize how easy it is to bend. Twisting the cheap metal together, I mold it into a sharp, spear-resembling shape. Turning it in my hands with a sense of satisfaction, I meet the confused stare of Glenn, Maggie's face still burrowed into his chest.

"Look. I'm not going to stay here while Herschel is out there, hurt. It's my responsibility to help him," I explain, anxiety twisting in my chest. Maggie looks up through hopeful and watery eyes.

Stepping forward with purpose, I start to skewer the walkers right outside the fence. My makeshift stake pierces through the endless rotting skulls as they begin to drop one by one.

My arms are beginning to feel like lead as I kill off the last few walkers with Glenn's help. I lower my spear with a sigh, grimacing at the overwhelming smell of the spilled walker blood overwhelming the room.

"Thank you," Maggie says to me genuinely, pulling open the gate and rushing out, clambering over the walker bodies, her gun drawn for any stragglers. Glenn and I follow her, our poles still at the ready.

After banging and screaming through the double doors of the cafeteria, Rick finally rips open one of the doors. Maggie pushes past him, gasping at the state of her father. He's lying in the middle of the dirty cafeteria floor, his lower half covered in blood. My heart breaks at the sickening sight.

Turning, I gape at the equally blood-covered Rick, who is breathing laboriously, staring me down with an unfamiliar look behind his eyes. Furrowing my brows incrediously at him, I silently demand an explanation. He grabs my forearm, pulling me back from the rest of the group.

"We had a situation." He says lowly, making my skin prickle at his serious tone, those blue irises burning into mine.

"Clearly, what the hell happened?" I question, sparing a glance back at the unconscious Herschel and his crying daughter beside him. My stomach drops when I finally notice half his right leg is gone.

I whip my head around to face Rick, my heart hammering. "He got bit, and I had to amputate-" Rick breathes roughly. My hand shoots to my mouth, my stomach twisting unpleasantly. I push myself away from Rick, immediately going to check Herschel's wound.

I peel back the used shirt wrapping his stump. Inspecting the cut, wincing at the rough and jagged amputation, the skin and muscle splintered.

Luckily there's no sign of infection. And Rick was smart enough to tie a tourniquet so Herschel didn't bleed out. Securing the t-shirt back on carefully, I turn to Rick.

"We need to get him back. Now," I order with my doctor voice, making him nod once.

Rick, Glenn, and Daryl take him back to his cell, carrying him haphazardly down the halls. I dart back into the pharmacy to grab some essentials.

Hours later I'm monitoring Herschel's vitals while Beth holds his hand, staring at his unconscious form, tears streaming silently down her face.

Luckily, I was able to drug him and go back in to correct the amputation. Rick did the best with what he had, but if Herschel wants to be able to walk on it again, I needed to fix it.

I'm putting away my BP cuff when Herschel suddenly lurches forward with a guttural groan, his eyes wide, arms flailing wildly. Beth and I jump to our feet, immediately trying to calm him down.

"Hey! Hey, it's okay!" I shout struggling against his thrashing form.

"Dad please!" Beth cries loudly and he slightly calms.

"Wh-What happened? Where-" Herschel starts, his eyes desperately searching his daughter's face. Her expression crumples, her chin wobbling. My heart aches for her.

I clear my throat. "Herschel, I need you to look at me, okay?" I ask calmly, making him blink over at me. "There was an accident. Do you remember being bit?" I question him, my grip on him taught against his moving body. A wave of emotion crashes through his face, and he stills.

"Rick had to amputate below your knee, and you passed out. I'm so sorry Herschel, but you have no signs of infection and I believe you will be able to walk again," I add, trying to soften the news. He props himself up to look at his legs, crying out at his stump on the right, covered in fresh bandages.

I wince, my heart shattering. Seeing someone I care about in pain is never easy. It wasn't as hard when I could detach from my patients who were strangers. Not as easy with the man who survived alongside me for the last 9 months. Who showed compassion and offered wisdom when we thought we had lost everything when it was his farm that was destroyed.

I excuse myself, letting him have a moment with Beth. She talks to him as I walk away through the cell hall, collapsing onto one of the picnic tables in the main room.

Running my hands over my face with a heavy sigh, I thank whatever power above that the bite was low on a limb. An amputation is life-changing... but in this world, it's lucky compared to the other option.

"I'm sorry"

My head snaps up in confusion to see Rick as he sits down across from me. He still looks so tired. I don't think he's slept a hour since being here.

"What are you apologizing for?"

"Herschel. I shouldn't have let him get out the doors. He thought he heard Maggie scream and-"

"Hey- you can't blame yourself for that. He's just a father who wanted to protect his daughter. You did a good thing, thinking on the spot like that. You saved his life. You know that right?" I question expectantly, making him reluctantly meet my expectant gaze and nod his head once, looking down again.

He sighs, bringing a hand to his forehead, rubbing his temples. "Have you slept at all?" I ask, tilting my head, making those dull blue eyes meet mine.

"Barely." He responds gruffly, not that he needed to, the bags beneath his eyes are telling enough. "Between trying to help Herschel and make sure Lori and the baby are okay- I can't take a break," He breathes, shuffling on his seat.

I frown slightly, feeling pity for him. Being our leader and soon to be a brand new father must be exhausting. I know he puts a lot of pressure on himself to take care of all of us. Especially his family.

"Speaking of, where is Lori? It's about time I should check on her vitals," I say, glancing at my watch and then around the block, trying to spot her.

"Oh, her, Carl, and Maggie went for a walk. Lori said she wanted to shake off a strange feeling," Rick mumbles tiredly, not looking up.

I furrow my brows, glancing at the door. Thinking for a moment, a horrible thought crosses my mind. "What kind of feeling?" I ask, my stomach beginning to twist with dread.

"She said she felt some pressure and nausea. I think she said it was probably because it's so stuffy in here. I don't remember honestly," Rick mutters.

My heart starts to pound, anxiety pumping through my veins. "Rick. Why didn't she come to me?" I demand angrily, making his head snap up, worry written over his face at my tone.

"What- I-"

"She is due any minute and she didn't come to me?" I shout with disbelief, pushing off the table, the feeling of dread only growing.

"You were busy with Herschel, she didn't want to bother you! What is going on?" Rick questions with panic, standing up himself.

"Your wife is going into labor, Rick! Where is she?!"

We clamber off the picnic benches, running to the main door he said they went out of. The second his hand touches the handle, alarms blare loudly from speakers lined around the walls. Rick rips his hand off like it's been burned, looking around in confusion. There's no way he just set it off if they already left out through this way.

I rip the door open, the bright daylight blinding me for a moment. My stomach drops when I realize the alarms are blaring in every building, inside and out. I hear distant walker groans, probably attracted to our alarms shouting "Hey!! We're over here! Please come eat us!"

My eyes scour the empty yard, feeling hopeless. "Rick! We have to turn these goddamn alarms off!" I scream, my voice barely coming through over the deafening siren.

Thankfully Rick can hear me, nodding. He points to a building we haven't been in yet, with labels reading "Dean's office", "Laundry", and "Generators". That must be it. If some backup generators randomly kicked on, it could have set off the alarm. Especially if the last thing that was going down when they had power, like a riot, had alarms going off.

After running back to our block, grabbing weapons, and spreading the news to the rest of the group, we set off to the smaller building.

As we run back out into the yard, walkers begin to stream out from buildings we haven't secured yet, and Rick and I barely make it into the new building, slamming the door behind us.

We pause in the dark hallway for a moment, glance at each other, then we turn to find these damn generators.

Rick and I slowly stalk through the passageways, the alarms continuing to blare on the walls, occasionally lighting up the hallways with their strobing light. My heart hasn't stopped pounding as we try to search the building. If we can do that, turn off the alarm, then I can find Lori and make sure she's okay. It would be suicide to try now when there are all these walkers around.

Rick walks forward with purpose beside me, determination written on his expression, erasing any traces of the exhausted man I saw only a little bit ago. The way he just switches is almost scary.

On our way, we have to take out at least a dozen walkers. It's something out of a horror movie. Slowly walking through dark hallways, only lit up by momentary flashes of light, facing countless undead people as they throw themselves towards us.

Seemingly hours later, Rick and I finally find the generator room, at the end of a hall, all lit up. After gingerly opening the door, I sigh with relief when I spot the shaking generator, its control panel blinking. We were right.

Rick doesn't waste any time, heading straight for the control panel, messing with the buttons. I'm watching his process carefully until I get thrown across the room, slamming into a machine.

As my body slams against metal, stars explode behind my eyes making me cry out in pain. I hear a faint "Cass!" as my vision pulses in and out between consciousness. Gunshots awaken me from a daze I didn't realize I had fallen into, and I clumsily clamber to my feet, swaying slightly, holding onto the machine next to me as support.

The blurry scene sways in front of me. Rick fighting two walkers in prisoner uniforms, struggling against them. But they're not... trying to bite him? Blinking rapidly, I realize those are in fact, not walkers but fully alive prisoners.

Shaking past my shock and lingering head injury, I fumble with my gun on my hip. I let out a breath as I calculate the possibilities I'll actually hit the prisoners attacking Rick and not him.

My vision, still blurry, is far too unreliable. Instead, I aim for a pipe just above the prisoner's heads, shooting and hoping that it could contain steam or some sort of substance to stop them and give Rick an upper hand.

Weirdly enough, after I squeeze the trigger, one of the men collapses. The tussle between Rick and the other prisoner falters. They look at me, slumped against a rusted machine, panting, and holding my gun limply in one hand.

Taking the opportunity of the prisoner's shock, Rick slams the barrel of his gun into his head before shooting him in the head once. He turns back to the generator, shoots the panel a couple of times, and the headache-inducing alarm finally stops, the room abruptly becoming silent and dark. My ears ring in the harsh lack of noise, feeling more disoriented than before.

Blinking in the pitch-black room, a pair of strong hands guide me out. "How did you manage to do that?" Rick demands as he escorts me out, and as I struggle to walk with him, I begin to feel a bit better.

"Well I didn't know what the pipe was full of, I guess I just got lucky," I answer simply, trying to explain myself.

"What are you talking about? You shot that prisoner square in the forehead." Rick claims, readjusting his grip around my waist as he continues to guide my slumped form through the halls.

"I did? huh. I was not aiming at him."

"Good god. I should really revoke your gun privileges." Rick grumbles breathlessly.

Yeah probably.

We finally make it back to the yard, Rick no longer needing to help me out as I start to feel better. As we emerge, my eyes search the yard, struggling in the bright light. There are only a couple of leftover walkers who wandered out because of the alarms.

Rick and I take out the stragglers as we move back towards C, looking for any trace of Lori as we go. Once we cleared it, I turn to Rick with my hands on my hips.

"Okay, where do you think they would be-" I start, stopping myself as I hear a door slam. After glancing at each other for a second, Rick and I set off in a sprint. Well, he sprints as I struggle to keep up behind him.

We round the corner, stumbling to a stop when we see two figures emerging from D block. Squinting through the setting sun, I realize its Maggie and Carl. As they slowly walk towards us, my stomach sinks when I see it. My knees wobble, my balance faltering. It could be because of my recent injury, or because of what it means.

"No." Rick breathes beside me, tilting his head to the side in disbelief, his face crumpling in distress.

Carl stumbles towards us, his t-shirt stained with blood, Maggie behind him, holding a crying baby in her arms.

The lingering hope that Lori's laying somewhere, alive, dies in me when Carl just shakes his head, looking down.

It feels like my heart has been ripped out as Rick falls to his knees beside me, crying out for his wife.