Hello everyone! :)

I want to sincerely apologize for the 7-8 month long hiatus. I always wanted to try and keep this story updated as much as I could manage, but unfortunately with a full college course-load, my job, and other family-related issues, I've had absolutely no time to sit down and articulate a proper chapter ... until now that is! For this chapter, I really wanted to play around with some of Casey's growing interactions with the member's of the main cast. That being said, I actually found the majority of this chapter to be fairly difficult to get out of my head, and found myself getting stuck in a couple different parts. Hopefully this chapter still meets your expectations!

Oh. My. God. Thank you all so, so, so much for 146 followers! This is amazing, I'm ecstatic! :D I hope you're all still hanging on with the story, and if you are, you deserve some sort of medal, I swear. I'm so thankful for each and everyone of you for leaving a favorite, a review, and of course, for following the story! I hope I don't disappoint with my future chapters and I hope that I can get back into the groove of updating as much as I possibly can. Sadly, it does takes me quite awhile to write out a good, long chapter because of how I'm trying to stretch out the story, but I will be updating more now that college is FINISHED. That's right boys and girls, I'm officially done! :D

Now, on to the story! Thanks in advance for reading; it's a long one! Over 11,000 words! I hope you enjoy!

-D

Disclaimer: I do not, nor have, nor ever will own anything related to the label of the Walking Dead. That all belongs to the rightful owners.

Chapter Fourteen: Corridors

It was early when she woke up the next morning. She could tell from the way her body hurt, the crick in her neck and the aching pain in her lower back. She could also tell in the way her mind felt still unrested, despite the fact she slept for a good seven hours. Casey was grumpy too; not one person had done anything to make her angry and yet she was already pissed. The sun hadn't yet risen, but the faintest shimmer of dawn's light made the world less shrouded in navy darkness. Casey groaned and moaned and tried to stretch out and make herself fall back asleep, but no matter how much she tossed and turned, she couldn't find a comfortable spot to fall back into slumber.

She was agitated now, and decided that she was going to at least get up and do something instead of just laying in bed like a bump on a log. She flipped off her blanket in a huff, jerking back into the bed when the cold air hit her. It had cooled off quite a bit during the night, she now realized. Casey grabbed the burgundy pullover of Ryan's she had once used as a pillow and pulled it over her head to protect her from the morning chill that raised goosebumps along her skin. Then, she shimmed her way down from her top bunk. Casey was careful to land on the balls of her feet so she wouldn't wake Ryan up. She gave him a quick glance-he was just a pile of blanket, only the top of his jet-black hair was visible-before she shoved her feet into her boots, tried to brush off the dust and caked on mud that resided on her jeans, and grasped for her hunting knife to shove into the sheathe at the belt loop of her pants. Her braid had unwoven itself throughout the night, and she allowed her mane of mud-hued hair to flow freely down her back, not bothering to brush through the greasy locks. Casey checked on Ryan once more, making sure she hadn't managed to rip him from his rest, before she pushed her way past the iron door to the outside world. She ground her teeth together when the metal door made noise as she moved it.

The hallway was even more chilly than her cell had been, and she was glad she had stolen Ryan's sweater. She wrapped her arms around her torso as she walked down the hall, appearing from under the concrete stair well into the main area of the cell block. It was still as dirty and and disheveled it had been when she had went to bed, still littered with mess. She could see that Rick really had slept in the spot that he had talked to her the night before, his head drooped so his chin touched his chest, dark hair dull in the dim light. Casey was careful to tip toe past the leader of the group, craning her stiff neck to see if her brother was still located on the perch. It was only when she saw the rise and fall of Daryl's poncho, she breathed out again, allowing herself to relax.

The angry sound of metal screeching against concrete sounded through the air, as hesitant as Casey's door had shrieked as well. Casey whipped her head back around, facing forward, stopping dead in her tracks. Subconsciously, her right hand twitched toward the hilt of her knife, fingers tingling. Casey took a moment to remind herself that it wasn't just her and Ryan again, that there were more people that inhabited the prison before she managed to place her aching hand back at her side. A shock of dark hair, cut close to her chin ... It was Maggie, squeezing her way through the crack between the wall and the iron barred door, giving Casey a small smile when they locked eyes. She was dressed in only jeans and a tank top, her sweater wrapped around her waist, and Casey could see she was shuddering against the cold, despite her warm smile. The other girl approached Casey once she had gotten past the door. It was obvious to even Casey that Maggie still felt the camaraderie that had managed to bloom between them the day before, when they had been protecting each other's sides against the hordes of the dead. Maggie motioned to put a hand on Casey's shoulder, but Casey's arms remained still, wrapped around her torso.

"'Mornin'," Maggie murmured once she was in earshot. She retracted her offered hand, opting to put it at her side. "How'd you sleep?"

Casey shrugged her shoulders. To be honest, she had slept better on the hard, cold ground before. "You?"

"Not bad. I'm an early riser though, so I don't sleep much." Maggie shrugged her shoulders too. Then, she reached behind her, fiddled with something for a few moments, and then retracted her hands back. She had some sort of a breakfast bar in her hands, a granola or oat square of some kind. She tore at the wrapper with her delicate fingers for a few seconds, then broke the square in half. Maggie held out half to Casey, her expressive eyes showing nothing but hospitality. "Hungry?"

"Thanks," Casey muttered. Her stomach grumbled in agreement, and she took no time nibbling at the edge of the oat square. It didn't taste good, but she could swallow it down at least. There were a few moments of awkward noise, only the sounds of both girls chewing, before Casey swallowed and decided she wasn't going to have the weirdness sit between them any longer. But before she could try and formulate something to say, she could hear the sound of metal protesting against the ground once again, and this time, murmuring and mumbling accompanied it. Everyone was waking up now, it seemed, as even when she turned to glance back up at the perch, she could see Daryl's poncho moving around and shifting. She knew she only had a few moments before her breakfast would be ruined, so she shoved the rest of the bar into her mouth, ignoring Maggie's uncertain gaze as she did.

It took a few minutes, but soon everyone was convening in the main area of the cell block. First it was Rick who got up from his dirty place against the wall, stretching his legs out and pacing toward them, nodding first to Maggie, then to Casey, who only chewed the remaining part of her breakfast bar with even more gusto. Then it was Glenn, with his tussled hair and sleepy gaze, who joined them, coming behind Maggie to rest his weary head on her shoulder, a small smile directed toward Casey. Then shortly after that it was Beth and Carl, both of them bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready for the day's work ahead of them. They were already chattering up and storm, and Carl was quick to rush over to Casey's side, greeting her and asking how her day was. Casey ignored his questions and pointed to her mouth as she still chomped at the dry grains. Hershel and Carol tagged behind with Lori, who had stayed up in the cells on the top floor, and they patiently waddled down the stairs with her, slowly but surely. Lori's eyes never left her son's head to make sure that he was still doing okay. T stayed on the top floor instead, watching the group gather below him with distant eyes, only stopping to stare, albeit full of guilt and uncertainty, at Casey for a split second before he continued to glance over the area. Daryl and Ryan were last to join the group; Daryl jumping down from his perched spot, poncho flapping wildly, while Ryan finally emerged from the cell, rubbing the crusty sleep out of his eyes like a small child. He flanked her on the other side, opposite to Casey's new found shadow, Carl. Ryan gave her a small, almost shy smile, and she glanced away from him in return. They hadn't spoken since the kiss, as when she had returned to the cell after talking with Rick he had already fallen asleep, and right now wasn't the best time to be thinking about things like that.

"Everybody sleep alright?" It was Hershel who broke the following quiet. There were murmurs of affirmation, while Casey nodded and then, finally, swallowed the mush that had become the breakfast bar.

"Good," Rick responded, obviously taking control of the conversation. "Today's a big day; I want us to gather supplies and get ready to explore the rest of the prison. There's no sense in pushing forward for an infirmary and such if we haven't scavenged what we've already secured. I also want to try and get these bodies moved." Rick motioned to the corner of the cell block, where Casey had almost forgotten there was a huge pile of actually dead people. She must've gotten used to the rancid smell of rotten blood and moldy flesh. That sent a shudder down her spine, but she didn't hesitate to ignore it as Rick began speaking again. "I want Ryan, Glenn and Maggie to move th' bodies into the court yard, and gather the ones outside too. They can stay there until we figure out what to with them. Hershel, T, Daryl, Casey and I will gather supplies from the bodies out in the court yard. Lots of them were guards; we should be able to get tools like flashlights and guns off of them. The rest of you, I'd like you to stay put. See what you can gather from the cells. We'll meet up again before we go farther into the prison."

Even though she understood some of what Rick's thinking was when it came to his actions, she still bristled when she heard her name being called with his group. She still didn't appreciate being babied like that, being watched like a hawk just in case she decided to snap-

"You've got to be kidding me." Carl's voice made Casey jolt out of her thoughts for a second. She glanced down at the boy, who was obviously angry. Casey had to give him credit where credit was due; the youngest of the group was ready to help in anyway possible, even if that meant trying to defy his father's wishes. He had guts, she could tell that much. "I can help-"

"No." Rick was quick in his response and quite frankly, his tone of voice was a little bit jarring to everyone in the room. Even Casey felt an instinctive urge to feel bad for the way Carl's father had snapped on him. "We'll meet back here in a half an hour."

Carl obviously felt the gravity of his father's words, because the boy made no move to argue any farther with the elder man. She could see his face falling into a pout, disappointment marring his features.

It was only a few moments until everyone broke off into their respective groups. Carl, Beth, Carol, and Lori were moving towards each other, Lori's voice already breaking through the shuffling silence in order to get her group's attention. Casey couldn't help but think that the poor woman was going to explode, her stomach was so big. The baby must be due at any time. Ryan gathered together with his brother and Maggie, Glenn already formulating a plan in order to effectively deal with the bodies that had been ostracized in the corner, something about burning them outside if they were able to find enough spare fuel in the coming days. Even so, Casey didn't fail to notice the longing gaze Ryan had when he realized he wasn't going to be spending any time with her in the near future. Rick and Daryl were quick to encircle her, Rick's hand impatiently grasping at the butt of his gun, Daryl shifting so that he was able to cock his crossbow into his hands. He merely nodded to her a good morning, and she returned it with the arch of an eyebrow. Hershel then joined them, his white hair gleaming in the sunlight that was breaking through the cell block. Meanwhile, T descended the stairs, rolling his head side to side as he approached her, Casey side stepping to let him into the circle. She noticed he had some sort of beam in his hands, a weapon, she presumed. It looked very similar to a fire-poker, sharp with a lethal end.

"I want to find anything of use," Rick explained, already speaking even as T was joining the conversation. "Anything. If you aren't sure what to grab, grab everything. I don't want to miss something that might be helpful. T, Daryl, Casey, you three will be one group, while Hershel an' I the other. Just holler if there are any problems, okay?"

Casey bristled once more, her already agitated state turning into uneasy, shadowed fury. When she had been originally told the story, Casey's anger had been swift and judgmental, but Daryl's ever-clear words had been quick to calm her. Although they had calmed her at the time, it had been severely bugging her as to why her brother had been so calm about the whole scenario, and how, for some reason, she didn't see any obvious grudge toward T. Now, with the situation practically served to her on a silver plater, there was no way she wasn't going to confront T. According to what Daryl had told her, T was the one that had screwed Merle over in Atlanta, left him for dead. He was the one that had ensured that she wouldn't see her eldest brother. Didn't Rick realize that T was the one that had put the cuffs on Merle? Didn't Rick realize that she was certainly going to have a word with him? T was going to explain what exactly had-

"Let's move," Rick ordered. It broke her out of her seething thoughts almost instantly, but a twitching, mocking smile itched at her lips.

And with that final word, the group finally began making their way to the outside. They traveled back out the way that they had first came in, Rick leading, with T behind him, clasping the steel bar that he had brought with him down the stairs. Daryl was next in line, his fingers prepared to pull the trigger of his crossbow, his blue-green eyes locked forward. Hershel trailed behind her, giving her enough room to bolt if she needed to, but he was never more than three steps behind her. Casey hated to admit it, but she felt unsettled with the elderly man behind her; he should be in the middle of the group, protected in case something decided to dart out at him fast. He would only bring her down with him if something happened-She didn't get to think about it anymore, as they moved through the main iron door of the cell block, into the dirty and grimy common area with the heavy tables and lime scaled windows. It still smelt stagnant, still utterly still, just as they had left it. She almost wondered, for a brief second, if they were going to clean it up soon. Through that silent area to the next barred door, then finally to the thick metal door that had shrieked when they had pulled it open the first time. This time, Rick had to yank at it a few times before it finally broke open, brightness streaming in and blindly Casey momentarily before she ducked behind her brother's shoulders so she would be able to see properly.

The air hit her almost instantly, and Casey drew a deep breath in. She had almost forgotten what fresh air smelt like, so clean and so-She almost gagged. The smell of rotting flesh had hit her nose, and bile lapped up at her throat. She hadn't been prepared, and was surely feeling the repercussions of it. The bodies in the cell block hadn't had the sun beating on them for half a day, so the smell was something that could've been pushed to the back of her mind. This, however, could not. The sun's warm rays had only intensified the smell into a hurricane scent worthy of vomiting. She wasn't the only one who had fell victim to the smell; she heard Rick cough a bit, and T swallow hard. They pressed forward anyways, leaving the door open so that Ryan's group would be able to easily get the bodies in and out. They ended up piling into the courtyard one by one, stepping over a few of the corpses until they were almost in the center of it, able to get a good look at everything around them. It looked the same as the day before, still piled with dirty garbage and bits of improbably salvageable mess, but with more bodies than she had originally thought. Guess she hadn't really been keeping tabs on it either.

Hershel had heard her choke back her bile; his concerned voice resonated beside her. "You alright?"

She nodded only once. She turned her head so that she could gauge his reaction, and she almost snorted at the twisted face Hershel had when he too, had finally gotten a whiff of it. He looked utterly disgusted with what the world had come too.

"At least they won't be able to smell us," T muttered under his breath. He was clutching his weapon with worried hands.

"Let's just get this done," Rick said. He motioned for Hershel to follow him. He was heading towards the opposite side of the courtyard, the side with the large sliding, chain-link gate that they had ran through when they first had wanted to break into the prison.

Daryl cocked his head the other direction, watching after Rick carefully before glancing back to T and Casey. It was obvious he was thinking along the same lines she had only minutes before, because his raspy voice broke through the following silence. "Case, listen 'ere, don't you be startin'-"

"I just want an explanation, that's all," Casey fumed, and she swiveled on her heel to look at T. She was lying; in truth, she wanted to beat the man for what he had done. It was then did she realize, once again, how infuriating her height was to her; she barely stood up to T's chin, and she knew she probably looked like an angered child to him because of it. "So explain. And don't you dare play dumb with me."

T sighed, and Casey thought she could actually see relief in his dark eyes. "We never got along. I don't think anybody really liked him, 'cept for-" When Casey shot him the darkest look she could manage, he stuttered over his words and then continued, "B-but, we uh, when we were in Atlanta ... he took it too far. Was talkin' about not taking orders from a nigger."

Casey had to look away for a moment. There were quite a few things she and Merle had in common-insanely short tempers, loud mouths that got them into trouble, and a horrific grin of enjoyment when causing mischief-but Casey could never quiet understand Merle's hate for anyone who wasn't of his race. She thought it was stupid of him, and she honestly had a feeling that it was something that had caused the two of them to not be as close as they probably should have been, given how similar they were-that and Daryl always said that they didn't get along because they were so similar. When she was younger, she had made sure to correct him or yell at him when he had used racial terms like that. She sighed for what seemed like an eternity before returning to glare at T for only a split moment, and then focused on the corpse that was closest to her feet. It was an officer of some sorts, with a pungent smell wafting from the face-down body, crimson blood matted in it's short hair. She quickly took to patting the sides of the corpse's legs, trying to feel for anything that might be of use. Daryl must've sensed that everything would be fine, or at least, that she had managed to simmer her temper a bit, as he walked a few feet away to pillage the next closest corpse. He still kept a close eye on her, though, and Casey was thankful for that. If she did snap, at least Daryl would be able to intervene.

T bent down to help her, grasping the body and shifting it so that she would be able to empty the pockets on it's vest and pants better. "He beat the shit out of me until Rick managed to handcuff him to the roof. Rick gave me th' key and when the rest of the group went to go find a proper way out of Atlanta, I was in charge of watchin' over him. The horde was coming in fast and I panicked. I was gonna leave him up there, I was, but I felt too bad. I turned back to unlock him and I dropped th' key. In a hole. A grate. I had no choice but to leave him up there. I padlocked the door so the geeks wouldn't get him, though."

Casey grasped a flashlight out of the guard's vest pocket, and stole the hand-held gun that had bounced on it's belt when T had moved it. She passed the gun to T's awaiting hands as soon as she was finished. Otherwise, the corpse was picked cleaned. She and T moved on to the next body, another guard of sorts, as T continued to talk. Out of the corner of her eye, Casey could see Ryan and Glenn shuffling through the main doors into the prison, carrying a slumped body between them."He ... He must've found the saw I had accidentally left behind. Th' crazy bastard had sawed off his own hand by the time we went back for him. Cauterized th' stump on a stove, too. And I know he got out of Atlanta; he stole the van we took. But, we ... haven't seen him since." When Casey didn't offer him any words in response, he was quick to continue, "I ... I felt so bad. I'm ... I'm sorry."

On one hand, Casey felt relieved. Relieved that she had finally heard it from T, that she had heard the story from the source. She knew that he spoke the truth, for Daryl had already told her that Merle had managed to escape from the roof top and was most likely alive somewhere. She was relieved but sad but angry all in the same breath. She was sad, horribly upset because she didn't know if Merle actually was alive. Yes, there were many times they didn't get along, and sure, she definitely wasn't as close with Merle as she was Daryl. But he was still her brother, her stupid, asshole brother. She couldn't help but worry for him, and be upset with his unknown fate. If he had cut off his own hand, he might have died from bleeding out ... he might have been eaten because the smell of the blood might have attracted the walkers ... She was angry, too. Angry that T hadn't tried to help him off the root, she was enraged that he hadn't even had the balls to try and stick through it with him, that T just ran away and left Merle behind ...

Casey wasn't been paying enough attention as she and T had moved on to the next corpse, one that was shimmed up against the guard tower's wall, half in the shade from the morning sun. She was much too involved with her thoughts, much too secure with the situation. She was too busy to think, having the certainty that all of the bodies within the courtyard had actually been murdered. She moved to bend down beside it, her knees close to the dead woman's ear, to pry through the pockets of the civilian, not bothering to check for a head wound of any sort.

All of a sudden, she could hear it. Gurgling, rasping, gasping. The telltale signs of moaning, of the dead. Casey barely had time to react, but it still wasn't good enough; the corpse's black-haired head moved upwards, and the walker's jerky hands were clawing into the fabric of the sleeve of the pullover she was wearing. Trying to rip her arm towards the dead's gaping mouth, jagged teeth littered with dried, blackened blood. Casey's blood ran cold, her heart thudding deep in her chest, pulse roaring in her ears. Casey frantically reached with her other hand, for her knife, but in an instant knew it wouldn't be quick enough. She wasn't going to make it; she wouldn't even have enough time to cut her arm off before the walker bit it.

She didn't want to go this way.

"Fuck!" she hissed.

Then, the sound of a gun shot, blasting right into her ear. Casey shut her eyes and went stiff. She felt warm liquid splatter against her face, and even though her eyes were closed, she knew it was blood from the metallic smell that flooded the air. The ringing that accompanied the gunshot wasn't welcome either, and once her body unfroze, had her shaking her head and scrambling backwards, trying to clear her head from all the senses that were overwhelming her. Her heart continued to thud within her chest like a drum, and the survival instinct of her hunting days had taken over from the unsettling panic she had felt. Casey's fingers tingled, her legs ready to leap away. She was trying to get back from the situation, clear her eyes to she would be able to fight properly, give herself a fighting chance. It wasn't until she was being yanked to her feet, a hand tight around her arm, that she managed to wipe at her eyes and face, and shake out the ringing that had been overtaking her instinctive mind. It was T who had yanked her upwards, away from the grasp of the walker, and when she saw the glint of a handgun in his hand, she realized that he had been the one to save her as well. Casey had to fight to keep her knees from giving out; she had been stupid, getting so emotional like that. It had almost gotten her killed more than once now.

"Shit!" Daryl yelled, and she could hear his heavy foot steps speeding toward her.

"Casey!" Ryan's voice broke through the air. She had nearly forgotten he had been in the courtyard. "Are-"

"I'm good, I'm good!" she yelled back, impatiently trying to wipe off the rest of the sticky blood that had spurted against her pale face. She turned so that she could get a good view of the rest of the group; Rick and Hershel were paused, ready to run over a moment's notice. Daryl was making his way quickly to her, his eyes steely with concern and uncertainty. Ryan and Glenn were also there, Ryan already half way toward her from the other side of the courtyard. She could see the fear, the panic in his boyish face, his lean features taunt with worry. It made her heart pang, seeing his face like that. She had scared him, and she hadn't meant to. Even after all of their time together, she still couldn't stand to see his baby face fall. He stopped in his tracks, giving her the space she wanted when she spoke again, "I got sloppy. I didn't check for a head wound. I'm fine; T's got me covered."

Daryl still flew to her side, quick to make sure that the walker hadn't managed to get a bite into her. Casey ripped her arm away from her brother with self-loathing anger, and she glanced back at T-Dog. "Thanks for savin' me." It was hard for her to get the words out, especially after all of the emotions she had just been feeling in regards to him.

"Truce?" T cocked an eyebrow. She knew it had deeper meaning than just a truce between the two of them for the ill-feelings Casey had towards him. It was an extension of his guilt, an invitation for her to try and at least be civil with him. That he was genuinely sorry for what had happened, and that he wanted to try and move forward from the problems that he had caused with her brother. He wanted to try and work together with her, to help her, and have her help him.

She nodded to him before shrugging out of Daryl's touch once more; her idiot brother was still trying to make sure she was still alright.

"Not bad."

Guns, grenades, flashlights, and other devices were strew across the heavy, industrial metal table top-littered among pieces of riot armor and flak-jacket riot vests-that was in front of Casey. Quite a bit of time had passed, the brightness of the sun and the swampy heat of the day that reached them even inside the prison compounds signaling that it was close to mid-afternoon. The group had finally finished picking the corpses clean-working together with Maggie, Glenn and Ryan, who were disposing of the bodies out in the field where the group had first spent the night-and had brought their bounty of items back into the cell block. After clearing out the common area from it's horrendous filth and littered garbage, it was decided that the large, almost vacant room would become the prime meeting place for any gathering or supply related activities. Guided by only the sunlight that managed to stream through the barred, disgustingly dirty windows, the group were going through the collection of spoils. Daryl was busy testing a flashlight in his hands, while Rick and Hershel had just finished counting a large amount of grenade-like items that they were careful to set down.

"Flash bangs ... CS Triple Chasers. Not sure how they'd work on walkers, but we'll take 'em," Rick elaborated, and for the first time since Casey had met him, she could almost hear the tingle of real hope, not the cocky confident hope he had put on in front of the rest of the group. It was a look of joy or of excitement. He seemed pleased with how his supply-gathering plans had played out.

As Rick had been talking, Casey reached forward and grasped one of the black, thick plastic helmets that laid on the table, careful not to move the huge plastic face-shield that was attached to it. When Hershel had first suggested taking the riot armor off of the guards, Casey had become ecstatic; the prospect of having her own set of armor was a dream come true. It would help against walker attacks, and would definitely keep the worry of bites and wounds down to a minimum. It would take a load of panic off of her shoulders for good. But as she lifted the helmet up, her thoughts turned sour the exact moment that the look on her face turned disgusted. Something was oozing out of the helmet, thick and slimy and sludge-like. A smell whiffed through the air as she moved her hands, and she could only think of comparing it to the smell of old pus, of dirty and grungy skin. As Casey continued to twist the helmet around in her hands, some of the goo sludged out of the helmet and on to the floor. She looked up at the group with one raised eyebrow. "I ain't wearing this shit," she said.

T was lifting up what looked to a be glove that was also slathered. He watched it with incredulous eyes as more of the goop dropped from the fabric and on to the floor. "We could boil 'em." He then gave her a sideways glance.

"There ain't 'nough firewood in th' whole forest, no," Daryl retorted, reaching for a nightstick that was also piled on the table. Casey placed the helmet back where she had gotten it from, and winced when some of the gunk touched her hand. It was warm enough to make her skin crawl. She set to wiping her hands on her jeans as her brother continued, "'Side, we got this far without 'em, 'eah?"

And with that, Daryl went to testing the nightstick, swinging it over his shoulder very similarly to a baseball bat, making sure to not swing it in her general direction. To keep herself busy, Casey set to admiring the large amount of hand guns that were on the opposite side of the table from her. There were two of them that looked like her hand gun, the one she had stolen off the gunman who had shot Ryan, and at least four more that she couldn't identify. There were even a couple of assault rifles, albeit they were grimy and dusty and most likely empty of rounds. Casey was only lightly entranced with her own thoughts when she heard the quiet approach of echoing footsteps. She snapped her head up quickly, just in time to see Carol rounding the corner from the main entrance to the cells, the older woman's gray hair catching silvery light as she twisted into the group's view. Carol didn't look at ease, but didn't seem too agitated in her movements. She locked eyes with Casey for only a moment before calling out, "Hershel?"

The rest of the group turned when they heard her voice, and Carol only explained with the jerk of her head in the direction she came from. It only took Casey a few seconds to figure out what exactly she could've been there for; the baby and Lori.

"Everythin' alright?" Rick asked. His jaw was set tightly, his body rigid.

"Yeah, nothing to worry about," Carol murmured, but she was quick to step away and get back to the cell block. Casey had only caught a glimmer of it in the woman's eyes, but she felt like Carol was certainly lying. It didn't really bother Casey that much; whatever Carol was hiding from Rick was obviously none of the youngest Dixon's concerns. Carol disappeared back where she had come from, and Hershel was swift to follow her, a half-filled back pack swung under his arm.

It wasn't until after Hershel had left Casey's eyesight did Rick turn back to them. All happiness that had been in his face was now replaced with sheer hardness and a locked jaw. "Gather up the guns. We're not done yet." His voice was rough and angry, and he grabbed the vests and a handgun before he stalked off in the direction of the main cell block, following only a few minutes behind where Carol had disappeared to. Although she had a new respect for Rick, she couldn't help but feel put off by some of his actions, his ever-present aura of leadership bothering Casey. He always acted so high and mighty, and Casey didn't appreciate it.

Casey huffed when Rick was out of earshot, and she got a quick jab in the ribs by her brother's elbow. She turned to give him a dirty look and to mouth him off for being an ass, but only managed a look of surprise when Daryl dumped the night stick into her unsuspecting arms, along with countless other amounts of tools that Casey wasn't able to properly identify before he shoved them into her hands. Once she was loaded up with all that she could carry, she grumbled something unintelligible before she swiveled on her heel to follow behind T, who had gathered the two assault rifles and some of the handguns, and had begun making his way to the other members of the prison group. Casey knew Daryl was plodding along behind her when she heard his heavy breath, probably annoyed with how slow she was walking. She couldn't help it; she could barely see where her feet where going beyond all of the tools that were in her grasp. She only hoped he had remembered to grab the rest of the handguns so that almost everyone would have one when they began to explore the depths of the compound.

She could still hear Daryl behind her as they entered the main cell block. There was quite the commotion at the entrance, probably everyone getting ready to leave. The first thing Casey did when she entered the cell block was glance up, locking eyes with Lori, who had been surveying the group carefully from the second floor cells, for only a moment before she moved farther into the space. That's when Casey realized that T had already busied himself with handing out the flak-vests that had been gathered earlier on in the day, as Rick was helping T snap together the Velcro straps on the back of his. Everyone else who would be going along with them also had one on. Maggie and Hershel were talking lowly to Beth as Maggie helped secure her father's vest, the blonde girl's face taut with worry and fear, and Rick was busy making sure that Carl wasn't going to get into trouble while he was gone by asking him to stay put, much to the boy's dismay. Daryl was fiddling with an assault rifle he had obtained, making sure that the sights were clear and that nothing was jammed before the group headed onward. Casey swiftly set out to handing out the tools she had been holding on to, and it wasn't until she offered one to Glenn that she realized her arms were filled with flashlights, thick black ones like the one that her brother had been testing out. He took it and clutched on to it with his free hand-the other had a can of spray paint in it. To make sure that they wouldn't lose their way, she decided after a moment of deliberation.

She made sure that everyone had one that worked properly; there was a dud that she threw into the corner to deal with later. The last person to receive a flashlight was Ryan, who took it with a grin on his face while he held up an olive-green vest for her in his hands. There was no explanation needed. He shoved the flashlight into a chest pocket on the vest as Casey spun around, her back now facing Ryan. She could hear the ripping sound of Velcro being torn apart before the vest was slid over her head, catching on her muddy brown hair slightly until she brushed it out of the way. It was very similar to a sandwich board, one side of the fabric on her front and the other side on her back, and equally as uncomfortable. It was only when Ryan ran his hands over the Velcro seams along her back and her sides that it felt more like a vest on her. She scowled at her body when she looked down at herself to see how it fit; she was shorter than most of the prison group, and as such, her vest fit a little differently. It covered not only the majority of her torso, but settled uncomfortably over her behind, making moving her hips more difficult than she wanted it to be. It was also harder to grab her hunting knife, she realized with a pang of annoyance. She would have to reach under the vest in order to free her blade from it's sheathe, which resided right on her belt.

"Shorty," Ryan muttered under his breath, teasing.

Casey shot him a glare that could have killed birds mid-flight. He threw his hands up, palms forward, in a mock apologetic gesture. Normally, she would've lightened up after that, but when she heard a stifled giggle behind her, her scowl deepened and the glare was shifted toward the person who had the nerve to think that they could intrude on the moment. Of course it had been Beth, the girl who had witnessed the kiss. The little blonde girl probably thought that the teasing moment was cute, a romantic scene straight from a movie. As soon as Beth's eyes met with Casey's, all joking matter was put aside and the younger girl cast her eyes downward in quiet submission.

It was after that moment that it was silently decided that the group would move forward. Daryl left first, assault rifle now strapped against his back while his cross bow was readied in his hands, a quick nod to Carol before he disappeared from sight, loud foot steps and jingling keyring noisy in the following silence. Next it was T, following behind Daryl quickly with purpose, his eyes darting ever-so slightly to make sure that the coast was clear before he continued. He had the Plexiglas shield he had grabbed the day before, Casey realized. At the time she had thought it was dumb, but now she figured this could be of use to them in a pinch. Then, Hershel followed suite, machete in hand, only after Beth gave him a gentle squeeze on his arm and Maggie a kiss on the cheek. Casey followed right on Maggie's tail, her hand clasped tightly on the hilt of her knife, still in its place, while she shimmied, agitated still with how the vest conformed to her body. She only had to give a quick glance over her shoulder to affirm that Ryan was following behind her, his gun now in his hands instead of being tucked inside of his waistband. Glenn followed behind his older brother, giving one last glance to the prison group before his eyes shifted forward, ready and willing to go through with the exploration. Casey knew Rick wouldn't be far behind, as he was probably saying good bye to Carl and Lori before he left. The reality of the situation only hit Casey when she heard the shrieking of metal against concrete, the sound of the cell block being closed behind them.

The group crossed the common area speedily, the order of the group being jimmied only slightly when they all clustered around the iron door that had been usually ignored. Glenn slunk into between her and Maggie with a slight head tilt of questioning, and when Casey nodded and took a step back, he smiled at her in thankfulness. Casey knew how he must be feeling right now, wanting to protect Maggie. She felt the exact same way with Ryan-in fact, if it wouldn't have caused a huge stink with Rick, she probably would have asked if Ryan could stay back with Beth, Carol, Lori and Carl.

The door was just like the cell door that led into cell block C, but beyond it was only the start of a concrete corridor, heavily shadowed with darkness and rank with a musty odor, not the same lightness and airiness that cell block C had first had when they had arrived. It struck Casey almost immediately that the area they were going into probably didn't have any windows, hence why it was so dark. A twinge of uncertainty, cold like a stab of fear, ripped through her body when she turned to look at Ryan once again. They had no clue what they were going up against, going into the other cell block like this. At least with the courtyard they had been able to see approximately how many zombies they had to face, where as there was no warning to what could be down there, lurking, waiting for them. She didn't know what she was going to have to be ready for, what she was going to have to be ready to protect Ryan from, and that bothered her more than anything else. She knew she would never let anything bad happen to Ryan, but the nerves weighted heavy in her chest all the same.

Casey didn't have long to dwell on her anxiety-ridden thoughts. Rick was ready, pushing his way forward to the front of the pack with Daryl. With steady twists of his hand, Daryl found the correct key to the cell block and unlocked the door with a metal clanking sound. He then ripped the door open, and motioned for Rick to go inside. Rick clicked on his flashlight, and with it high and mighty, took the first few steps into the concrete hallway. When it was Casey's turn, she shuffled her knife out of it's sheathe and turned on her own flashlight with the click of the plastic tab on the side of it. One-by-one, they filled into the unknown cell block, flashlights being turned on and weapons being cocked and readied. When everyone was inside, Daryl made sure to turn and lock the door behind them, making sure that nothing would be able to follow them inside and attack them from behind.

It was darker than she had imagined it would be. Only a few steps into the hallway and she was instantly glad that almost everybody had their flashlights on, the only exclusions being Glenn, Ryan and T. If they didn't have the lights, the only people who might have been able to salvage the exploration would have been Casey and her brother, for their trained eyes might have been able to navigate the corridor safely. The ground wasn't littered with as much trash as the other areas they had claimed; the hallway was bare until the first turn, when the entering hallway gave way to a long, skinny corridor that had prison cells in it. All of the cell doors were open, signifying that either the prisoners had managed to escape or had at least gotten out of their confines. Along the floor of the abandoned hall, there were corpses, many of them so decomposed that the only bits of flesh left were dried to the concrete ground, blackened bones sticking out beneath torn clothing, pools of dried crimson surrounding their remains. The air was thick with dust, the tang of blood, and with humidity that clung in her lungs, instantly making her uneasy. But it was an uneasiness that she was able to quell with only a few, deep breaths of the heavy air, with a quick shudder of nerves that rolled through her shoulders, making her fingers tingle with an odd numbness. A small shift of her knees, the slight crouch that mimicked her brother's who was only a few feet in front of her, and the huntress in her mind was able to take over in almost an instant. She was ready at a moment's notice, ready for the dead to come around the corner, jaws unhinged and wide.

As they stalked farther into the area, it was simple to see that the one hallway split off into many, and that having Glenn mark which way they had went was a smart idea. Within the first turn into a new corridor, Casey could hear the sound of the can shaking, the marbled noise that only came from a spray can, and when she past by him, she saw he was marking a large white arrow in the direction that they had just come from. She knew Ryan was still on her heels when she stopped to glance at Daryl, who was patiently waiting for Rick to move forward, and he almost stepped on the backs of her boots.

Suddenly, the surprised yell of both Maggie and Glenn made flashlights swing beams of white in their direction, Casey ready to bolting in the direction of the screams. But when all the lights were on them, it was easy to tell what had happened; they had run into each other in the dark, and both had assumed that the other was a threat of some sorts. Casey could hear Ryan snort under his breath, and she had to suppress an annoyed eye roll.

The group continued onward, carefully peering around every corner, Glenn continuing to mark the correct way to get out of the maze of concrete when they needed to. Shifting slightly with every movement, each member of the group ebbing around the centers of the halls they walked down. Around every corner it felt like there would be a threat, but no sounds nor anything else gave Casey any hint that there might be a zombie near by. They remained tight, together, willing and able to protect each others backs if it were to be needed, ready to eliminate any threat that would be ready to run their way. Casey was still trying to get used to the feeling of group security, and it felt strange to hear as many exhales and inhales as she did. She knew it would still take time to remember subconsciously that it wasn't just her and Ryan anymore.

Casey remained trained on Daryl, watching and waiting and making sure that he had scoped it out before she moved forward. It was easy to pick up his subtle cues, of when his shoulders would relax slightly if there was no danger, or when they would shrug ever so slightly when he scanned the area with his cross bow. So when Rick stopped when he rounded a corner and so did Daryl, she jerked to a halt, letting T and Hershel sneak past her, their flashlights lighting the way in front of her. The hissing, groaning noises erupted into the air as light spilled into the next section of hallway, and beyond the shoulders of her companions, she could see the jerky bodies of the walking dead animating into motion. She could see the grayed skin, the gaping, rotting, infected wounds, the blood that was splattered against the blue jump suites. Casey yanked herself out of her slight crouch and twisted so that she could grasp Ryan's forearm tightly.

It was too tight to fight that many of them. They would end up just hurting their own.

Her stomach dropped, numbness coating her mind, but frazzling her body. Casey needed to get out into the open. Now!

It took only a second for the leader of the group to realize the situation. "Go back! Go back!" Rick hissed loudly.

The group fled, doubling back so that they could run the way they came. The darkness was only hindering the situation, their only sources of light now unfocused and untrained on the ground. It was all a blur, frantic sways of the flashlights throwing off Casey's sense of direction; all she could do was follow Ryan blindly, hoping that at least he was following Glenn or Maggie, his free hand, the one that wasn't holding the gun, clutching on to her forearm as she was with his. Casey had never felt this disorientated in her life, not knowing which way they had come from or which way they were going. Figuring out her direction was easy in a forest-not in a tight, enclosed area flooded with corpses and panic screaming through her veins. Her heart roared in her chest, and her right hand clutched her hunting knife to tightly the tips of her fingers were quivering, ready to slash at any given moment. They were bolting down one of the halls, foot steps thundering through the air, right on par the calls of the dead, and at one point, Casey thought she saw more of the zombies coming out from another hallway, seemingly from out of nowhere, pouring into the one that the group was trying to flee down. There were way too many of them; trying to fight them like this, in the dark, would be suicide! They had to get out!

"Come on, this way!" Rick voice bellowed out, above the panicked sounds of foot steps and Casey's own thudding pulse.

Casey followed Ryan's lanky form, trying to point her flashlight toward the walls, the floors, anything that might help her be able to see. She was finally able to make out figures in front of her and Ryan, and she quickly realized that she and Ryan were at the back of the pack, the dead closing in on them and them alone. Casey's mind was trying frantically to figure out some sort of escape route, but she only came up with flustered, angry frustration. Unsettling horror flushed on the back of her neck in a cold chill.

They rounded a corner, desperately trying to go faster, but a split had happened in the middle of the group. It was only a ten foot gap between them and the other part of the group, but it was large enough for a few of the zombies to sneak in from a opening in the hallway to the left of her. They had been separated, and that separation only caused Casey's teeth to grind. It was only then did Casey realize she and Ryan weren't alone; Maggie and Glenn were swiveling on their heels, trying to put more distance between them and the pop up zombies that had managed to split them up, but were heading back in the direction that she and Ryan had been heading in.

"In here!" Glenn shouted.

Much to Casey's relief, he ripped open a steely looking door that they had run past only seconds before, assuming it had probably been locked or something. He was quick to usher Maggie and Casey inside first, Maggie practically clawing into Casey's shoulder as they went, their bodies squishing together as they packed into the tiny room. Then Ryan flung himself in, his body slamming against Casey's making her space with Maggie even smaller. And then Glenn himself squeezed in, creating an almost unbearable tightness before he slammed the door shut again, the world falling into complete darkness. It was only saved by the beam of light that shone up to the ceiling from Casey's flashlight that she wiggled out from her side. It was almost blinding in such a small space, but Casey didn't dare turn it off. Wherever Glenn had managed to stuff them was certainly a tight squeeze-Maggie was tight against Casey's back, their bodies grinding when Casey moved to shine her light up to the ceiling. Casey was also plastered against Ryan's chest, her hands against the fabric of his vest, holding the flashlight and her knife up so they could see and she wouldn't accidentally stab anyone, Ryan's chest heaving against her. She could feel a knee jabbing against the left side of hers and knew that it was probably Glenn's. It had to be some sort of utility closet, Casey decided, complete with built in shelves and some sort of metal tool box that Maggie had kicked when they had managed to cramp in.

The sound of fists against the steely door where the next noises to rip through the air, the groans and moans of the dead echoing the steady pounds. Casey could feel Ryan's breath hitch under his vest, and he bent his face down so the top of his chin touched the crown of her hair. Casey felt a shift of a limb by her ribs, and saw Glenn's hand clasp for Maggie's, even though the space situation made it extremely uncomfortable for everyone. It felt like forever, and it would've felt like that even if they hadn't been packed in the tiniest room available. They all waited patiently, trying to steady their breathing, squinting against the harsh whiteness of the flashlight, only sighing out when the pounding had finally subsided and the gurgles had faded away.

"Maggie?" Glenn murmured.

"I'm okay," Maggie whispered back. Casey could feel her hot breath ruffle the top of her hair. Her face and Ryan's must've been only inches away from each other. "Are you two okay?"

"We're good," Ryan mumbled, shifting slightly, but even that tiny movement caused his hips to move against Casey's in a way that made her cheeks twinge with heat. "Sorry." He winced.

Casey didn't say anything, ignoring both the motion and his apology. Worry settled in the pit of her stomach, making her entire body ache with uncertainty. Where was Daryl? Surely he was save, but with all of those walkers in the corridor ... She tried to glance over Ryan's shoulders to lock eyes with Glenn. "Where'd everyone else go? We've got to find th' others."

Glenn responded, "I didn't see how far a head they got past the walkers. If we can't find them in the area, we'll head back to the cell block."

The silence that followed was all that Casey needed for agreement. Only a few seconds later, the door busted open, screeching metal hinges flying, and the Rhee brothers staggered out of the utility closet, giving Maggie and Casey enough room to stalk out a few seconds after them. Casey shifted her flashlight down the hall to their rights, prepping her knife in her right hand. It was empty, to her surprise, just the four of them occupying the space.

"Rick?" Glenn called, his voice echoing around the hall, reverberating against the walls and the haunting silence that filled the air.

"Dad?" Maggie questioned.

Casey took a few steps to the right, slowly going farther down the hall. When she heard three sets of footsteps following directly behind her, she knew that the rest of their rag-tag group was following her. As much as she felt uncomfortable with three people being behind her and not beside her, she knew it was the smartest decision at the moment; she had the only flashlight apparently, and as such, should be the one to lead them down the corridors. She was not unprotected, however; Ryan was right behind her, and from the way he was shifting to the left with every one of her movements, she knew that his gun was locked and loaded, prepared for anything that would pop up in her path.

"Daryl?" Casey accosted, wincing slightly at how loudly the words rumbled through the echo chamber of a hall.

Only the sound of their tentative footsteps were heard in response.

"Dad?" Maggie tried again, louder this time.

"... Mag?" The voice was soft, almost a whisper in the wind, but Casey was certain she heard it. She stopped for a moment, making sure that it hadn't been a figment of her imagination, swallowing down the pulse that stuttered deep in her chest. It sounded like Hershel, Maggie's elderly father, who had somehow managed to hear their pleas. She knew the others had heard it too when Glenn motioned for them to turn left in the hallway, the group making their way down a new hall that was just as dark and dingy as the first. Casey kept the pace of the group going slightly faster, but was quick to make sure that her flashlight shone vigilantly for any problems that may arise. Hershel voice called out again, "Mags?" as the group picked up speed and were almost jogging down the hallway.

As Casey opened her mouth to call for Daryl once again, her breath caught in her throat and fear struck like lightning in her lungs.

Screaming filled the air of the corridor crypts.

Their jogging turned into full on sprinting, Casey trying desperately to keep the flashlight steady as her legs took her as fast as she could go. Ryan was only a few steps behind her, and she could hear Maggie and Glenn coming up on her right hand side, almost overtaking her with their long legs and agile movements. Maggie's face was contorted with disastrous fear, while Glenn's eyes were wide with panic. As they neared closer to where the howls were coming from, a singular gun shot was fired, the blasting sound ringing through her ears, causing her heart to palpitate in her chest. Please, please. Let them be alright. Please, don't be Daryl. Please-

Even with her short legs and burning lungs, Casey was the first to tear around the corner to her left, where she could hear most of the struggling commotion coming from.

"Hershel!" she shouted.

"No!" Maggie screamed.

Hershel was sprawled on the ground, still screaming in agony, his face stretched with sheer, pale skin. Beside him, the now actually dead corpse, it's maw filled with brand new, streaming, crimson flesh. Rick had obviously been the one to put down the zombie, as his gun was still held high and his face terrified. It took only a few seconds of panic before both Rick and Glenn moved to Hershel's side, slinging the elder man's body between them, his arms over their shoulders so that he would be able to be moved. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Casey could hear the jabbers of the dead, and Ryan shouted that they needed to get moving, that they needed to go back. From behind her companion, she could see that the horde had been attracted to the noise; they were ambling down the hall now, eyes wheeling and mouths open, the caws from their throats echoing through the air. Casey swirled on her heels to follow Rick, Glenn and Hershel, trying to shine her flashlight in a way that would help them navigate the area. Daryl was in the back of the group, firing off a few arrows to keep the horde at bay as Casey and everyone else managed to frantically plow through the halls, juking and jiving, trying to frantically find their way back to the cell block. Everything felt jumbled and confused and numbed; her mind was pushing back her feelings of horror and was helping her survive. Even so, Casey couldn't catch a breath-it kept sticking in the top of her throat. Everyone was shrieking, some Hershel's name, some about how he had been bit. But all Casey could really hear were Maggie's cries of, "Oh God!"

It was chaos.

They got to a set of double doors, but what was most peculiar about them was the fact that they were handcuffed closed. It only took a few shrieks from everyone to realize that the doors were effectively locked-T was suddenly jabbing his weapon downward, breaking and ripping off the handcuffs all in one motion. The group exploded through the doors like a hurricane, Rick, Glenn, Hershel, Daryl and Maggie first, Rick screaming, "Shut the door!"

T, Casey and Ryan hung back from the part of the group that had went farther into the room, slamming the double doors shut with their backs, Ryan and Casey taking care of one door while T held on to the other. Casey could feel the thundering pounding of the walkers against her back, their cries muffled by the door's material. She struggled to keep her footing on the slippery concrete floor, opting to use her height to her advantage and brace the lower part of the door instead of slipping while trying to brace the higher. Ryan was directly beside her, his arms and weight focused higher up on the door, knowing exactly what she was up to. They locked eyes for just a moment, his pants loud in her ears and her teeth in a fearsome grimace as she turned to where the others were located.

About fifteen feet in front of her, Casey could see the gruesome scene unfolding. They were in some sort of room with lots of tables and chairs, much like the ones that were located in the common room, but luckily, a huge space on the floor was enough to get Hershel on to the ground with his legs splayed out in front of him. Hershel was still crying out, his yelps of fiery pain slashing through the air to Casey's ears. Daryl was on one side of the man, grasping one leg to keep it down and steady, a hand laid on Hershel's chest to keep him from struggling too much. Maggie was cradling her father's head, crying, while Glenn and Rick were busy trying to figure out something, anything, to help Hershel. It was only when Rick started to roll up Hershel's pant leg did Casey's eyes widen in horror-she had never seen a bite before, and it was more horrendous than she could have ever imagined. Even though it had been only a few minutes since the bite, the flesh on his leg was already dying. That was the first thing she noticed after the initial shock. The walker had gotten him right on the calf, right in the muscle, and the gnawed part of the flesh there was already gray, already shriveling up and clotting, with a stray string of flesh hanging limply from the ghastly purple veins. The muscle was rippling with crimson blood that was smothered on Hershel's leg, that was dripping to the floor. Casey could only continue to keep her place at the door, digging her feet into the ground until it hurt, the beat of the walker's fists on the door shaking her with every hit. She watched as Rick began frantically removing his belt, tearing it from it body and securing it tightly around the top of Hershel's knee, forming a makeshift tourniquet. To keep the virus from spreading? Casey thought dumbly, blindly, panicked. No, he would need to-

Rick was reaching for Hershel's bag, digging around with one hand until it emerged with a hatchet.

-remove it.

Casey's blood ran cold.

"Only one way to keep you alive," Rick hissed.

"Ryan, don't look," was all she could choke out as Rick took the first swing downward.

Somebody screamed, but Casey couldn't tell if it was Glenn or Maggie or Hershel or Rick. All she could see was the hatchet blade crashing down into the flesh of Hershel's lower leg, carving out a thick, juicy line, much like an axe would cut into a tree trunk. The noise of metal cutting through muscle, tissue, and bone rang throughout the air, sickening and unsettling. Blood spurted from the new wound, and Casey could see Hershel's body fall limp in Maggie's arms. Rick took this as an opportunity; he swung down again, and again, ruby splattering on the ground and on his arms until he had finally cut through the leg, the metal blade clattering against the floor as Rick scraped the discarded part of Hershel's leg away from him. All that was left was a stump. A short, meaty, bleeding stump. The self-proclaimed leader of the group stood shakily to his feet, expelling his pent up breath with one gust as the hatchet fell heavy against the floor.

Casey was frozen against the door, and she could feel Ryan's horrified shakes from beside her. Casey had witnessed some very horrible, brutal things, and watching an old man's leg get cut off had to be one of the worst. When they took out the walkers they faced, it was one wound to the head, and that was it. Not a lot of blood, nothing that wasn't easy to fade out of the mind by the end of the day. When Casey had taken out the gunman, she had managed to kill him with not a huge amount of damage, but the large, serrated wounds had been jarring, even to her. But still, it was nothing compared to watching someone's leg be hacked off. When Casey and her brother hunted, they always put the animal down as humanely as possible, and skinning an animal was nowhere near as bloody. Only the vivid, haunting memories of Daryl, bruised and bloodied, beaten half to death by their father trying to protect her, were as brutal as this.

But, just like the gunman, it was something that needed to be done. It was Hershel's only chance for survival. Casey had to focus, had to help. She could think later; right now, the only thing that needed to be done was to get Hershel to safety. There was no way she was leaving him behind, or letting him die before they got him comfortable. Casey wasn't going to let that happen to him; he didn't deserve that. Casey's bravery and determination flashed through her body like a hot sweat, and she knew exactly how she could be of use in the situation.

"He's ... bleedin' out," Rick stuttered.

"Keep th' door shut," Casey shot to Ryan, who had been staring at Hershel's stump since Rick had created it. She needed him to focus, and her shrill command was just enough to get his attention. He jerked into reality once again, nodding as he braced himself harder against the door as she ran to Rick's side.

She knelt beside Rick, closer to the stump that was left of Hershel's leg, blood pooling out of it with every breath the old man took. Frantically, with shaky jerks of her arms, she managed to squeeze out of the Velcro riot-vest that had been keeping her confined throughout the entire journey. With nothing of value inside of her, she tossed it away like a child would toss away a useless toy. Then, she set to work ripping off the pullover sweater she had been wearing; it's thick fabric would be able to at least keep some pressure on the wound while wrapping up the stump at the same time. Casey took one deep, grounding breath before she wadding the thickest part of the sweater against the fleshy stub that was the remainder of the leg, wrapping the arms of the sweater around and tying them as tightly as she could before she kept her hands flat on the base of the leg. Blood was seeping through the fabric of the sweater, and was starting to stick to her hands, warm and thick. Casey swallowed down hard and kept the pressure on the leg continuously. Trying to do everything she could to keep the blood loss to a minimum. She locked eyes with Maggie, who gave her a tearful look, before she drew her focus back to what was at hand.

"Duck," Daryl whispered.

Casey's breath hitched in her throat. The whisper startled her, but as Rick crouched in front of her, she managed to peer over his shoulder to get a look at what exactly was happening. Daryl was standing up now, leaving Hershel's side, with his cross bow locked on what was in front of him, moving to step in front of the injured man on the floor, to protect the group from what had appeared. The flashlight that he had balanced in the cross bow's frame shone brightly ... into what looked to be a window of some sorts, barred off with processed metal that would have probably kept the prisoners from climbing in and out of the window. The window was part of an obviously adjacent room to the cafeteria-like space they were in. But what really startled her were the five figures that were staring at them through the screened window, eyes wide and terrified, all of them dressed in blue jump suites.

Prisoners.