After driving for several minutes along the winding road, Rick suddenly slows down and comes to a stop. One by one, the others follow suit, their vehicles coming to a halt in a quiet clearing. The air is thick with anticipation as Rick steps out of his car, moving with a sense of purpose. He opens the trunk and retrieves a weathered map, placing it carefully on the hood of his vehicle. The others gather around him, their faces a mix of curiosity and concern, eager to hear what he has to say.
"Two herds are on either side of us; they might merge south or north," Rick announces, his finger tracing the routes on the map.
"We need to find someplace where we can stay—permanently, if possible," Shane sighs, running a hand through his hair as he glances at the map.
"We ain't gone west just yet. Might as well give it a shot there," Arthur adds, his eyes scanning the surroundings.
"Yeah. West it is," Rick agrees with a firm nod.
Hershel steps forward, his brow furrowed with worry. "We've spent the winter going house to house. Lori can't take all this moving anymore. We need somewhere permanent, for a couple of weeks at least."
T-Dog claps Sean on the back, glancing at Rick. "Me and Sean are gonna go grab some water from the creek." Sean nods in agreement, and Rick waves them off as they head into the dense forest.
"Glenn and Hershel, you're in charge. Me and Shane will clear the woods of walkers," Rick assigns, his voice steady. "Arthur, you and Daryl see if you can find anything for food tonight."
"Alright," Arthur responds, rubbing his nose thoughtfully. He glances at Daryl, a smirk creeping onto his lips. "Well, looks like it's just you and me again, partner. Time to put some food on the table." Daryl nods, a determined look in his eyes.
Arthur grabs the handmade bow he crafted himself, while Daryl slings his crossbow over his shoulder. Together, they stride into the woods, following the faint outline of the train tracks that wind deeper into the forest.
"You're good at this," Daryl comments, observing the surroundings.
"Tracking?" Arthur replies, his brow raised in curiosity.
"Yeah. Where did ya learn it?" Daryl probes.
"Ah, a friend of mine taught me. His name's Charles—Charles Smith. He's a quiet fella, keeps to himself, but don't let that fool ya. The man's got skills; he's real competent in whatever he's doin'," Arthur explains, a hint of admiration in his voice.
"Sounds like someone I want 'round me," Daryl says, nodding. "Especially now."
"No kiddin'. He's a fighter," Arthur chuckles, the camaraderie evident between them.
As they continue, Arthur's gaze drifts toward the river, then to the imposing figure of the prison in the distance, surrounded by a sea of walkers. "That's a shame," Daryl remarks, his voice low as he takes in the sight.
"I reckon we can clear that," Arthur mutters, determination in his eyes. He puts two fingers to his mouth and whistles sharply into the woods. Moments later, Rick and Shane emerge from the underbrush, ready for action.
Arthur quickly explains his thoughts about the prison, his voice urgent. "We could take it back if we work together."
"Yeah," Rick nods. He looks at Arthur and Shane, his expression serious. "Arthur, Shane. Go down and start picking the walkers off from outside. Daryl and I will go grab the others." With that, Rick and Daryl sprint off toward the forest's edge.
Meanwhile, Arthur and Shane navigate their way down the mountainside, the adrenaline pumping in their veins as they reach the prison gate. They begin shaking it vigorously. "Come on here, ya ugly bastards!" Arthur shouts, adrenaline surging through him. He pulls out his knife, while Shane unsheathes his machete, both men ready for the oncoming horde.
Together, they begin stabbing walkers in the head with precision and calm determination, their movements almost synchronized. The sounds of metal striking bone echo around them.
"How are you and Maggie, big guy?" Shane asks, breaking the silence as he continues to dispatch walkers.
"Hm?" Arthur glances at him, a hint of surprise in his voice. "Yeah, I reckon we're good." He shrugs, his expression softening. "No arguments or nothin'. Just feels right, you know?"
"Do you make her cum?" Shane smirks, his tone teasing.
Arthur scowls at him, shaking his head in disbelief, but they continue their grim task, stabbing walkers through the fence with unyielding focus.
"You can't?" Shane taunts, unable to resist the opportunity for more ribbing.
"Shut up or I'll make you," Arthur growls, his patience wearing thin, but Shane only laughs, the sound mingling with the sound of stabbing and walker moaning.
After a tense few moments, Rick and Daryl burst through the underbrush, returning to the group with urgency. Rick's brow was furrowed, a wire cutter clutched tightly in his hand. He glanced at the fence ahead, a grim determination in his eyes. "Lori, you go first," he instructed, stepping forward and expertly snipping the wire holding the gate shut.
Lori nodded, her heart racing as she slipped through the opening, followed closely by the others. One by one, they squeezed through the gap, the anticipation palpable as Glenn and Daryl quickly worked together to tie the hole in the fence with a sturdy wire, ensuring no walkers could slip through behind them.
On the other side, a chilling sight met their eyes: several walkers, clad in tattered prison jumpsuits, pressed themselves against the fence, their vacant eyes filled with insatiable hunger. The group could feel the weight of their presence, a reminder of the danger that lurked just beyond the gate.
"This is perfect," Rick said, a glimmer of hope shining through his determination. "If we can shut that gate and prevent more from filling the yard, we can pick off these walkers." He scanned the area, his finger pointing decisively at T-Dog, Daryl, and Sean. "You three try for the gate and get it closed while the rest of us cover you. Maggie, Glenn, Arthur, Shane, and I will engage the walkers up close. Carol," he continued, turning toward her, "you've become a pretty good shot. Take your time; we don't have a lot of ammo to waste. Beth, Hershel, Carl, Clementine, make noise to our left and attract the walkers over to you."
With that, Beth, Hershel, and Carl hurriedly dashed across the yard, shouting and waving their arms to draw the attention of the mindless walkers. The sound of their voices filled the air, and as expected, the walkers began to turn, their rotted faces fixating on the noise.
Rick exchanged a quick nod with Daryl. "Go," he urged.
With the gate now open, Daryl, T-Dog, and Sean sprinted toward it, their hearts pounding in sync with their footsteps. Arthur, Rick, Shane, Glenn, and Maggie followed closely behind, their weapons ready, picking off any straggling walkers that threatened to close in.
In the chaos, Arthur unsheathed his hatchet, slicing through the air with precision. He swung it hard, the blade embedding itself deep into a walker's skull, splitting it open with a sickening crack. He then kicked the walker in the chest, watching it collapse to the ground, lifeless.
Meanwhile, Glenn quickly attached the hooks to the fence, ensuring the entrance could be secured, preventing any chance of a breach. With every shot fired and every melee weapon retracted from a walker's brain, the sound of suppressed shots and grunts filled the yard.
Eventually, the last walker fell, their numbers diminished. The group breathed a collective sigh of relief as they entered the yard, adrenaline still coursing through their veins. Arthur wasted no time and enveloped both Maggie and Clementine in a warm hug, relief flooding over him.
After the moment passed, Arthur turned to see Lori struggling with her bags. "Here, let me help," he offered, his voice filled with genuine concern.
"It's fine, Arthur. I got it," Lori insisted, trying to manage the load on her own.
Arthur clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Nonsense," he said, dismissing her protest with a wave of his hand. He took the bags from her, his resolve firm. "I'll bring them over to where Rick is." Without waiting for a response, he carried the bags toward Rick.