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M E G A N

I sit in the courtyard watching families line up for the venison Daryl provided for dinner. People of all ages sit at tables, wait in the line, or get up to wash their plates.

A few gusts of wind wisp through my pulled-back hair. My morning being well-spent enjoying the beautiful day, and once again avoiding the inside of the sell block.

It took a few months, but once I grew accustomed to the people around me, I finally started to feel safe enough to take guard after what happened with the governor. But I still remain within the fences at all times.

A chorus of "Hey Daryl!" and "Thanks Daryl!" sounds out as the man enters the pavilion, due to the food on everyone's plate being his treat. Daryl and Carol stand and talk under the pavilion as one of the new kids approaches the two of them.

The three talk as Daryl theatrically licks all of his fingers before sarcastically shaking the timid boy's hand. The boy sheepishly smiles and walks away from the two adults with pride.

I return my gaze to my food, as I sit, alone, on the cement edge of the courtyard. A quarter of a can of peas, and a slab of fresh venison on my plate. I pick up the venison and eat it like beef jerky, ripping at it with my hands.

I look out into the field and see Rick and Hershel tending to their crops.

The man has been spending all of his time in the sunlight weeding and plowing, as to avoid his responsibility as our leader. It's been weeks since he's been appropriately armed. Rick sifts through the dirt in his hands, ignoring the buildup of walkers at the fence.

I notice that on some days, Rick even makes Carl farm with him. The man plans on turning his son into a Jack of all Trades, but is probably falling short under the stubbornness of the boy.

Carl and I haven't spoken much since those few days when Rick forced us to bunk together. Shortly after the war, we brought all of the governor's abandoned people to the prison, which made it a whole lot easier for me to avoid the boy.

Ever since, we've been on a steady incline. We've hardly had any deaths, rebuilt what we could of the prison, planted crops, even obtained farm animals and assigned people to certain tasks.

My task is no longer taking watch on the guard towers. I am in charge of opening and closing the gates when people go on runs. Other than that, I help maintain the size of the herd at the fences.

Rick made it clear to me that he was leaving the important stuff to the adults.

Once I finish the venison, I reluctantly move onto my serving of green peas.

I scan the field, noticing that Carl isn't on farm duty with Rick and Hershel today. The boy never sits and eats with the big crowd of people. Looking around to find the boy's whereabouts, I realize he's nowhere to be seen.

Instead, I fix my gaze upon the sheepish boy I saw earlier and study his face.

He has a few large freckles and some nerdy glasses. His crooked teeth fold into a slight underbite with his bottom jaw barely protruding outward. He has shaggy cool-toned brown hair and is very tall and lanky.

Just as I begin to think he's sort of cute, I see him sit down with the rest of the kids and pick up some legos.

"He's weak."

I turn my head only slightly at the familiar voice. I hear the thud of his boots on the concrete as he sits on its edge, about a yard away from me.

The boy takes in the view.

"What?" I ask.

"That kid you were watching." He points. "Well—all of them for that matter—are weak." He rolls his eyes before making direct eye contact with me. I turn my head under his arrogant gaze. "I hear what they talk about, and I've paid attention to what they do in their spare time."

"I remember you called me weak once." I retort his statements with a harsh attitude.

"You still are." He bluntly says, not an ounce of sarcasm or mockery in his statement. "But you were locked in here when this all started." He says, making excuses for my weakness.

"Well they were safe in Woodbury since the start." I remark. "It isn't that different."

"Yeah," He offers slight agreement, but I know by his pause that he's about to buffer my statement. "But they were in there by choice. You weren't." He says, causing me to send a slight glare in his direction.

The boy makes eye contact with me, testing me with every glance. He's trying to see my bad side. He's trying to get a rise out of me.

"I know you're not supposed to ask people this while you're in prison," He starts, breaking the silence I was trying to maintain. "But, how did you even end up in here? Theft? Vandalism?" He trails off, waiting for my response.

"You're right," I say, with fake compliance. "You're not supposed to ask people that when in a prison." I say, glaring at the boy.

"Okay, okay." The boy says, clearly still wanting to test me about something. "Then I'll ask you when we're out of h—" The boy barely finishes his statement.

"What?"

"Have you thought about what I said?" The boy starts, clearly distraught. He notices my silence. "You know," He rolls his eyes. "That night after the war."

"No, I didn't think about it." I scoot slightly toward him, leaning and whispering. "I thought you were just mad when you said that. Now take your bullshit somewhere else." I harshly say, showing I won't budge.

"Come on," He trails off. "They treat us like we're incapable. And now, we're practically invisible with all these new mouths to feed." He places his hand on the concrete, now leaning towards me. "They won't even notice we're gone."

"What is wrong with you?" I shout in a whisper to the boy. "What makes you think I don't want to be safe behind these walls?"

"That's my point," He says, motioning to me with his hand. "Look Megan," The boy sighs, this is the first time my name rolls from his lips.

Hearing it makes my blood start to boil.

"I don't know how long you were in pr—" He hesitantly says before I cut him off.

"Be quiet," I sternly whisper. "Nobody from Woodbury knows about that, and I'd like to keep it that way." I say. My words partially being a lie.

I wouldn't really mind if people knew I was in here before all of this. I'm sure some people can even figure it out, by the lack of time I voluntarily spend inside the cell block.

Rick is the one who thinks that the Woodbury people would feel scared of my presence.

"Okay," The boy gives up, slightly raising his hands in defense. "I don't know how long you were in here, but you haven't been out in a long time."

"What's your point?"

"Don't you want to know what it's like out there? Beyond the walls?" The boy smirks, knowing he's finally got my attention.

"Let's say we do leave," I say, playing into the hypothetical. "What's the goal? Do we stay on our own? Do we come back? Is it a day-trip sort of thing?"

"I was thinking," Carl says as he scoots closer to me, lowering his voice. "We stockpile supplies, we act like everything's normal and then, we disappear."

"I'm still not convinced." I roll my eyes at the boy pleading in front of me. "I've never been out there for more than a few hours."

"I'll show you how to survive." The boy offers, clearly desperate for my assistance in this. "I've done it before and I can do it again." He sternly nods at me.

"Then why don't you go by yourself?" I ask him, breaking his argument in half.

"I could go by myself." He states, clearly trying to seem fond of the idea. "But I figured that maybe you'd want freedom after having been in here since way before the start."

The boy stares blankly at me, waiting for a response.

I haven't thought about what it'd be like to go beyond these walls. But the kid is right, I haven't been out of the prison since I was placed here.

"There are no more laws to stop you," The boy speaks up after noticing my hesitation. "No officers, no one will come look—"

Amidst avoiding his presumption that the first thing I'd do upon leaving would be to break laws, I find a larger cause of panic in the latter of his words.

"Correction," I cut him off. "Your father will come looking." I start. "And what makes you think I want to break any laws anyways?" My offended voice obviously taken back by his assumption.

At first, the boy says nothing. But with a cock of his head to the side, I quickly realize what he's getting at.

"It will take him a long time to realize we're gone, maybe even a few days." The boy looks up as if he's thinking this through properly. "And by then, we'll be long gone."

"So you want to leave? Just like that?" I ask, and the boy stares at me dumbfounded with the same blank look on his face. "We'll just go off on our own until the foreseeable future."

"Pretty much, yeah." He shrugs.

"Why?"

"Until you know what it's like being out there, you won't understand." He shakes his hatless head.

"Try me." I say, offering my mind to the boy in need of my help.

"It's just, freeing," He starts. "Everything's so quiet and there's nothing you can't do. No rules, no people, no standards." He scoots away from how close he is to me and instead, looks upon the field. "Sure there are walkers, but they're easy to outsmart." The boy swallows. "It's like the world is just yours and there's no one else in it."

These words spilling from the boy's mouth seem awfully appealing. Since a little while before the world fell, I have only been confined to this tight space. The fresh air is something I spend every waking minute in, but sometimes, even that begins to feel too stuffy in this place.

Sure, I wouldn't be completely alone out there having Carl with me. But it's an improvement from the crowd of people I'm forced to survive with.
Having less people to worry and care about, just being two people outside of the walls. Outside of the place I've been confined to.

We could do what we want when we want to. Like he said, no rules, no standards, no nothing.

"I'll think about it."

☆

Because of the sudden walker buildup overnight, I am now on fence duty with Glenn and a few of the people from Woodbury.

Of course, I remember that I'm still also on my usual gate duty when the people from the run drive toward the front gate.

Daryl had the idea to go clear a supermarket called The Big Spot earlier this afternoon.

I run over to the gate and pull open the double doors we have in front of the fence. I usually have to use the entire weight of my body to even start pulling the gate open with the rope.

The car drives through the front gates and I release the rope before the gnarling walkers can follow it in.

Maggie, Daryl, Michonne and Bob exit the car. The few people stand there looking both bloody and bruised up. There was a fifth person on that run and I can't remember who it was. I don't think it turned out too well for them.

Jogging after the car and up the gravel road, I look over and see Carl brushing Michonne's horse. The stable seeming to be the place where this boy does not want to be.

Quickly, he makes eye contact with me and raises his arm to wave me over. I shake my head and jog over to where he is, him meeting me halfway.

"Listen to this." The boy rolls his eyes.

My eyes follow Carl's gaze, to the far side of the field, where the horde of walkers stays just beyond the fence.

"Here!" A high-pitched voice shouts. "Here, Nick!"

I turn my head and see the two blonde girls across the field waving to the walkers outside of the fence.

"What the hell are they doing?" I look back to him.

"They're naming the walkers." He rolls his eyes. "They think that they're still people."

"It seems like we're the only kids around here who get it." I huff. "Their view of the walkers is going to put them in danger." I say, starting to walk toward the two girls.

"Just let it." He rolls his eyes and sticks his arm out in front of me. "It's natural selection at this point."

"Do you even know what natural selection means?" I object.

"It means that if they still think like that this far along," The boy sort of trails off as he looks at the two girls in the field. "They're as good as dead."

I take a brief pause.

Although blunt, Carl is right.

The two girls begin throwing pebbles at the walkers, enticing the dead even more. They smile and jump up and down to catch the attention of the dozens of walkers trying to tear down the fence.

Looking at how excited they are to play with the undead, I realize it's probably true. They are too deep in this and probably will never get the chance to see the world for what it really is.

"Well," I sigh and look away from the two girls. "They'll probably get other people hurt, taunting the walkers like that." I motion my hand towards the large herd accumulating at the fence.

"That's why it may be best to get away from here." The boy teases, raising both of his hands up.

"Yeah, yeah."

☆

Wiping my hands free of dirt and grime, I walk across the courtyard and open the door to my wing of the prison.

After I finish my fence duty for the day, I enter the corridor to our cell block in hopes to tell Beth that her sister is back safe and sound. Being the bearer of good news instills a foreign excitement inside of me as I glide across the cell block.

Relieving moments come few and far between for me, as I normally choose to isolate myself from nearly everyone who occupies the cell block.

Beth's voice echoes outside of the walls of her cell, as she quietly hums a tune.

I lightly tap three knocks on the doorway to her cell just as she's putting the baby to sleep and rocking her cradle. She looks up at me with invitation written on her face.

The girl turns her body towards me and waits in silence for me to speak up, in hopes to not wake the baby with the sound of her voice.

"Maggie's back from the run." I say, hoping to delight the girl now knowing that her sister is back safe.

"That's good," The girl mutters, cracking a slight smile. "What about Zach?"

When her eyes land on the blank stare on my face, she gently stops rocking the cradle. The girl then pulls her arms away from it, folding them, before stepping out into the corridor.

"What about Zach?"

"Did he make it back from the run?" She looks at me with hopeful eyes. Her eyes soon lose their glimmer as she realizes what my lack of an answer means.

My mind quickly puts the pieces together and I remember how only four of the five people returned in the car. The blood all over their clothing and the bruises all over their skin screamed disaster.

The shock slowly consumes my facial expression when I realize that Beth caught on to what happened to her boyfriend before I could.

"Oh, Beth I'm s—"

"It's fine." The girl says in her thick southern accent.

She walks back into her cell and checks to see if the baby is still asleep. I stand at the entrance of her cell and stare—in awe—of her lack of reaction.

"I'm done crying." She shrugs her shoulders.

"Wh—"

"I'm just glad I got to know him is all." Beth states, seemingly oblivious to the heaviness of the situation. The girl nonchalantly shrugs.

A slight bit of stun still consumes me. My words only coming out as a confused mumble. "I'm just tired of losing people."

Before I know what's happening, the girl walks up to me, pulling me into a hug. I hesitantly wrap my arms around her back as hers fasten around my neck. Beth sighs and tightens her arms around me.

"There's a reason I don't say goodbye to people anymore." She mutters into my shoulder.

I can't help but stand in shock. Part of me is saying that she's mature and brave. And that if I'd been through everything she has, I'd probably act the same way.

The other part—the human part—is saying that she's most likely in denial or shock and is handling it like a stubborn five year old. The two sides debate in my head until the girl lets me go and starts to step back.

"I'm going to sleep it off." She sheepishly says.

And just like that, I turn around and leave her cell, remaining alone with my own thoughts.

Our people lost someone young today, and the most mourning done was the group moping around in silence. I don't understand how someone could just sleep off the loss of a boyfriend.

The way this group handles—although rather frequent—death is still, after all this time, disturbing to me. The most we can give is a moment of silence and then the group goes back to normal everyday life. Because that's what we have to do.

Maybe Carl is right. We are the only two people who get it.

He's already been addicted to this world and I haven't been exposed at all. Everyone else is in some weird in-between trance of denial and ignorance.

I hardly think about what I'm about to do as I stand in the corridor of the cell block. Contemplating only goes so far in my head, as my feet start to carry me to Carl's cell.

I walk in the cell and look over to the bottom bunk where the boy usually sits, only to find that he isn't there.

Unknowingly, this as my second chance to think this through. To think about what'd happen if I were to abandon everything these people have given me.

I hear footsteps echo through the corridor and they make their way closer to the cell.

"What are you doing in here?"

I turn around to see the confused boy, once again lacking his sheriff's hat. He stands covered in dirt and sweat, removing his gardening gloves one at a time as he stares at me, waiting for my answer.

I stand in silence, not completely sure of what to say to the boy. He is clearly desperate for an escape route out of here.

And I'm desperate for this life not to seem normal.

I quickly go back and forth in my head as I stand there. Leaving the group could end the cycle of loss. My cycle. I wouldn't have to expect it anymore. I wouldn't have to anticipate the unexpected.

Leaving would also allow the boy standing before me to gather himself and a sense of maturity. Which he so desperately needs, even if it takes leaving the safety of the walls for him to understand.

Maybe it wouldn't be forever. Maybe it would only be a few weeks, until we find our way back.

Sacrificing safety for a state of mind may be a worth-while risk I'll have to take.

"Megan?" The boy says my name, clearly recognizing that I'm barely outside of panic.

"I'm in."

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3414 words

A/N

okay this last scene really is not the best, but I'm sure by the time EE is completed, I'll have figured out a way to make it not so ASS

edit 11/22/22: still haven't figured out a way yet :p

☆the vote button is getting cold ☆