"everything i've done doesnt define what i am." - memo boy and chakra efendi

walkers shuffle out from the shadows beside salem, their hollow eyes fixated on the man. their growls grow louder, a symphony of death that sends shivers down anyone's spine. "who are you?" the man asks, his voice heavy with a southern accent. salem says nothing back, she stands there, her gaze locked with the man's, unflinching. jack wobbles up beside her, his group of the dead following behind him. the walkers close in, their growls louder, hungrier. their hands start to crawl all other salem and jack, engulfing them in their hurdle like a colony of bees. salem takes a deep breath, smelling the smell of safety around her. the man calls to his people and they open their gate, some running out and starting to kill the walkers surrounding us. 

gunshots ring through the air as salem clutches at her necklace in the midst of it all. jack stands beside her as the dead start to walk off toward the prison people. "are you bit?" an older man shouts to them from the other side of the fence. jack shakes his head 'no'. "her?" the man with the accent says, shooting the last walker around us. "no." jack whispers and the men seem almost afraid of the kids. "come on." the man says shutting the large gate behind them. "you have any weapons on you?" a boy asks, his cowboy hat swoops down in his young face, his maturity matching salem's. 

"two blades, and this." jack says quietly, handing over his spear and blade before taking one from salem's belt and handing it to the boy. the boy hands them over to the man with the accent who with some assumption salem can tell it is his father. the same baby blue eyes staring into her soul. the two lead salem and jack through the cold walls of the prison, people eyes scanning them as they pass by. the man sits them down in a cell block, locking the gate with him, the older man, and the boy. "my name is rick grimes, this is my boy, carl, and this is hershel greene. he's a doctor he can help you." rick says looking at salem's bloody arm, which she didn't even notice. 

"i'm jack, this is my cousin salem. we're looking for my father, have you seen him?" jack asks pulling out a small photo from years ago and handing it to rick. he stares at the photo for a moment and salem notices his eyes flicker for just a moment. "no, sorry." he says handing jack the picture back. salem scans the room, looking at the dark gray walls and the spider webs coating the unused cell block. blood stains run along the floor. salem follows one particular stain to a shelf full of boxes and water bottles. rick notices her glancing and walks over grabbing a water. "you want one?" he asks trying to hand it to salem but her eyes seem focused on something else. an orange backpack sitting next to the shelves. 

recognition floods her mind. without hesitation, she jumps up, pulling out a switchblade from her shoe, she wouldn't ever use it really--her uncle gave it to her as an accessory, both him and jack knowing salem wouldn't hurt a fly. jack mirrors her movement, pulling a small gun from his belt. "where is he?" he demands, his voice shaking slightly. rick raises his hands, trying to calm them down. "wait, hold on. let's talk about this." he says, his tone steady but urgent. rick takes a cautious step forward, his hands still raised. "listen, we found that bag in an abandoned camp a few miles back." 

jack's grip on the gun tightens, his eyes flicking to the bag and back to rick. "you're lying. i saw the way you looked at that picture." rick's face hardens, but he keeps his voice even. "i'm not lying. we found the bag, that's all. if your uncle was there, he wasn't when we drove by. i'm sorry." salem's eyes dart to jack, seeking his silent agreement. jack nods slightly, still wary. "fine," he says, lowering his gun just a fraction. "but if you're lying, you'll regret it." salem slowly lowers her knife, but her eyes remain sharp and distrustful. jack follows suit, lowering his gun but keeping it within reach. 

"look," a young woman with a thick southern accent says as she stands next to the old man, her voice steady, "we don't want any more conflict. it's been a tough day for all of us. why don't you stay here for the night? we've got a cellblock that's secure. it's not the ritz, but it's safe." salem eyes her warily but senses the sincerity in her tone. jack, still holding the small gun in his hand, glances around the grimy, blood-streaked cellblock, weighing their options.

"will you help her?" jack asks, looking down at salem's bleeding arm. rick nods, gesturing to hershel. "we have a medical kit. hershel can take a look at your injuries." the group starts to move around, carl grabbing blankets and water from the shelf and setting them on the table in the middle of the room while the young woman helps hershel over to the corner of the room where he stitches up salem's arm. jack takes a deep breath, finally lowering his guard as he watches hershel work on salem. "thanks," he says quietly. "we didn't know what to expect coming here."

the woman offers a small, tired smile. "you're welcome. we've all had our fair share of rough days. just try to get some rest tonight. you'll figure things out in the morning." a scruffy man, who's been quietly observing, finally speaks up. "if you need anything, just ask. we're locking these up though, you get why." jack nods in appreciation and salem just sits there staring at the needle going in and out of her skin. 

eventually, the group filters out, leaving one or two in front of the cell gate to keep watch on the two kids. jack and salem wandered into a cell, the creaking of the old metal doors the only sound as they make their beds for the night. jack lays on the bottom bunk, stretching out with a sigh of relief. "haven't slept in one of these in a long time." he says, his voice tinged with nostalgia. 

salem climbs up to the top bunk, holding her water bottle close to her chest. quiet tears drip from her eyes, a mix of exhaustion and despair. she gazes at the darkened ceiling, trying to push away the overwhelming worry. "do you think they were telling the truth?" she whispers to jack, her voice barely audible. 

jack shifts uncomfortably on his bunk, trying to find the right words. "they wouldn't have taken us in if they were the kind of people to kill him on the spot. maybe he got into it with the dead." salem shakes her head, pulling at a knot in her hair, her face flushed with frustration. "they wouldn't do that, not to us. the dead help us, they keep us safe, jack." jack rolls onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow to look at her. "they're just a disguise, salem. without our coats, they'd feed on us like they do everyone else. they're not one of us. they're just... not attacking us because they're confused by the scent."

"they're more than that," salem argues, her voice trailing along. "they're just trying to survive, same as us." "they're not one of us." jack insists, his tone firm. "they're a danger. they're only not attacking because they don't see us as prey right now. it doesn't mean they're helping us. it just means they haven't figured out how to." salem's face tightens in anger and sadness. "you think they're just like the living, always out to hurt us? i've seen them protect us, keep us safe from people. i've seen them help us more than hurt us." 

"that's just because they're not aware of what they're doing," jack argues, his frustration evident. "they don't have motives. they don't have feelings. they're just driven by instinct. you can't trust them. you can't trust that they'll always be a shield." salem's eyes narrow, tears still streaking her face. the weight of their argument hangs heavy in the air. she turns her back to jack, staring at the wall, her thoughts swirling. 

jack, sensing the end of the argument, falls silent as well, staring at the ceiling. the tension between them is palpable, but as the minutes tick by, it slowly begins to dissolve into the stillness of the night. the bunk beds creak softly as they adjust to their new positions, the only sound in the darkened cell.