Prison, 2010.

The air inside the prison was thick—stagnant, heavy with the scent of mildew and something worse. The kind of smell that clung to the walls of a place abandoned for too long. Dust hung in the shafts of light filtering through the high, barred windows, swirling with every cautious step you took. Your boots echoed against the cracked tile, the sound swallowed by the sheer vastness of the place.

Daryl walked a little ahead of you, crossbow raised, eyes sweeping every dark corner. The tension in his shoulders hadn't eased since you stepped inside, like he was waiting for the walls to close in. Not that you blamed him. This wasn’t just some house you were clearing—this was a fortress built to keep people in, not out. And now it was yours.

Rick motioned for you to keep moving, his grip tight around his machete. The hallway split into different directions—one leading deeper into the cell blocks, the other toward the administrative offices. Darkened doorways lined the walls, some still shut, others wide open like gaping mouths. The bloodstains smeared across the floor and walls had faded to a dark, rusted brown. Whoever had died in here had been dead for a long time.

As you passed an open cell, you caught a glimpse of what was inside—a metal bed frame, a rusted toilet, a few crumpled pieces of paper littering the floor. A life frozen in place, abandoned like everything else. You shivered, dragging your fingers along the cold iron bars as you passed.

Ahead of you, Glenn and T-Dog were checking doors, clearing the space one step at a time. A soft scuff of boots behind you made you glance back—Maggie, Carol, and Beth were watching the halls, keeping close-- but it was just a little mouse running by. You were all waiting for something to go wrong. But nothing happened. And just like that, the prison wasn’t so empty anymore.