"Your turn, Axel. Stay sharp." The burly Black man patted the shorter man on the shoulder, his voice rough, then headed down the stairs.
Looks like he was going to rest.
Axel gave a perfunctory nod, set his water bottle by his feet, and leaned lazily against the railing. His gaze drifted aimlessly beyond the wall. He looked less like he was on watch and more like he was spacing out.
"This is our chance," Calista whispered, her eyes sharp.
Two guards. One had just taken over and wasn't focused, the other had stepped away. It was the perfect window.
"Leah, Shane, move in from the abandoned vehicles on the left. Stay out of sight from the main gate. Merle, Rick, come with me. We'll circle around through that dry drainage ditch on the right. Keep it quiet and use every bit of cover."
Calista issued her orders quickly, and the five split up at once.
Leah and Shane used the grass and uneven ground to slip into the wreckage of abandoned prison transport buses and garbage trucks on the left.
On the other side, Calista led Merle and Rick into the dried-up drainage ditch. It hadn't seen rain in a long time, the ground cracked and brittle.
The ditch wasn't deep, but it was enough to conceal them.
Gravel and dead leaves covered the bottom, forcing them to place each step with extreme care to avoid making noise.
Up in the watchtower, Axel had no idea what was happening below.
Bored out of his mind, he pulled out a small cloth bag and poured a few strips of what looked like homemade jerky into his hand, chewing slowly.
His eyes wandered. Every now and then, he gave the area near the wall a half-hearted glance, but there was no focus, no real vigilance.
Calista's group moved closer, inch by inch.
The wind covered the faint sounds of their movement, and the occasional birdcall further distracted Axel's already wandering attention.
They avoided the open space near the main gate and regrouped beneath a section of wall closest to the main prison buildings.
This spot sat in a blind spot of the watchtower's view and was near a smaller side door that looked like a service entrance.
The door was chained shut, but the hinges were rusted.
They pressed against the cold, rough concrete, breathing lightly.
They had made it right under the guards' noses.
Calista gave Leah a look.
Leah understood immediately. Like a cat, she slipped up to the door, pressing her ear against the rusted metal, holding her breath as she listened carefully for any sound inside.
Rick and Shane kept their eyes on the watchtower and the top of the walls.
Merle used his good left hand to feel along the lock and chain, testing if he could pry it open with his knife.
A faint click.
The lock gave under Merle's deft touch.
The "skills" he'd picked up from life on the streets and time in prison were paying off again.
The chain loosened. Calista eased the door open just enough, and the five slipped inside one by one, disappearing into the shadows.
They found themselves in what looked like the outer yard of the prison. A concrete open area for inmates to exercise, connected to several low buildings.
Everything was unusually clean.
No wandering walkers. No scattered remains. Hardly any signs of large-scale fighting.
Someone had cleared this place carefully and kept it that way for a while.
"It's been cleaned up thoroughly," Rick whispered, scanning the quiet buildings and corridors. "Doesn't look like walkers are inside."
"Too quiet," Shane added, his fingers resting lightly near his holster. "Aside from the two on the tower, no movement."
Calista swept her gaze across the empty yard and made a quick decision.
"Rick, Shane, you two know the layout better. Head further in and check the central area. Look for signs of people, but avoid direct contact."
She needed to know who was here. Friend or enemy. Whether it was Carver and the others.
Rick and Shane nodded.
Moving in sync, one left and one right, they used cover to slip toward the main prison buildings.
Calista gestured to Leah and Merle, then pointed at the watchtower.
They had to deal with the guard before he raised the alarm.
The three moved silently toward the base of the tower.
It was a freestanding structure, with a narrow iron ladder leading up.
Just as they were about to climb, something went wrong.
With only one arm, Merle shifted his balance and accidentally kicked one of the empty metal drums stacked at the base.
Clang!
The sound wasn't loud, but in the dead silence of the prison, it rang out sharply.
"Damn it," Merle muttered, his face tightening.
Up on the tower, Axel jumped, startled out of his daze.
He leaned over and looked down, locking eyes with Calista, Leah, and Merle just as they looked up.
His eyes went wide. His mouth dropped open. The jerky in his hand almost slipped.
Calista's heart sank.
Leah's hand had already reached her dagger. Her body lowered slightly, muscles coiling.
In the next instant, the blade would fly straight into his throat.
He could not be allowed to sound the alarm.
But at that critical moment, Axel didn't look afraid. He didn't look hostile either.
Instead, his face lit up with disbelief and overwhelming excitement.
He lowered his voice, but the thrill in it was impossible to hide.
"Wait. Don't do anything. Are you… are you Calista? And Leah? That one-armed guy, that's Merle, right? My God. Is it really you?!"
"..."
Leah froze mid-motion, shock breaking through her usual cold expression.
Calista raised a hand to stop her, looking up at the short white man on the tower who looked like he might burst with excitement, her brows drawn tight.
Merle stood there too, still half in a fighting stance, his face full of confusion, like he couldn't make sense of any of this.
The four of them stared at each other across the height of the tower.
The tension collapsed from near violence into something strange and suspended, filled with questions.
How did this unfamiliar, clearly unprofessional guard know their names so precisely?
And why did he look like he had just run into old friends after a long time apart?