The lights in the prison underground transfer station were blindingly white, casting long, faint shadows of the few people on the platform.
Merle leaned back in a folding chair, clutching a hand of cards, his expression as if he were chewing on a live fly.
Daryl sat opposite him, expressionlessly organizing the cards in his hand one by one.
Two of his subordinates nearby hunched their necks, not daring to breathe loudly.
"Did you fucking cheat every time you dealt the cards?"
Merle slammed the cards onto the table, eyes glaring: "I've had eight hands of garbage in a row!"
Daryl glanced up at him and said slowly, "You shuffled the cards yourself. You can't blame us for getting a bad hand after raising the stakes."
Merle opened his mouth, looked down at the scattered pile of cards on the table, then looked at Daryl's permanently expressionless face, and swallowed the curse words that were on the tip of his tongue.
He flipped over his last two cards, cursed, pulled a few cigarettes from his pocket, and threw them on the table.
Daryl reached out, gathered the cigarettes, and stuffed them into his pocket.
A low hum came from the tunnel.
The tracks began to vibrate, very faintly, like someone drumming in the distance.
Merle stood up, gathered the cards into a pile, and shoved them into his pocket.
"The train is here."
The armored train emerged from the tunnel, the headlight illuminating the platform brightly.
The sound of wheels grinding over the tracks grew louder, then it braked; air hissed out from under the train, blowing people's pant legs back.
The train stopped steadily beside the platform, and the doors opened.
Rick walked down, holding Carl's hand.
Carl carried a small backpack, looking around curiously, seeing the lights on the platform, the signs on the walls, and Merle's smirk.
Rick wore a clean black tactical suit, with a map tucked into his chest pocket and his holster polished until it shone.
Merle crossed his arms over his chest, tilted his head, looked him up and down, and clicked his tongue.
""Wow, wow, wow… well, well, who do we have here?"
He drawled, as if reciting lines on a stage: "The big shot sent to guard the frontier, it turns out to be our Sheriff!"
Rick pulled Carl behind him and looked at him: "What, not welcome?"
"Welcome, why wouldn't I be?"
Merle grinned: "Whoever the boss sends, that's who it is. I, Merle, wouldn't dare have an opinion."
Lori stepped down from the carriage, stood beside Rick, and cast a faint glance at Merle.
Merle nodded at her, surprisingly not mouthing off.
"Alright!"
He turned and shouted toward the tunnel: "Daryl! Get everyone together! Time to go!"
Daryl walked over from the other end of the platform, carrying a duffel bag, glanced at Rick, and nodded.
A dozen or so people in black tactical suits filed out of the tunnel, lined up, and boarded the train quietly.
Merle was the last to board. He stood by the train door and looked back at Rick.
"The train is yours. The guns and ammunition are in the carriages, and the inventory list is in the driver's cab. The weapons in the prison armory are all accounted for, so use them sparingly."
His gaze rested on Rick's face for a moment: "The boss said, manage this place well."
Rick nodded.
Merle turned and walked into the carriage, the doors closed, the train started, and it soon disappeared into the depths of the tunnel.
The platform quieted down; only the buzzing of the ventilation system echoed overhead.
Rick took Carl's hand and walked up the stairs.
Lori followed behind, hand on the railing, walking slowly.
When they pushed open the iron door, the sunlight stung their eyes.
Outside was an open area paved with gravel that crunched underfoot.
A chain-link fence stood along the edge of the open ground; some parts were newly patched, the wire still gleaming with a silvery light.
Outside the fence was an open area where the weeds had been cleared away, providing a clear view.
Further away was a dense, dark forest that looked impenetrable.
Lori walked up to Rick and reached out to take his arm.
"From now on, this is our territory."
Her voice was soft but certain.
Rick stopped walking.
He turned to look at her, his expression as if someone had splashed a bucket of cold water on him.
"What?"
Lori met his gaze without flinching: "I said, this place is ours from now on. You manage this place, and you don't have to worry about what others think anymore—"
"What do you mean, our territory?"
Rick interrupted her, his voice low but every word hard as a nail: "We are administrators, not owners."
Lori was taken aback.
"Is there a difference?"
"Of course there is."
Rick let go of her hand: "This place is still an asset of the Umbrella Corporation. I was just sent here to manage it. Wu Fan trusted me, which is why he handed this place over to me, not so I could become a local warlord."
Lori's expression changed.
"I didn't say you should be a warlord, I just meant—"
"That's enough."
Rick's voice wasn't loud, but it was cold.
He looked at her, and there was something in his gaze that made Lori swallow the rest of her words.
What difference is there between the owner you speak of and a warlord?
He turned and walked away, his pace quick, his boots crunching on the gravel road.
Lori stood in place, watching his back, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Carl looked up and asked in a low voice: "Mom, is Dad angry?"
Lori lowered her head and stroked his hair.
"No, Dad is just tired. He'll change his mind later."
Glenn came up from below the stairs and almost bumped into Rick.
"Hey—Rick, there are three prisoners left in the prison, left behind by Merle. I'm here to ask you how to handle them."
Rick paused.
"Take me to see them."
The detention cells were in the east wing of the prison, small cubicles separated by iron bars, each containing an iron bed, a toilet, and a sink.
A person sat in each of the three cubicles.
Rick stood outside the iron bars, sizing up the three people inside.
In the first cubicle sat a large black man with shoulders as wide as a door panel, his hands resting on his knees like two large fans.
Seeing Rick, he stood up, his height towering over the iron bars.
"They all like to call me Big Guy."
Rick didn't respond and walked to the second cubicle.
Inside sat a black man, well-built, who watched Rick walk to the iron gate.
"Oscar."
He gave his name, his voice steady.
Rick glanced at him and walked to the third cubicle.
Inside sat a person, a white man who wasn't as tall as the first two, appearing particularly small.
Seeing Rick, he hurriedly stood up, his head nearly hitting the ceiling.
"Axel!"
Rick stood in the middle of the corridor, looking at the three men, silent for a moment.
"Do you know what it's become out there?"
The three looked at each other. Oscar spoke first: "We know a little. Some guards ran in and said that people outside were turning into man-eating monsters. Later, the guards opened the doors for us to escape together, but the prison corridors were all blocked off. We hid in the cafeteria eating canned food for almost three months."
"Then do you know what kind of world it is now?"
Rick's voice was calm: "There is no law, no police, no courts. There are Walkers everywhere outside, and the people who have survived are more terrifying than the Walkers."
The expressions of all three changed.
The smile on Axel's face faded.
"So how do you plan to deal with us?"
"Two choices."
Rick held up two fingers: "First, join us, Umbrella Corporation. Here there is food to eat, a place to live, work to do. You must follow the rules, you must work, and you must carry a gun. Second, I let you go. The doors are open, go wherever you want, but you know what it's like out there."
The three men were silent for a long time.
The big guy spoke up: "I'll join. I'm not going anywhere."
Oscar also stood up, looking at Rick through the iron bars.
"I'll join. I trust you."
Axel walked to the iron bars, gripped them with both hands, and looked down at Rick.
"I'll join too, but I have a condition."
Rick looked at him.
"Don't make me use a toy gun. I've sworn that I'll never touch that thing again in my life."
Rick paused for a moment, then the corner of his mouth twitched.
"We use real guns."
Axel grinned, a hint of embarrassment in his smile.
"That's fine then."
Rick turned and walked out.
Glenn followed behind and asked in a low voice: "Just like that? Not interrogating them?"
Rick didn't look back.
"I've already interrogated them. Not everyone locked up in prison is a bad person; some people just took the wrong path."
At the end of the corridor, Lori stood holding Carl's hand.
She saw Rick walking over, her lips moving as if she wanted to say something.
Rick walked past her without stopping.
"I'm going to check the perimeter wall."
He said.
Lori stood in place, watching his retreating figure for a long time without moving.
Carl looked up at his mom.
"Is Dad still angry?"
Lori lowered her head and took his hand. "No, Dad is just... has a lot on his mind."
The sunset was descending, coating the grey walls of the prison in a layer of dark red.
Rick stood on the wall, looking at the forest in the distance. The wind blew in, carrying the scent of the wilderness.
From now on, this was his place.
He recalled Wu Fan's words— "Do a good job, don't let me down."
He clenched his fists.
This place would not become anyone's territory, nor would it become his private kingdom.
~~~~~~
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