I sit against the wall, tossing the keys back and forth. Carl gave them to me after he locked the door, and he sits nearby, talking to Beth. Carol and Lori sit on the steps, chatting.

"OPEN THE DOOR! IT'S HERSHEL!" Rick screams.

I jump up, grabbing a key and unlocking the door. The rest of our group rushes in. Hershel lays on a rolling cart, passed out. There's just a bloody stump where his left leg once was. I toss Carl the keys and he locks the door.

"Get him in here!" I say.

Rick and Glenn roll the cart into the cell and lift him onto the bed.

"Carol, get bandages!" I order. Lori hands me a towel, and I try to soak up the blood coming from Hershel's leg.

"We used them all," she answers.

"Get anything! ANYTHING!" I yell. "If you want me to save him, I'll need people to cooperate."

"Carl, go get more towels," Lori says.

"Is he gonna die?" Beth asks.

Lori hugs her, comforting her.

"Hope, can you stabilize him?" Rick asks desperately.

"I need to keep his leg elevated. Grab pillows," I order. I am in emergency mode, nothing can phase me. "Carol, I'll need your help."

She nods and sits down beside me. Although we bicker sometimes, we both work well together during medical situations. Hershel and I play doctor, and Carol is the back up, in case anything happens to either Hershel or me.

"He's bled through the sheets," Maggie gasps.

"We can cauterize the wound," Glenn suggests. "I could start a fire."

"No! The shock could kill him!" I warn.

Carl returns with towels and Carol grabs them, holding them against Hershel's stump.

The sound of arguing fills the air.

"What is that?" Beth asks.

"Survivors. Prisoners here," Rick answers. "I'll take care of it."

He leaves. I get up and pull Carl aside.

"I need you to find the infirmary. Find someone to go with you, and find it. I've seen jails like this. It should be that way." I point. "You hear me?"

"Got it, Hope," Carl says, running down the stairs.

I go back into the cell, kneeling back down beside Hershel.

"Carol? Any change?" I ask.

"The bleeding has slowed down, but that's it," she answers.

We continue working, and I keep track of the symptoms in my mind.

"We're back!" T-dog yells. "And we got food!"

"What've you got?" Lori asks from outside.

"Canned beef, canned corn...canned cans," T-dog answers. I laugh.

Rick is carrying two sacks while T-dog holds boxes. They bring the food to another cell and set it down.

"Any change?" Rick asks as he walks back to us.

"The bleeding is under control and there's no fever, but his breath is laboured and his pulse is way down, and he hasn't opened his eyes yet," I report.

"Take my cuffs and put them on him. I'm not taking any chances," he says.

Glenn takes his cuffs and goes into the cell.

"Hope, I want you to come with me. I want you to help us clear out a cell block for those prisoners," Rick says.

"Are you sure? I'm kind of the doctor around here for now," I say.

"Do you think he's stable enough to let Carol handle it? "

"Just a sec. I'll ask." I turn into the cell. "Carol? If I went with Rick, could you handle Hershel?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks for asking," she replies.

I turn back to Rick. "Looks like I'm good."

"Alright. I'll meet you out there in a second."

I walk through the doors, where I find Daryl, T-dog, and five men dressed in prison clothes gathered around a small table. Of the five, there's three black men, one man that looks Hispanic, and one white guy.

"Who's this?" the Hispanic looking man with dark hair pulled into a small ponytail asks. He's wearing a white tank top and has tattoos on his arms and collarbone.

"This is Hope," Daryl says.

"Rick asked me to come along," I say, crossing my arms.

"Mighty fine to meet you young lady," a man with blonde hair and a moustache says politely. "It's mighty nice to see a beautiful woman again."

"Flattery ain't gonna get you nowhere," Daryl growls.

"I'm sorry. Just telling the truth," the man apologizes, holding his hands up.

"Shut up Axel," the man with the dark hair snaps.

Rick rounds corner, and we go silent. He lays some weapons on the table. A crowbar, an axe, and some other handheld stuff.

The dark haired man picks up the crowbar. "Why would I need this when I've got this." He pulls a small pistol from his waistband, holding it in the air.

"You don't fire a gun unless your back's up against a wall. Noise attracts them, really riles them up," Daryl says.

"Daryl will run point with Hope. I'll bring up the rear with Andrew." Rick points to a skinny black guy, also with tattoos on his collarbone. "Everyone else, Tomas, Big Tiny, Oscar, Axel, and T, you go in the middle." He points to each person as he says their name.

I look between the three remaining prisoners. Tomas is the dark haired guy, Oscar is the black guy of average height with a goatee, and Big Tiny is the huge black guy with a black beard and fuzzy black hair.

"Stay tight, hold formation no matter how close the walkers get," Rick continues. "Break formation, we could all go down. Someone runs off, they could be mistaken for a walker, get an axe in the head."

"That's where you aim," I add. "These things don't go down without a head shot."

"You ain't gotta tell us how to take out a man," Tomas says.

"Except these things aren't men," T-dog says. "They're something else."

"Just remember to go for the brain," Rick finishes.

We leave, with me and Daryl in the lead. We round a few corners in the dark prison hallways. Growls and groans emanate down the hall.

"They're coming!" Axel cries and we shush him.

The two walkers round the corner and move towards us. Rick prepares to attack, but the prisoners rush forwards. They start stabbing them in the gut and chest and kicking them when they're on the ground. The four of us stand and watch, waiting for them to be done. Their idiocy is almost comedic.

I shake my head, walking towards the walkers and stabbing them both in the head. They drop to the ground and the prisoners stare at me in disbelief.

"How come they only died for her?" Andrew asks.

"The brain," Rick says. "It's gotta be the brain. Not the heart, not the lungs."

More growls are heard.

"Looks like you've got some more practice time comin'," Daryl says and we move back into formation.

We go down more hallways until we see more walkers. As we start stabbing, I see Big Tiny backing away from the violence. As he does, two walkers attack him from behind.

"Watch out!" I yell.

Bing Tiny turns and smashes one of the walkers, and then stabs the second one.

He pants and turns to me. "Thanks for the warning."

Just then, a walker comes out of nowhere. Before I can say anything, it claws Big Tiny's back. He screams, and everyone goes into panic mode. I try to kill the walker, but three gunshots ring out before I can. Tomas stands nearby, pistol raised.

Rick looks at him angrily before turning to me. "Hope, check his back."

I go behind Big Tiny and check. There's a deep gash in his shoulder, and I shake my head and back away.

"He's been scratched," I say.

"He won't turn if it's just a scratch, right?" Axel asks.

"Yes. He will," I reply.

"Guys, I swear, I feel fine!" Big Tiny says, his deep voice rumbling. "No fever. Please don't kill me."

"You saved that old guy's life before! Can't you do that for him?" Oscar asks Rick.

"Look where the scratch is," Daryl says. "We can't hack off his shoulder."

"There's nothing we can do," Rick says.

"You son of a bitch!" Andrew yells at him.

"Guys! Please! I'm fine!" Big Tiny says again.

A crowbar appears out of nowhere and smacks him over the head, and he falls to the ground. Tomas steps out of the shadows, staring at Big Tiny. He swings the crowbar, smashing into Big Tiny's head. Blood flies everywhere, and there's a vicious look in Tomas' eyes. I cover my mouth, moving closer to Daryl. He grabs my arm, pulling me close to him.

After a few more swings, Tomas stops and stares at all of us. His face and hair are covered in blood.

"Let's go," he says, walking down the hallway.

We stare at his retreating back, stunned and horrified.