Chapter 45: The Prison Signal
POV: Glenn
The signal materializes from static at 0347 hours, Glenn's modified receiver catching fragments of voice buried beneath electromagnetic noise. He adjusts filters, sharpens frequency response, and suddenly words crystallize from chaos.
"...safe zone established... supplies available... day forty-seven... transmission repeats..."
"Automated broadcast. Pre-recorded message playing on loop, probably triggered by timer or motion sensor. Someone set this up weeks ago, which means either they're still there maintaining it, or they're dead and the equipment keeps running on stored power."
Glenn plots the signal's origin through triangulation math that would've bored him in his college days but now represents survival's geometry. Twenty miles northeast, strong signal suggesting powerful transmitter, source located at large structure his maps identify as a correctional facility.
A prison.
POV: Scott
Scott's System erupts with alerts before Glenn finds him, probability matrices cascading across his vision with implications that make his chest tighten.
[AUTOMATED BROADCAST DETECTED]
[SOURCE: CORRECTIONAL FACILITY - 20 MILES NORTHEAST]
[CANON EVENT PROBABILITY: 87%]
[STRATEGIC VALUE: EXTREME]
[INVESTIGATION REQUIRED]
"The prison. Has to be. Timeline matches, location matches, signal matches the setup from the show. But canon diverged months ago—no guarantee it's secure, or valuable, or anything except death trap broadcasting false hope."
He finds Glenn in the radio room, the younger man's expression mixing excitement and uncertainty in ways that suggest he's already imagining possibilities beyond current intelligence.
"You need to hear this," Glenn says, cueing the recording.
The voice that plays sounds young, male, cautiously optimistic: "If you're receiving this, we've established a safe zone at the prison. Walls are secure, supplies adequate, looking for survivors to rebuild with. Day forty-seven since lockdown. This message repeats hourly. Approach from the south entrance, identify yourself clearly. We're armed but friendly."
POV: Rick
Rick arrives mid-replay, summoned by Glenn's runner, and his face transforms as implications register. A prison—walls, cells, infrastructure built to contain rather than welcome. Everything a community needs to survive long-term.
"Secure perimeter, existing buildings, water systems, medical facilities. It's everything we wished Haven could be, potentially available twenty miles away. But 'potentially' is where people die."
"When was this recorded?" Rick asks, his tactical mind already spinning scenarios.
"Signal started six days ago," Glenn replies. "Message references day forty-seven, which puts their initial lockdown around... early apocalypse. They've been there over six months if they're still alive."
"If," Scott emphasizes. "Signal could be automatic, running on backup power after everyone died."
POV: Hershel
Hershel joins them as the debate begins, his presence lending elder wisdom to discussions that could determine Haven's future. The prison represents opportunity and danger in equal measure—potential salvation if it's genuine, devastating trap if it's compromised.
"Resources stretched thin already. Savior occupation draining us faster than sustainable. Another settlement could provide relief, or it could divide our strength when we can't afford division."
"What do we know about the facility?" Hershel asks, his veterinarian's pragmatism demanding facts before speculation.
Scott produces maps, his System's data disguised as pre-apocalypse research. "West Georgia Correctional Facility. Built in the eighties, medium security, capacity around five hundred inmates. Multiple cell blocks, central courtyard, perimeter fencing with guard towers. Structurally sound if maintenance was performed."
"Or it's overrun with walkers from five hundred dead prisoners," Andrea counters, arriving with Daryl and Carol. "High population density, limited escape routes, perfect recipe for outbreak."
POV: Daryl
Daryl studies the maps with hunter's eye, identifying approaches, vulnerabilities, escape routes if everything goes wrong.
"Twenty miles through Savior territory. Not impossible, but not safe either. Single scout could move quiet, gather intelligence without committing resources we can't afford to lose."
"I'll go," Daryl volunteers before anyone asks. "Alone, fast, minimal signature. Two days there and back, report what I find, we decide based on actual intelligence instead of guessing."
Rick's immediate instinct is refusal—too dangerous, too exposed, too likely to lose someone essential. But Scott speaks before Rick can voice objections.
POV: Scott
Scott weighs options with System assistance, calculating probabilities that paint grim picture regardless of choice. Investigate and risk Savior attention. Ignore and potentially waste critical opportunity. Both paths lead toward uncertain futures.
[RECONNAISSANCE MISSION: RECOMMENDED]
[DARYL SURVIVAL PROBABILITY: 73%]
[PRISON VIABILITY: UNKNOWN UNTIL INVESTIGATED]
[STRATEGIC IMPERATIVE: HIGH]
"Seventy-three percent. Better than even odds but far from certain. I'm sending my friend into danger based on TV show knowledge that might not apply. But doing nothing means definitely losing opportunity that could change everything."
"Single scout makes sense," Scott agrees, ignoring Rick's glare. "Minimal exposure, maximum intelligence gathering. But two-day deadline—if you're not back in forty-eight hours, we assume something went wrong and react accordingly."
"React how?" Carol asks quietly.
"That depends on whether Saviors are involved or just walkers."
POV: Andrea
Andrea watches her husband authorize mission that could kill their friend, seeing the calculation behind his eyes that terrifies and impresses her simultaneously.
"He's thinking three steps ahead. If Daryl dies, what does that tell us about the prison? If he's captured by Saviors, how do we respond? If he succeeds, how do we leverage that advantage? Cold logic serving survival, but the coldness has cost."
"I'm going too," Andrea announces, surprising herself as much as everyone else.
Scott's refusal comes instantly. "No."
"Not your decision." Andrea meets his eyes without flinching. "Daryl needs backup, someone watching his six if things go wrong. I'm qualified and I'm volunteering."
POV: Rick
Rick watches the married couple face off, recognizing that this argument transcends tactical considerations into territory where their relationship and leadership responsibilities collide.
"She's right that backup improves survival odds. He's right that risking both complicates command structure if something goes wrong. Both positions are valid, which means someone has to make decision that satisfies neither."
"Compromise," Rick proposes. "Daryl goes alone for initial reconnaissance. If he confirms the prison is viable but needs extraction or assault, Andrea leads the follow-up team. Best of both approaches."
The solution satisfies nobody completely, which makes it acceptable to everyone partially. Daryl nods agreement. Andrea's jaw tightens but she doesn't argue. Scott's expression suggests he'll discuss this privately later.
POV: Daryl
Daryl prepares with methodical efficiency, packing light because speed matters more than comfort. Weapons, ammunition, basic supplies, nothing that compromises mobility if running becomes necessary.
"Alone again. Used to prefer it this way before Haven became home. Now it feels like leaving family behind, wondering if I'll see them again or if this mission's where luck finally runs out."
Scott finds him in the armory, offering route recommendations disguised as terrain analysis. The maps show patrol patterns, optimal timing, waypoints for emergency extraction.
"You don't have to do this," Scott says quietly.
Daryl secures his pack without looking up. "Yeah, I do. We need options beyond hoping Negan gets bored with us. Prison might be that option."
"Or it might be nothing but walls and corpses."
"Then I'll know that too." Daryl finally meets Scott's eyes. "If it's good, we got expansion possibilities. If it's bad, at least we'll know to stop hoping."
POV: Scott
Scott grips Daryl's shoulder, the gesture carrying everything he can't articulate—trust, gratitude, fear, hope. His friend returned the sentiment without words.
[DARYL DIXON: RECONNAISSANCE MISSION ACTIVE]
[TIMELINE: 48 HOURS]
[SUCCESS PROBABILITY: 73%]
[CONTINGENCY PLANNING: REQUIRED]
"Sending another friend into darkness. Carol's sabotage operation, Michonne's infiltration, Andrea's cache mission, now Daryl's reconnaissance. Leadership means spending people like currency, investing their lives in gambles that might pay dividends or might just spend them permanently."
Daryl departs at dawn, his motorcycle's engine fading into morning mist like a ghost seeking destinations unknown. The community watches him go with anxious hope, understanding that his return could change everything or confirm their worst fears.
POV: Glenn
Glenn maintains radio watch, monitoring frequencies for Daryl's periodic check-ins while tracking the prison's automated broadcast that continues its mechanical optimism.
"Day forty-seven. Over six months ago someone recorded that message believing they'd found salvation. Now we're chasing their hope without knowing if it survived contact with reality."
The signal repeats every hour, unchanging and impersonal. By evening, the words feel like haunting rather than invitation.
POV: Scott
That night, Scott reviews contingency plans with Rick and Andrea, mapping responses for various scenarios ranging from "Daryl returns with good news" to "Daryl never returns at all."
"Preparation reduces panic. If we plan for worst cases now, we won't freeze if they materialize. Cold comfort, but better than false optimism that leaves us paralyzed when crisis strikes."
Andrea challenges every assumption, her earlier frustration channeled into tactical analysis that sharpens their planning. Scott appreciates her methodology even while resenting the argument that preceded it.
They're still planning at midnight when exhaustion forces adjournment. Scott and Andrea walk to their quarters in silence that carries weight of unresolved disagreement.
POV: Andrea
Andrea breaks the silence first, her voice carrying frustration that's been building since Rick's compromise.
"He treats me differently. Not consciously, not intentionally, but he does. Would've let Glenn go as backup without hesitation. Would've approved Rick. But me? Automatic refusal because I'm his wife and he can't separate protection instinct from tactical assessment."
"Don't shut me out of dangerous missions just because you love me," Andrea says quietly. "I'm capable, I'm qualified, and wrapping me in protective cotton kills us both."
Scott's response comes slowly, words chosen carefully. "I know you're capable. That's not why I said no."
"Then why?"
"Because if something happens to you, I don't know if I stay rational enough to lead. That's my weakness, not your limitation."
POV: Scott
Scott's admission hangs between them—honest vulnerability that explains his reaction without justifying it.
"She makes me weaker by making me care. That's not her fault, it's mine. But recognizing my weakness doesn't eliminate it, just makes me aware while it compromises my judgment."
Andrea's expression softens fractionally. "That's the most honest thing you've said all day. But Scott—you don't get to bench me because my death would hurt you. Everyone's death hurts everyone. That's what community means."
She's right. He knows she's right. Accepting it anyway requires growth he's still working toward.
They hold each other in their quarters' darkness, two leaders bound by love that complicates command in ways neither fully anticipated. Outside, Daryl races toward unknown futures while the prison's broadcast continues its lonely transmission.
Somewhere in Georgia's wilderness, opportunities and threats converge toward conclusions they can't predict or prevent—only prepare for and hope survive.
The signal repeats. Haven waits. Tomorrow brings answers or questions, revelations or disappointments.
But tonight brings only anxious hope and the sound of mechanical voices promising safety that might be nothing but electronic ghosts.
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