The Walking Damned: Dead Weight (Blog Episode)

(Considering last session was canceled at the last minute, I thought I might write a scenario taking a peak into some aspect of the city.)

Dead Weight.

A city guard checks the locks on the stocks that lie just outside the East Barracks. These were some fine stocks indeed. A row of three newly constructed stocks had been purchased by Warden Joren recently. Today they see their first official use.

"You know I didn't do it, Blith," the prisoner protested from his uncomfortable position in the stocks.

Blith ignored him. They all say the same thing. Every time.

A smile crossed his face as he stood frozen, watching a beautiful woman coming by with her two small children. It was Brook; her hair long and wavy, dancing in the slight morning breeze. Her smile sent a warmth throughout his body. Her husband had died about a year ago, and for the last few weeks she has been giving him that look.

I will make my move next time she comes by here, he thought, rehearsing what he would say to her.

Greetings ma'am.

No, too formal.

Hi, my name is Blith.

Maybe that one.

Brook continued down the street, no doubt taking her little ones to their school.

"You just gonna stand there watching all the pretty women or you gonna get your ass up here and give us a hand?" This was the unmistakable voice of Warden Joren. He was standing up on the front wall of the barracks. Blith was supposed to help install the new ballistas up there today as well.

As he made his way inside, he pondered the reason for East Barracks to even HAVE ballistas. Its such a peaceful town. Not much crime. But Joren wanted something that would cover an area from the river bank, the tunnel entrance, and maybe even down to the bridge. What was he hoping to stop, anyway? All he ever does it think about the worse possible scenario. And then yell at everyone for not doing MORE than they were already doing. "If you aren't helping, you're nothing but dead weight," he would always tell them.

As he approached the front door of the barracks, two fellow guards came out suddenly, carrying a man on a stretcher. "Blith," the man in the back grunted, "better go get Susan, there's been an accident. Tell her we have her husband over at the community church."

Susan? Then that was Frank on the stretcher. But he was covered in so much blood and groaning in pain that he couldn't tell who it was. "What? What the hell happened?"

The man in front spat angrily, "Some fool we arrested bit his neck, and we had to kill him. Go get Susan NOW!"

Blith turned his eyes up to Warden Joren, who was peering down with that same look he gives in response to everything, utter contempt. "Well go get her, Blith," he yelled down. "Dammit I guess these ballistas will have to wait until tomorrow now."

Blith's brisk pace down the street over to the officer's home--it was only a couple blocks away--nearly caused him to miss seeing a scuffle down a side street. Right in the middle of the street there was some kind of brawl or street fight going on. Officers were already responding, so he continued over to Susan's house.

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