Behind the ass of the car, Shane first beat the fact of a walker to pulp and greasy-blood'd gristle, before hurrying back inside the outer fence and pulling it, screaming with rust and recent use, home. He tugged chainlinks through chainlinks, jabbed the sharp end of an arrow through the rotted, sotted eye sockets of a few curious, hungry onlookers, and made it to the inner gate with a pant. He jerked that one closed with brute strength and grit teeth, locking it as best as could be done without a padlock, before wiping at the pre-dawn sweat that sprung out on his forehead like sap on a pine.
Today was going to be hot. Even the birds were quiet in the trees, the heat bearing down on them through needles and leaves with a vengeance.
"Yeah." He threw the crossbow over his shoulder with a grunt and started walking back toward the prison. Hands reached through the outermost gate, broken fingernails scratching the air, moaning and hissing erupting from collapsed throats rotted through. He ignored them.