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"We're All Prisoners Now" -- A postapocalyptic prison story

"Thinking, huh?" Cooper murmured. "I haven't always been accused of being the best at that."

Daria laughed at the man's self deprecation, responding, "I'm sure you're up to it, Coop."

They agreed on both Cooper's desired non-lethal weapons and bringing everyone together. As Cooper headed for the cells, Daria headed for the Visitors Rooms, followed by the other half dozen locations where people had ended up.

Cooper's inmates were assembled before Daria arrived with her group. She'd wanted a moment to speak to the civilians about the Cons. She'd already shared some of this with some of them, but now it was time to fill in the rest of the details while they were all assembled.

"The inmates you are about to meet are here in West Georgia Correctional for nonviolent crimes: drug use or distribution, breaking and entering, car theft, and the like. Any inmate with a history of violent crimes was sent out of the facility yesterday.

"The man in charge of the inmates, Cooper Thomas, was a police officer, a detective," Daria continued, pausing before adding, "before he was wrongly convicted of some bogus charges that landed him here two years ago his case was on appeal, and I have every confidence that Cooper, Mister Thomas, would have been exonerated. I want to assure you that if I had any doubt about that, I would have shipped him out, too."

"He's that Atlanta cop that was all over the news a couple of years ago, right?" Hannah Taylor asked.

Daria looked to the redheaded beauty, answering, "Yes. His trial was overly publicized, in my opinion."

Hannah smirked, asking bluntly, "You fucking him?"

The reaction from the others carried greatly, with some of the group's members laughing while others, particularly the mother's with children, chastised Hannah in their own way. Daria simply said, "No, I'm not."

Looking back to the group as a whole again, Daria continued, "Mister Cooper has assured me that the inmates can be trusted. However, as with any situation where women and children might find themselves in close quarters with men who they do not know, you should take appropriate precautions. We can speak more in depth about this later, when the little ones aren't present."

"What about us?" one of the men asked with a jovial time. "I mean, these guys have been in prison for a long time. Maybe one of us might look--"

"That's enough," Daria cut in. I'm a calmer voice, she said, "That's not helping." Again she addressed the group, "If ever any of you feel uncomfortable about anything, you go to Mister Thomas or you come to me."

"Can we sit with Daddy?" one of the two girls asked about their inmate father.

"Of course, honey," Daria told her. She looked to the three children of the Corrections Officer who'd been fatally shanked the day of the lockdown. She wanted to share her sympathy with them as she had their first day of lockdown, but their mother gave Daria a polite shake of her head.

"Okay, so, let's go in," she said. "A wonderful cook named Blackjack cooked us all breakfast, and I hear that he was once a fancy restaurant chef, so it should be delish."
 
Introducing Carl Young

Daria talked about the inmates and the man in charge of them, Cooper Thomas. Carl Young knew of Cooper. Carl had met the then-Detective a couple of times while on service calls to the precinct where Cooper had worked. He doubted that Cooper would remember him.

A beautiful, sexy faux-redhead who Carl would learn was named Hannah Taylor asked the equally sexy Warden, Daria Howard, "You fucking him?"

Carl couldn't help but laugh, doing his utmost to silence himself quickly.

The Warden responded, "No, I'm not."

Carl leaned closer to guy he'd learned had been making a delivery when the lockdown occurred. Whispering, he said, "I'd fuck her. The Warden, I mean. Or the redhead."

The delivery driver gave him a disapproving glance, then turned his attention back to Daria. Carl just shrugged.

Daria continued speaking about how the women were to take appropriate precautions when dealing with the Cons. Carl couldn't help but ask, "What about us? I mean, these guys have been in prison for a long time. Maybe one of us might look--"

"That's enough," Daria cut in.

Carl playfully grimaced as if duly chastised. He was going to make a lewd joke about sex in an all-male prison setting to the delivery guy. He didn't. The man had no sense of humor at all.

"Can we sit with Daddy?" a little girl asked.

Carl had noticed the children, of course. They stood out like a sore thumb. He'd felt bad for them for having to visit their male parent figure, father or otherwise, in a State prison. But he was beginning to wonder if this wouldn't turn out to be perfect for them.

"Okay, so, let's go in," Daria said.

She talked about the breakfast that was awaiting them. Carl literally growled to himself. He had a high metabolism rate, and he'd been endlessly hungry since the lockdown began. They entered the chow hall, where he found all of the inmates sitting calmly at one table. They were just sitting there in silence, waiting.

Behind them stood Cooper Thomas. Carl noted immediately that he was no longer wearing prison peel, the orange jumpsuit that the rest of the inmates were wearing. He was currently wearing a Corrections Officer uniform. But at the same time, he wasn't. All of the sewn-on tags had been removed. Carl would learn later that Cooper had wanted the inmates and others to see him as not an inmate while also not a Screw.

Carl also noted the weapons on Cooper's belt: an expandable steel baton in its leather holder on his right hip, and a Taser in its own holder on the left hip. He was surprised that the man wasn't carrying a pistol or shotgun. It really emphasized Cooper's trust in the men he'd chosen to remain behind in WGCF.

"Ladies, gentlemen, and children, too," he former cop, former inmate, current whatever began. "My name is Cooper Thomas. You can all call me Cooper or Coop."

He gestured to the inmates. "We decided that you should make yourself welcome to Blackjack's breakfast--"

Cooper pointed to one of the men standing on the other side of the food line, now waving to acknowledge being pointed out. Cooper continued, "--before the rest of us do. Feel free to grab a tray and fill it and find yourself a place to sit. Silverware, glasses, and napkins are at the end of the line."

Carl didn't need to be asked twice, of course. He headed directly for the stack of trays. He'd just picked one up when Cooper said with a slightly harsh tone, "Women and children first maybe."

Looking sheepishly embarrassed, Carl offered his tray to the nearest child. "I, um, was just getting this for you. Go ahead."

Carl looked back to the inmates to find the two girls in their father's arms. He stood, holding them to him, swinging their legs about playfully as his wife stood nearby, smiling and crying. It was very touching and nearly made Carl cry, too.

Cooper had walked over to speak to the Warden. The inmates stood to join the line after the last of the women and children had entered it. Carl wanted so badly to fall in line ahead of the other men. But he instead handed a tray to the first man, offered a hand, and introduced himself. He would end up doing that with each of the men, one after another. He didn't know why he'd done it. Just something.

Only after the married inmate and his family had begun through the line did he finally enter it. Jackson smiled to him, saying, "That was very polite of you." He leaned a bit closer, whispering, "How 'bout I set you up with a couple of extra link sausages?"

Carl smiled in delight, saying, "All you can. I'm dying here."
 
(I am on my phone and don't have access to my additional pics. I will come up with some later.)

(Also, I have adjusted the number of civilians. Just go with what's below.)

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"Ladies, gentlemen, and children, too," Cooper addressed Daria's civilians as they entered the chow hall. "My name is Cooper Thomas. You can all call me Cooper or Coop."

Hannah Taylor flashed him a flirt smile when he momentarily made eye contact with her. She was no idiot, and she knew precisely who to get friendly with if she was going to prosper in this place.

Cooper invited the civilians to go first, directing them to the chow line. The male civilian who'd asked the rude question about whether or not the Warden and her inmate right hand man were sleeping together, Carl, headed immediately for the chow line, only to make way for the others when Cooper suggested rather forcefully, "Women and children first maybe."

As the others headed for the food at their own paces, Hannah stood in place, wanting to again catch Cooper's eye. The second day of the lockdown, Daria had visited Hannah to provide her with some more casual, comfortable clothes that she'd dug up from God knows where. Hannah had worn them over the next two days, but knowing what was ahead today, she'd changed back into her prison visit wardrobe.

She'd originally been at the prison for a conjugal visit with an inmate to whom WGCF believed she was engaged, per the paperwork his lawyer (her client) had submitted to prison authorities. She'd wanted to look good for the man, so she dressed for the event: tight-fitting, thin, lacy blouse with a plunging neckline, over an equally lacy, pushup bra; hip hugging, mid-thigh length skirt under which was a pair of semi sheer boy shorts, under which was a tiny thong; a garter belt securing in place sexy fishnet stockings; and four-inch heels that so wonderfully showed off her long, sleek legs and tight, round ass.

Hannah had returned to this original wardrobe for this morning, with the exception of the garter belt and fishnets, which she'd left behind as a bit too much for this crowd. Even without them, though, Hannah realized that she was catching the attention of all of the inmates, not just the one she wanted to attract.

Such attention from such men might have made any other woman nervous, even frightened. But Hannah had dealt with more frightening groups of men than this in her 8 years as an escort, including a sextet of convention attending stock brokers who'd turned her date with just one of them into an all night gang bang.

She gave the group of leering inmates a flirty smile, actually winked to Cooper, then turned on a heel and headed for the chow line. She accepted a tray from Carl, thanked him, and took her turn.

Ahead of her were all of the other civilians except for the mother and two daughters who'd stayed back to join the inmate they'd come to WGCF to visit. Hannah looked back behind her as the man clutched his girls and lifted them off their feet in laughter.

Gwen Standish was a beautiful woman, Hannah thought. She'd come to WGCF in casual, lose-fitting clothes, but Hannah suspected that there was still one bangin' body inside that wardrobe, even after birthing twins.

Her girls, Holly and Polly, were 9-year-old fraternal twins who still were very similar in appearance: same height and weight, same general features and skin tone, same hair and eyes.

Hannah wondered if the entire family had survived. We're there other children who's succumbed to the virus? Hannah would learn later that there were not.

The only other woman with children was Samantha "Sammi" Alcott. She'd been the wife of a Corrections Officer who'd tragically been shivved and killed as the lockdown was underway. She hadn't been told about her husband's death until the next day, and even then, she'd been told that he'd died of the virus. Daria hadn't wanted the woman's children, Connie, Freddie, and Willie, to know that their father had been killed by men with whom they were now living.

The other women in the line included:

Sally Stevens, who'd been here to visit her son, Roger. He had died of the virus hours before the lockdown had begun.

Lena Gonzales had been here to visit her husband, Jacob. He'd been infected and died on the second day of lockdown.

Callie Paul had been here to see her husband, who'd survived, apparently immune to the virus. When given the opportunity to stay or leave WGCF by Cooper yesterday, Willie had chosen to leave, not knowing that Callie had decided to surprise him with an unscheduled visitation.

Nina Hernandez had come to the prison at the request of her husband, Juan, to sign divorce papers that his lawyer has prepared and delivered to him. He'd wanted her to move on with her life.

Latasha Jefferson had been here to tell Peter Simms that his mother, Latasha's best friend and in the closet, Carla, had just died aa result breast cancer related symptoms. Ironically but perhaps fortunately, Peter had died of the virus before hearing the bad news.

Twila Dearing was likely the most out of place member of the group. She was an Atlanta Assistant District Attorney, and she'd been at WGCF to offer an inmate, Vic Long, a plea deal on the case for which he was awaiting trial.
 
Cooper would have had to be blind not to notice either Hannah Taylor or the wink she flashed him. He smiled back, then ogled her long and hard as she made her way to the chow line. He didn't know the story behind her visit to WGCF yet, but he was eager to know.

Which of the inmates had been fortunate enough to be awaiting her? And had he survived the virus? Cooper knew the odds were that the man had died. That fact didn't seem to be causing Hannah any despair. That was a good thing, for Cooper, he hoped.

Daria came to stand with Cooper as they watched the others heading for the chow line. He mused, "So far, so good, I guess. The men are behaving at least. Some of them haven't been this close to a beautiful woman in years."

He looked to Daria, smirked devilishly, and clarified with humor so as to protect himself if she didn't appreciate it, "With the exception of you, of course, Warden."

Cooper looked back to Carl. He was still handing out trays with a smile as the last of the civilians passed and the convicts joined the line. He didn't know about the electrician's earlier questions about the possibility that Cooper and Daria were bumping uglies. "Seems to be a nice guy."

He looked to the family reunion taking place off to the side. Nigel Standish hadn't been able to stop talking about seeing his wife, Gwen, and his children, 9-year-old girls, Holly and Polly. Leaning closer to Daria, Cooper opined, "Probably the best news to come out of this fucking mess, don't you think?"

That took Cooper's attention to Samantha "Sammi" Alcott and her children, Connie, Freddie, and Willie. Their story, of course, was a tragic one. Cooper had only heard of the killing of Sammi's husband, Trent, yesterday from Daria when they'd been reviewing which inmates were still alive and which of them would stay. She'd told him about the murder of Trent.

She'd also told him about how the inmate had mysteriously been found dead in his cell from other than virus-related causes. Cooper understood that, of course. Prison murderers didn't remain alive for long after their killings, for a variety of reasons. Some were killed by their victim's friends or fellow gang members. Others were killed by those who'd paid them to perform the killing. Some, as in the cases of attacks on Screws, died of mostly accidents: falling in the shower, hanging themselves in their cells, etc.

Cooper looked to Callie Paul and clenched his teeth. He'd had no idea when he'd asked her husband, Willie, if he wanted to stay in WGCF or leave that the man's wife was in the Visitors Room waiting to see him. Her visit had been a surprise for him.

"Have you told Missus Paul that her husband survived and left?" Cooper whispered to Daria. "Or are you going to tell her he died?"

This wasn't Cooper's decision to be made. And honestly, he didn't know which choice was the better one. If Daria said Willie died, the family would remain here safe with the memory of him dying a horrible death behind bars. Callie would likely take her family out of here to find her husband if she were told the truth.

That choice would put Callie and her children in danger. Cooper had listened and watched the news in Daria's office last night for long enough to know that the world out there had gone mad. Besides the massive loss of life there was looting, hording, assaults and murders, and more.

Cooper looked to yet another beautiful, sexy woman, the Atlanta Assistant District Attorney, Twila Dearing. He knew her, of course: she'd been on the prosecution team that had put him in prison. She'd been at WGCF to offer an inmate, Vic Long, a plea deal on a case she was working on: Cooper's case.

Twila neared the end of the chow line and was collecting her silverware, glasses, and drinks. Cooper excused himself from his conversation with Daria and headed her way. They came together at the coffee pot where Cooper poured himself a mug and asked, "Would you mind sitting with me, Miss Dearing? I thought maybe we could take a moment to clear the air."

If she seemed open to the idea, Cooper would snatch a muffin from a nearby tray and head for the far end of one of the tables.
 
Daria smiled in delight to Cooper's comment about her being beautiful. Feigning the best Southern Belle accent she could, what with having grown up a Yankee, she said, "Well, I'll be, Mister Thomas, I do believe you're flirting with me. Shame on you. My daddy'd beat you with a stick."

They laughed together, and as they returned their attention to the others, Cooper said about Carl, "Seems to be a nice guy."

She laughed, telling him softly, "He asked earlier if you and I were sleeping together." She paused, then said, "I told him we weren't. But I don't think he believed me."

Daria nodded Cooper's attention toward Hannah, saying, "I know who wants to sleep with you. I caught that wink she gave you a moment ago. And Jesus, she sure knows how to wear a skirt, doesn't she?"

About Nigel, Gwen, Holly, and Polly Standish, Cooper said, "Probably the best news to come out of this fucking mess, don't you think?"

"It's amazing, truly," Daria agreed. "I bet the guys at the CDC would love to do some testing on them." If Cooper asked about other children who might not have made it, Daria would tell him that these four Standish's were the only Standishes, not just the remaining standishes.

"I'm going to give the Conjugal units to the two families," Daria informed Cooper. The two little pre-fab buildings out back of the main facility had commonly been used as temporary classrooms at public schools undergoing explosive student population growth. WGCF's buildings had bathrooms with showers, and little kitchenettes where wives and girlfriends had sometimes made meals for their mates. "We provide them with extra beds, some wardrobe units, maybe some temporary walls to create small bedrooms. Home sweet home."

"Have you told Missus Paul that her husband survived and left?" Cooper whispered to Daria. "Or are you going to tell her he died?"

"Can anyone here say that he didn't die?" she asked. "Anyone still here, I mean?" Cooper told her no, that anyone who knew the difference had left in the bus. She thought a moment, then said firmly, "Unfortunately, Mister Paul died of the plague. I won't have Callie putting her children at risk by going on a fruitless search for her husband."

She gave Cooper a friendly pat, saying, "I'm gonna get something to eat. You should do the same before it's all gone."

Cooper moved off to get a mug of coffee, arriving at the pot just as the beautiful Twila Dearing did. Daria could see that they were chatting quietly but couldn't hear what was being said...


"Would you mind sitting with me, Miss Dearing?" Cooper asked. "I thought maybe we could take a moment to clear the air."

She didn't answer him verbally but turned to face him, indicating she was willing. She followed him to the most distant, isolated seats of one table, and sitting across from him, Twila began the conversation with, "I was only doing my job, Mister Thomas."
 
"I was only doing my job, Mister Thomas," Twila said when she sat across from Cooper.

He sipped at his coffee. "I know that, Miss Dearing. I don't place any blame on your efforts."

Cooper sipped at the hot drink again. "You were shown false evidence. I wasn't guilty of what they'd accused me of. At least, not the important stuff. The stuff that put me in here. I just wanted you to know that."
 
Cooper swore his innocence with regard to the crimes that had jailed him. "I just wanted you to know that."

She'd heard similar things from others over the years of Cooper's appeals, and often she'd found herself wondering about what she was working on. On at least half a dozen occasions, the facts hadn't added up. But when she'd taken the discrepancies to her supervisors, they either dismissed the evidence one way or the other or taken it away from her and put her on something else.

"Thank you for sharing this with me, Mister Thomas," she said with a friendly tone. "But I wonder if that all matters now. I mean, the Warden has let you out of your cell. She's given you weapons. She's put you in charge of other inmates. I mean, even if you were guilty of all they'd said in court, would that matter now?"
 
Twila wondered aloud whether anything about Cooper's crimes, trial, and incarceration mattered anymore.

"It probably doesn't," he responded. "But what does matter is this: I want you to understand, to believe and trust that I am dedicated to making work whatever this is that we are trying to do here. I won't let anything happen to any of the men, women, and children here. I'll lay my life down if necessary. That is what matters."

A couple of the inmates started to get rowdy about this, that, or the other thing. Cooper stood as he said, "I need to deal with this. But I'd love to have a chance to talk to you again soon. About this or anything else. I just, I just need you to get to know me as the man I am, not the man they told you I am."

He took his coffee with him and went to tend to whatever was happening between the inmates. It turned out to be nothing more than an argument about what was happening outside WGCF now with the pandemic raging across the country. He sat with the men, told them to quiet down in the presence of the women and children, and engaged them in a quiet conversation that would last until something broke them up.
 
Cooper spoke of his commitment to the new community within the walls of the prison, saying, "I'll lay my life down if necessary. That is what matters."

He told Twila that he needed to deal with a situation and rose. "I just, I just need you to get to know me as the man I am, not the man they told you I am."

As he turned to leave, Twila stopped him with, "Okay, Mister Thomas." They looked into each other's eyes a moment before she said, "I'll let you try. To let me get to know you for who you say you are. I've always believed myself to be a fair person. I'll be fair and give you a chance. But these people..."

She glanced around, then back. "They're expecting great things from you. You won't be disappointing just me if you fail. If you are just the man they told me you were."

She lifted her mug of coffee up casually as if toasting with it, sipped, and, as the noise continued, said, "Better deal with that."



Daria had gone to sit near the Alcott Family, which had sat just a little bit apart from most everyone else. Daria talked to Sammi about the stand-alone housing structure without calling it a conjugal room for the benefit of her children. The mother of three knew what the rooms were for, of course, what with her husband, Trent, having been a CO. She casually asked, "Will I have a chance to, um, clean up the place before we--"

"Of course," Daria said, chuckling. She understood the implication that the place likely had the smell of sex in it. They didn't, what with being thoroughly cleaned after every usage. They were actually probably more sanitized than most hospital rooms. But Dari understood that Sammi didn't want Connie, Freddie, and Willie living in the equivalent of a pay-by-the-hour motel room.

"What happened to our father?" asked Connie, the 13-year-old. The 11-year-old Freddie and 6-year-old Willie talked over each other, asking essentially the same thing.

"The virus that has been, well, you know," Daria began. "He was infected. I had him given a bed in the infirmary and taken good care of, children. He didn't suffer, I promise."

She didn't know how much they knew about the disease, but there was no such thing as not suffering while dying of it. It was a hemorrhagic disease, causing the infected victim to first begin bleeding internally as capillaries throughout the body began bursting. After that, blood began leaking from just about everywhere: the eyes, the nose, the mouth, the anus, the ears. From the first signs of sickness to the point at which one's heart ceased was typically less than 24 hours.

That was what confused Daria about the virus. The CDC reports she'd been listening to said that the disease had been circulating around the globe for possibly a year. And yet the deaths and obvious pandemic nature had only begun a week ago. That didn't make any sense to her. How had the virus been transmitted over such a long period, only to suddenly begin killing people across the globe so instantly everywhere at once?

Daria heard the same commotion that Cooper had and watched him go deal with the situation. They met eyes, and she nodded her appreciation to him for quieting the men down. After a few minutes, Daria excused herself from the Alcotts and went to the head of the room, standing near the chow line.

"May I have your attention please?" she asked, quickly gaining the eyes of the group. She talked about all that had been happening to them here and to the world beyond the walls and fences. She spoke about how this was going to be hard. "But I believe that we can make this work."

"Make what work?" one of the inmates called out. "I mean, what're we doing here?"

"That's a very good question, what are we doing here?" Daria responded. "As I said, I do not expect any assistance from the outside world, from beyond West Georgia," she continued, using the shortened version of the facility's name. "We're on our own here, I believe. But that doesn't mean we won't survive here, on our own. The world out there, well, to be honest, it's going a bit mad. The survivors, the people who, like us, are immune from this horrific disease--"

The eldest Alcott child interrupted, "Are we immune? Is that why we're still alive? Or have we just not gotten it, the virus?"

"I believe that we have all been exposed to the disease, Connie," Daria answered. "And I believe that we are all immune." She talked about having listened to the news reports over the last few days and about having heard that there were survivors everywhere. "We are the lucky ones--"

"Lucky?" another inmate asked. "How is this lucky? Being trapped in here." He looked around at the other inmates and at the civilians, too. Gesturing a finger toward the orange-gowned men, then the civilians, he said, "We were already prisoners. Now they are. We're all prisoners now. How is that lucky for any of us?"

"You're alive," Daria reminded the inmate. She hadn't meant to bring up the true morbid nature of what was happening in the world, but Daria reminded him, "Better than 90% of the world's population is dead or dying. Some reports say higher than that. But we here are still alive.

"Somehow, we were selected to survive this plague. Call it divine intervention if you want. Call it luck. Call it whatever you want. But we're alive. And inside these walls and fences, we are safe. Safe from the mayhem erupting out there in the world. We have food. I've been told by Blackjack, Mister Jackson Green, that we have enough food for all of us for, what was it?"

"Six months, Warden Howard, I reckon," the inmate answered.

"No more of that," Daria corrected him. "No one here is to call me Warden anymore. My name is Daria or Miss Howard if you'd like. This is no longer a prison." Looking specifically to the men in orange, Daria said, "You are no longer inmates. You have all been given you freedom. Clemency. This is now your home, not your detention center."

She looked between the former inmates and the civilians as she continued, "This is now our home. We are going to have to think of it as such if we are going to prosper here." Someone snickered at the use of Daria's last word. She continued, "We can prosper here. Listen, we have enough food for half a year, maybe more. The prison--"

She stopped, catching her error. "Our home has its own wells, two of them. That means fresh, clean water. Sitting atop the rise that WGCF is on, the sewage system is gravity driven, meaning that even if the power goes out, our toilets and sinks will still drain--"

"What about power?" someone asked.

"We're still on the grid for now, though, I expect that at some point, that's going to fail," Daria said. "We have a backup power generator, with enough diesel to run continuously, 24/7, for up to two weeks. Obviously, we won't use it like that. But the point is that if we need it, we have a backup."

"What about when the food runs out?" another voice spoke up.

(OOC: I know you wanted to write about this, TF. I'll stop here.)
 
(OOC -- You're right. I already had this mostly written. It just needed to be edited for what happened in your latest post. Thanks.)


Cooper listened quietly as the conversation unfolded. He liked the idea that the inmates were no longer to be thought of as prisoners. Even if one of them had just called the civilians prisoners like himself.

"This is now our home," Daria went on. "We are going to have to think of it as such if we are going to prosper here."

An animated conversation began centered around the word prosper as opposed to simply surviving. One of the former inmates asked, "What about when the food runs out?"

"We farm," Cooper responded before anyone else could speak. All eyes turned his way. He explained, "We farm. Inside the outer perimeter fence, we have 15 acres of open land. We can farm it."

"And grow fucking what?" one of the men asked. He got a harsh glare from Cooper and turned to look toward the families with children. "Sorry. Didn't mean that."

"We have a swear jar at home," one of the fraternal twins said. Her sister added, "One dollar for a swear word. Five if it starts with 'F'."

"That isn't too bad an idea, kiddo," Cooper agreed. Looking mostly over the inmates, he said, "New rule: you swear in front of one of the children, you own the community an hour of extra work. You use the 'F' word, make it five."

There were snickers and open laughter, followed by someone asking, "What work?"

"We're going to farm West Georgia, like I said," Cooper continued. He looked to the man who'd asked what they were going to grow and said, "Potatoes and beans to start. Potatoes are easy. You just put'em in the ground and give'em water. A few months later, you're pulling new potatoes out of the ground."

Cooper looked to Jackson, asking, "How many pounds of potatoes do we have?"

The man had a mind for inventory and quickly answered, "We have 14 bags, 40 pounds each. Over 500 pounds."

Cooper continued, "So we eat half of them, plant the other half. One potato will produce 8 to 12 new potatoes on the average. It's April now. We plant, what, 250 pounds over the next couple of weeks, and by, let's see, 110 days at the least--"

The 11-year-old Freddie Alcott piped up energetically, "August 1st." All eyes turned the kids way. He explained, "110 days from now is August 1st. It's also my birthday."

Cooper smiled. "Then on your birthday, Kid, you and I will go out and begin harvesting our first crop of potatoes. How's that sound?"

Freddie smiled with excitement. Around him, the response was anything but as exciting. Cooper continued, "Listen, we can do this. Potatoes are easy. So are beans. The dried beans we have--"

He looked again to Jackson, who knew what the question was and answered, "10 bags of dried red beans, 4 of white."

"Grocery stores, or the packing houses that bag these beans," Cooper continued, "They apply a chemical to the beans that prevent them from sprouting while they're sitting in a bag on the shelf in your kitchen--"

Again, Jackson spoke up, knowing where Cooper was going with this. "About a decade ago, 'bout the same time I ended up in here, the Governor decided that the Corrections Department was going to go green. One of the things they did was they started buying more organic foods for the prisons."

"Our beans," Cooper took over again, "They aren't sprayed with this sh--" He caught himself before he swore, looking and smiling to the fraternal twins. "We only have to wash them off and put them in the ground. And two to three months later--"

Freddie again spoke up, "June 10th is two months. June 10th is three, Mister Thomas."

Cooper laughed. Speaking to the boy, he said, "I'm gonna find you a job scheduling these things."

Someone spoke up, "Okay, so, that's potatoes and beans. But what about everything else we eat here. What about bread and butter and milk--"

"And brownies!" another man called out. Brownies had been one of the specialty desserts from one of the former and now dead inmate cooks in WGCF's prison kitchen.

The room erupted with conversation about not just brownies, farming, and food in general but more. Cooper quieted them down eventually. He continued, "The point is, we can start growing our own food right now--"

"Celery," someone cut in. "Most of the fresh vegetables you guys get. Well, some anyway. You can cut off the ends and put them in water and they'll grow roots. Then, you can plant them. I see it on YouTube all the time. Celery, lettuce, onions. You can put the bottoms of them in water and they'll grow roots, and then you plant them and they'll grow."

"See?" Cooper asked. "We have options. We're not gonna starve. We make a plan for using the land best we can--"

"What about animals?" someone asked. "I mean, a farm needs animals. Hogs, chickens."

Cooper looked to Daria at this. Ranching meant going out past the walls to gather stock animals. He didn't know if that was something she wanted them to be doing.
 
"What about when the food runs out?"

"We farm," Cooper responded.

Daria listened to the conversation in silence, simply sipping at her refreshed mug of coffee. Farming wasn't something she knew much about. She didn't even keep plants.

"What about animals?" someone asked. "I mean, a farm needs animals. Hogs, chickens."

Daria found Cooper looking at her, and she knew immediately what he was suggesting: going out being the walls to gather animals.

"This isn't Noah's ark," she joked. But another animated conversation began on the topic. "I guess, I dunno, if Mister Thomas thought it was safe to go out--"

"We already done it once," one of the inmates who'd helped Cooper extricate the rejects the day before spoke up. "The prison's surrounded by farms. Most of the people are dead, you told us. It's our civic duty to rescue those animals--"

A man laughed, adding, "To bring them here and eat'em." There was more laughter, followed by the question, "Are we gonna get infected, though. You know, like swine flu from the hogs or bird flu from the chickens?"

"No," Daria said firmly. "The pandemic flu was not that kind of virus. It's only transmissible from one human to another. So we could gather animals without fear."

"So, can we?" one of the Alcott children asked excitedly.

"We can," Daria clarified, wagging a finger towards the adults in the room. She saw disappointment in the child's eyes. Looking to Cooper, then back to the child, Daria continued, "But if the adults went out and brought back some animals, I don't see any reason why you couldn't feed them and take care of them."

All four of the youngest children showed excitement about the prospect, but the 13-year-ild Connie Alcott reminded the other children, "They're not pets. They're food!"

"Yes, they would be," Daria confirmed. She looked to Cooper again, asking, "Whaddya think?"
 
Daria looked to Cooper, asking, "Whaddya think?"

"Sure. Why not?" He thought a moment. "It'd be nice to have bacon once in a while. Maybe a hot wing with our potato fries."

Suddenly, all sorts of facts were being tossed out. Chickens would eat the insects, which were plentiful in the area. Ducks would eat the slugs, which were even more plentiful than the insects. Goats produced milk and could eat more efficiently than cows.

"We'd have to collect building equipment first," Cooper added, "like chicken wire and fencing and water troughs and the like. And feed. If we're going to keep animals, we're gonna need hay, straw, grain."

The conversation continued another half hour. Cooper was surprised at how excited everyone seemed to be. Well, not everyone. There were a few faces that weren't lit up as the others were.

"Before any of this happens," Cooper cut in, "We have to get a few things settled."

The group calmed down, and Cooper continued. "First, government." He looked to Daria, then gestured to her. "The Warden here, who doesn't want to be called Warden anymore, is in charge of this place. Still! Warden, Chief, Mayor, President, Queen, whatever. This is her operation."

Cooper and Daria had spoken of this aspect the day before. But they hadn't come to a conclusion on how things were going to be run. Cooper was concluding that now on his own, without her say so. He continued, "She's in charge by whatever title she wants to assume, and ya'll are going to work and live here by the rules she sets down."

There were, as he expected, some sour faces. Most of them were amongst the Cons, as also expected. They'd lived under the thumb of this Warden and others before Daria. They'd all likely thought that this new world would mean no longer having to answer to such a person. They were wrong, as far as Cooper was concerned.

"Miss Daria Howard is the Queen of West Georgia Correctional Facility, no matter what we decide we're gonna call it," Cooper said forcefully, "and I am her Captain of the Guard. If you don't like it, you were told that you could leave. That's still an option. We'll pack you a little to-go bag and send you on your way."

Looking around, Cooper asked, "Understood?"
 
Daria was surprised when Cooper suddenly changed the topic to government, stressing, "The Warden here ... This is her operation."

The two of them had spoken about how things were going to function, but they hadn't come to any conclusions, as Cooper himself knew. "I don't want to be a dictator," she'd said, adding, "But at the same time, democracy can be a messy thing at times."

"If you don't like it, you were told that you could leave," Cooper told the group now. "That's still an option. We'll pack you a little to-go bag and send you on your way." He scanned the group, asking, "Understood?"

Contrary to what she'd said to Cooper about it, Daria spoke up, "I've always been a fan of democracy."

She talked to them about turning the breakfasts into a sort of town hall. "If you have something you want to say, if you have a concern or a suggestion, say it here."

"That covers the discussion aspect, sure," Twila Dearing, the prosecutor spoke up. "But what happens after that? Are you still going to make all the decisions yourself, Warden. Or, as you spoke the word yourself, are you going to make this a democracy and give all of us the vote?"

"Yes," Daria said without hesitation. Then, she clarified, "But not any of this 50-50 majority sh-- stuff. Majority rules doesn't work. One day we vote 51-49 that the sky is blue, the next day someone changes their mind and a 49-51 flop says the sky is gray."

"So what's your solution to the way our National and State governments have worked for the last 250 years?" Twila challenged.

"I suggest a super majority system," Daria responded. "Let's say, when we have something upon which I think we should vote, we require a 2/3s majority. Sixty-six percent."

Twila continued her challenge, "What if it's something that 2/3s of us want but which is totally unfair to the 1/3 that didn't? Where are you checks and balances?"

"I'll veto it," Daria said simply. She saw Twila opening her mouth to speak again and held up a finger to silence her. "I know what you're going to say: our government has three branches, one of which is the courts, and the most important court in the land is the Supreme Court. So, let's say..."

She thought for a moment, then suggested, "The inmates, or former inmates pick two guys from amongst themselves to serve on the Supreme Court of WGCF. And the civilians pick two guys or girls for the same. Cooper, you pick a civilian, and I'll pick a Con. Former Con."

"What's wrong with Trustee?" Jackson spoke up. All eyes turned to him, and he explained, "I don't know whether anyone noticed, but of the 5 former inmates who remained behind, including myself, all 5 of us were Trustees." Jackson looked to Cooper, saying, "I don't know whether or not you did that intentionally or not, but it's done, and referring to us as Trustees just seems to work."

"Trustees it is then," Daria said. "My point is that if the Trustees pick a pair, the civilians pick a pair, Cooper picks a civie, and I pick a Trustee, we have quite a diverse selection of people to act as a Supreme Court."

"That's 6 people," someone pointed out. "That's gonna lead to a lot of tie votes."

Suddenly, the 13-year-old Connie Alcott stood up, saying, "What about us, the kids? Where is our vote? We live here, too. We never get a vote out there, not until we're 18. It's not fair."

Connie's mother politely told her to sit down, and someone else in the group said, "Kid's don't have enough experience to be able to make decisions like that."

But Daria said, "No, I think Connie's right. Minors never get to vote on matters that often affect them." She looked to the teen, asking, "Would you like to sit on the Supreme Court, Connie?"

Her eyes swelled to twice their size as she asked, "Really?"

"Yes, I don't see why not."

There was more discussion, but in the end Daria's suggestions were adopted as feasible for now.
 
Cooper listened to the conversation between Daria and Twila. He agreed with her about the simultaneous beauty and ugliness of democracy.

Daria offered her ideas on public input, legislation, executive response (aka passing or vetoing legislation), and court protections. It's all impressed Cooper.

"What's wrong with Trustee?" Jackson spoke up. He pointed out that all 5 inmates had been Trustees.

"Trustees it is then," Daria said.

Cooper nodded his approval. It seemed a good step forward, even if it was just a word.

The next achievement was very unexpected: the appointment of the 13-year-old Connie Alcott to the Supreme Court. Cooper chuckled, but when Daria looked his way, he shrugged and mouthed why not?

He stepped over closer to Daria asking, "May I?"

Cooper took Daria's place of attention. "Okay, so we've talked about government. Let's take about the work that needs to be done. I don't have to tell you that there's a lot to be done."

He began listing some of the things that needed to be done. To the Trustees, Cooper said, "So much of this work you've already been doing. That won't change much."

To the civilians Cooper said, "I know less about you folks than I do the Trustees. And yet I know that you have skills and experience to offer our little community.

"But there's going to be more," he told them. The farm. The ranch. We're going to need new electrical power sources if the grid goes down. Stuff like that. Plus..."

Cooper paused, looking to Daria. They hadn't talked about his next topic yet. He knew he should probably stop now. Talk to her first. Yet he continued.

"There might be troubles ahead for us," Cooper pushed onward. "I've been in solitary the last two years, including the time during which this pandemic took hold. I only learned of how bad things were after Miss Howard let me watch and listen to the news yesterday.

"Most people are dead, and that's the bad news, obviously," he said. "The good news is that, like us, there are survivors out there. But the scary news is that some of those survivors, well, they're worse people than any of us ever were.

"They're looting," he said, pausing, "and killing to get what they want. They're going from house to house, business to business, taking what they want.

"Some of them might think that what we have in here might be worth trying to get through that fence out there," Cooper warned. "There's a reason that no one ever broke into West Georgia: guards on the towers, guarding the perimeter."

Cooper looked to Daria for an indication that she knew where he was going. He continued, "So, tomorrow, I'd like to begin training people in how to use weapons from the armory. Pistols, shotguns, rifles. The grenade launchers. Don't worry, they launch smoke and stun grenades. Nothing lethal. You'll learn about lethal and non-lethal weapons both."

Cooper paused to look Daria's direction again.
 
Daria listened to Cooper talk about the work ahead, knowing that he was absolutely correct. Their community was comprised of 24 people, 5 of whom were children 13 and under. They were going to be functioning like a little commune, like where her hippie grandmother and grandfather had lived when they'd met clear back in the 60's.

Then he began speaking about arms training. Cooper was right when he thought to himself that he should have talked about this with Daria first. But she didn't interrupt him because he was correct about the need. Like he told the others, this place had remained safe from any sort of outside threats because of the men in the tower with sniper rifles. Of course, they'd had the local Sheriffs and, if necessary, the State Police, too. But neither of those were likely to be around to help either.

"So, tomorrow, I'd like to begin training people in how to use weapons from the armory," Cooper went on. He explained, then looked to Daria.

"If you have weapons training, such as the military or police, raise your hand," Daria instructed, showing her support for Cooper's idea. Hands rose, after which she asked, "If you are a hunter or simply skilled with using a rifle, shotgun, or pistol, raise your hand." More hands rose. "Good. This is good."

Daria had been walking toward Cooper and now stopped at his side. "Okay, so. Let's get started." She'd brought a box of basic Bic ink pens and a file folder with her to breakfast and now started distributing the pages inside. "These are questionnaires that will me get to know you better. Fill them out best as you can. You do not have to answer any question that you don't want to answer if you feel it is too personal or private. If there is a question you want to answer but not on paper, you can come to either Cooper or I later.

"I would like to share this information with Cooper," she continued, "If you would prefer I not share this information with Detective Thomas--" She said it that way in the hopes of reassuring them that Cooper was more than just a Con. "--there is a small box at the top labeled Private. Just check it, and I will keep your questionnaire confidential to me alone.

"You can take these with you and bring them back at lunch at noon," Daria told them. "This morning, Cooper and I will be making our rounds, speaking to each of you. We need to start putting everyone in their home." She looked in the direction where most of the civilians were sitting, continuing, "I know you don't want to hear this, but for the time being, most of you are going to be living in the cell block."

There was a groan, some grimaces, some shaking heads, and surprisingly a couple of delighted expressions, the last being from the children who didn't realize that they were already slated to sleep in the conjugal buildings. Daria continued, "But we're going to make everyone comfortable. I promise. You just have to give us time."
 
(OOC -- All 7 inmates are listed here, fyi. There were originally only 6. We increased it for a great storyline we only just now came up with. Below, between the lines of asterisks, is a portion of text I added later to reflect this change.)

"Okay, so. Let's get started," Daria told the group. She handed out ink pens and questionnaires and explained what to do with them.

Cooper Thomas and the 5 Trustees remained behind by Cooper's request. He wanted to talk to them about issues that were applicable mostly to them.

"Why is she asking us this?" Kendall Lee asked. He tapped a fingertip to the paper on the table before him. "I quote, 'Have you ever been accused of, charged with, or convicted of a sex crime?'"

"Why the fuck do you think she's asking that?" Cooper asked harshly. "There are going to be women and children living in the cell blocks with us."

"But why only us?" Kendall challenged. "What about those three guys not in orange? How come she didn't ask them?"

"She did, you idiot," Samuel Pollack cut in. "She gave them the same paper she gave us. Pay closer attention."

"There's more," James Wright said, joining the conversation. She gave this same paper to the women, too."

They talked about it for a moment before Kendall asked with a tone of reluctance, "What if I don't want to answer."

"Don't answer," Cooper told him. "But keep something in mind. The Warden, Daria, has your records. She knows a lot of these answers already."

"Then why's she asking?" Jackson Green asked.

"I reckon 'cause she's testing your honesty and openness," Cooper said with a bit of wry humor. "Don't answer if you don't want to. See what happens."

Cooper looked over to Nigel Standish. The father whose 13-year-old daughter was now living in the prison with him had been studying the other men as they talked. Cooper walked over to him, leaned in close, and whispered, "If I ever thought that any one of these guys was going to be a threat to Connie, I'd throw them out. Trust me "

"Thanks," the father said. Then looking up into the eyes of the former detective-turned-convict, he asked with a smirk, "Does that include you, Coop?"

Cooper laughed, slapped the man on the back, and said, "Little girls are not my thing. But your wife now .."

He laughed as he stepped away, again listening to the questions and concerns of the men. Some of them were filling out their questionnaires.

**************************​
Cooper looked to the last man in the group, Victor "Vic" Long. The man had been acting sheepish around Cooper ever since they met for the first time yesterday. Cooper hadn't thought anything about it, though. You met all kinds at a cop. Cooper had been in protective custody since entering West Georgia Correction Facility. He obviously hadn't met inmates. If he had, he still wouldn't have found Vic's behavior strange.

If only he'd known the truth. (OOC -- coming soon.)

**************************​
Cooper interrupted the work on the questionnaires, saying to the inmates, "Follow me, boys."

He took them all to "C" section, activated a control at the Security Station that opened all of the cell doors, gestured, and said, "Pick one."

Some of the men didn't understand. Jackson, who already lived here in Cell C12 did. So did Nigel, who also lived here now but who would soon be living with his family in a "C-House".

"C" Section was for trustees and the odd inmate who deserved special treatment. Each cell was for a single occupant. The bed was not just larger but had a better mattress. There was a larger desk than any in the other Cell Blocks. The toilet was semiprivate, partially hidden behind a partial wall and had an actual toilet seat and lid. A small closet had drawers, and a 2-foot-by-2-foot window looked out on the Yard that would soon be the farm and garden.
 
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(OOC: There are a couple of posts that come in the timeline before this one, but I haven't written them yet. It won't matter if I do this first.)

Nearing lunch time:

Twila Dearing waited for Daria to finish getting the two families settled in the houses before asking for a private moment with her. The Warden took her to her office, gesturing her to a chair as she turned on the little hot water pot, asking, "Tea? Instant coffee?"

"Coffee's fine, instant or otherwise, thanks," Twila said. She and Daria chatted about things while the latter made the drinks, and only after Daria had taken her seat did Twila get to the point. "Are you aware of what brought me to West Georgia four days ago?"

Tentatively, Daria answered, "You were here to interview an inmate, right? For a case you're working in Atlanta?"

"Yes, but there's a lot more to it than just that," Twila told her. "I was here to offer a plea deal to one of your inmates for his testimony in a case in which I've been working for almost two years."

"Okay," Daria responded, unsure of why this was important now. "I'm sorry you wasted your time coming all the way out here from Atlanta to interview a dead man."

"Well, that's the point," Twila countered. "He's not dead. He was at breakfast this morning with us."

Daria recalled having seen the other woman go sit with her new Chief of Security, the title she was going to suggest to Cooper later when she saw him. "I don't understand. You're an ADA from Atlanta, yes?" Twila confirmed. "The Atlanta DA made it clear that he's not about to offer Cooper life in prison without the possibility of parole. That he wants to see him executed. So why would you come here to offer him a plea deal?"

"I wasn't here to offer Cooper Thomas a plea deal, Warden--"

Daria asked the other woman to please call her by her given name. "Or if you wanted to be extra professional, Miss Howard. But I'm no longer the warden here, so..."

"Daria," Twila corrected. She explained, "I wasn't here to offer Mister Thomas a plea deal. I was here to offer Victor Long one."

"Victor Long?" Daria asked with surprise. "Why, I mean, what does he have to offer against Cooper? I don't recall anything from his file that connects him to Cooper Thomas. Please, enlighten me."

"I really can't tell you any more than that, Miss Howard," Twila said, being professional as suggested. "Need to know and all--"

"I need to know, Miss Dearing," Daria cut in. "We're trying to build something new here that will support us. This is like nothing I've ever known before. Inmates, prison staff, civilians all living and working together for the survival and prosperity of the community. I need to know if we're going to have a problem between two of my inmates."

"Mister Thomas doesn't know anything about Mister Long's involvement in his case," Twila said. She could see in Daria's face that that wasn't enough for her. "Mister Long is a witness to--"

"Bullshit!" Daria interrupted. "There was nothing in his file about Cooper. I read every file for every surviving inmate, twice! Some even more than that. I would have known."

Twila sipped at her coffee to pass a few seconds while she thought. Then, "Mister Long wasn't part of the original trial because..."

"Because what?" Daria pushed.

"Because he'd been high at the time that he saw what he'd seen," Twila said, "And the Prosecutor had thought it better not to use him at the time. Now he does."

By now Daria was laughing. She sipped at her tea, shook her head, and said flatly, "You will let this go, Miss Dearing. You will not speak to Mister Long about this. You will not speak to Mister Thomas about this. You will forget the reason for your visit to West Georgia and strive to become a productive member of this community, just like Cooper and Vic will. Understand?"

When Twila hesitated, Daria leaned in over her desk and barked, "Do you understand, Miss Dearing. There is nothing to be gained by dredging this up now. Cooper is going to teach our people how to protect their community, and I'm not going to risk that for some bullshit case that doesn't even matter anymore."

"It matters to me, Miss Howard," Twila said firmly. "I spent two years on this case--"

"And for nothing, because Cooper Thomas is not guilty of any of it," Daria said. She rose to her feet, heading for the door as she said, "Thank you for sitting down with me to discuss this, Miss Dearing--"

She opened the door and stepped back, indicating that it was time for Twila to git. As the ADA stood and headed out, Daria warned, "If this gets out, someone's going to get hurt. Please think first."
 
A bit before the above post for Twila and Daria:

Vic Long was the last to finish moving his possessions to C-Section. His stash of heroine had run out yesterday morning. And his connection had been one of the first to die of the virus. He feared that soon enough, he'd be wishing that the bug had killed him, too.

"You okay, Vic?" someone asked, causing Vic to flinch and spin in place. Cooper was standing in the doorway of Vic's new home. The former narcotics detective looked up and down the cell block for eavesdroppers. He looked back to Vic, asking quietly, "Are you sick, Vic? You know what I mean by sick, right?"

"I thought going to jail meant that I'd get clean," Vic said. "Turns out, it's easier to get smack in here than it was out there."

He looked to Cooper, hesitated, then added, "Particularly when your connection is a Screw."

Cooper was surprised that the man was being so open about his habit. "I take it the man's no longer available."

Vic shook his head. He scratched at the skin on his arms. He got super itchy when he was in need. He studied Cooper a moment before asking, "I don't suppose there's any way that you could, you know, maybe check around. I just need a little bit."

"Sure," Cooper said. Vic's face lit up with both surprise and relief. Then Cooper added, "On the condition that you start treatment."

Vic laughed, gestured about himself, and said, "Sure! I mean, this looks like a drug treatment facility, doesn't it?"

"One of the Warden's civies is a nurse," Cooper told Vic. "She can help you. And I can help you. Listen, Vic, you're part of this community now. You're one of us. We need you to be able to function and be productive. You can do that. If you're clean."

"You could just toss me out the gate," Vic pointed out. "Hell, out there I could probably find a fix easy 'nuff."

"You're not going out the gate," Cooper told him firmly. "If you want to leave, you can. But not until after you're clean."

"Really?" Vic asked shocked.

Cooper smiled. "Really."

The two men looked at each other before Vic finally said, "Okay. I'll do it. I'll try, anyway."

Cooper stepped forward and offered his hand. "We'll get you through this. I'll go talk to, oh, I've forgotten her name. I'll talk to Daria, and she'll talk to the Doc."

"Thanks," Vic said before Cooper turned and left the cell.

Vic stood there silent and still for a long moment, thinking. Cooper Thomas was going to help him get clean? Was going to help him become a functioning and productive part of a community?

And I was going to help them keep Coop in prison? he thought to himself. Was going to help them execute him?
 
Introducing Nina Hernandez, whose soon-to-be aka will be "Doc"

(OOC: Her pic is a bit out of context, as many of them will be. Roll with it.)

Daria entered WGCF's infirmary to find Nina Hernadez milling about, pulling on drawers and cabinets only to find nearly all of them locked shut. When Nina looked back to her, Daria chuckled. "Yeah, if it's not locked up, it disappears. This is, after all, a prison."

"Was a prison," Nina corrected. "Do you think this is going to work? I mean, just telling convicts that they are no longer convicts and telling the people from the outside that they have to live with them as such..."

"We'll make it work," Daria said as she offered out a ring that had five keys on it. "We have to make it work, or we'll be no better off than all those people out there."

"What's this?" Nina asked, looking at and then taking the key ring.

"These are all the keys you'll need to operate the infirmary," Daria told her with a knowing smile.

Surprised, Nina asked, "Is that why you asked me here?"

"You were a trauma nurse from Atlanta General Hospital, yes?" Daria asked. Nina confirmed, and Daria continued, "And you were continuing your education to become a doctor, yes?"

Nina began, "I quit--"

"When your husband was convicted of involuntary manslaughter and jailed," Daria interrupted, wanting Nina to know that she had read and was familiar with her husband's file. "I knew you husband. I'd spoken to him on several occasions. From what I saw, he seemed a good man, and I'm sorry that he was here and that his incarceration interrupted your plans to become a doctor."

"My first priority was to stand by his side," Nina said with a sincere voice, adding, "even if he was in prison."

"And I think that is admirable, I do," Daria told her. "Juan is gone now, and I know it's only been a couple of days. But West Georgia is going to need a doctor--"

Nina looked up to Daria, suddenly realizing the scope of what was about to be asked of her.

Daria continued, "--and you are the closest thing to a doctor that we have now or are likely ever to have. We need you--"

A knock at the door interrupted Daria, and looking that direction, she found Cooper with an expectant expression on his face. Daria waved him inside, and as he entered he was followed by a second man, Vic Long.

"And here's your first patient," Daria said looking back to Nina. She moved closer and took the woman's hands in hers. Softly, she said, "I know what you've been through, Nina. We've all been through unimaginable heartbreak over the last few days."

Ironically, that wasn't true for Daria as much as it was for most of the people now inside the prison, be they formerly prisoners or just prisoners now. Daria hadn't lost a husband, lover, parents, children, or siblings to the virus. She hadn't been married or even seriously dating, her parents had both died years ago, and she'd been an only child. The closest thing to a relative she might have lost were aunts and uncles and their children, but she hadn't spoken to any of them in months and hadn't spoken to any of them since the virus exploded and overwhelmed her life from a professional point of view.

"But we are going to need you to step up," Daria spoke softly to Nina. "You are a strong woman. I know this without even knowing you, something I hope will change over the days to come. I want us to become friends. Anything you need, anything you want to say, any time you need an ear to listen to you or a shoulder to cry upon, you come to me."

This wouldn't be the only time Daria gave this speech to one of the civilians, and not all of them would be female either. Nina looked between Daria and the men standing just inside the door, then said, "I'll give it a try, Warden."

"Daria, or Miss Howard if you like," she corrected. She smiled wide, saying, "No, call me Daria."

The women shared a smile before Daria turned to leave, saying, "Okay, we're good here. Doc here is going to take good care of you, Mister Long. Mister Thomas, if you please. I have some other issues I'd like to speak to you about if you don't mind."
 
Cooper was nearing the open door of the Infirmary when he overheard Daria saying, "--and you are the closest thing to a doctor that we have now or are likely ever to have. We need you--"

He mistakenly thought that the pretty Latina caught sight of him, and rather than eavesdrop any more, knocked on the door. He asked politely, "May we?"

Daria waved the men inside as she told Nina, "And here's your first patient."

Vic snagged Cooper by the arm, whispering, "I dunno. Maybe--"

But Cooper cut him off, stressing in a low voice, "You let the Doc treat you, or you leave West Georgia."

They eyes each other a moment. Then Vic nodded, saying, "Okay "

Cooper saw the two women talking quietly and gave them time to finish. Then, stepping inside and urging Vic forward, he said, "Here's your first patient, Doc. Patient confidentiality and all, I'll be leaving now."

Vic had a look on his face like he was a puppy being abandoned in the side of the road. Cooper reassured him, "You'll be fine."

"Mister Thomas, if you please," Daria said as she passed by him for the door. "I have some other issues I'd like to speak to you about if you don't mind."

"Right behind you," he told her. He gave Vic one last reassuring look before he headed out

Behind him, Vic looked to Nina. He tried his best to smile. When she asked what he was there for, he looked to the floor, embarrassed. He'd always been ashamed by his uncontrollable addiction.

But he explained his situation. With great hope, Vic asked, "Can you help me become, how did he say it? A productive member of this community?"
 
The Infirmary

"And here's your first patient," Daria said as Cooper led Vic Long inside. Nina was familiar with Cooper, of course, but she only now realized that she hadn't taken notice of Vic earlier at breakfast, despite the small number of males present.

Her notice now included that he was a very handsome man. She felt a little self conscious taking notice of this, of course. Her husband had only just died two days ago. Or had it been three? She wasn't really even sure at this point.

Vic explained his situation to Nina, his body language leaving no doubt about his shame of being an addict. Nina's husband had been an alcoholic and had been in WGCF after a conviction for a DUI manslaughter charge. She understood addiction fully.

"Can you help me become, how did he say it?" Vic pondered about Cooper's earlier words. "A productive member of this community?"

"Of course I can, Mister Long," Nina responded, questioning, "Or do you prefer Vic or Victor?"

She listened to his answer, then said, "First things first, though. Mister Thomas, as he was leaving, spoke of Doctor-Patient confidentiality. I want you to trust that what is said between us is in fact confidential. Not even Miss Howard can ask about your treatment."

Nina sat Vic down, found the equipment she needed, and took his vitals as she asked him questions about his drug use. She used a little digital audio recorder she'd found to record Vic's answers, explaining, "I'll record this all later on paper, then delete the recording. Normally, I'd type it all into a computer, but Miss Howard says that at any moment--"

As if God was listening, the electrical power suddenly went off. The lights dimmed, and various pieces of equipment around the Infirmary beeped, indicating a loss of power. But the power came right back up, leading Nina to say, "That's probably the backup generator coming on."

She took a moment to power down the equipment that didn't need to be on to conserve generator power, then said, "Okay, let's get back to this."

Nina found that the Infirmary stored all three of the most popular and most effective heroine addiction treatment drugs. She and Vic went over the treatment and made a plan for him to visit her every day, morning, noon, and night.

"I know that sounds like a lot, but it isn't just about the drugs," she told him. "You need counseling, too, which I can give you. You also need a sponsor, just like in NA out there in the world. If you're comfortable with it, I will ask around for someone who's been through this before. They can be your sponsor."

Nina listened to Vic's reaction. If he was okay with that, she would look for a sponsor, but if he wasn't, she would tell him that she could stand in for a sponsor.
 
The Kitchen Storeroom

Jackson handed Cooper a clipboard. About the list, he said, "That, in my opinion, is what we can spare for the farm. The rest needs to be kept to feed us 'til we have a crop to harvest or find other food, ya'know, from scavenging. We are gonna scavenge, aren't we? Outside the fence?"

"Probably," Cooper answered her looked to Daria for her input, saying, "Likely."

Jackson explained, "Potatoes, sweet potatoes, dried beans, onions. They can ask be planted, some of'em right now. All the fresh vegetable roots, of course. Celery, green onions, lettuce, peppers.

"The Warden before Miss Howard switched us over to all organic," Jackson told them. "So all the seeds and such will grow. Course, some of them are still hybrid, not heirloom, so they might not all grow out looking like the stuff that came before. But it's all gonna be edible.

"Hell, we can grow dill, mustard, coriander, pepper, and more right out of the spice jars, believe it or not," he said chuckling. "Don't think we'll need to, but just wanted you to know.

Cooper handed the clipboard to Daria. "I trust Jackson's thoughts on this, Miss Howard. If we're going to do this, we need to get started in the next couple of days. We have a tractor and some other heavy equipment. But we need farm equipment.

"We should be able to find it locally," he continued. "But before I send people out there, I need people trained on weapons for security."
 
The Kitchen Storeroom

When Jackson asked Cooper if they were going to be going out beyond the prison to scavenge for things they needed, including food in particular, Cooper looked to the leader of the community, saying, "Probably. Likely."

Daria had been contemplating this, too, and nodded her head reluctantly, repeating, "Likely."

She knew that they were eventually going to have to fulfill their needs from beyond WGCF. They were going to run out of food and medicine, two great needs, obviously. But there would be other things they would need or, at least, want.

Jackson explained his list of consumables from the prison's stores that could be planted, amazing Daria. She'd seen her mother put an avocado pit in water supported by toothpicks or trim off her houseplants and put the cuttings in a vase of water to root them. But spices from their seasoning bottles? She joked, "Sounds like Black Magic."

"I trust Jackson's thoughts on this, Miss Howard." Cooper said, offering her the list on the clipboard.

"Call me Daria," she told him, looking to the other man, saying, "You, too." She looked at the list, just skimming it. "I trust your numbers, Jackson." To Cooper she asked, "Okay, what's next?"

Cooper spoke of the resources they needed to go outside for but said he needed to train a defense force first.

"Of course," she responded. Daria handed the clipboard back to Cooper saying, "We'll send some people your way to collect these things as we need them. What do you need immediately to get started?"

Jackson explained first steps, Daria guaranteed him the space and manpower, and then asked Cooper to walk with her yet again.

At the armory, Daria gestured toward the contents, asking, "How are you going to keep us safe, Cooper? The protection of WG is on your shoulders. You have a free hand."

She looked directly into his eyes, saying, "I'm trusting you. And I trust you, too. Those are actually two different things."
 
The Kitchen Storeroom

"I could use help in the kitchen for cooking," Jackson said when Daria asked him what he needed. She'd been speaking about the farming part of the work. But right now, he was more concerned about cooking meals, snacks, and treats every day for 23 people. He'd cooked for hundreds of Cons previous to this, of course. But back then he'd had 2 civilian superiors and a permanent crew of Cons that sometimes numbered as many as a dozen.

"You get me one full timer and two helpers," Jackson to Daria, "And I'll get both the meals and the farming stuff done for you."

Happy with her answer, Jackson returned to his work while Daria and Cooper went on their way.

The Armory

"How are you going to keep us safe, Cooper?" Daria asked her Security Chief. "The protection of WG is on your shoulders. You have a free hand."

"I spoke with the guys and went through their records again," Cooper told her. He chuckled softly. "I also noticed how a couple of your women perked up when we talked about weapons training. I'd like to look through those questionnaires for Security, too."

They talked about what Cooper needed and wanted. He planned to set up a shooting range to train people with the firearms. Then, after some thought of who he wanted to participate, he'd begin training people in both defensive and offensive tactics.

"If ever someone does try to get inside the fence or even inside the walls," Cooper explained, "I don't want our Security people panicking or randomly shooting the place up, maybe even killing each other. I'd like them to understand how to work as a team to keep the bad guys out."

"I'm trusting you," Daria told Cooper with a meaningful expression and tone. "And I trust you, too. Those are actually two different things."

He offered out his hand, swearing, "You won't be sorry, Daria. I'll protect this place like it was my precinct. Or my own home."

They spoke some more and made plans before heading out again. Cooper took a Beretta 92FS 9mm with him this time around. It was going to be his go-to sidearm. It was the best made for that amount of money. He would take a 12-gauge Browning shotgun later, but today that was unnecessary.

He spent the rest of the day reviewing prison records and questionnaires. He also spoke to people about what they had to offer in the form of labor and other skills.

(OOC -- I was going to start listing "skills" and making profiles, but you said you had something more to do in the OOC first?)
 
(OOC: I was, and I got it done. Thanks for waiting.)

The Kitchen Storeroom

"I could use help in the kitchen for cooking," Jackson told Cooper and Daria. "You get me one full timer and two helpers, and I'll get both the meals and the farming stuff done for you."

"Deal," Daria said without hesitation. She'd already reviewed some of the questionnaires, and she knew that she had some domestic types as well as gardening/farmer types. "And if you can handle working with children, I'm sure their mothers would want to bring them along. Not in the kitchen, though, some of them are old enough to help you there. I actually meant out in the garden, planting. But that's up to you. Not everyone's a kid person.

The Armory

"I also noticed how a couple of your women perked up when we talked about weapons training," Cooper said after Daria asked him about the Security Team. "I'd like to look through those questionnaires for Security, too."

"Of course," Daria responded. "Guns aren't just a guy thing. Plus, I heard two of the women talking about hunting. That at least means they're handy around a rifle."

Cooper talked about WGCF being penetrated by outsiders. She remembered a zombie television show from a few years back where the occupants had created a community much like she, Cooper, and the others were trying to do now. In that fictional case, the dispute had been more about hatred and revenge than it had been about the outsiders wanting what the insiders had had.

"I hope that that will never happen here," Daria said. "But I understand your reservations. Whatever you need to keep us protected, it's yours, Cooper."

He offered out his hand, swearing, "You won't be sorry, Daria."

"I know," she responded, taking the offered hand.


"The Burbs" -- the former conjugal buildings

The eldest of the 5 children in WGCF, 13-year-old Connie Alcott, had joked that the stand-alone buildings in which the two families with children were going to living in were sort of the suburbs of the prison. Before Daria had even heard the term, it had already set in with the others. She came out to check on the families, to get their list of what they needed to be comfortable, and while she was there spoke to each of the individuals there about their questionnaires and what they wanted to do for work.

"I was a stay-at-home mom all my life," Sammi Alcott told Daria. She looked to one corner of the home where Connie was watching her 11-year-old brother Freddie and 6-year-old brother Willie as they were arguing over who got the top bunk of the set that had been brought in for them by a pair of Trustees. "I took some college courses, mostly online or at nights after Gregory got home. Other than that, I never worked outside the home."

"You cooked and cleaned and all that housewife stuff, though," Daria said. Sammi shrugged and confirmed. Daria said with a sincere tone, "That's a career, Sammi. You had a career. You don't have to work outside the home, driving to some office to file papers or plan construction or argue cases before the State Supreme Court to consider yourself as a career woman. What you were doing inside your home was as important to your family as anything you could have done outside of it."

"Yeah, I guess," Sammi said. Her confidence level was obvious very low. She didn't realize that Daria was aiming toward asking her if she wanted to continue domestic work here, only on a larger scale. And yet she spontaneously offered, "If you needed someone to help in the kitchen with meals and cleanup, I can do that. Happily, even. My kids always helped around the house, too. They're good kids."

Freddie heard the women talking and called out from the to bunk, "I wanna work on the farm. I thought we were going to have goats and rabbits and chickens."

The younger boy chimed in on the same subject, and Daria laughed. "Yes, we're going to have animals, and I expect the two of you to be my first two Junior Farmers, okay?" They both showed great excitement, then returned to arguing about the top bunk. Daria caught the teenage girl strolling her way and said, "Connie, I looked at your questionnaire. You left most of it blank or wrote--"

Daria had the questionnaire in her hands and lifted it to finish, "IDK and IDC. I'm sorry, I don't...?"

"I don't know and I don't care," Connie's mother filled in. Sammi put her arm around her 13-year-old and said with a sympathetic tone, "This has all been very hard on my daughter. She had a lot of friends, and we don't know what--"

"They're all dead," Connie cut in. "We do know that. I dunno why the hell I lived and they didn't."

"Because you're special, Connie," Daria said, "as are the rest of us. God, Mother Nature, Fate, whoever. Someone wanted us to live through this, and we did." She gave the girl a moment to think on that, then asked with a gentle tone, "If you could do anything here in WG that would help us build a community, what would it be?"

Connie thought a moment, looked between the two older women, and said, "Paint."

Daria donned a curious expression, asking, "Like art? On canvas?"

"Walls," Sammi said. She hugged her daughter tighter, saying, "Connie here is quite the tagger."

"It's called street muralist, mom," Connie corrected. She described to Daria how she and a group of her friends had created murals on more than two dozen walls across downtown Atlanta over the last two years, mostly in low income and depressed neighborhoods. "It's anything but graffiti."

Daria thought a moment, then asked, "If I got you cans of paint--"

"Spray cans, too," Connie corrected, adding, "But both, blush brushes and rollers."

"If I could get you all of that," Daria continued, excitement in her face, "Could you liven up our new home here? Inside walls, outside walls. Your home here, of course--"

In a softer voice not meant for the boys, Connie asked, "You mean the sex rooms?" Both older women looked uncomfortable, but Connie continued, "That's alright. I know what they were used for. I don't care. IDK. Yeah, sure. I could do some really good work here."

Daria offered out her hand, and when the girl took it, she said, "Deal. I'll have you what you need tomorrow. I can't guarantee much for colors right now, but if we get a chance to go outside the gates, I'll have someone visit a paint store. There's one in the first town down the road. Well, it's a hardware store, but they'll have what you need."

The boys finally figured out who got the top bunk by playing best out of 7 in rock-paper-scissors, and Daria made her way to the next house to see what sort of help she could get there.
 
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