Maggie asks Carol and Glenn for a minute alone with her dad, who's now got one wrist handcuffed to the bed frame. Excellent security. This way he won't be able to chase anyone and what are the chances of him using his free hand on anybody within grabbing range? Glenn agrees to wait outside and Maggie tearfully promises her unconscious father that she and Beth will take care of each other with Glenn, and that Hershel doesn't have to fight any more. Which is good because he sucks at it anyway. And then she rests her head on his chest, the easier for him to grab her by the hair and eat her face when he dies and comes back to life.

The group of eight zombie-hunters makes its way through a darkened corridor when they're met by a couple of shambling walkers in prison coveralls. Daryl signals to hold off until the right moment, but the five inmates rush them and beat them about the body, which of course does the monsters no harm whatsoever. Our heroes hang back and watch, probably figuring these guys need to vent a little. And if they get bit in the process, that solves one of Rick's current problems anyway.

While everyone's standing around watching Hershel, Carl comes in, having been completely forgotten again, which allows him to have wandered entirely out of the cell block. But New Improved Carl has returned with a big old satchel of medical supplies, having found the infirmary on his latest walkabout. I say if he's finally making himself useful he should go for it, but Lori freaks out about Carl having gone by himself. You know, Lori -- here's a parenting tip from me to you: if you know your kid keeps doing something and you never do anything to stop it, eventually it stops being his fault and starts being yours. Carl says it's not a big deal and he even killed two walkers, and she ought to get off his back. Beth yells at Carl not to talk to his mom like that and Lori is about to add more, but Carl runs off in a snit. Nice job, Lori. You broke the upgrade.

The group in the corridors is moving on and Daryl reminds them that it has to be the brain. They seem to be getting the hang of it, even as a steady stream of walkers starts approaching in twos and threes and Rick orders, "No more prison riot crap." It starts getting crowded in there and Little Tiny backs out into the adjoining hallway. And promptly finds himself in a walker-fight of his own, including against one that breaks off its own rotted hand at the wrist to escape its handcuffs before scraping the splintered ends of the exposed bones down Little Tiny's back. Rick comes to the rescue, but then the leader of the inmates comes in and finishes the last one off with three shots from his revolver. Good shootin', Tex, now you're down half your ammo. These guys seriously need to work on their listening skills.