Somewhere South of Atlanta
"I'm not bitten!"
The group had left Hershel's farm only days earlier. After stopping for the night what they decided is a secured spot, they set up camp. It's while everyone is eating that the blood-drenched girl wanders out of the trees.
Unable to tell if the blood is hers, and unwilling to get close enough to check for bites, Daryl had snuck up behind her and knocked her out with the butt of his crossbow. They'd tied her to a tree, while they decided what to do next.
When she came to, she struggled, and then started to insist she hadn't been bitten. So far, everyone is ignoring her.
"What if she's not infected?" Glen is one of a few who wanted to give her a chance. The only others are Dale and Carl.
Rick is undecided, while Shane wants to shoot her. Andrea and Daryl are all for leaving her behind and Lori is staying neutral.
"You check her, then," Daryl says. "I say we just leave her here and go in the morning."
"Leave her?" Carl stares at him.
The adults seem to realize this isn't the conversation for a kid. However, no one tries to make him leave. Everyone has to grow up sometime.
"What makes you think she's not bitten? Do you see a weapon with her? How did she get here?" Andrea asks.
"If we wait, she might not get a fever," Dale mentions. "Then we'll know."
"Andrea and Lori could look her over. Keep a gun on her, make her strip down," Rick states, breaking his silence. "That way they can search for bite wounds."
"And if we don't find any?" Andrea asks.
"She comes along."
Daryl eyes him. "You were one of those kids that constantly brought home stray animals, huh?"
Rick ignores him, looking at Andrea, then at Shane. His friend looks pissed off, but doesn't argue, and Andrea just shrugs. He looks at Lori who is staring intently at the fire. She glances up at him, then shrugs a little.
"Sure."
"I'm not bitten!"
Shane just shakes his head. "This is stupid, and a waste of time."
Rick frowns at him for a minute. "If she's bitten, we shoot her, or leave her. You all can draw straws."
He stands and walks away, clearly done with the whole thing. Triumphant, Glenn hands over his flashlight to Lori as she gets to her feet.
"Thanks," she mutters, taking it. Dale hands Andrea a knife.
Andrea leads the way out into the woods about fifty yards from the edge of the fire. Lori follows, just glad to get away from the smell of dinner.
As soon as the light hits the girl, both pauses. Whatever color her clothes originally were, now they're just a mottled reddish brown. The material looks stiff, too. Her hair is stringy. She obviously hasn't bathed in days.
She looks up at them. "I wasn't bitten. I wasn't."
Andrea aims the gun at her. "Don't move. I'm going to untie you. If you move even a hair, I'll shoot. Got it?"
"Yeah…"
Moving slowly so she can keep the gun aimed at the stranger's head, Andrea walks over. With the knife, she slices through the rope.
"Don't fucking move," she hisses. The girl holds her breath.
Backing up to stand next to Lori again, Andrea slips the knife back into her pocket. Lori keeps the flashlight beam on the girl.
"Slowly, take off your clothes," Andrea orders. "We're checking you for bites."
The girl gets up as if she forgot how to stand. Her legs have fallen asleep as she sat there. Leaning against the tree for help balancing, she carefully peels off her shirt. Neither Lori nor Andrea knows what to expect, but the girl's body is startlingly clean compared to her arms and clothes. She drops her shirt on the grass and starts peeling off the tight pants that look similar to yoga pants, or maybe thick leggings. The lower half of her is as clean as the top. She puts her hands up and turns around.
There aren't any bites.
"Well, shit…" Andrea says with a little laugh.
Lori doesn't relax. "What about your arms?"
The girl rubs her hands over them and holds them out. "No bites."
Lori moves the light a little to see better, but it's true. While dirty, the girl's arms have no obvious punctures.
"And your scalp?" Lori refuses to budge. She has a son, and now a new baby, to protect after all.
Andrea frowns. "Come on, Lori. She's not infected." It isn't unnoticed that Andrea has changed sides.
The girl bends over and combs her fingers through his hair. From what they can see, there is only pale scalp under the dark, greasy hair. She straightens back up and just looks at them.
Finally, Lori nods. "Alright. But now she needs clothes. She can't put that shit on again."
Andrea agrees. Wiggling out of the men's button-up shirt, she tosses it over to the girl. Underneath she is wearing a thin camisole, which is enough.
"Thanks," the girl mumbles. She pulls it on. Buttoned, it reaches halfway to her knees. It isn't much, but none of the guys will get an eyeful.
"What's your name?"
"Rachael."
"I'm Lori, this is Andrea."
Rachael only nods a little, before falling into step with them. Her silence on the way back to the fire is a little uncanny, but neither of the older women seems to care. They figure the petite stranger is just in shock. It isn't until they are at the fire that both of them notice her feet.
"Why don't you have shoes?" Andrea is looking at her suspiciously again.
Rachael glances down. "Creek ate them. Lost one in the mud, the other soaked through. It rubbed my ankle raw before I gave up on it."
The other two glance at each other, before shrugging. When Shane sees them bringing her back, he gets to his feet.
"What the hell?"
"We checked her, Shane," Lori says, sounding tired. "She's not bitten."
"Just dirty," Andrea adds with a hint of a smile.
Daryl stands up. "How the fuck did you get out here without a weapon?"
Rachael blinks as if she hasn't been aware she has none, and looks at her hands. "I had a gun. It ran outta bullets. Lost a tire iron when a zombie fell down an embankment."
Glenn snorts. "Zombie?"
She frowns. "What do you call them?"
"Walkers," he says. "The walking dead."
"Oh…"
"What's your name?" Carl pipes up.
She smiles a little at him, and it's the first time her features have softened at all. Otherwise she's looked at everyone with a doe-eyed expression. "Rachael."
"I'm Carl." He grins.
The rest go around and introduce themselves except Shane, who wanders off when it's obvious no one is concerned anymore, or listening to him.
"You hungry, honey?" Dale asks, once everyone is settling again.
Rachael nods. "Can't remember the last time I ate."
"Or bathed?" Daryl mutters.
She looks down. Both Lori and Andrea glare at him which he ignores.
"You're one to talk," Glen says. "You go days without washing by choice."
Daryl snorts and glances at the Korean. "Getting' some pussy definitely gave you some balls."
That shuts Glenn up. He doesn't want to remember Maggie.
The women decide to ignore him, and Rachael takes the plate offered to her.
"You could probably fit Carol's things," Lori comments a couple of minutes later, watching her. "She didn't take all of them."
"Or Amy's," Andrea says with a sad smile. "You'll have to roll the legs, though. You're shorter than she was."
"Who were they?" Rachael wonders.
"Carol was a friend." Andrea pauses, before looking away into the shadows. "Amy was my sister."
"I'm sorry." She looks it, too.
Andrea just shakes her head, noticeably pushing memories of her sister away. "Let me know when you're done eating. We'll go get you a bath in the stream. You can bed with me."
"Thank you."
Fort Benning
"We have to go get her."
The tall blond man has been pacing for a good hour. It isn't the first time, either. Ever since the group of friends had made it to the military compound, he's been on edge.
"We can't, Alex."
Alex turns to glare at the speaker. "Fuck you, Ethan. You've got Tabby right there."
Ethan sighs, rubbing at his face. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. But it's over two hours to Atlanta, and we have no idea how bad it is."
Alex huffs, but before he can respond, the petite redhead next to Ethan looks up at them.
"We do. We heard on the radio about the evacuation. Any of them that could, came here." Tabitha indicates the soldiers patrolling the fencing outside. "Only the zombies are there."
"And Rachael," Alex snaps. "She's in that fucking hospital. Where I abandoned her."
"You didn't have a choice," Tabby reasons. "They had the best treatment, and your job is here."
"Was." Alex drops onto a cot. "This is so fucked. We have to go get her."
Ethan sighs, but pulls Tabby closer. He can understand why Alex feels like he does. If he knew Tabby was a couple hours away, possibly in danger, he'd be hell-bent on getting to her.
"Alex," Ethan starts, trying to be gentle, "she might not even be there."
Icy blue eyes focus on him. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
Tabby tenses up and shoots her boyfriend a warning look. "Ethan…"
He ignores her. "She might be dead, Alex, we don't even know—"
Ethan doesn't get any further. Alex leaps at the shorter man at dead and punches him hard enough that Ethan topples backwards off his own cot. The swinging arm barely misses Tabby, who ducks too late with a little screech. The closest families look over at their group, but most stay away.
Alex has no intention of climbing over the cot to continue. "Don't fucking say that! She's not fucking—" He stops speaking in English and storms off, muttering in Swedish. This is another reason why he wants Rachael there. He hasn't had someone to talk to in Swedish in months.
Tabby helps Ethan sit up. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," he says with a pain smile. "I knew it was coming when I said it."
He rolls his neck and flexes his jaw, testing it. Tabby watches him worriedly and only relaxes when he doesn't seem to be broken.
"I'll have a bruise later, but I'm fine," he gives as his prognosis.
"Idiot," she says affectionately, rolling her eyes.
He nods in agreement. "Probably."
She leans against him and sighs. After a few minutes, she looks at all the families. The soldiers keep them all in the barracks closest to the command headquarters, with constant patrols. Those who arrive are stripped, searched, and still medically quarantined. It lasts about four days. If someone is infected, they're dead before then. Everyone knows that.
"Do you think they'd even let us out?" she wonders quietly. "The military, I mean. If we wanted to go."
Slowly, Ethan turns to stare at her. "Are you serious? Tabs…"
"She's my friend, Ethan," she snaps, looking at him. "And Alex's girlfriend. She's all he's got, since there's no way to contact his family back in Europe."
He frowns, looking away. At least he knows where his is. He just pretends they're safe on the farm back in Texas.
"I don't know," he says, finally. "They shouldn't stop us. It'd leave them with three less mouths to feed."
"It's the army," Tabby sighs. "And the world has ended. They'll do what they want."
"Only one way to find out," Ethan comments, leaning forward to rub his hands over his face, and through his hair.
"Two."
Both of them look up to see Alex has returned. He's still stiff with anger, but has a newly determined set to his jaw.
"Two, what?" Tabby asks.
"Two ways." He starts rummaging through his bag. "I've settled it. I'm leaving tomorrow at dawn."