The Bells of St. Mary's

Rick stared through the bars of a six-foot-high, wrought-iron fence. Inside were half a dozen large red-brick buildings that looked to be at least a hundred years old. The cragged limbs of ancient oak trees arched over the yard, their crooked branches clinging to a few brown leaves. A sign on the gate proclaimed that this was St. Mary's Convent and School for Girls, established in 1825. About a hundred walkers milled about in the fenced-off yard. Nearly all were female—the older ones wearing habits, the younger plaid skirts. A few who had noticed him headed his way.

"We have to do this," Rick told the group. "With the Wolves behind us, this is our best chance at finding something to help Judith."

"I don't know, Rick," countered Michonne. "That's a lot of walkers."

"That means no one else has been in here," he asserted. "They'll have supplies. And they had a preschool. There could be formula or Pedia-Lite or something in there that she can keep down. We handled worse at the prison. We can do this."

Michonne's mouth tightened, but she didn't argue any more. Glenn and Daryl nodded. The rest of the group looked on apprehensively, but no one offered any more objections.

Rick went on. "We'll stick to the plan. Tara, Aaron, and Rosita will go to the far side and make some noise. Attract as many walkers as you can. Daryl, Michonne, Glenn, and I will climb the fence on this side. We'll stay in tight formation until we make it up to the main building and kick in the front door. We'll clear out any walkers inside and see what we can find. Abraham will take the rest of you to hide in the woods out of sight of the main road, but keep your eyes open. We don't know how far back the Wolves are. If we're not back in an hour, all of you get back on the road and head north."

Judith had been vomiting for more than a week. A couple of others in the group had experienced the same stomach bug, but they had all recovered within twenty-four hours. The baby still couldn't keep anything down, not even water. At this point, she was so dehydrated that she didn't even have any tears when she cried.

As the most experienced moms in the group, Jessie and Carol knew the situation was bad. What they really needed was an IV for Judith, but of course, they didn't have anything like that with them. And with the Wolves following them ever since they fled Alexandria, they hadn't had time to look for a hospital or clinic where they might find what they needed. It had been only three days since they lost Morgan and Sasha, and Maggie's pregnancy was slowing her down. They thought that if they could get some formula or sports drink or an electrolyte solution, they might be able to get the baby re-hydrated enough that she could recover.

Rick and some others had been foraging in a drug store that had been thoroughly cleaned out when he saw the flier. "St. Mary's School for Girls," it read. "Now enrolling for preschool." He had seized on the idea. A preschool might have what they needed for Judith and some of what they were going to need for Maggie when the baby came. There might be food and other supplies too.

Rick was determined. After all they had been through, they couldn't lose Judith. They had to risk a detour and hope that they were far enough ahead of the Wolves to stay out of trouble.

As Rick, Daryl, Michonne, and Glenn first entered the yard at St. Mary's, the plan was working out better than they could have hoped. Most of the walkers headed over to investigate the noise that Tara, Aaron, and Rosita were making. The small group heading inside had to take out just half a dozen before they reached the front door.

Rick turned the knob, unexpectedly finding it unlocked. They dashed inside, and Glenn closed the door behind them. But a loud beeping sound had started when they opened the door, and there were more walkers in the building than they had anticipated. Dozens were coming down the main staircase, attracted by the noise at the front door.

A sign not too far from the entrance pointed the way to the school office. "In there," shouted Rick. "We'll regroup and come up with a plan."

Daryl kicked the office door in. No walkers came out, which was a good sign. Rick entered first with the rest close behind. Daryl slammed the door behind them just as the first walkers from the stairway approached the door.

"Drop your weapons, or I'll put a bullet in his head," ordered an unexpected voice.

An attractive young woman stood beside and slightly behind Rick, a pistol pressed to his temple. Rick had already placed his knife and gun on the floor, but Michonne, Daryl, and Glenn hesitated. The woman cocked her weapon.

"Do it," said Rick.

Knives, handguns, Daryl's crossbow, and Michonne's sword slowly sank to the ground.

"Kick them over there," said the woman, gesturing with her head towards the counter that ran the length of the office. Daryl, Glenn, and Michonne obeyed, getting a better look at their adversary as they did so. Slightly taller than average, she looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties. Dark blonde hair hung down to the center of her back in waves. She wore one of the same blue-and-green plaid skirts the dead girls outside were wearing, but it was obviously several sizes too small. At least six inches of thigh were showing above here knee-high boots, and the waist of the skirt was held shut with several safety pins. Judging from the rest of her appearance, she obviously had access to food and running water, as well as makeup and maybe even a curling iron.

"Now," she continued. "You three sit down. Backs against the wall." As they complied, she turned to Rick. "You," she said, "have exactly fifteen seconds to tell me why you came in here and started killing all my roommates."

Roommates? Glenn mouthed to Michonne and Daryl, confused. They had killed no one but walkers on their way in.

"We had no idea anyone was in here," Rick began, trying to defuse the situation.

"But why come in, when the place is obviously overrun?"

"Formula," he said. "We were looking for baby formula. We saw a flier that said there was a preschool here. We need formula for my daughter, my baby, Judith. She's sick. Dehydrated. Can't keep anything down. We were hoping to find some formula or sports drink or something. Thought that might make her better. Please. We mean you no harm. Please help us." He was pleading, not for his life, but for his daughter's.

"There's no formula here," said the woman, as if the very idea was ridiculous. "It's a convent. The preschool is for four-year-olds. Academic preschool."

Michonne and Glenn shared a glance, both of them contemplating how they were going to get out of the situation they were in.

Just then, Daryl noticed a small dark hand curled around the side of the cupboards underneath the countertop that ran the length of the office. "Hey," he said. "Someone's back there."

A curly-haired toddler peaked around the corner, grinning. He jumped around where everyone could see him. "Hi!" he said, oblivious to the tension in the situation.

The woman was furious. "Trigger, hide and seek! Now! Don't come out—Mommy means it!" The boy, who looked to be quite a few months older than Judith, scampered away through an interior door.

Glenn tried not to smile. Michonne's mouth fell open. Daryl raised an eyebrow. But for Rick, it was as if a drowning man just saw a chance for salvation.

"You have a baby, too," he said, turning his head so that he could see her eyes, which also meant the gun was now pointed at his forehead. "You must have formula. You can help us. Please. I can see it, you can help us."

"I told you, there's no formula here," came the reply, but she was less adamant than before.

"Maybe, maybe not, but you can help us—I can see it," Rick entreated.

"Where is your daughter?" she asked.

"Hiding in the woods with the rest of our group. They're watching her while we look for supplies."

"What about her mother?"

Rick swallowed once before answering. "My wife didn't make it," he finally said.

The blonde seemed to have come to a decision. "Do you trust Jethro over here to go get her?" she asked, nodding towards Daryl.

Rick nodded. "I trust him like a brother."

"All right, here's the deal: Jethro goes alone to get the baby and leaves his weapons here. And he comes back alone. You bring anyone else back with you," she said, addressing Daryl, "bring any weapons, I'll kill you all."

Not too happy about being referred to as "Jethro," Daryl countered, "How'm I supposed to get through all them walkers without any weapons?"

"Oh yeah, that's the other condition—no killing any more of my roommates," said the blonde. "I'll keep them out of your way."

Careful to keep the gun trained on Rick, she stepped around the counter. With her left hand, she pressed a button. Feedback squawked through a loudspeaker on the wall. She lifted up a small microphone and spoke into it. "Attention ladies, it's time for choir practice. Please make your way to the second floor music room."

She flipped another switch and music started playing overhead, somewhere on the second floor. From the hall, they heard the sound of walker feet trudging back up the stairs. Somewhere outside, church bells began ringing, followed by a recording of a pipe organ playing a hymn. Through the window, Glenn could see it was attracting all the walkers towards a building that looked like a church or a chapel. "It's working," he announced.

"Go now, this is your chance," the blonde told Daryl.

He looked to Rick for reassurance. Receiving a nod, Daryl headed to the front door. He opened it a crack, but all the walkers had moved over to the chapel where the sounds of organ music was playing from a loudspeaker. He swiftly made his way outside, shutting the door behind him.

"Thank you," Rick said to the woman, his voice husky with emotion.

"I haven't done anything yet," she responded flatly.

Feeling curious, Glenn spoke up. "Why do you call the walkers your roommates?"

The woman looked him in the eye. "No one can get by on their own anymore, but there's only three kinds of people left in the world—rapists, cannibals, and dead cannibals. The dead cannibals make the best roommates because they keep the other two away." Something about her words—and the cold way she delivered them—clicked with the rest of the group. They suddenly understood her much better than they had just a moment before.

"Our group isn't like that," Rick protested. "We have women and children with us. We're family now."

The woman cut him off. "Yeah, my last group had women and children, too. Some of the men even liked to play family." She looked Michonne directly in the eye. "I can help you get away," she offered, speaking more softly. "The big one is gone. It would be the easiest thing in the world to shoot these two. I have an escape route. No one would find us. If there are other women and children in the woods, we could help them, too."

"It's not like that," Michonne said. "Rick's telling the truth. I'm not a prisoner. We're just regular people getting by as best we can. We're not cannibals, and no one's a rapist." She spoke with sincerity, but the blonde obviously still doubted her words.

An uneasy silence resumed.

"We didn't get a chance to introduce ourselves properly," Rick said. "I'm Rick. This is Glenn and Michonne. Darryl went to get Judith."

She stared back at him for a long time as if trying to make a decision. Finally, she offered, "I'm Lexie, and I'm still the person who will shoot you if you try anything."

"Fair enough," said Rick lapsing into silence again.

A clamor in the hallway announced that Daryl was back with Judith. He slid into the room, closing the door behind him.

"It's just me and Little Ass Kicker," he said. "No one else, no extra weapons."

"Set her on the counter," said Lexie. He did. Too weak to sit up, Judith just lay there, eyes glassy and staring.

"Now back away—against the wall," Lexie ordered. Daryl obeyed again, keeping his hands raised in front of him. "I told everyone else what was going on," he said softly to Rick. "They're staying put, for now."

Lexie took a good look at the baby. "She's older than I expected," she said to Rick. "This may not work."

Rick had no idea what she was talking about. "We'll be grateful for anything you can try," he said.

Lexie nodded, seeming to have made a decision. In a few swift movements, she flicked the switches so that the music upstairs and outside stopped. Abruptly, a chain divider, previously unnoticed by the group, fell from the ceiling, separating the area behind the counter from the area in front where Rick, Glenn, Daryl, and Michonne were. Lexie, Judith, and all the weapons were one the other side.

"What the hell!" yelled Daryl, as he stood and began pulling against the chains. Michonne and Glenn also jumped to their feet, hollering in protest.

Lexie had picked up the baby and was cooing to her softly.

"I'll try," Lexie said to Rick. He nodded, still unsure of what she meant.

Ignoring the group beyond the barrier, she carried the baby over to an office chair, sat down, and cradled her in her lap. From somewhere, she grabbed a receiving blanket, which she draped over her shoulder. She reached a hand inside her shirt, and something about the motion seemed so familiar to Rick that he put a hand on Daryl's arm to calm him. Understanding washed over Michonne as well. "Daryl," she cautioned him. "It's OK."

Flicking the blanket to cover them both, Lexie raised Judith to her chest. After a few tense moments, she smiled thinly at Rick. "She's nursing," she told him. "I think this might work."

While the baby ate, an uneasy silence reigned. Rick and his group talked quietly among themselves, trying to plan for what might happen next. Lexie considered her course of action as well. She knew that nursing the baby had been a mistake. She should have killed the adults when she had the chance. Now, she felt sympathy for them, and that couldn't be good. Trigger tiptoed over to her from his hiding place and looked at Judith. "Baby?" he asked, poking at her. "Baby eat?"

It was seeing Trigger that made Lexie's decision for her. She regretted it already, but she would do what she could to help these people—until they turned on her at least.

She waited until Judith had eaten her fill, which took far less time than it should have, and then cleared her throat, attracting Rick's attention.

"She's asleep," Lexie whispered. "She didn't eat much, but if she can keep it down, it might help her turn the corner."

From the other side of the chain barricade, Rick rose to his feet and nodded. "That's good," he said.

"This won't be enough though," said Lexie, cautiously. "She'll need to nurse again soon. It might take days before she's back to normal."

Rick nodded again. "You could come with us, you and your boy," he said, quickly adding, "of course, you'd be free to leave at any time."

"I'm not leaving," said Lexie. "But you could stay for a few days, you and your group."

Daryl spoke up, "I'm not stayin' in no convent full of walkers."

"The dead are trapped on the first and second floor and the main stairway," explained Lexie. "But the third floor, where the dormitory is, and the basement, where the cafeteria is, are clear. There's a back stairway here in the office. They can't get through. It's safe. I've been here since right after Trigger was born."

Rick and the others huddled around. "We could use a place to rest," said Michonne. "It looks like she has electricity and maybe even running water."

Glenn chimed in, "Maggie could use a bed to sleep in. We all could."

But Daryl wasn't convinced. "We don't know how far back the Wolves are. That trick at the bridge won't keep them off our tail for long. They'll find another way 'round."

As usual, Rick's was the deciding vote, and he wanted to give it a try. "We'll stay a couple of days. Long enough to rest and recover," he said. "The walkers are good camouflage. If we get lucky, the Wolves may even pass right by without knowing we're here."

He walked back over to the chain divider. "We'd like to stay," he announced.

Lexie hit the button that retracted the chains toward the ceiling. "If I'm trusting you to stay, I may as well trust you with your weapons," she said, feigning nonchalance that she did not feel. "You'll need to clean up the bodies you left behind. If anyone sees them, it ruins the illusion that no one's been in here. Stack them on the west side of the shed where no one can see them from outside the fence. And don't kill any more. I'll turn on the music long enough for you all to get inside."

"We'll clean up the bodies," said Rick. "But we also have some questions for you. Three, actually."

"OK," said Lexie, unsure.

"How many walkers have you killed?" Rick asked.

"I don't know. Maybe a couple of dozen. I try to avoid it."

Rick nodded and continued with the tougher questions. "How many people have you killed?"

Lexie's mouth hardened. "Only one."

"Why?" Rick asked, looking her in the eye.

Lexie's voice grew cold and tense. "He was Trigger's father, and he made the mistake of untying my hands while I was in labor."

Less than an hour later, the dead walkers had all been stashed away out of sight, and Rick's group was nearly all congregated on the third floor. Lexie met them in a large open area with couches and chairs that looked like it had functioned like a TV room and gathering place for the boarding school students. Maggie was the last one up, and Lexie watched with empathy as she laboriously climbed the last few steps.

Lexie addressed the crowd, using a voice just loud enough for everyone to hear. "There are a few ground rules," she told them. "First, when we're on this floor, no yelling or loud noises. There are three locked doors between the dead and us, but I don't want to give them a reason to try to get in. This place was built to be quiet, but it's not soundproof. The basement keeps the sound in a lot better, so if you feel the need to holler and run around, that's the place to do it," she added that last bit looking directly at Sam. "Second, no unlocking doors that are locked, and doors with red Xs on them should not be opened under any circumstances. A red X means there's dead in there."

She spoke as if she were giving instructions to a new class of students moving into the dorm. "The building has electricity and hot water, but I only use the lights in the basement where there aren't any windows. We don't use any lights on this floor. No candles, no flashlights. The blinds stay closed, all the time. We don't want to give anyone outside a reason to come in here."

"Most of the rooms on this floor have two beds, but a few have three or four. You can pick whichever ones you like. There's just one community bathroom—this may be the first time anyone male has ever been allowed in here," she said, smiling just a little, "but like I said, it has showers and hot water. The heat's on in the building, but you may need to open up the radiators in your rooms."

"Trigger and I sleep up there," she informed them, pointing at a trapdoor in the ceiling. "The rope ladder is the only way in, so it's the safest place. I'll keep Judith with me too," she added, looking to Rick for confirmation. "And if the boy wants to sleep up there he can," she said, nodding at Sam. "No one else comes up without permission."

"We can live with that," said Rick, speaking for the group.

Carl raised his hand as if he were in school. "Yes," asked Lexie.

"Um, how do you have electricity?" he asked.

Lexie looked proud as she explained, "The girls at St. Mary's have won the state science fair for eight out of the last ten years. One of those years, the project was installing solar panels on the roof. There's gardens up there too—also leftover from a science project."

Emboldened by Carl's example, Sam raised his hand. Lexie, who definitely had a soft spot for children, smiled, "Yes, young man," she said.

"When can we eat?" he asked. Jessie chided her son softly, but Lexie seemed unfazed.

"I'll take you down to the kitchens and cafeteria after you had a chance to settle in and wash up."

As the group began dispersing to pick out rooms, Rick walked closer to Lexie; Michonne and Daryl trailed behind to hear what he said. "You seem to know a lot about this place. . . from before," he hinted. "Were you a . . . uh . . . a resident here?"

Lexie knew what he was getting at. "No, I wasn't a nun, if that's what you're asking," she told him. "I was a student here—a long time ago. Later I was working on my doctorate in women's studies. I came here to do research on the long-term impact of sex-segregated education."

"Women's studies?" asked Daryl, as if he'd never heard of the concept, which, truthfully, he probably hadn't.

"Yeah," acknowledged Lexie. "My dad wanted me to do something more practical, so I have an undergraduate engineering degree too. But I really just wanted to make life better for women, you know," she explained, looking at Michonne. As an afterthought, she added, "In hindsight, if I really wanted to learn something useful, I probably should have majored in P.E."

Maggie sank onto the bed in the little dorm room, slouched so that her pregnant belly seemed larger than ever. "I am never moving again," she announced.

"Yeah, we'll see how well that works out when you have to pee again in five minutes," teased Glenn.

"That's not funny," countered Maggie.

Before Glenn could reply, there was a knock at the door. He opened it, hesitating when he saw Lexie there. Trigger stood right beside her, holding his mom's skirt and sucking his thumb.

"I had something I thought your wife might like," Lexie said, shyly, indicating the big blue plastic tub she held.

"Um, OK?" Glenn said, as if it were a question.

Lexie knelt down on the floor with the tub near Maggie's feet and plugged it in. Bubbles shot to the surface of the water inside as a humming sound began.

"Oh. My. God," said Maggie, speaking each word distinctly. "I never thought I'd see one of these again," she continued, shucking off her boots and socks and plunging her feet beneath the water. She sighed contentedly.

"I have some essential oils that might help if you have swelling," Lexie offered, glad that Maggie was enjoying the foot bath.

"Yes. Please." Maggie was sounding more relaxed by the minute. "Thank you," she added.

Curious, Jessie walked over from the room next door. "Wo-ow!" she enthused, drawing the syllable out. "I am so using that when you are done."

Her exclamations drew more attention, and within minutes, every woman in the group was crowded in the narrow doorway vicariously enjoying Maggie's foot bath.

Pleased by the response, Lexie stood and told them, "Come with me. I have something for the rest of you too."

With her son running in front of her, she led them down the hall to a door they had bypassed because it was locked. "I keep this shut up so Trigger won't get in here," she explained, drawing a key from her pocket and unlocking the door. "He makes a huge mess."

The room looked like nothing so much as a fully-stocked spa. Shelves covered in makeup and nail polish, curling irons, and hair dryers lined every wall. Jessie ran inside. "I can do everyone's hair," she said. "And nails. And makeup."

"How in the world. . ." Carol began.

"No one has as much makeup as high school girls who aren't allowed to wear it," Lexie told them by way of explanation. "I collected it all and brought it in here. You'll see we also have quite a collection of smutty romance novels, which were also definitely not allowed."

"Mascara," Rosita whispered reverently. "I haven't had mascara in eight months."

"Use anything you like," laughed Lexie, truly pleased by their reactions. "Sister Mary Frances—this was her room, she was in charge of the girls in the dorm—she also had a claw-foot tub in there," she gestured to a side door, "so you're welcome to a bath as well as pedicures and makeovers."

She slipped back out the door with Trigger. The rest of the women continued ooh-ing and ahh-ing over their finds. Rick and Aaron came to the door to see what was going on.

"Hey, are there any electric hair clippers in there?" wondered Aaron.

"No men allowed," proclaimed Jessie, dancing over to the door. She planted a kiss on Rick's lips before shutting the door in his face.

With the women fully occupied in their new-found spa, the men decided to check out the basement kitchen and cafeteria. It wasn't exactly your typical public school multi-purpose room. Thick, heavy brick columns supported an arched ceiling obviously built to carry the weight of the three-story building above. It felt old and strong and dark. The walls were plaster, and the floor was stone. There were no windows anywhere, and most of the space was one big room filled with long wooden tables and uncomfortable-looking benches. The only sources of light were bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling on cords.

"Feels more like a dungeon than a place to eat," observed Aaron. The others nodded in agreement.

"Feels safe to me," Lexie countered. "There are some huge cans of chili in the kitchen. Too big for just Trigger and I, but plenty for a hungry crowd though." She led the way into the kitchen, followed by Aaron, Eugene, and Glenn.

Daryl stopped Rick, Heath, and Abraham from following. "Hey, what's that?" He asked, nodding towards a door covered with a big red X.

"I don't know," said Rick, unholstering his gun. "She said there weren't any walkers down here." The trio walked closer to the door. Faint scratching sounds and an unmistakable moan were coming from inside.

"Hey, Lexie, can you come out here?" Rick called, unnaturally calm.

She approached the group. "I thought you said there were no walkers in the basement?" Rick asked, a slight hint of menace in his voice.

"There's one," she allowed. "A tiny, little nine-year-old girl behind a locked door. She's not a threat." Lexie seemed defensive.

"How do you know there's only one?" Daryl asked, and at nearly the same time, Rick added, "How can we be sure it's not a threat?"

Lexie answered both. "I know there's only one because I've been inside there. And if you can't handle the threat from one dead nine-year-old girl behind a locked door, you couldn't have survived this long."

"Why didn't you just take care of it?" wondered Heath.

Lexie looked uncomfortable. "She was my niece. . . my fiancé's niece. I convinced her family to send her here for school. I just . . . couldn't do it."

They all nodded. "We can take care of it for you," Abraham said, speaking more kindly than usual as he pulled a knife from his belt.

Lexie nodded and pulled out her keys. She unlocked the door and counted to three before flinging it wide. A short, skinny little black girl, her hair still in colorful ponytail holders, stumbled from the storeroom. Abraham quickly plunged his knife through her skull, then caught the body and laid her down. Heath found a white tablecloth inside the closet and draped it over the body.

Lexie watched, wordless and dry-eyed. "We can pull the body in here for now and bury it tomorrow if you like," offered Heath.

"Thank you," Lexie replied stiffly. She walked back to the kitchen where Glenn, Trigger, and Aaron were watching from the doorway.

Dinner was a boisterous affair. Still excited from their spa time, the women chattered happily, especially Maggie, Rosita, and Jessie, but even Michonne looked more relaxed than usual. Everyone knew this was only a temporary respite from the gore of daily life, but they'd also learned to enjoy these rare times when they came.

Despite being a year past the "sell by" date on the can, the chili was a hit. Aaron made cornbread. Heath heated up some frozen green beans. Glenn found some bottles of wine, and as usual, Abraham was happy to indulge.

"So Lexie," he began, the alcohol freeing his tongue, "What's with the skirt?"

"When I first got here, I needed new clothes. It was either this or the nun's clothes," she said by way of explanation. "You're just lucky, I was fully dressed when you got here." An unobservant man might have thought she was flirting with Abraham, but there was a sharp edge to her voice that cautioned otherwise.

Abraham carefully looked her up and down before saying, "Well, I'm not so sure I'd call that lucky."

Lexie smiled dangerously. "It was lucky–because if I hadn't been fully dressed, I would have killed every last one of you without a moment's hesitation."

At the start of their conversation, the room had been full of happy talking. But a brief lull meant that everyone heard her last words. An awkward silence stretched until Judith began crying.

"I'll go find a quiet corner to nurse her again," Lexie said to Rick.

"Then we should start on the dishes," Aaron chipped in brightly.

Slowly, the talking began again, but it was more of a murmur than a happy clamor now. Everyone pitched in to help with cleanup, with Carol and Jessie taking charge.

Abraham and Glenn were busy sweeping when Eugene approached very stiffly and hissed, "Act natural."

"We are acting natural," countered Glenn. "You're the one acting like a wierdo."

"It has come to my attention that there are explosives, specifically Trinitrotoluene, commonly known as TNT, scattered throughout this building and wired to detonate at any time," he whispered.

"Show me," breathed Abraham, "but act natural."

Eugene walked to several points in the room nodding with his head at ledges and shelves where the explosives lay semi-hidden. Abraham chanced a glance over at Lexie, but she seemed absorbed with the baby. The three men moved closer to one of the bundles to inspect it more carefully.

"Well, I guess now we know she really could have killed us all if she wanted to," observed Abraham. "I wouldn't have expected it of her."

"My observations of the electrical and heating systems for the facility, while cursory at best, indicate that our hostess has a greater understanding of science and technology than the average female," offered Eugene. "I mean that with no disrespect."

"What do we do about it?" asked Glenn.

"For now, nothing," said Abraham confidently. "We don't know what other booby traps she might have around here. But we tell Rick."

The others nodded agreement.

Over in a dark corner, Lexie held Judith to her chest. The baby had fallen asleep again, but Lexie wasn't quite ready to rejoin the group yet. In her free hand, out of sight from any onlookers, she nervously turned a knife over and over in her hands, wondering anew if she should grab Trigger and flee, setting off the explosives on her way out.