Summary : She didn't need a group. She had been doing just fine on her own. But when she stumbled across them, she couldn't turn her back. Maybe it was the natural instinct and need for companionship, or maybe it was fate. Either way, she soon found herself lost in the mess of trouble the small group had gotten themselves into. And an unexplained illness was just the beginning of their problems...
When the world came to an end, where were you? What were you doing? Who were you with? Was it a beautiful day, a day you planned to remember the rest of your life? Maybe it was your daughter's birthday or your son's first soccer game. Or maybe it was just a calm, peaceful afternoon that suddenly went up in flames.
I remember where I was. I was out hunting with my family. Or some of it, anyway. My boyfriend was teaching my daughter how to shoot a bow and my son was off chasing down rabbits to shoot for dinner. I was watching from my perch in the tree, attentively tracking down the deer that I planned to use for the coming winter.
But that's all behind us now. They're all gone. My daughter, who was barely six, my teenage son who has just started high school, my boyfriend who had taken to my children as if they were his own. They were all one of them now. They were among the dead. The walking dead.
The old mutt wouldn't give up. It had been following me since the thick cloud of smoke filled the air. I knew the area well enough to know that it had to have been the prison. The old prison that I hadn't even bothered paying attention to. I didn't like being caged in. The group that was there, led by a rough looking farmer and a crossbow wielding redneck, seemed to love it though. I watched them for a few months before setting up my camp a few miles north. It was safe there. The flesh eating freaks were few and far between. Until that stupid night a few days ago. Or maybe it was last night. I couldn't keep track of time to save my life.
I found myself looking at the deep wound in my side. Speared myself with my own arrow, what a story to tell the folks back home. Sean always said I had a knack for doing stupid shit. He was right after all, I had risked all their lives just for my damn bow. I'd been the reason we got cornered…
No. I wouldn't let myself dwell on that. I couldn't afford to dwell. If the prison had been attacked, then it was good that I had packed up camp and headed for the train tracks. Heaven forbid whoever attacked them found me. A little girl with nothing but a bow and a bag of useless supplies to my name. Yeah, that would have turned out real well.
I walked quicker, trying to find a tree worth climbing. I had no idea why the mutt was following me, but in the same, it was slowing me down. As much as I needed the companionship, I didn't need the added burden. I found a suitable tree and climbed in, quickly dashing from one tree to the next, grateful again for the years of hunting experience.
"Daddy always said I'd need it one day," I muttered as I swung on a low branch, catching myself without a second to spare. "Don't know if he knew the end of the world was comin'," I laughed softly. I landed a few feet ahead, trying my hardest not to let any more blood seep from my side. I reached for a few handfuls of leaves, holding them tight against the wound before rummaging through my bag for a needle and some fishing line. I was grateful for my great grandfather's old school medical knowledge. A few minutes later, the wound was dressed in aloe leaves. The pain resided quickly, giving me great pleasure. I smiled as I looked up at the sky. A snapping twig made me spin around, my bow ready.
"Shit, Daryl, c'mon," a woman's voice begged. I heard the vague sound of gagging before a deep moan. "Please, just a little farther."
The mutt stopped at my side, its tail wagging as it looked in the direction of the ruckus.
"You know, dog, if they're bit…" I looked at it. The dog wagged its tail before running off towards the voices. I sighed. I was alone, it was stupid to try and help anyone. But it was the mother in me. My heart won out over my better judgment, and soon I found myself face to face with a troubling sight.
The dog froze at the sight for a moment, before approaching the young woman and her older companion. I studied them for a moment before clearing my throat. The young blonde looked at me, fear in her eyes.
"Need a hand?" I offered, lowering my bow so it was now pointed at the ground.
"You have no idea," she said, her thick Georgia accent reminding me so much of my sisters. "My friend, he's sick."
"Was he bit?" I asked, studying him carefully.
"If I was bit, I'd have put an arrow in my own head," the man growled before groaning. Then it hit me. My eyes fell to the crossbow beside the fallen man.
"You're from the prison," I noted, taking a wary step forward. "Saw the smoke a few days ago, high tailed it outta there."
"You a spy?" the redneck growled.
"For who? The FBI? 'Case you haven't noticed, the world's gone to shit a long time 'go," I snapped. "Ain't with no one. But if y'all ain't want my help, I'll gladly be on my way," I added shortly.
"Please," the girl begged, her eyes wide with fear. "We need your help."
I dropped my bad beside the dog before kneeling next to the man. "Name?" I asked, directing my question at the blonde.
"I'm Beth, this is Daryl. We're looking for our group," she said quickly. "But he got sick and now…"
"How long you been sick, Daryl?" I asked carefully, my hand pressing against his forehead. Glory, he was burning up something fierce.
"A week now," Beth said quickly, squatting next to me. "Can't keep nothing down, fever, chills, awful headaches. Then today, he could barely move at all."
I nodded my head, trying to put a virus or bacteria to the symptoms. I grabbed my bag quickly and pulled out a thick, worn out journal my great grandfather used to use back in the day. I groaned when I matched the man's symptoms up to my grandfather's list of red alerts.
"What?" the girl, Beth, asked.
"I can't be sure, but it's either a really awful strain of the flu or bacterial meningitis," I sighed, shaking my head back and forth. "God, what I'd give for a decent hospital set up."
"Can you…is there anything you can do?" the girl asked. The look on her face broke my heart. I glanced down at the man who was only semiconscious at my feet.
"I can, but not here," I said carefully. "We have to get him up and moving. He'll die out here. And I'm sure you know what happens after that."
"Where to?" she asked, her voice hitching.
"There's a little house down this path some. It ain't the best, but I'm almost certain it's been cleared out. Saw a boy and an older man headed that way a few nights back," I motioned. "Some of yours maybe?"
"Rick and Carl maybe," she nodded. "Did the boy have a sheriffs hat on?"
"Sure did," I nodded. "Now c'mon, he's gone made a mess. If the flesh eaters don't smell 'im, a hungry batch of dogs sure will."
"How are we gonna move him?" Beth asked, looking at me with an uncertain look.
"Well I sure as sin ain't draggin' him," I said carefully. "Stay here, I'll be back." I made up my mind there and then to help these people. I gave the dog a knowing nod before taking to the trees. I located the house in no time, grateful that I thought to grab one of the man's, - Daryl was it?- arrows. Hopefully it would be proof enough that I was playing on their side of whatever war they had going on. I dropped down at the back of the house, glancing around carefully. I didn't like this one bit, but I saw no other way.
I jogged around front before peering in through the window. Inside, I saw the boy and the older man and a tough looking woman. I took a deep breath and tried my best to look innocent. Not an easy fete for a dirty, emaciated woman with an angry wound in her side.
I knocked on the door and waited. As expected, I heard a murmur of voices before someone opened the door just a crack.
"Who are you?" the older man growled, a gun aimed at my heart. Oh great, if this jerk was to shoot, he wouldn't even have the decency to put me down right.
"A friend of a friend of yours, I believe," I said softly. I pulled the arrow out of my quiver and held it out for him to see. "What the heck was the girl's name…Brittany? Beth, something like that. She and your friend, um, Daryl? Donald? Something along those lines, aren't too far out, but they're…." I took a deep breath. It'd been a while since I had to explain myself to anyone. "The guy's messed up, figured you'd want to help me get 'em here?"
The man's face relaxed as he and the other two were quickly exiting the house.
"I'm taking to the trees," I told them as I soared through the sky at their heads. "Gotta make sure we're safe," I added. "Follow this path, it leads straight to 'em."
I didn't wait for a response. I fanned out enough to make sure we were still unseen before dropping at mouth of the small clearing just as the trio cleared the trees.
"Rick!" Beth cried out, her eyes filling with tears.
"Back up," I told her as I knelt next to the man. "What the hell's his name again?" I asked over my shoulder as I pressed my fingers to his wrist. His pulse was all wrong.
"Daryl," Rick said breathlessly. I saw the look on his face. This man was important to him. A brother maybe?
"Okay, Daryl, I got some of your friends here, alright? We gotta move. Gotta get you somewhere safe, ya hear? So you best cooperate, m'kay?" I said gently. I nodded at Rick and the boy, backing off so they could get Daryl to his feet.
"What happened?" Rick demanded. Beth quickly filled him in while I lead the way forward, my nose in my grandfather's old journal. The mutt followed at my side, clearly more loyal than I'd expected. I tried to remember what medicines I had gathered over the last year. I had quite a few stashed throughout the woods, but most were still tucked away in my bag. Little bits and pieces that I knew would one day be useful.
"Ampicillin, cefotaxime, vancomycin," I muttered. The names weren't important. I knew what they were used for, and I'd seen first-hand what allergic reactions looked like. I'd have much rather gone for a more…natural approach, but since it wasn't like I could do a spinal tap in this world, I would have to take risks.
"I'll meet you at the house," I said as I changed my course.
"No way!" Rick argued.
"I need to grab something. It's a mile out, I'll be right back," I said. I tossed my bag to the woman, who hadn't said all of two words. "My entire life is in that bag. Try an' keep it safe." I didn't leave time to arguments. I took to the trees, knowing exactly which stash I had to grab. It was the tiny bag that had only one vial in it. It had been a lucky grab from a small makeshift town when it went up in flames. I couldn't recall the name of it. All I knew was the name of the medicine and it was the strongest thing I had. Vancomycin. It could kill just about any bacterial infection known to man.
It didn't take long to find the tiny bag, stashed high in an old oak tree. I tore it down and retraced my path with accuracy only a huntress could master. I jumped from the last branch, landing painfully on the roof of the house. Without hesitation, I slipped through a cracked window, down the stairs, into the front room where Rick was hovering over Daryl who was now curled in a tight ball, his entire body shaking with convulsions.
"Son of a bitch's mother," I sighed. I took out the vial, my hand shaking just slightly.
"What's that?" Rick asked hesitantly.
"The strongest medicine around," I sighed. "Let's just hope he ain't allergic to any of the cillins," I added. If he is, he's good as gone."
I filled the syringe with a small amount of the precious liquid before finding a vein. I hated this, all of it. Why should I waste my most precious medicine on a perfect stranger? There was something about this man that drew me to him. Maybe it was the common background we seemed to share. Or maybe it was the way the blonde looked at me with pleading eyes. Either way, I found myself inserting the needle into this man's vein, before pressing my fingers firmly to his wrist. I counted the seconds in my head, struggling not to gag at the awful smell that quickly filled every sensory nerve of my nose. I struggled against my own will to gag as the man continued to convulse for a while longer before laying still, his heart rate dropping to a more normal rhythm.
"He's going to be needing a lot more of this," I said quickly, throwing a hopeful look in the group's direction. "Vancomycin," I said softly. "You'll find it in any hospital from here to New York," I continued. "We need at least a week's supply. Otherwise, there ain't much more I can do for him."
"The hospitals have been raided," Rick sighed, looking as defeated as I felt.
"Then we pray," Beth said softly, tears streaming down her face.
"God ain't listening," I muttered darkly. "If it is meningitis, Daryl's as good as dead, all we can do is wait for it to kill him. The good thing is it'll kill his brain too. If it ain't, he might make it, but there's definitely swelling on his brain right now. He take a fall or something?" I asked, hoping that was the case.
"No," Beth said quickly. "How can you tell though?"
"Come here," I said, motioning for her to come up beside me. I lifted his eyelids and shined my light into his eye. His pupils were dilated, which was a bad sign. "His pupils aren't reacting and the convulsions. They're dead give aways, unless Daryl here has been hiding epilepsy from y'all," I said with a sigh. "We'll know more in 24 hours," I added. I glanced at the mutt who had apparently won his way into the boy's heart. The boy was rubbing behind his ears happily.
"If he turns…" I said carefully.
"I know," Rick nodded. "You'll have to put him down."
"No." I shook my head. I wasn't about to do his dirty work for him. "He's your friend. You'll have to put him down."
The next 24 hours were long and tiring, but by the following morning, I was sure the medicine had worked, despite my less than positive attitude. Daryl's appearance improved greatly, and by the day after, he was fully awake and functioning. However, there were some reasons to be concerned. He still couldn't keep anything down, so dehydration had become a huge concern, matched with the dizziness that simply wouldn't pass. He couldn't so much as open his eyes without the room spinning around him. I couldn't place it. If it wasn't meningitis, but was definitely bacterial, what was it? Some mutant disease we'd never heard of?
Rick, Michonne, Beth and Carl all tried to fill me in on the outbreak at the prison, but Daryl's symptoms didn't fit their description. I tried to figure it out, but eventually, after almost a week of watching him suffer, I came to a dead end and my patience had worn thin.
"I don't even know why I'm bothering!" I spat late one evening as we traded watches. Rick had been with Daryl the whole afternoon and I had offered to do the night watch. "I don't owe you lot nothin'!"
"We really appreciate all you've done already," Rick said calmly, his face still bruised from whatever had happened before I'd met him. "You've been so generous already…"
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered darkly. I glanced at the sick man on the sofa before sinking to the floor against the wall, on the far side of the room. "Don't even know why I bothered," I muttered to myself as I toyed with my bow string. Rick gave me a knowing look before finally asking the question I'd been waiting for.
"So, you never did say what your name was…"
A/n - This one will probably be short, only a few chapters long. However, it came to me out of no where, so I figured, hey, let's run with it. Any and all feedback is appreciated, and remember, reviews keep me motivated to keep updating!