Chapter 2

Daryl used the knife that the woman had given him to sever the umbilical cord, and he handed the baby over to his mother. The woman had then asked him to leave the room, presumably so she could clean herself up, and he quickly obliged, shutting the door to give her some privacy.

The first thing he did was raid the bathroom, washing his hands and face before chugging down a couple tablespoons of cough syrup. He could hear the baby fussing, and by the time he walked out of the bathroom, Sophia was sitting on the top stair step with wide eyes.

"You ok, kid?"

"What happened to my mom? Is she ok?"

"Yeah, she's fine," Daryl promised. "Looks like you got yourself a brother." Sophia's jaw dropped slightly.

"Oh." She looked away and then up at him expectantly.

"What's the matter?"

"Daryl, I'm hungry. Mama's been so sick. I ran out of my animal crackers."

"Oh," Daryl murmured, clearing his throat as a hot wave of recognition lumped in his throat. He remembered the god awful ketchup sandwiches Merle used to make him when he was little and their parents slept in 'til the late hours of the afternoon. "I reckon your mama's probably pretty hungry, too. You got food somewhere?"

"Uh-huh. There's a whole room full of food. Mama and my daddy put all kinds of food in there when the monsters came. But the lights went out yesterday, and the microwave won't work."

"The lights? You mean you had electricity?"

"Uh-huh. Mama would take the gas can out back sometimes." A generator.

"You sit here, alright, kid? Just sit tight." The little girl nodded, and she moved to sit on a bench next to the bathroom door.

Daryl quickly headed outside and grabbed his things from the truck. He reached under the seat for Brody's leash and clipped it to his collar.

"C'mon, boy. Think we got a place to stay for a couple days." He glanced briefly back up into the hill where his tent was now probably half-submerged in a mud pit before letting the dog out and walking him back up to the house. Once inside, he let Brody off the leash. "Sit. Stay. Good boy." Then he headed back out, grabbed a half-full gas can out of the back of the truck and went around the house to search for the generator. It didn't take very long, and aside from water from the rain, the generator was dry as a bone. He quickly poured in what fuel he had in the can and got the generator up and running again.

When he returned to the house, he could hear children's music floating through the living room, and Sophia was sitting on the bottom of the stairs scratching Brody's head.

"I like dogs," she said with a smile. "She's nice."

"She's a boy," Daryl said with an amused chuckle. "Name's Brody."

"Hi, Brody. I'm Sophia," the girl said, grinning and showing that her two front teeth were missing. Brody licked her hand, and Daryl moved to turn the music off. At Sophia's downtrodden glance, Daryl gave her a little nod. "Gotta save all the energy we can."

The pantry was fully stocked as Sophia said it would be, and when Daryl grabbed for a few cans of stew, he heard footsteps shuffling behind him, followed by the click of Brody's nails on the linoleum floor. Daryl turned to find Sophia staring up at him expectantly.

"I like s'ghetti rings."

"S'ghetti rings, huh?"

"Uh-huh."

"Alright. Think I saw a few of those in here. Sounds ok to me."

Daryl gently tapped on the door as he balanced a bowl of s'ghetti rings in one hand. He heard the baby fuss, and then he heard her soft voice call out.

"You can come in." He cracked the door open to find her sitting on the edge of her stripped-down bed with the baby in her arms. He was wrapped in a soft, yellow baby blanket, and he was sucking at his own fingers.

"Brought you somethin' to eat. Thought you'd be hungry."

"Thank you," she said softly, motioning for him to put the bowl down on the bedside table. "You got the generator working. Thank you for that."

"This your house?"

"This? It is now. I call it home, anyway," she said quietly. "We spent the first few months living in an old airstream trailer hitched to the back of our mini-van. A group of people stole it from us at gunpoint one night, and we slept in the van for about a month after that. A few nights after we found this place, my husband was bitten. I buried him in the back yard, just by the fence." She nodded toward the window, and Daryl moved over to peer out. He spotted a large mound of dirt that seemed to be sprouting weeds.

"Sorry," he said quietly. The woman shifted on the bed, sucking in a sharp breath at the pain that spread through her. "You ok?"

"I'm fine. Sophia…oh God, she must have been so scared. I've been so…so out of it." He could hear the tremble in her voice and see the fear in her eyes, and he took a step toward her, uncertain of why but suddenly feeling the need to comfort this woman.

"She's downstairs. She's fine, but I think she might've stole my dog."

"Oh, Sophia loves dogs," she said tiredly. "Ed would never let her have one." She cleared her throat. "I'm Carol, by the way. Peletier."

"Daryl Dixon," he replied with a nod.

"Well, Daryl Dixon, I guess you're the answer to my prayers." He narrowed his eyes at her and balked.

"Believe me, lady, I ain't no answered prayer," he bit out. "Just in the right place at the right time."

"Well, whatever you are, whoever you are, thank you for being so kind. Sophia's…she's probably hungry."

"We ate," he assured her. "And I took some of your cold medicine."

"That's ok," she offered. "You're welcome to stay for a few days, warm up, dry off. It's the least I could offer. If you hadn't been here…"

"I didn't do nothin'. You did all the work yourself." He cleared his throat. "Look, I been stakin' this place out, to be honest. Didn't know exactly who was stayin' here, but I planned on…and well, look, I'll be movin' on. You and your kids are gonna need a safe place, and…"

"The road's going to be washed out," Carol said softly, standing slowly. "So you might have to wait a few days." She cleared her throat. "Can you…can you open that closet for me?" Daryl eyed her before moving toward the door. When he opened it up, he saw a white bassinet inside. "I found it the day we moved in." Daryl rolled the bed out, and Carol gently placed the little one inside.

"You need anything? For him? For you?"

"No," Carol said softly. "I stocked up. I've got everything packed in the van in case we need to make a quick escape, but I've got what I need to last me through the night. Um, could you send my little girl up? I want to see that she's ok for myself."

"Sure," Daryl said quietly. "Look, um, I won't be no bother. I'll sleep down on the couch. Truth is, I'm waitin' on my brother. We ran outta food a few nights ago, and Merle took off huntin' in the middle of the night. He'll be back, but I left a note at our old camp, told him where to come."

"Oh," Carol said with a nod.

"Hell, I'll sleep in my truck, but…"

"No, you don't have to do that. You…there's plenty of room here. Besides, the weather's turning cold, and we're far enough to the north that we could get hit pretty hard this winter. You can wait for your brother here."

"Thank you," Daryl said with a short grunt. He cleared his throat and glanced briefly at the baby in the bassinet. He turned to leave, and Carol stepped toward him.

"Daryl? Um, you can have that cough syrup. I have more stored in the van. You're welcome to it and another bottle if you need it."

"Appreciate that," he said with a nod. With that, he was gone, and Carol turned, shivering as she tightened her bathrobe belt around her middle. She groaned in pain as she bent over to pick up the soiled sheets from the floor. She knew she should be resting and saving her strength, but she also knew the bed wasn't going to change itself, and she'd done harder work with broken ribs before. If she could survive that, she could survive this.

The baby fussed as he sucked at his fingers, and Carol made slow but steady work of putting crisp, fresh, white sheets on the mattress. By the time she had the bed changed, the baby had fallen asleep, and Sophia was peeking in the door. Carol's face brightened when she saw her little girl's face.

"Hi mama," Sophia said uncertainly, biting her lower lip as she eyed her mother.

"Hi, baby," Carol cooed. "Come here, sweetie. I'm sorry I scared you." Sophia let her guard down and hurried over to give her mother a hug around the middle.

"You're ok, mama?"

"I'm ok, baby," she promised. "You have a baby brother."

"Daryl told me," Sophia replied, letting go of her mother and walking over to the bassinet to peek inside. "He's tiny." Carol's brow creased in concern, and she swallowed the lump in her throat. He was tiny. Much smaller than Sophia had been at birth. But food had been rationed, and she'd honestly expected to lose the baby months ago. She'd gone through the motions of planning for the baby and the birth, but somewhere in the back of her mind had always been a lingering doubt that she would be dead before she ever saw her baby's face and that Sophia would be all alone in a world full of monsters.

"Well, you were tiny once, too."

"I was?"

"Sure you were." Carol gave her daughter a gentle pat on the shoulder. "What do you think?"

"I don't know. He's awful cute," Sophia offered.

"Yeah, he is," Carol chuckled. "He looks like you."

"No he doesn't, mama. He's bald!" Sophia laughed.

"Oh, my mistake!" Carol grinned. "Did you have enough to eat?"

"Yes, mama."

"Did you brush your teeth?"

"Yes, mama."

"Are you lying?"

"Yes, mama."

"Oh, you silly girl. Go brush your teeth and say your prayers, and I want you to try to take a nap, ok?"

"Mama, can Brody sleep in my bed?"

"Brody?"

"Daryl's dog. He's really a good dog, mama."

"Well, you'll have to ask Daryl that," Carol replied with a shrug, walking her daughter to the door. The second Sophia was gone, she felt a wave of dizziness and a flash of warmth spreading through her veins. She stumbled but held onto the door to gain her balance. She swallowed back the urge to vomit, and she pressed her forehead against the cool oak surface of the bedroom door.

She let the patter of her daughter's feet on the stairs be her focus, and she took a several deep breaths until the hot, sick feeling passed. Finally, she turned and made a quick pass by the bassinet to check on her son, and then she climbed into bed, closed her eyes and prayed she'd feel better when she woke up.

...

Daryl took a big swig of water after washing down his second dose of cough medicine. He felt a little better already, but he knew it would be a day or two before he was feeling a hundred percent again.

The house was quiet. Sophia had gone down for a nap, and Carol probably had, too, and the storm was raging on outside, flooding the yard and the side field. He could already see what she meant about the road being washed out, as there was a good four or five inches of water standing out there already, probably overflow from the river he and Merle had fished out of every morning for breakfast.

He groaned, stuffing one last handful of potato chips into his mouth before he tossed the bag into the wastebasket.

The old farmhouse floorboards creaked under his feet as he walked through the house and into the kitchen, checking out the back yard for signs of flooding. The back wasn't so bad, but he could see a few walkers clinging to the fence, reaching toward the house In desperate attempts to get to the living.

He shut the curtains and started for the front of the house, startling when he heard the baby cry upstairs. When he turned to grab for another bottle of water from the case, he heard what sounded like footsteps upstairs. And then he heard a sickening, heavy thud, and then nothing but the babies hungry cries. The next thing he heard was Sophia's wails piercing the air.

"Mama! Mama wake up! Please, mama!"

He took the stairs two at a time, rushing in to find Sophia crouched over her mother's fallen body. Carol lay on her side, hair splayed out over her face as she lay still. Breathing, but still.

"Hey," he murmured, gently patting her cheek. "Carol? Can you hear me?" Her forehead was hot, and she was dripping with sweat. "Jesus. Carol? Carol!" Sophia began to cry, and Daryl gently pulled her back away from her mother before lifting Carol up into his arms. He was taken aback at how small she really was, how little she seemed to weight, even limp in his arms. He swallowed the lump in his throat and carried her over to the bed, gently laying her back against the mattress and wiping her hair out of her face. "C'mon, wake up." She moaned softly in her sleep, and Daryl ran his hand through his hair, desperately trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do.

She had a fever. She'd seemed fine earlier considering she'd given birth without medical assistance in an old farm house in the middle of the end of the world. Maybe it was an infection, something left over from the birth? Infection. Antibiotics.

"Don't let my mama die," Sophia begged from close by.

"Sophia, I want ya to go back and find Brody and give him a big hug, ok? He's the best dog to hug when you're scared, ok?"

"Ok," she sniffled. "But help her."

"I'm gonna do the best I can, ok?" She nodded, eyes wide and tear-filled. Daryl tore off toward the bathroom, flipping on the light and digging through the medicine cabinet, looking for prescription pill bottles. There were a few that weren't outdated, and Daryl racked his brain trying to think back to all those times Merle was on antibiotics for the clap or whatever the hell else he'd pick up from some one night stand.

When he found one that ended in 'cilin' he snatched it up and hurried back to Carol's room.

"Can ya open your eyes for me?" She made a soft hum in her sleep, and her mouth twitched into a frown. Daryl gently lifted her head back and popped a pill between her lips before holding a glass of water up for her. "C'mon, you gotta help me out here. You got a couple kids that need ya, and I gotta be honest, I don't know what the hell I'm doin'. So you don't wanna give up and leave 'em with me, 'cause that's just not gonna work. C'mon, Carol. Drink it." He poured a little bit into her mouth, and she swallowed down the pill just before she choked, and Daryl sat her up a little more. "Good. That's good. You got it." He gave her an extra sip before laying her back down against her pillow. He sat back then, watching her as she fought against her feverish sleep while her newborn son's cries echoed through his heart.

...

The rain had finally stopped for the time being, but the air was turning colder. Daryl was aware that it was October, probably mid-October from what he could tell from the lengths of the days and nights. So he knew that snow would be coming in the next month or two, and an old farm house like Carol's was going to be cold and drafty, and he already felt a chill just thinking about it.

He could hear the baby's cries from inside, and the walkers at the fence were getting feisty. He thought about going over and putting a bolt through their brains, but the baby was still crying, and Caro was still out. He'd found a few baby bottles packed in a bag downstairs, and the only thing he could hope for was that she had some powdered formula stashed in the van somewhere.

He brought the baby downstairs and lay him down on the couch with pillows around him before emptying out what he hoped was Carol's purse and finding a set of keys inside. He grabbed for them and hurried outside, quickly getting the van unlocked and rummaging through boxes full of food and supplies and medicines until he found a box with cans of formula. He quickly grabbed one and headed into the house.

It wasn't rocket science, so he had a bottle made up pretty quickly, and by the time he got back to the baby, the little guy's face was so red he worried he might have hurt himself crying so hard. But the second he had the baby safely in his arms and the bottle at his lips, the little one began to eat, grunting and closing his eyes as the formula filled his belly.

Daryl sighed heavily, slumping down onto the couch and gently rocking the baby as he fed him.

"You like that, little guy?" he asked, as the baby blinked once at him before closing his eyes again. "Yeah. That's alright. I know what it's like to be hungry. It ain't fun. You eat up. That way when your mama wakes up, I can tell her ya eat like a champ."

He leaned his head back, closing his eyes and yawning before he looked down at the baby again and wondered how the hell he'd started his day waking up cold in a tent with nobody but his dog and ended up in the warmth of a farmhouse with a scared mom and her two kids, and how she'd looked at him with such gratitude, something so unfamiliar to him.

The baby coughed, and Daryl lifted his head a little to help him eat better, and then he went back to sucking down the remaining ounce in the bottle, leaving Daryl staring in wonder at this little fighter, and the second those little fingers wrapped around his thumb, he didn't know it yet, but his life would never be the same.