Lucas, I'm done trying to keep track of time. I'm done trying to keep my faith in you alive. I love you, but I won't be writing to you anymore. It's harder to believe you're alive, than accept that you're dead. Maybe you'll prove me wrong. I hope you do. Because we love you. Your daughter cries for you every morning, begging me to bring you back. I can't do that. I'm not God. I love you, Lucas, wherever you are.
"Someone's going to have to go out and get more supplies soon. Before it gets any worse out there," Rick said as I joined the group early the next morning. Brooke had woken up with a bad cough a few hours prior, and it had taken a lot longer than I expected to get her to fall back to sleep.
"I'll go," I volunteered. "I have to see if I can't find any cough medicine somewhere," I added. Misha looked up, her ears perked. She had taken to Daryl faster than I thought possible. She seemed to enjoy his company, even though he had no problem giving her a slap or kick if she tried to get too friendly.
"Good luck with that," the oldest man present, Hershel, said with a shake of his head.
"I've got to try," I argued. "Anyway, someone has to go out there, might as well kill two birds with one stone."
"You need a few days to recover your strength before you go anywhere," Carol said with a motherly tone.
"Brooke could be a lot worse in a few days," I pressed. As if on cue, Brooke's cough echoed off the walls. I stood and walked over to where she was laying, both blankets wrapped tightly around her thin frame. I pressed my hand to her forehead, worried more than ever about her health.
"Hey," Daryl said suddenly. "Are you 100 percent sure she wasn't bitten?"
"There's not even a scratch on her. I made sure of that as soon as the cough started," I said, turning to look at the group.
"But if she dies, she'll turn anyway," Rick said dryly.
"Excuse me?" I growled. I stepped protectively in front of my daughter, my hand sliding to my knife.
"Calm down," a new voice said softly. I turned to see Maggie, Hershel's daughter, standing beside Rick's son. "The virus is lying dormant in every single one of us. If your daughter had been bitten, then the fever and cough would be the first sign that she was turning. But even though she wasn't, should whatever she does have kill her, she'd turn. Regardless of how someone dies, when they die, they turn."
"I don't believe you," I growled. Drawing my knife, I took a step towards her. Before I had a chance to do any damage, strong arms wrapped around my chest, pulling me back, while another locked around my legs, rendering me completely powerless.
"Calm down!" Rick barked, pushing my face into the ground. I took a few deep breaths, stopped struggling, and eventually, the anger resided, leaving me feeling helpless and scared. "You calm now?" he asked after a few more minutes.
"Yeah. I'm calm," I spat. He let go of me and let me get to my feet.
I thought about what they had said for a moment, my mind made up.
"Listen, that baby of yours is gonna go through formula like wild fire, and she ain't gonna last long without more. I gave y'all about two weeks supply. If that. My daughter's sick, and I ain't about to let 'er die any faster than I'm gonna watch an infant starve. Give me a few extra rounds, let me borrow a car, and I'll be back here 'fore you even notice I'm gone," I finally said. My Southern accent was all too clear at the time – not that I cared in the least. "Besides, if I don't make it back, it's not the end of the world for none of y'all. I'm not saying it's the best option, but it seems to be the only one."
"Kay, you're barely standing," Hershel said gently. "And your daughter's going to want her mother when she wakes up."
"Brooklyn's a strong girl. I'll explain it all to her before I go," I sighed. "Besides, if she don't make it, it's not gonna be for lack of trying."
"Mommy?" Brooke's voice broke through. I knelt beside her, her tiny hand locked in mine.
"Yeah baby?" I whispered, wiping sweat from her brow.
"I'm gonna die, ain't I?" she whispered.
"No, no you ain't. Not today, not tomorrow, not never," I promised. I smiled down at her, her green eyes lacking their normal spark. "Mommy's gonna go get you some medicine, and you're gonna feel so much better."
"Okay," she smiled weakly. "Take Meesh with you."
"I will baby, I will. You go back to sleep. Maggie and Hershel and Carol will look after you while I'm gone, okay?" I said, holding back the tears that were threatening to fall.
"Okay," she whispered. "Mama?"
"Yeah babygirl?"
"Don't die like daddy," she mumbled, then dropped off into a pitiful slumber.
"I thought your husband was still alive?" Daryl asked as I grabbed hold on Misha's tattered collar, dragging her away from the sick child.
"I haven't heard from 'im in over a year and a half. I don't know if he's alive or not," I admitted, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "Now hows about those rounds?"
"You aren't going alone," Rick sighed. "We don't send no one out alone these days."
"I'm not a little girl, Rick. I made it this far, didn't I?" I said. "Besides, I'm not going alone. I've got the dog."
"The dog can't shoot a gun," he pointed out.
"No, but she makes for a great distraction, without all the noise," I argued.
"You can't even stand straight. It'd be stupid to send you out on your own," Rick pressed.
"I haven't been able to stand straight in over eight months, Rick. Stop trying to make excuses. If someone wants to come, fine and freaking dandy, but I'm not going to ask anyone to come with me," I said stubbornly.
"She's as stubborn as Daryl," Maggie's younger sister, Beth, said to Hershel. "Once they get their mind set on something, there's no stopping them."
"Damn straight," I said with a shake of my head. "I'm going, end of story."
"If you go, you're taking Daryl with you," Rick said. Daryl threw him a glance, but didn't object. "With his crossbow, you just might make it back alive."
"Again, I made it this far without any help, Rick. We managed to get through a pack of Eaters back in Georgia with no problem," I grunted. "Misha's good at leading them away from us."
"Then it'll be extra protection," Rick said, ending the matter. "We need to make a list of what you two need to pick up."
After a few minutes of deliberation, we had a fairly short list of things that were needed. I made a mental note to pick up a few bags of dog food, since Misha hadn't had a proper meal in months – and I was almost positive no one would have raided the pet food in the convenient store yet.
As I was loading my handgun with the rounds Rick had offered me, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Carol looking down at me sadly.
"How old are you?" she asked suddenly, taking me by surprise.
"Twenty-three," I said with a shake of my head, "Why?"
"You act so much older," she mused.
"We all had to grow up fast. Brooke's only five, yet you'd think she was at least 8 with how she talks," I smiled. I slid the gun into my waistband and slung the bag over my shoulder. "She's a fighter, you know. She's been through hell and high water, but keeps on fighting like the best of us," I smiled with pride. "She'll make it, I just know it."
"If she doesn't, you know she's gonna have to be put down, right?" Carol said carefully.
"I know. I'm not gonna think about that, though, okay? 'Side from Meesh, she's all I've got left." My heart ached at the realization that my daughter was knocking on hell's door. Having fought so hard to keep her alive, I had no intention on letting her go without a fight.
"You fight for that little girl, you hear me? You fight for her like there's no tomorrow," Carol demanded.
"Yes ma'am," I said with a tight smile.
"C'mon, we want to get back before the sunsets," Daryl grunted as he led the way through the corridors.
Misha followed close at my side, her ears perked, her nose twitching. She looked unhappy about going back outside, but didn't put up a fight when I pushed her into the car between Daryl and me.
"How far did you say the store was?" Daryl asked, as he drove past the Eaters, Walkers, whatever we were calling them that day.
"A few miles north. Brooke and me passed it on our way here. It's pretty picked through, but there's still some stuff on the shelves. We couldn't carry much more than we already were," I explained. "Turn here," I said after a few minutes of driving. "We're gonna need to get as close to the door as possible. Last time we had a handful of Eaters to deal with, but it wasn't too hard to get in and out without getting detected. If you pull up here," I pointed at the back door. "We'll be able to get in and out easier. The front is completely trashed, nothing useful. There was still some stock in the back though."
"You scope the whole place when you were here or something?" Daryl asked, doing as I said.
"No, I used to work for a store similar to this. The store rooms were always kept bolted after hours. I can pick a lock with no problem, s'long as you keep the damn Eaters off my ass," I laughed. "My husband, Lucas, is in the military. There ain't a lock in the world I can't pick, or a knot I can't tie for that matter."
"Sounds like you were doing pretty good on your own after all," he mused.
"We were surviving, not much else. Surviving and hiding," I shook my head. "I avoided places like cities and such, stuck to the woods and wide open farmland. Worked until we had on choice but to find real shelter," I continued.
"How'd you find the prison?" Daryl asked as he shut the car off, looking around for any flesh eating dead people.
"Used the map," I shrugged. "Figured if anywhere would be safe, that'd be the place. Figured worse came worse, lock ourselves into a cell and stay there 'till the grim reaper came aknockin'."
"Let's go," he said after seeing that we were in the clear.
I picked the lock to the back door quickly and held it open only long enough for Daryl to follow behind. I slid a board in front of it, securing it shut.
"The store room should be..." I started as I locked around. Misha's ears perked, her tail twitching. We weren't alone. "The store room's over there," I whispered. "Meesh, get in front of Daryl," I ordered. The dog did as I said with no hesitation. I could tell by the way her fur was standing on end, that she had smelled the Eaters already. We'd have to make quick work, or else fight for our lives.
"Shit," I hissed after a few minutes of picking the lock.
"What?" Daryl asked, his back pressed against mine.
"The lock's rusted, it's gonna be harder than I thought to open," I grunted. I pressed against the door, my lock pick shaking in my hands. I finally got it open, but time was already up. Misha let out a low growl as she took a step forward, teeth bared.
"Give me your bag," I demanded. Daryl did, but didn't seem too happy about it. "Don't let the damn door lock behind me," I added as I slid into the poorly lit room. I turned on my flashlight, listened carefully for any sounds. When I was fairly sure I was alone in the small room, I began throwing things into the bags. To my surprise, I found a fully stocked first aid kit, along with various medicines. Throwing them into my bag, I quickly grabbed the other items on the list. The last thing I grabbed was a 20 pound bag of dog food.
"We clear?" I asked in a hushed tone as I drug the two heavy bags, along with the dog food, to the door.
"For now," he replied.
"Good, let's get outta here," I said. I tossed him one of the bags, then slung the other over my shoulder, the dog food tucked awkwardly across my shoulders. "I'll go first," I added. I moved the board aside and opened the back door a crack. "Shit," I hissed. Misha's ears perked again, a louder growl escaping her lips.
"How many?" Daryl asked, already having read my expression.
"Ten or so, they got the car surrounded," I cursed. "I see two options," I added, giving the situation more thought. I was so used to riding solo, that the decisions came at me faster than they used to. "Either we make a break for it, and hope to God we make it, or we try and kill 'em without drawing more to the car," I continued.
"Or do both," Daryl suggested. "Let me get ahead of you," he suggested as he tossed me the keys. "Go straight to the car, I'll keep 'em off you while you get it started."
"No. I have a better idea," I said, suddenly coming up with a fool proof plan. "Don't for a second hesitate. Grab the car, get to the cross road, I'll meet you there."
"What-" he started.
"I have a plan. As soon as you can't hear Misha's barking, get to the car," I said. I unclipped Misha's collar and clipped it to the strap on Daryl's bag.
"What the hell are you planning to do?" He asked, eyes widening as realization dawned on him.
"I've done it a million times, don't worry, I'll be fine," I said with a sly smile. "And if I'm not, at least you'll get back in one piece. When you fit the cross roads, wait exactly two minutes. If I'm not there, leave."
"Are you insane?" he hissed in a sharp tone.
"A little," I nodded. I pulled the gun from my waistband before I patted Misha's side. "Ready for a game of cat and mouse Meeshy?" I cooed. She let out a low, excited yip, before nudging up next to me.
"Remember, as soon as you can't hear us, head for the cross road," I said one last time. I took a moment to kiss the chain that held my wedding ring around my neck, then took off, shouting loudly.
Misha was right next to me, her fur flying madly in the gentle breeze. I fired a shot, then bolted, running as fast as my legs would carry me. Without the burden of the duffel bag, I was quick on my feet. Misha raced ahead of me, barking loudly, snapping at the Eaters as they dove at her.
It wasn't hard to keep ahead of the Eaters. They were slow moving, stumbling messes, whose only weapon was their teeth. The bigger problem, was avoiding getting surrounded. It'd happened before, and I wasn't about to risk it again. Misha let out a shrill, pained yelp, her legs collapsing as an Eater grabbed hold of her rear end.
"No one's dying today," I growled as I took careful aim. I was running out of rounds, and knew that if things got any tighter, my plan would backfire. Luckily, I knew how to shoot straight. As soon as the path was clear, I grabbed Misha's scruff and dragged her after me. She howled in pain as I pulled harder, nearly tripping over her legs as I did.
"C'mon Meeshy, we're almost there," I begged. The Eaters were only a few yards behind. Every second was precious. Breathless and bloodied, I scooped my beloved dog into my arms and half stumbled to the parked car I had noticed when we had been going the opposite direction. I leaned against it, gasping, breathless and beaten.
I made one fatal mistake. One thing I didn't account for when I made up my mind to pose as a distraction. I didn't remember to check the car.
A/n- For the record, I'm not writing "Kay" as a Mary Sue. Her choice to run will be explained in the next chapter. Her daughter's "fever" also comes into play in the chapters to come.
Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated at this point. Thank you all for reading. :)