Chapter 4

Carol groaned in pain as the bright morning light filtered through the grimy bedroom window. She rolled to her side, gently bringing her hand to her shoulder, expecting to feel fresh blood. To her surprise, her bandage was dry, and despite the pain, she was feeling quite a bit better.

She yawned, stretching a little and rolling onto her back. When she finally allowed her eyes to fully open and adjust to the brightness, she was startled to find Lizzie sitting on the edge of her bed staring at her.

"Who's Sophia?"

"What?" Carol asked, sitting up quickly, feeling a tug at her stitches as she moved.

"You said her name while you were sleeping," Lizzie said with a shrug, brows raised with intrigue.

"Oh," Carol murmured softly, running her fingers through her hair. "I did?"

"Mmmhmm," Lizzie said with a nod.

"Where's…where's Daryl?"

"He went out to look for water. Mika and Judith are still sleeping."

"Ok," Carol said quietly, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "That's good."

"Where are you going?"

"I need some fresh air," she murmured. "Just need to get up and stretch my legs." She stood shakily, and Lizzie came around quickly, catching Carol's arm around her shoulders as Carol faltered.

"I'll walk with you," Lizzie offered. Carol offered her a small smile and nodded, and the two of them left the room, heading out toward the front door.

The air was cool and crisp, and Carol felt a lot better just stepping out into the fresh morning breeze. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the sun was already beating down, bathing them in warmth.

"It's nice here," Lizzie said quietly. "We could stay."

"It's a shack in the middle of nowhere," Carol replied. "We can't stay here. We're better off moving closer to a main road, somewhere we can travel easily, make supply runs."

"Or maybe we can find a place that has everything we need," Lizzie offered.

"Lizzie, you know that's impossible," Carol murmured. "Even the prison didn't have that."

"But we had food. We had a garden."

"But we didn't have the medical supplies we needed. If we had, Patrick would still be here."

"And Karen and David," Lizzie said quietly.

"Yeah," Carol murmured, looking away. "There's no way we can be prepared for everything. You need a group to build walls, to go on constant supply runs to bring those kinds of things in. Even then, nothing is certain. Nothing is permanent."

"It's what you prepared us for, right? You taught us about guns and knives, because you knew that we might be outside the prison walls someday. You were right." Lizzie looked off toward the path that led down to the fence. "Maybe one day we won't have to fight. Maybe one day…" Carol put her hand on Lizzie's shoulder.

"As long as those things are out there, we'll always have to fight. You fight or you die, and that's just the way it is now. Do you understand?" Lizzie looked off down the path again. "Lizzie?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"You understand that when those things come near, you have to fight, don't you?" Lizzie nodded, flinching and looking away. Carol knelt down in front of her, wincing at the pain in her shoulder. She looked into the face of this girl, seeing the confusion swimming behind those big, sparkling eyes. "Honey, you have to understand. It's us and it's them, and we have to keep living. There's no time for the what if's. No time to daydream about what might happen, because it's never going to happen. Those things are here for one thing, and that's to kill, and we have to stop them. What happens if we don't?"

Lizzie looked away, and Carol caught the girl's chin in her hand, forcing her to look at her.

"Lizzie? What happens if we don't stop them." Lizzie looked torn, searching for an answer, and Carol sighed, shoulders sagging. "What happens, Lizzie?"

"We die," she murmured.

"That's right."

"But what about after? How do you know being one of them is so bad? Maybe…maybe that's how it's supposed to be. Like with the dinosaurs. Maybe it's time for the walkers and not for us."

"No," Carol said with a shake of her head. "That's giving up. And we don't give up. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how hard it is, we keep going, because that's life now." Lizzie looked off down the path again. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Lizzie said softly. "Can I go back inside, ma'am?"

"Go on. Get your sister up and get Judith ready."

"Are you coming?"

"I'll be along in a while," Carol said with a nod. "Go on." Lizzie nodded. "Lizzie?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Shirt tucked behind your knife, remember?"

"Yes, ma'am." Lizzie quickly rolled her shirt back, tucking it behind the knife. Carol watched the girl walk back into the cabin and closed her eyes, feeling the tears burning there. They'd been on the edge of spilling over from the moment she'd woken up and Lizzie had asked her about Sophia.

She thought of Sophia often, thought of the young lady she would be turning into today if she was stilla live. She often thought about how she would snuggle Sophia close when she was just a baby, holding onto her, reminding herself that Sophia was the one good thing she had in her life, that the entire marriage to Ed hadn't been for nothing.

Ever since she'd told Lizzie and Mika's father that she'd watch over his girls, she'd dreamed of Sophia. Other nights, she'd dream of Karen and David and of the events that had led up to them dying. She'd dream of Karen coughing up blood as she looked into her eyes, a silent plea to end it.

She felt sick, and the burn of bile in the back of her throat was overwhelming. She threw her hand over her mouth, rushing down the path toward the bushes, falling to her knees along the side of an old elm tree, throwing up the meager contents of her stomach into the dusty red soil.

She coughed and sputtered, spitting onto the ground, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. It was then that she felt his hand between her shoulder blades, and she heard the crunch of his boots on the rocks beneath them.

"You ok?" he asked, touching her forehead as she looked up at him with watery eyes. "No fever."

"I'm ok. I feel better," she promised. "Just the last couple of days catching up with me, I guess."

"I found some water. Gonna boil it on the stove 'fore we can use it, but I think it's safe. Gonna go back for more so's we can clean up a little."

"Thank you," Carol murmured.

"Oh. Here," he said quietly, reaching into his pocket and bringing out his red handkerchief. "Found some berries. These are safe for eatin'. You eat first."

"The girls," she said with a shake of her head. "I'll get more. You need to get your strength up. Eat 'em."

"I'll throw them up," she muttered.

"Then I'll get ya some more. Go on." She reluctantly took the berries from his hand and popped one into her mouth, chewing slowly as the sweet juice burst from it and coated her tongue. She moaned softly, swallowing it down and quickly eating another one.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"Here." He took a bottle of water out of his pack and opened it up for her. She took a big drink and passed it back to him.

"Better," she said with a weak smile. "Thank you."

"Didn't think you'd be up so early."

"My shoulder was bothering me," she admitted.

"You take your antibiotics?"

"Not yet."

"I'll get 'em. Be right back." Daryl gave her good shoulder a little squeeze before he got up and headed toward the shack. It wasn't long before Carol heard scraping footsteps close by.

"That was quick," she chuckled. And then she heard it. The low moan, the growl, the shuffling scrape of old shoes against the earth. It was then that the walker came up the path, hands outstretched, teeth gnashing. A hole in its belly spilled a string of intestine and tissue out, and Carol had to hold her breath as the scrambled backward, the putrid smell filling her nostrils.

Her fingers found purchase in the soil, and she dragged herself backward, scooting herself across the ground. No time to get up. That would give it time to get closer. She reached for her knife, holding the blade between her teeth as she struggled to put some distance between herself and the advancing walker.

She turned then, a blinding pain causing her to cry out as her shoulder throbbed. She struggled to her feet then, feeling its hands grabbing for her arm.

"No!" she cried out, taking her knife in her teeth and swinging, missing and getting the walker in the shoulder. "Shit!" She struggled to get her arm free as it squeezed tighter. She forced the knife out of flesh and muscle, kicking the walker square in the belly to put some space between them. It didn't move. It was larger than her, stronger, and she felt dizzy as the fingers pressed harder into her flesh, begging to tear it from the bone.

A hot flush of panic rushed through her then, and the knife dropped from her hand. Fuck!

Its teeth clicked together as it leaned in, straining to bite her. She held herself back, trying to wrench her arm free of its grasp. She kicked at it again, and it loosened its grip on her arm just enough for her to pull away. The knife was behind the walker now, no longer an option for Carol, and she turned, willing her legs to function as she pulled herself up the path.

"Daryl!" she grunted out, breath burning her lungs as she heard the walker advancing on her. "Daryl!"

The door to the cabin swung open, and Daryl came rushing out, crossbow in hand.

"Get down!" he barked, and she threw herself on the ground as Daryl let a bolt fly, getting the walker right between the eyes. It slumped to the ground then, and Daryl rushed to Carol, helping her sit up, as Lizzie and Mika gathered in the doorway.

"Hey, you ok?" he asked, helping her up, pulling her to her feet.

"Yeah. I think so. Just caught me off guard." She winced in pain. "My knife's back there somewhere."

"I'll get it. Where'd it come from?" Carol pointed down the path, and Daryl readied his crossbow. "Alright. I'll check it out. Stay with the girls." Carol nodded, groaning and making her way up into the doorway, putting her hands on each of the girls' shoulders.

"Come inside." Mika did as Carol said, but Lizzie stayed put, gaze locked on the walkers with the arrow through its head. "Lizzie."

"Ma'am?" Her voice shook, and her hands were clenched at her sides, white knuckles scraping against her khaki pants.

"Lizzie, that thing would have killed us." Lizzie said nothing. Instead, she turned and rushed into the cabin. Carol sighed heavily, leaning against the door frame. It wasn't long before Daryl came back up the path with Carol's knife in his hand and his crossbow slung over his shoulder.

"Must've got caught up on the fence and made its way over. Looks like just one of 'em. Think we're alright for now, but we're gonna have to move out in a day or two."

"Daryl," Carol murmured, "I'm worried about Lizzie."

"She alright?"

"I…I don't know," she murmured, wincing as the pain in her arm increased. "I think she's confused about them. About walkers." Daryl's gaze focused over Carol's shoulder and into the dim cabin where the girls were huddled inside with Judith. "I don't know how to reach her."

"She'll learn," he said with a grunt, hoisting his bag up on his shoulder and reaching into his pocket for Carol's antibiotics. He passed them to her. "Here. Better take these." Carol nodded, doing as he said, swallowing the pills down with a quick swig of water. "Want me to talk to her?"

"I've tried. She just doesn't seem to understand," Carol murmured. "She saw what those things did to her father. She's seen them kill people. She's seen people turn. But she doesn't get it." She shook her head, lowering her voice a little more. "I'm not sure how we can protect her if she doesn't think there's anything to be afraid of."