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Chapter 7
They were all gathered around the low fire, quiet, contemplative. Waiting. Nobody wanted to talk about why they were all waiting, and no one felt like they could go on to bed. No one really wanted to leave the silent circle., it felt, disrespectful. The fact that Camille had lasted two days longer than expected had not really surprised anyone. They all knew she was tough, at least the few short weeks they'd come to get to know her, they all had the same impression. Outspoken. Aggressive. A fighter. The fact that it was taking her a little longer than most to succumb to the disease wasn't really something that had shocked them at all. So when Daryl came out of the tent, shaking his head, walking towards the group huddled around the fire, they all stood up, a collective feeling of dread like a wave through the camp. Lori started to cry.
"Daryl." Carol said softly as she moved to him and put her arm on his.
"She's..." he said quietly, looking down at the fire. "She's..." he took a deep breath, playing it for all it was worth. Lori started to sob loudly, grabbing Rick and burying her head into his chest. "Hungry."
Dale looked at Daryl like he had two heads. How could he joke about her like this? Had she passed and turned already? "Daryl, what do you mean, son?" he asked.
"She's awake, talking...an' she's hungry."
"Whaaaat?" Andrea said, bolting for the tent, the others following right behind as Daryl stood, snickering. Shane was the only one that wasn't moving. Daryl took two steps closer to where he was sitting in a tattered plastic folding chair.
"And you, motherfucker, you wanted ta' send her ta' tha' woods ta' die like a sick dog. Ya' bes' watch yer' ass from now on." he snarled and pointed at the shaven-headed man. "I won't hesitate ta' take ya' out."
Shane sat silently, his eyes still on the fire. He refused to meet Daryl's eyes as the tall man stood there in front of him, fists clenching. Shane knew he was still right, he knew that what he'd proposed was the safest thing for all of them. Just because she hadn't died yet didn't mean she wasn't going to. If she didn't, well, that was just as dangerous too, she could be carrying the virus and would spread it to all of them. This wasn't the end of it.
XXXXX
"Camille?" Andrea said softly, outside the tent flap. "Camille can we come in?"
"Yeah." she said weakly. Camille was propped up on a couple pillows. Daryl had put her hair up in a pony tail and helped her wash off her face with a cool rag before he'd gone to tell the others.
"Hey, Hon." Carol said, sitting down next to her. "How are you feeling?"
"Better. I think I feel a bit better."
Dale spoke next. "I don't believe what I'm seeing. Camille, Sweetheart, I am so glad you're awake." he said, patting the mattress, being careful not to touch either of her legs.
"You 'n me both, Dale." she grinned. "I still tired, though. Really tired...and hungry."
"Daryl said you were hungry." Andrea said smiled. "That means you're getting better."
Rick stuck his head in the tent. "Hey, can I crash this hen party?" he said, smiling. "Oh, hey, sorry Dale!" he added, winking. "Camille, this is just..." he stopped. "Well, it's just..."
"Weird. Bizarre. Not the outcome you were expecting?" Camille said.
"I was thinking more along the lines of the answer to our prayers, but yeah, all of that too." he said. "Hey gang, don't tire her out. Let's get her something to eat and let her rest."
"Sweetie, you look wonderful." Lori said. "I'm so happy you're still with us."
"Thanks. You're lying through your teeth about how I look, but thanks anyway." Camille said.
Everyone left the small tent and Daryl came back in and sat down next to her on the floor. He tried to be cool. He tried so hard to be calm and reserved, but inside he felt like a crazed jack-in-the-box. He felt like he was grinning and bobbing up and down, arms flailing out of control. He was half-afraid that he would jinx things if he showed too much, allowed himself to be too happy or relieved.
"So." he said, biting his thumbnail. "Gonna' git ya' ass outta' that bed anytime soon?" He peered nonchalantly up at the ceiling. "Don't ya' think ya' been lollygagging 'round here long 'nuff?"
"Fuck off, Cracker." she smiled, sighing.
"I always said you was meaner 'n a snake." he grinned. "Guess ya' proved me right."
"Don't count your chickens." she said quietly. "We don't know what's going on."
"Don't really give a shit what's goin' on. Yer' still here. That's all I care about." he said, leaning over and kissing the side of her head. "Wanna' lay down 'till Carol brings you something to eat?"
"No. I wanna talk."
"Fuck." he sighed.
"Daryl, why?"
"I don't know. Maybe ya' didn't really get bit. Maybe that walker was so weak or small that there weren't nothing in him. Maybe yer' just that one person that is 'mune to it." he shrugged.
"But how can that be? Nobody gets a pass with this crap. Have you ever heard of it? Have you ever heard of anybody getting bit and not turning?"
"No, but that don't mean it don't happen."
"What happens if it's just taking longer?"
"Then we deal with it. We just need ta' take things one step atta' time. 'N right now, yer' here, so stop askin' questions 'n just rest."
"Got one more question."
"Fuck." he sighed again. "What?"
"Who'd you try to shoot?"
"Nobody."
"Now you're just plain lyin' to me. I heard a bolt let loose."
"It was nothing."
"Damn it, Daryl. What's going on? You came back madder than a hornet. Who did you take a shot at?"
"Forget about it, 'k?"
Daryl was saved by a quiet "Knock Knock" outside the tent. It was Carol, with a bowl of warmed-up canned soup and a cup of tea on small tray "I hope this is ok. You haven't eaten anything in a while, so Andrea and I thought it might set better on your stomach."
"Thanks. You guys are too sweet."
"Can I get you anything else?" the frail-looking woman said, glancing at Daryl and Camille. She knew from the frustrated look on Camille's face that something was up. She handed the tray to Daryl.
"Naw. We're good." Daryl interjected. "This is...good. Thanks." he said, looking at Camille and turning his head slightly, as if giving her a warning. Carol was all to familiar with that look, having seen it from Ed a million times.
"Thanks Carol, this is wonderful, really." Camille said. "Thank Andrea for me, too, ok?"
Carol wiped her hands on her pants and nodded her head, turning to go. "Camille?" she said softly. "I really am glad things turned out like they did." she said, her voice wavering as she turned back and exited the tent.
Daryl sat the tray down gingerly on Camille's lap and noticed that her eyes were a little moist.
"Don't do that again." she said, narrowing them at him.
"Do what?"
"What you just did. That look. Do you think I was going to ask Carol and put her in the middle of something?"
"Didn't know."
"Well, hear this, Redneck, " she said, pointing the spoon at him, "I don't operate like that. What's between you and me is between you and me. Nobody else."
"Don't call me a damn Redneck."
"Fine. Hilljack."
"Stop it."
"Cracker."
"Cam. Shut it."
"Hoo, you gotta purty mouth on you, boy." she grinned. "Come on, squeal like a pig for me."
"CAM!" Daryl's face was red now. Flustered. "I hate that fuckin' movie."
"What's the matter? I thought all you country boys liked a woman with a little sass."
"No, it's ass, a little ass, 'n if ya' don't shut up n' eat, I'm gonna' blister yers."
"Promises, promises." she said, sipping the chicken and rice soup gingerly. Daryl sat the tray aside and smoothed the pillows out. Camille was starting to yawn and he could tell from her eyes that she was having a hard time staying awake to finish the now lukewarm tea that Carol had brought. He moved next to her on the mattress and gently pulled her to him, pulling her head to his chest. He had become used to sleeping like this over the last few days; he could make sure she was ok. He could make sure she was still breathing, he recalled and winced. He remembered there were some times that he literally counted her breaths, silently cheering her on from one to another.
"I'm fading fast." she said.
"Wore yerself out. Gotta' rest." he said, putting a hand on her forehead on the pretense of smoothing her hair, surreptitiously checking for any signs that her fever was returning. It was cool, dry. He said a tiny silent thank-you to whomever may have been listening. Her breathing slowed and he knew that she was drifting off. He followed behind her shortly.
XXXXX
By next evening, Camille continued to stay awake each time for a longer period as the naps in-between becoming shorter and shorter. Daryl had checked her bite and the scratches to her leg and was surprised at how good they looked. They were still red and a bit swollen, but they were no longer streaky or oozing. They had seemed to look better, quite a bit better. Like they were...healing.
Camille was still not eating much and was real quiet. Unlike her to be quiet. He figured she'd be griping about something but she didn't. She just laid there, staring off into space, sometimes she'd look at him and smile, others she would put his hand to her cheek.
"Dixon." she said
"Varner."
"Why didn't you say it?"
"Say what?
"You know what."
He knew exactly what she was talking about without her even saying and he didn't want to have this conversation.
"Didn't seem right."
"Ouch. Well. Ok."
"Shut it."
"Wow. Nice."
"Ya' don't understand." he shook his head.
"You fucking got that right." she frowned. "How 'bout you explain it to me."
"I didn't wanna' say it 'cause I din't want ya' ta' think that was tha' only reason I was sayin' it."
"Huh? I'm not following you."
"Shit." he sighed, uncomfortable as hell. "I didn't want ya' ta' think I was only sayin' it because ya' were...you know..."
"Dying?"
"Yeah."
"So you didn't say it because you didn't want me to think you were lying to me?"
"Yeah."
"So you were willing to let me die without saying it not because you didn't want me to think you didn't but because you didn't want me to think you were just trying to make me feel good?"
Daryl fidgeted, running his hand around the back of his neck. "That don't 'xactly sound right."
"Uh-huh. Sounds pretty shitty to me too."
"I woulda' told ya' tha' truth."
"Before or after I died? Before I turned? Before Rick put a bullet in me?" Camille's cheeks were red and her eyes flashed at him. "What IS the truth, Daryl, I think I'm a little confused."
"Aw, fuck it. You know how I feel about ya'."
She smirked. "Not quite sure I do. Wouldn't to think you were just saying it, what ever it is."
"Shit. Why ya' gotta' do this? Last thing ya need is fer' us ta' be fightin' n' ya get sick."
"No, Daryl, last thing I need is your dumb ass in here right now. Leave me alone, ok?"
"Ain't gonna' do that.
"Well, how about this. I take all the pressure off of you. You don't have to worry about saying it at all. Ever."
"Cam, don't."
"Is that easier? Since I don't seem to be dyin' quite yet, you don't have to even think about it. Now, get the fuck out of here." she said, rolling to her side, turning her back to him.
"Fine. Have it yer' way. I'm tha' hell outta' here."
"Good. Piss off."
"Hateful bitch."
"Ignorant hillbilly."
Camille closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep as Daryl took his time gathering up his bow and a blanket and left the tent. She started to well up the minute she heard the riiiiip of the tent zipper and his footsteps on the hard ground outside, packed down from the traffic in and out of the tent. If she had listened harder, she would have heard him take a few steps and then sit down on the ground, wrapping the blanket around him against the damp night air, leaning against the cooler just outside the tent. He stayed there all night, periodically checking on her, leaning into the tent flap to quietly listen to the sound of her breathing as she slept. At times he could hear her sniffling softly, too, but decided that now was not the right time. She needed to rest, not get pissed off at him, and lord, that girl could get pissed off.
