She was feeding Faith when Daryl came in the tent. He looked at the two of them. He loved them both so much. He sat down next to Beth , kissing her on the cheek.
"Yer both so beautiful," he said putting his arm around his wife. He wanted nothing more than to stay there with them but there was something he had to do first.
"Got somethin' I have ta take of," he said and he kissed her. " Be back soon as I can," she nodded and the love shown in her eyes melted him. He touched her face and the baby's.
"Mine," he whispered. "Mine,"
Bob was drunk again. He thought he had a handle on it but the guilt over what he had done, what he had helped cause was overwhelming. He took another drink.
He wished he'd never heard of Woodbury or Philip Blake.
Or of the Victory Strain.
Milton Mamet had developed it in the lab at Woodbury. Before the Turn, he had been a research scientist and had been stranded in Woodbury. When Philip had found out Milton had samples with him, samples of experimental viruses designed to combat Wormwood Descending (the name given to what caused the Turn), he had insisted he continue the work. They had sent teams to different bio-labs to find samples of different viruses. Milton didn't know what he planned to do with the viruses. He was just happy to not have to be in the middle of the ruined cities. He thought he was working on a cure. Denial is not just a river in Egypt.
Victory Rising was an accident. They still couldn't establish what Wormwood Descending actually was. Just before everything fell, a rumor circulated that it came from outer space and it was deliberate. That was never proven though. Milton accidentally contaminated a sample of H1N1 with whatever the hell Wormwood Descending was and created what Philip called Victory Rising. A new strain of flu. The worst strain even than the 1917-1918 flu. It was to be sealed up and destroyed.
Milton believed Philip when he said that was but that was out of fear. When he finally realized what the Governor was doing, it was too late. There were many small communities out there with supplies, goods that he needed.
Philip wanted to control the entire world, bring it to its knees and with the Victory Strain he could. Bob had been an army medic before the Turn and before he became a worthless drunk. When the Turn started, he had inoculated himself against so many things trying to save himself he was immune to everything. Including bites.
When his town had fallen to the dead, Bob had been bitten. He waited to die and turn as the fever burned inside him but he didn't die. He wanted to, the screams of his wife and children echoed in his brain as the fever raged. He recovered thought.
When he arrived in Woodbury, Philip had found out about the scar. His fault. He should have been more careful but the alcohol clouded his judgement even as it numbed his brain to the screams. Philip had found his dirty little errand boy. He allowed himself to be used to spread Victory Rising around.
Daryl had found him on the road after Bob had decimated two prior groups besides Woodbury. He answered the questions and joined the group. A week later Victory Strain was unleashed. But this time it was an accident. After attacking the Prison once, Philip Blake had vanished off the face of the Earth. And not as many died in the outbreak as had in the others.
He hadn't counted on liking the people so much at the prison. He felt the guilt over his actions crushing him and so he drank whenever it was bad. It had been bad lately since they had been on the road and had picked new survivors. He had fully expected another outbreak already. So far it hadn't happened.
He was all but passed out when Daryl found him.
"Shoulda left yer drunk ass on the side'a the road," Daryl said, pulling him to his feet. "Yer here passed out. I coulda lost'em both tonight…Beth…. my little girl," Daryl's eyes were narrow with anger and he was in Bob's face. He grabbed Bob's bottle and smashed it. "Fuckin drunk cstch ya drinkin again an ya can see how long ya last by yerself," He let go of Bob. He wanted to beat him, kick his damn teeth in but that wasn't who he was anymore. Not anymore.
He left Bob in the dirt and went back to his family.
Two days later they got back on the road. They had to double back twice before they found a way around the gaping holes where the roads had been blown away. Back when there was anyone left to try and contain the infection.
They were close to Washington now. Good maybe Porter will shut his fucking mouth, thought Abraham.
Daryl and Beth rode in the truck, Faith's car seat in between them. It was slow going. The baby needed fed every two hours and changed. Beth was still recovering from childbirth. Stops were frequent.
Daryl turned the truck into a residential neighborhood. He stopped. His gaze fell on his sleeping family. He loved them both so much it hurt. He hated these long days in the truck. He didn't like that his daughter was spending her first days on the road, like a nomad.
They looked almost too peaceful to wake. Careful not wake his daughter he touched Beth's cheek. She opened her eyes.
"Hey," she said to him, smiling. She looked down. The baby was still sleeping.
His hand was still on her face and she kissed his fingers.
"Got ta check it out Stay in the truck with the baby," he said . He hated leaving them. He kissed them both and went to check the houses with the others. The baby started to cry. Beth took her out of the car seat and gave her a bottle.
"Daddy's going to find us a place to sleep little Faith," the baby looked at her with her big blue eyes. Daryl's eyes.
A little while later Daryl came back. He picked up the baby's car seat.
"C'mon Princess," he said, taking her by the hand. "Yer not going to be sleepin in a tent tonight.," He took them inside. "Its all clear an its ours for now," He took his family inside.