RUNNING BLIND

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Lilly stood by a chair in one of the rooms in Alexandria's medical center. Her single companion was Denise, the zone's psychiatrist and stand-in doctor, who was sat at the desk nearby reading a thick book on sedatives. She wore square glasses and had a soft expression. She'd been friendly with her greeting and smiled whenever they made eye contact.

Lilly liked her.

Steven came hurrying in through the doorway then with the large briefcase she'd seen him with during their travels.

He closed the door behind him then placed the case down on a table. Lilly and Denise came closer and watched his initial uneasy expression bleed into one of careful determination. He seemed to be making a decision, or rather, he'd already made a decision and was pondering on how to bring it into action.

Finally, his mouth tightened decidedly and he pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

"There's something I have to tell the two of you."

They waited expectantly and he began to open the case. He unlocked the mechanisms and lifted the lid . . . revealing an array of tiny plastic containers filled with a bizarre blue liquid.

They stared at it.

"What . . . is it?" Denise asked.

"It's a medication we used at the hospital I came from in Atlanta," he explained, "That's where it was developed. Originally it was me and some other doctors working on it, but eventually, it was just me."

"What does it do?"

His eyes shone with uncertainty as he stared at the tubes, and Lilly felt her chest thrumming with anticipation. "What does it do?" she repeated Denise's inquiry, and he swallowed.

"It's . . . a serum we were working on that increases effectiveness of bodily repair and the immune system. It heals external and internal injuries faster, strengthens blood cells and damaged nerves, and creates . . . a temporary immunity to the walker virus whilst it's circulating your system."

Lilly couldn't help but think that sounded awfully practiced as he said it, but then she began to properly absorb the words.

"The initial objective was for it to be used as a cure."

Denise dropped the pen in her hand and blinked. "That's impossible," she said, "A cure . . . is impossible! They tried, the people here at the start, they tried but it didn't work. It didn't . . . It's not possible . . . !"

"It's not exactly a cure," he said, "The effects never got that far. But it can successfully fight an infection and cleanse a wound of the virus."

"Is it tested?" Lilly asked, "Do you know for sure that it can do that?"

"I had a friend," Steven started, "He got bit when he left the hospital one time. It was only a couple of months after we'd started working, but it stopped him from turning. It saved his life, and it's worked every time since."

Lilly thought of Meghan.

Meghan playing by the river in the dirt. Meghan screaming her name when a monster rose from the earth and took her. Meghan in her arms as she walked to the battlefield at the prison, and Meghan with a bullet shot through her temple by Brian.

Denise seemed amazed by what Steven was saying but there was something in his voice that made Lilly think there was something he wasn't saying.

"Your friend," she said, "Where is he now?"

"There was a fight between the officers. The Captain made some bad choices so Dawnhis second in commandkilled him. And my friend, like so many others taking refuge in the hospital, got caught in the cross-fire. With him having been a survivor of the antivirus serum, Dawn was furious at losing him and became fixated on protecting every possible resource. The other doctors kept dying after that, and eventually, it was just me left. Me and a corrupt system of liars. Regardless, I kept working on the serum alone . . . And then Beth came."

Use everything you can use.

"We kept secretly giving her doses of the antivirus under the pretense that it was normal medicine, and monitored her behaviour. But Beth wanted to leave, and Dawn wouldn't let that happen."

"What happened to her?" Denise asked, and Steven reached into the case and withdrew one of the tiny containers.

". . . Dawn was afraid of Beth," he said, watching the liquid swish around in the tube as he shook it lightly. "Of what she was. And what she could be. So when Beth challenged her in front of everyone, when she stabbed her . . . Dawn wound up shooting her through the head. Then Daryl killed her."

Lilly and Denise were both silent.

Steven stared at the tube for a while before speaking again, like he was reliving the horrible moment he watched Beth Greene die, and then Lilly finally understood why he always tried so hard to save her.

She'd come when life was at its darkest point and shone a light. On all of them in the hospital. When death had almost swallowed them whole, she'd pulled them out of the beast's jaws and saved them.

Just like she had with the dawning herd when she'd first met Lilly and Dwight.

"This saved Beth," Steven whispered, ". . . But it also killed her."

Lilly wondered if they were all dead, merely possessing the bodies they wore like ghosts.

"I want to save her for real this time, but I need your help to do that."

They were merely the things left behind after their real selves found evanescence and turned to dust.

"Will you help me?"

"Yes," Lilly said before Denise could even so much as nod. "I will."

I want to know if we can reach nirvana, regardless of what we've become.

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Noah followed Simon down the dull and dimly lit halls of The Sanctuary and felt a chill flow down his spine. They passed several workers as they walked, eerily reminiscent of the wards at Grady, who shot Noah strange expressions that almost held a kind of warning.

He swallowed and hobbled along after Simon, trying to keep an open mind and not judge the place too soon.

They stopped at a door suddenly and Simon reached for the handle. He opened the door and gestured Noah inside. He stepped in and was surprised at what he saw.

It was surprisingly decent living quarters—a spacious room with a bed, table, armchair, and even a TV set. There was also a small fridge in one corner and Noah blinked with awe as he stared at the details of the room. There was a Metallica poster taped to the wall the bed was pushed against and a Guns N' Roses one next to it. He found himself smiling despite the looks from the workers and turned to regard Simon, who was leaning against the doorway with a wide grin that made his moustache seem longer.

"What'd'ya think? You like it, doncha?"

Noah saw no reason to lie.

"Yeah, I do."

"Well, too bad because this ain't your room!"

"Wait, what?"

He burst out laughing. "I'm just messing with ya, kid."

". . . Oh." Noah mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Why don't ya get yourself nice n' settled in. Negan'll come and pay you a visit later. He loooves to welcome newcomers first-hand."

"Uh, sure. Yeah. Thanks."

Simon laughed some more then closed the door, leaving Noah alone in the fairly decent room.

Noah took the opportunity to examine some of the room's contents, studying the TV set and a pile of video games he found next to it. He opened the fridge and found mostly beer—not his favourite beverage—but was pleased to see two big bottles of frosty cola and cherry soda in the door. He closed the fridge and wandered over to the other door in the room, opening it to reveal a small closet. He found himself going inside and closing the door behind him, memories from a long time ago resurfacing. Of him and his brothers playing hide and seek from their Mom, hiding in the closets crouched behind the coats and holding their breaths.

He closed his eyes.

His home had always been a warm and safe place, but seeing it again on their return after the hospital had been an eye-opener. With Tyreese on his heels as he ran as fast as he could, he remembered the exterior of the house looking the same, but the inside was a warped and twisted mirror image. Walls smeared with blood. Windows broken.

His mom . . . dead, on the carpet. One brother dead on his bed, and the other still walking, eyes white and vacant as he sunk his rotting teeth into Tyreese's arm.

It was his fault, Noah knew. What happened to Tyreese.

He'd killed him.

Just like he killed Beth.

"What are you doing in there?"

Noah jumped at the voice, not having heard the closet door pulled open, and turned to find two women staring at him.

"Uh," he stumbled over his words, "I, uh, well . . ."

The women looked at each other then turned back to him. One had dark hair with bangs and the other had fiery red hair, and they were both wearing black dresses. Their faces were painted with lipstick and mascara, and their eyelids were a blend of gold and brown powder. They reminded him of the girls at high school parties, all made up and wearing clothes that hugged their bodies tightly, who smiled sweetly and batted their eyelashes at the boys that passed them.

He suddenly felt very nervous and exposed.

He was sure Simon had described Negan as a he, but still he opened his mouth to ask.

"Are you . . . ? I mean . . . Is one of you Negan?"

The women looked at each other again but laughed this time. Noah stood awkwardly in the closet as they laughed in the doorway. They eventually stopped, and the red-haired one ran a hand through her hair before answering. Her eyes glittered with amusement and a strange giddiness.

"No," she shook her head, "Of course not. Negan can't make it right now, so he sent us. I'm Frankie. This is Tanya, and that's Amber."

Noah glanced beyond the two to see another woman sat on his bed with a particularly large wine bottle in her hand.

His heart skipped a beat at the initial sight of her, her long blonde hair and delicate features looking all too familiar until he noticed the sadness of her expression. She wasn't wearing a smile like Frankie and Tanya, in fact, she was scowling, but Noah recognised that kind of frown, and he forced himself to look away from her.

"I'm Noah," he introduced himself, "Could I, uh, maybe get out of this closet?"

They laughed again at that and stepped aside for him to walk out. He shifted past them back into the room and stood between them and Amber, who was now drinking straight from the bottle on the bed. She stared at him after taking a huge swallow with hostile eyes, and he felt both immensely uncomfortable and sad at the quiet misery in that belligerence.

"Why are you all here?" he found himself asking, and Amber tore her gaze away from him and took another drink of the wine.

"We told you," Frankie answered, "Negan sent us."

"Yeah, I know, but . . . why?"

"He thought you should feel comfortable on your first night here after being out there on your own," Tanya said, "That's what we're here for."

Noah felt very alarmed by that. They were here to make him feel comfortable? Was that why they were dressed like that, with the tight black dresses and red lips? Was that why they were giggling in that manner . . .

"He's gone really pale all of a sudden," Tanya murmured to Frankie, "Was it something we—"

"This, uh," Noah interrupted, "That, I mean, won't be necessary. You don't have to make me . . . comfortable. I'm fine."

They blinked.

"So you can go back to your . . . uh, wherever it was you came from, if you want? Really, I'm fine."

Amber sighed loudly suddenly and stared at him angrily.

"Don't you get it?" she said bitterly, though her voice was softer than her malice, "We can't do that. We're wives. Negan's wives. This is what we do."

It was Noah's turn to blink.

"Wives?" he repeated, "What . . . What do you mean?"

"I think that's enough of the Chardonnay now, Amber," Frankie started, but Amber simply scoffed and looked away. "What she means is what she said. We're Negan's wives. We do what he asks because that's our job. And sometimes that job is offering comfort to troubled newcomers."

"Wait, all of you? You're all his . . . wives? Is this what you chose?"

"It's what's best," Tanya answered, "In the hierarchy here, it's the best choice you can make. The best choice for us, and for the people we care about."

Amber scoffed again.

"So, you get things in return for being wives?" Noah asked, "Like . . . ?"

"Food, medicine, protection," Frankie listed, "We don't have to pay for it this way. We get everything we need for free."

"At what cost?"

"What do you mean?"

He bit his tongue. "You're letting people use you. Use your bodies, just so you can get food and medicine easier. Bargaining with everything you have. The only thing that women really have to bargain with now. Is that what you want?"

He thought of Grady, with its terrible system and terrible cops who used the female wards. For their own needs, like they weren't even people. Like Gorman pursuing Joan and the other girl he thought was called Effy. Without care or remorse. Monstrosities. And Dawn, who just let it all happen to keep the peace.

"Can you really call that a choice?"

The women were silent.

". . . It keeps our families safe," Tanya said finally, her eyes cast downward and almost hidden by her bangs.

It sounded like she'd said those exact words a thousand times in the hopes of believing them.

Noah wondered what kind of a place it was he'd willingly walked into.

"What if," he suggested on a whim, "If you can't leave, what if we just talked? Y'know? Just talking. None of the other, uh, comforts. I wouldn't tell and Negan wouldn't have to know. Huh? What do you think?"

Frankie and Tanya seemed surprised but Amber frowned again and laid down on the bed. Noah tried a smile and lowered himself to sit down on the floor next to the bed. His trousers rode up slightly as he sat and they noticed the long scar snaking up his left leg. He didn't realise they'd seen it until he followed their lines of vision and pulled his trouser leg down over the scar.

"How'd you get it?" Amber asked, laid on her front on the bed staring down at him with that still semi-aggressive stare.

"Amber!" Frankie hissed, but Noah found himself smiling again.

"It's okay," he shrugged, "I don't mind. It happened before the world changed to what it is now. I was in my dad's car with him when a truck just came out of nowhere and hit us. It slammed into us and sent our car spinning off the road. We fell through the road barrier and the car landed on its back. There was glass everywhere, all the windows had been smashed in, and I could hear my dad calling me from the driver's seat. I'd been in the backseat that day, so the front seats had completely crushed my leg. It took the ambulance two hours to get us out, 'cause of all the glass and the wreckage. I needed surgery after they got us out, but the medics couldn't fix it like it was before. So now I'm stuck with this limp and scar."

"I'm sorry," Tanya said.

"Me too," Frankie added.

Noah glanced up at Amber, who was watching him with a strange expression.

". . . Almost sounds too ordinary for a world like this," she said eventually.

He wondered what kinds of things these women had seen. If they'd seen things like Rick's group had, or if they too had been sheltered from the horrors like he had in the Grady Memorial Hospital. Somehow, he sensed they'd seen some terrible things, despite the smiles and layers of makeup on their faces. There was something about their eyes that made him think they'd seen horrible things, which pushed them towards the choice they'd made.

A world like this.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Way too normal."

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Author's Corner

Maybe Noah can help the wives? We'll see. Thanks for reading and don't forget to review. I hope you all have great days! :)