[March 17, 10 NE]

When the speedboat purrs to a stop alongside the Oceanside dock, Judith and RJ wave to their mother, and a woman begins tying the ropes Cyndie tosses her. Michonne hugs her children when she disembarks, and Judith asks, "Did Uncle Daryl send me any presents?"

"Oh, good Lord," Michonne replies. "Entitled much?"

Judith shrugs. "He always sends me a present."

As Carol disembarks, she answers, "He may have sent you a sketch book and some art pencils he scavenged, and he may have sent RJ a baseball glove."

"And a letter," Judith says.

Michonne taps down Rick's old sheriff's hat over the girl's eyes. "And of course a letter."

Henry steps forward to greet Carol. Black bags shadow his eyes, and his mousy, light brown hair sticks up in a dozen places.

"Tired?" she asks.

"Yeah. So good to see you." He gives her a big hug. Pulling away, he says, "Guess maybe you want to see your grandson?"

"Not really," Carol teases, and Henry returns a tired chuckle before leading her down the pier.

[*]

Henry calls the baby Zeke. Rachel calls him Zeebie, which Carol supposes is a way of saying his first and middle initial. He's adorable. His hair is an almost white blonde, shockingly thick, and his face is peppered with freckles just like Henry's. His eyes are a wide blue, but with flecks of yellow and brown beginning to burst at the edges. Carol thinks they'll be a light hazel, eventually, and his hair will probably change to resemble something more like Henry's golden brown in time.

The baby's eyes track the sound of Carol's voice as she sits on the couch in the small cabin and holds him before herself, neck cradled in her hand. "I'm your grandma," she tells him. "But you don't have to call me that. Just call me Carol."

"He's not calling you by your first name," Henry insists as he plops down in the red camp chair that passes for an armchair. "You remember the first time I called you mom instead of Carol?"

Carol smiles slightly.

Henry half laughs. "I thought you were going to cry."

"I did. Privately. Later. But grandma makes me feel so old."

"How about MeMa?" Rachel asks as she returns from rustling through a dresser for a burp cloth. She sits down next to Carol on the couch. Carol reluctantly hands the baby over so Rachel can feed him. Rachel settles him on her breast beneath the burp cloth, which she's spread out like a nursing blanket. Henry's obviously a bit uneasy with the breastfeeding happening in front of his mother, but Carol's certain he'll get over that soon enough. "That's what I called my grandmother."

"I don't know," Carol says.

"I called mine Nana," Henry ventures. "Funny. I don't remember her. But I remember what Benjamin and I called her."

"Nana's not so bad," Carol muses. "I guess I could be a nana."

"Nana Carol," says Rachel. She feeds quietly for a while as Henry updates Carol on the progress of the tavern and Carol updates him on the progress of his little sister. Then Rachel asks, "Now what does Zeebie call Daryl?"

Henry smirks. "Gramps."

Rachel chortles.

Carol chuckles, but says, "Uh…no. He can just call Daryl Daryl."

"Daryl's your husband," Henry says seriously. "So he's Zeke's grandfather. He deserves a title."

"Hunter and legend," Carol murmurs.

"What?" Henry asks.

Carol smirks. "Never mind."

"I called mine Papaw," Rachel offers as she fishes the baby out from the burp cloth and then lays him over it against her shoulder.

"I don't think so," Carol says. "You know, though, it doesn't matter what we come up with. When he's old enough to talk, Zeke will come up with his own names." She watches the baby fuss as Rachel slaps him lightly on the back. "Burping really works better when you rub gently up and down."

Rachel looks momentarily annoyed by the correction, but the cloud passes and then she says, with no hint of offense, "Would you like to burp him?"

"Sure."

The infant cries when he's handed over, but he soon settles in response to the feel of Carol's palm sliding up and down his onesie-clad back. He settles his chin against her shoulder, and a couple seconds later, he lets out a loud belch. "Your Grandpa Dixon would be proud," Carol tells him.

[*]

Michonne and the kids have returned to Alexandria – RJ and Judith were only staying two nights at Oceanside while she was in Jamestown- and Aaron has returned home, too. Carol busies herself with her grandson, offering as much help where she can to give the parents a rest, but the little tyke doesn't take well to a bottle, and Rachel is so engorged that even if she pumps ahead of time she has to get up and pump again for the midnight feeding.

So Carol helps instead by changing the baby, bringing it to its mother, and soothing it back to sleep so the parents can get to theirs sooner. She rocks the tyke, and sings to him as well.

One night, Henry goes to a friend's cabin to get a full, uninterrupted night's sleep. Carol is tempted to throw Rachel's old line back at her – "You let him do that?" but she doesn't.

Rachel is on the defense anyway, despite Carol's silence on the matter. "Henry's still working," she explains. "At the tavern and fishing. He's working so much for us. If he doesn't get six hours straight of sleep, I'm afraid he'll spear his own foot."

Carol misses Daryl and Sweetheart, but she loves her little grandbaby, and the week passes more quickly than she would have expected.

[March 24, 10 NE]

An hour before the speedboat departs, Aaron shows up on horseback. He stables the horse and hurries to catch the boat. He adds a stack of letter from Hilltop and Alexandria to the canvas mailbag Oceanside is bringing to Jamestown.

"Visiting Mitch again?" Carol asks they settle side by side on the back bench seat. Cyndie isn't accompanying this time. Rather, Melissa drives the boat. They're accompanied by two other Oceanside women who have occasional Jamestown boyfriends.

"I also need to have a meeting with Garland," Aaron tells her. "Michonne suggested I start doing more of the diplomat work."

"Did she?" Carol asks. Maybe that conversation at the tavern sunk in and Michonne is becoming aware that, with Aaron on the Council, she can take a bigger step back.

The wind begins to whip around them as the speedboat purrs from Oceanside's pier, and Carol thinks that if and when the new battery is operational, they can risk a regular, weekly mailboat run. Maybe, if they take this solar-electric speed boat in an exploratory mission up and down the length of the James River, docking at every pier, they can find a second battery-driven electric motorboat or speed boat – anything that will go faster than the 7-8 miles per hour of the colonial ships. The Susan Constant is great for trade, but not so much for mail service. She wonders, too, if they could manage to establish a telegraph line from Jamestown to the Hilltop, which is probably the closest of the communities by land, if not by river. Hilltop could then relay messages by radio to Alexandria, and Alexandria, in turn, to Oceanside.

She discusses these possibilities with Aaron as they chop steadily through the dark green waters of the river. When they finally reach Jamestown, however, the stop sign remains steadily in place before the river gates, which have not been rolled back at their approach. Melissa jerks the boat to an abrupt stop, before it can be caught up on the destructive pikes, and then she backs it up slightly before killing the engine.

A rowboat, with Seaman Reedus and Seaman Lincoln rowing, approaches the gate. Both men have bandanas pulled up around their faces and noses, and Carol only recognizes them because their Oceanside girlfriends wave to them as they approach and because Reedus always wears that black North Face jacket.

The men stop rowing on the opposite side of the gates and drift to a standstill about three yards from the speedboat. Seam Reedus stands, balancing, in the rowboat and extends a long pole with a canvas mail bag hanging from the end. Melissa, looking confused, slides the bag off. "Read the order pinned to the bag," Seaman Reedus calls, muffled, through his bandana mask. "Bring the letters back to the Alliance. Put your letters on the end of the pole."

"What?" Melissa calls back, though she slides off the canvas bag and puts the other mail bag on. "Aren't you going to open the river gates and let us in?"

"Can't, honey pie, sorry. Bad flu afoot!"

"Flu?" Melissa calls back. "But flu season's over!" All of the communities had a mild flu season this past fall and winter, with only two deaths throughout the entire Alliance, one in Jamestown and one at the Hilltop, both of women over 75.

"Read the order," Seaman Reedus repeats.

Carol has already unpinned the paper from the canvas bag and unfolded it. She scours the words:

March 23, 10 NE
Executive Order #11

In light of the recent, sudden, and aggressive outbreak of a highly contagious strain of late-season flu, and after conferring with our medical professionals and consulting with the in-session members of the Council, I do hereby issue this executive order on behalf of the Jamestown Council, as its Chairman and Mayor.

A town-wide quarantine shall go into effect immediately. The following rules shall apply:

No one shall enter the gates of Jamestown nor exit the gates of Jamestown until the quarantine order has been lifted. All religious services are cancelled until further notice. School is cancelled until further notice. The daycare is closed until further notice. The Jamestown library is closed until further notice. The Jamestown theater is closed until further notice. The tavern is closed until further notice. Open town hall meetings are closed until furhter notice. Council meetings will be held sparingly and only as absolutely necessary until further notice. No gatherings will be permitted, except as necessary for the performance of farming, fishing, medical services, security, law enforcement, and other such work deemed essential to supporting life. Frequent handwashing is advised. Covering of both the face and nose when working with others is advised. Any individual presenting with both (a) fever and (b) cough will be quarantined in his or her own cabin, as the quarantine room is now full.

Mayor Garland Bennett Barron
Signed by my hand, this 23rd day of March, 10 NE

"Full!" Melissa, who is reading over Carol's shoulder cries. "Already? But that quarantine room holds eight people!"

"You gotta go back to Oceanside!" Reedus calls. "And take our lieutenant mayor with you! So she doesn't get this nasty thing either!"

Carol glances to the docks and sees that Garland stands there, a couple yards from Captain McBride, both men with bandanna's over their faces – Garland with a cowboy style red one, and McBride with a white sailor's bandana. Both men are apparently waiting for them to turn around and motor away.

Carol unfolds Garland's personal letter, which was slid behind the executive order.

March 24, 10 NE

Carol –

I'm sorry, but you need to turn around and stay safe at Oceanside. We'll send news when this bug, whatever it is, has finished its ugly work. The first case appeared four days after you left, on March 21. It's been spreading like wildfire and seems deadlier than usual. It attacks the oldest and youngest worst of all. It appears to have started with one of the pigs, and somehow leapt to the human population. Carolyn has checked all the animals to verify their state of health, and two pigs have had to be slaughtered and disposed of without the benefit of producing edible meat.

It's already killed Widow Williams and Old Mrs. Merriweather. Six children from the orphanage and two adults have been confined to the quarantine room. Three families have so far been quarantined in their cabins, including yours. Daryl's currently asymptomatic, but he's been quarantined with your daughter in order to care for her.

I'm so very sorry. Sweetheart's receiving the best care possible, I promise you. Dr. Ahmad visits daily to treat her. Dr. Emily, Deputy Thomas, and Enid are also working in the quarantine room and making house calls on other patients. They're earnestly fighting this disease. Raul is working on some apothecarial concoctions to try to better treat it. We'll beat this bug, and, God willing, not one more person will die, if we don't let it spread too fast.

Turn around. Stay safe.

- Garland