Chapter 3

She was down to two weeks' worth of MREs and two cases of water. If she rationed it all, she'd be set for a month. But the weather was turning, and the violence from the city was getting closer and closer. Yesterday, she'd woken up to find one man dead in the street with a bullet in his back.

She'd been putting off leaving for far too long. When Ed died, she'd meant to pack up and leave and never look back. But Sophia's grave was there. Out in the back yard, under the big oak tree she used to climb up and hide in when Ed would come home drunk and start getting violent. Weeds and grass had started to fill in the cracks in the mound of dirt on her grave.

It felt like yesterday. The fever had hit so suddenly. She'd felt fine, even when they closed the schools. Even when the army stepped in and started patrolling neighborhoods to ensure people were staying home, she'd been fine. And then one morning, she wasn't. Carol had gone in to check on her, and her pajamas were soaked with sweat, and she was shivering in her bed.

Three hours later, she was gone.

And then Ed was gone. And Carol had waited for death. And waited. And it never came.

She remembered something on the news before the stations snowed out. According to one of the final broadcasts, some people seemed to be immune. There weren't many, but there were some, and the only way they could possibly have known that was to be around someone who wasn't.

She wondered how many people out there had buried a child or a spouse or a parent? She wondered how many people found themselves utterly alone and wondering if death might be a kinder fate than surviving in a world that seemed to want to die around them. There were still others out there. She could hear them, mostly at night. Gunfire and screams would keep her awake. It was time to move on.

When she stepped out into the yard and up by the grave beneath the old oak tree, she felt sick. Coming out to Sophia's grave didn't make her feel better. It didn't give her peace. If anything, it left her with the horrifying memory that the last memory she had of her daughter was her eyes going wide as she took her last gasps of breath. Then her face relaxed, the color drained from her cheeks, and she looked to her mother and went still. That was what she saw when she stood by that grave, not the happy, bubbly little girl who'd given her life a purpose when everything else was horrible and painful.

"I'm so sorry, Sophia," she whispered, as raindrops began to pelt down into the red dirt over Sophia's grave. "I don't know why it had to be you and not me. Since you left, all I've done is wait to die. I prayed for it, even. But I'm still here, and maybe…maybe that's for a reason. Lying around waiting to die is no way to make up for the fact that you're not here. So I have to go. I have to find that reason to stay." She took a shaking breath and wiped the hot tears from her eyes. "I think about you every day. That won't change. I just can't stay here anymore. I love you. So much. My beautiful baby girl."

Lightning struck overhead, and the limbs of the old tree began to sway in the wind. A damp chill settled over Carol. She hunched her shoulders and stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets.

"I'll do my best, Sophia. I'll keep going for you. I promise."

...

Thunder shook the windowpanes, and Carol jolted awake from the same spot on the couch she'd settled over an hour ago. She could hear Daryl puttering around in the kitchen, and her stomach growled when she smelled something cooking.

He'd rigged a rack up in the fireplace, and hot flames curled and licked around the sides of a pan. She noticed two bowls set out on the coffee table when she sat up to stretch, and that was when Daryl came walking in with a mug in each hand.

"Coffee?" Carol asked, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Nah, it's tea. Probably stale as hell, but it's warm. Got more hot water if ya want another cup." Carol hummed her thanks and accepted the cup. She blew over the top, and the steam soaked into her skin. She closed her eyes and inhaled the sweet aroma before taking a tiny sip. It wasn't as sweet as it smelled, but it wasn't bad. It was something to warm her belly, and she couldn't complain about that.

"It's good." Carol's voice was soft and sleepy, and she smiled a little to herself when Daryl put his cup on the table and crouched down in front of the fireplace to pull the pan out to sit on the stone hearth. He lifted the lid, and the bubbling soup let out a cloud of steam.

He ladled some soup out into both bowls and put them aside to cool. Carol watched him as he worked, smiling when he got up and came over to sit next to her on the couch. He brought his arm around her shoulders in that now comfortable way he did when they curled up together at night. And her heart swelled at the memory of the months after they'd first met, curled up under sleeping bags with enough space between them for another person. She could still remember the first time she reached out and touched him, and he'd pulled away as if he'd been burnt. It hadn't been easy, but over time, he'd opened up about the abuse he'd suffered as a kid, and in turn, she'd told him about her life with Ed and how she couldn't remember what it felt like to be held by somebody.

That night, they'd tried something new. They'd curled into each other and slept the best either of them had slept since it all happened. They'd come a long, long way.

"You ok?" Daryl gave her shoulder a squeeze.

"Just thinking," she yawned. She lifted her head and stared at him a moment. "Do you think about it?"

"Think about what?"

"We're healthy. We didn't get sick. Do you think the baby'll be ok? Or do you think maybe the sickness is still out there?"

"Try not to think about that." Daryl gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Don't do no good wonderin' what if. We worry about today. We'll worry 'bout tomorrow when it gets here." Carol nodded then and looked down. She put her hand over her belly and felt a gentle kick.

"I can't bury another one, Daryl. I can't."

"Hey," he murmured, pulling her close. "Everything's gonna be alright." Carol knew he was just as worried about the future as she was, but he was right. It did not good to worry about what could happen. They had to live in the moment, because worrying about something that might never happen did nothing to help them in their current situation.

"We need to talk about it."

"Carol, I…"

"No. We do." She turned in her seat so she could face him, and Daryl slowly pulled his arm from around her shoulders. She could see the worry lining his brow, and by the way he bit the inside of his cheek, she knew he was desperate to talk about something, anything else. But this had to be talked about. "First, if anything happens to me…"

"It won't."

"If it does," Carol continued, "I need you to promise me you'll find a place he can call home. I know that's the plan. But if I don't make it that long, I need to know you'll keep going and find a place you can stay and raise him." He wasn't looking her in the eye anymore. Instead, he was avoiding her gaze. She reached out and placed her hand against his cheek. "Look at me." It took him a moment, but he dug deep and managed to look up at her, and she could see the pain in his eyes. "I don't plan on going anywhere, but I needed to say it. Ok?" He nodded. "You'll find a place."

"I will," he promised. "And if somethin' happens to me, you're gonna keep goin' too. You already lost your little girl. You survived that. If somethin' happens to me, I know you're gonna be alright. This baby needs you a lot more'n it needs me."

"That's not true," Carol whispered. "I know you don't like to talk about your past, but what your dad did to you…that's not you. You're going to be a great dad." She took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. Then, her smile faded, and she looked down, placing her other hand on her stomach. "If something happens to him, I don't think I could live with it. I barely survived Sophia. If I lose him, I don't…"

"I'm gonna be there. We'll help each other," he assured her. "It'd be the worst pain, next to losin' you. Don't wanna think about it. But I promise, if somethin' happens, I ain't gonna let you lose yourself. Ain't gonna lose myself, neither. We're gonna get through whatever happens together. Right?" She nodded and wiped away a tear. "He's gonna be fine. He's got a mama and a daddy that's immune. Good chance he will be, too, right?"

"Well, I'm no doctor, but…that sounds reassuring."

"Well, then keep thinkin' it 'til ya believe it, alright? Not much longer, he'll be here, and we'll find that place we're gonna call home. We're gonna make it happen, Carol. Whatever it takes."