Daryl sat in his own cell bunk, his crossbow lay across his lap as he meticulously cleaned and examined it for any damage; doing this was the only time his mind really closed off, this and being with Beth, who so far was the only person he found who helped him to relax. He had left Beth sleeping in her own cell not long after she had fallen asleep. She was still so pale and her breathing had been laboured, but in sleep she lost some of the tension in her face that plagued her during the day. Daryl knew she was in a lot more pain than she let on, and the pain of the injury seemed to be making her nauseous and irritable, so he thought it best to leave her to sleep if off alone, especially encase his own body knocked her or caused her any further harm.

As Daryl mused over this, suddenly Sasha came running through the corridor, shouting.

'Walkers in D! Walker's in D!'

Daryl grabbed up his crossbow and ran out into the corridor, following her. He didn't need to ask questions; his instinct had kicked in. D block was only a block over from C, and in C his girl was sleeping off a gunshot wound. He didn't need to think, he ran.

'The tombs are locked!' Tyreese called as he caught up with them, 'we followed the plan – but it aint a breach!'

The words drummed around Daryl's mind, but he couldn't stop to think them over. They ran out into the square where Rick was running up to them, his hands dirtied with mud from the veg path he must have been tending.

'Walker's in D!' Sasha yelled to him.

'What about C?' Rick yelled back as he jogged up to them.

What about C? Daryl's heart jammed.

'Clear. We locked the tombs. Hershel's on guard.' she replied.

'It ain't a breach,' Daryl said, almost to himself than Rick.

They ran into the next block, where around the corner complete devastation greeted them.

D block was made up of the newcomers from Woodbury most of whom were now running around the premise screaming. The block was smeared in blood and gore as walkers chased after those still alive, lunging from the cells sprawling across the floor. Chaos reigned, the screams of the living intermingled with the moans of the dead.

Daryl skidded across the gore that littered the floor, coming face to face with a Woodbury man who was holding out a gun in front of him, his knuckles pure white against the metal as the gun shook in his hand. Daryl grabbed it off of him and threw it to Rick, who snatched it and began shouting orders and getting the living out of the room safely, checking them over for bites as quickly as he could.

Daryl moved further into the carnage, moving through the throng of panicked people, firing his bows into any oncoming walkers. A small child lay on the floor, his face a picture of fearful panic as his widened eyes darted around the room. Daryl bent down and scooped him up, carrying him across into safety in his arms. The child wrapped his small arm around Daryl's neck, clinging onto him for safety. Daryl shot a bow past him and into the head of an approaching walker as the child burrowed his face into Daryl's neck with a whimper.

He moved across the room and handed the child over to its mother, who was frantically grasping for him. As he did so, he pulled his knife from his holster and rammed it into the throat of another walker, before pulling it out and plunging it back into his eye.

'Are we clear down here?' Daryl heard Rick call.

Daryl hoisted his crossbow up to look down the shaft as he surveyed the room; the screams had died down and the room was now void of moving bodies, but what was left was a sombre, gore splattered place, bodies fallen, blood covered the walls and the floors. The bodies that Daryl stepped around were not strangers; they were all faces he recognised, some he had spoken with, others he had only seen around.

He took to the stairs and climbed up to the top floor, slowly. He paused to look at the body of a young woman, her blonde hair splayed out around her broken head. He swallowed.

Glen passed him and headed for the nearest cell when suddenly a body lunged out from behind the hung curtain. Glen grappled with him, falling up against the wall.

'Get down!' Daryl shouted, aiming his crossbow at the walker holding Glen against the wall.

He shot the walker through the temple as Rick reached them, and the body of the walker fell back through the curtain and landed with a thud on the cold floor below. Rick pushed the curtain aside while Glen checked himself over.

'Oh, it's Patrick,' Rick groaned, as they looked down at the now immobile body laying on the ground.

Daryl swallowed, his crossbow hanging limply by his side. The body on the floor was covered in blood, his face almost unrecognisable beneath it. Daryl shouldered his crossbow and left.

The block around them was quiet, save for the occasional whimper as someone cried over the body of a fallen loved one, or the hushed tones of people discussing the massacre that had just taken place.

Daryl, Rick and Glen made their way around the top floor, ensuring any walkers had been sufficiently put down.

Rick walked to the end of the row and peered through the bars as Daryl reset his crossbow. The low groans of a walker reached his ears and Daryl looked on as Rick put his hands through the cell door bars, pulled the walker towards him, then stabbed him between the ears through the bars.

'He was locked in.' Rick said.

Daryl nodded.

'Get the others.' Rick said.

. . .

Beth sat on the bed in her cell, agitated. She had been woken by the ruckus outside and had gathered as much information as she could from her father, who had been stationed to guard their block. She wanted to get out and help him, stand with him, but it was too much for her, the pain in her shoulder was still too strong for her.

In the distance, Beth heard the sound of her father's voice, then the unmistakable grating squeak of the gate opening. Beth sat forward in an attempt to listen or see down the corridor, when suddenly a sweaty and blood stained Daryl appeared at her door.

'Daryl!' she gasped.

'D block was over-run -' he said.

Beth nodded.

'I heard. Are you okay?'

Daryl nodded back.

'Mm. Came t'get yer dad an' the doc.' he said.

Beth tried to push herself up but Daryl stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder.

'I'll come back for ya, don't get up.' he said.

'What's it like down there? Is anyone hurt?' Beth sighed, allowing herself to be gently pushed back.

'S'a mess,' Daryl sighed, squinting lightly at her. 'A lot'a dead.'

Beth swallowed hard.

'Who?' she whispered.

'Patrick,' Daryl said.

'Pa -' Beth sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, 'oh poor Patrick. What happened?'

'Dunno yet,' Daryl admitted.

'Daryl,' Hershel's soft voice appeared from the doorway, 'are you coming?'

Daryl nodded and shouldered his crossbow.

'See yer in a bit. Keep safe.'

Beth nodded as she watched him go.

. . .

'No bites. No wounds.' Rick said as they reached the cell Daryl had left him in, Hershel and Dr Subramanian in tow. 'I think he just died.'

'Horribly, too.' Dr Subramanian said as he crouched down beside the body. 'Pleurisy aspiration'

'Choked to death on his own blood.' Hershel said from behind Daryl. 'Caused those trails down his face.'

'I've seen them before on a walker outside the fences.' Rick said.

'I saw them on Patrick, too.' Daryl added, thinking of the way the dried blood had caked and cracked its way down the young boys face, distorting it until it no longer looked like him.

'They're from the internal lung pressure building up- like if you shake a soda can and pop the top.
Only imagine your eyes, ears, nose, and throat are the top.' Dr Subramanian said with a grimace.

'It's a sickness,' Daryl asked. 'from the walkers?'

'No, these things happened before they were around.' Subramanian said with a slight shake of the head. 'Could be pneumococcal. Most likely an aggressive flu strain.'

'Someone locked him in just in time.' Hershel mused.

Daryl glanced at him and shook his head.

'Nah, man' he sighed, 'Charlie used to sleepwalk. Locked himself in.' He swallowed and looked back down at the bloodied body Rick and Subramanian were crouched beside. 'Hell, he was jus' eating barbecue yesterday. How could somebody die in a day jus' from a cold?'

'I had a sick pig, it died quick.' Rick admitted with a heavy sigh. 'Saw a sick boar in the woods.' he added, looking across at the doctor.

'Pigs and birds. That's how these things spread in the past.' Hershel nodded. 'We need to do something about those hogs.'

'Maybe we got lucky,' Dr Subramanian said as he stood up and wiped his hands on his thighs. He looked around at the men before him. 'Maybe these two cases are it.'

'Haven't seen anybody be lucky in a long time.' Hershel sighed. 'Bugs like to run through close quarters.
Doesn't get any closer than this.'

Rick stood up too and looked around at the others, lingering on each grave, pale face.

'All of us in here,' Hershel said heavily, 'we've all been exposed.'

. . .

Maggie found Beth in her cell a while later.

'Glen and daddy just got back from a council meeting,' she said as she ducked into Beth's room. 'They're exacting a quarantine. Everyone exposed I being put in A block.'

Beth shook her head.

'Back up a little,' she said, 'exposed to what?'

'Oh, I thought you knew,' Maggie sat down beside Beth and kicked off her boots, pulling her legs up beneath her on the scratchy blanket. 'Patrick died and attacked people in D block, seems he died of some sort of flu and we're all at threat from it.'

Beth's heart sped up as she listened to her sister talk.

'Who?'

'The survivors from D block, mostly,' Maggie said, 'I think maybe those who went in to clear it, too.'

'Glen? Daddy?' Beth swallowed. 'Daryl?'

'I'm not sure,' Maggie leant forward and patted her sister's thigh. 'It's just a precaution.'

'Where are they all now?' Beth asked.

'Helping people in A block,' Maggie said.

'Daryl too?' Beth asked.

'No... Daryl is burying the dead.' Maggie bit her lip.

'Can you take me to him?' Beth asked.

Maggie shook her head.

'You should keep a distance.' she said.

'I will.' Beth said, 'but I want to speak with him. Please?'

Maggie sighed.

'Fine,' she said, untangling her legs from beneath her and pulling her boots back on. 'Let me just lace these.'

The walk down to the grounds was slow; whilst Beth could walk, the movement and the physical exertion ached her shoulder which in turn relocated to her back and her chest and her breathing became laboured. Maggie held her tightly and helped her along, but neither sister spoke a great deal as they walked. As Beth struggled through the aching pain left behind from her bullet wound, Maggie thought over the carnage of the morning; she had been out on the watch tower when those two little girls had come running out, screaming.

It was cool outside, and Beth relished the feel of the wind on her clammy skin. They spotted Daryl a little way off, chest high in the dirt of a hole he had already dug. Maggie called to him as they approached. Daryl turned and wiped his arm across his brow, the sweat pouring off of him.

'What're y'doing out'a bed?' he growled at Beth.

'Nice to see you, too,' Beth smiled, but she felt out of breath and sick.

Daryl chucked his shovel down and clambered out of the pit, puffing.

'How're y'feeling?' he asked, dusting his hands together; he looked a hot mess.

'Fine,' Beth lied.

Daryl looked her up and down and shook his head.

'Get 'er some water, will ya?' he said to Maggie.

Maggie nodded.

'Can you stand?' she asked her sister.

'I got her.' Daryl said.

'Guys, I was shot in the shoulder,' Beth reminded them, 'not the legs.'

'Watch her,' Maggie said to Daryl, both of whom were ignoring her.

'Sit down.' Daryl said as Maggie headed for the water pump.

'No,' Beth shook her head lightly, as much as she could without hurting her chest, 'it feels good to stand.'

Daryl pursed his lips, but nodded.

'So,' Beth said, using her good arm to gather her hair and pull it over one shoulder, 'what happened?'

'Patrick got sick. Died.' Daryl shrugged. 'its contagious.'

Beth nodded.

'So what happens now?' Beth asked.

'We all keep our distance. Watch one another. Anyone lookin' sick needs t'be put somewhere safe an' away from the others.'

'So far it's just those who were exposed though, right?' Beth asked.

'An' Karen and David. They been coughing.' Daryl said.

Beth felt her stomach drop; this could be a lot worse than she had first thought.

'In A block too?' she asked quietly. Was this what it was coming to, grouping the sick in with the exposed? Risking them all to infection, even the healthy? And what about the children? D block had been predominately children. But Daryl shook his head.

'The tombs.'

Beth shuddered.

'That sounds macabre.'

'S'no better than death row,' Daryl said.

'We're all on death row.' Beth muttered.

Daryl grinned at her.

'Deep,' he teased.

Beth let out a soft chuckled and shook her head as Maggie returned with her cup of water.

'Thanks,' Beth said, but her sister was distracted, looking past them across at the fence.

Beth followed her gaze at the same time Daryl did.

'Something's wrong,' Daryl said as he grabbed up his crossbow.

'Beth, stay there!' Maggie said, taking off after Daryl as he sprinted across the grass.

Beth put her good hand up to her eyes and looked after them. She watched as both her sister and her lover headed for the outer gates, picked up the spiked poles that remained besides them and stabbed them into the heads through the fence. Too many walkers were piled up against the fence. Beth watched with bated breath, her heart in her throat, as the fence began to cave.

And she was stuck there.

Time seemed to freeze as Beth watched the people she loved tackle the situation at hand, watch as the fence began to bend forward, each walker they slew only adding to the weight against the wall. Sasha, Beth thought, had discovered something, because Rick and Tyreese came to her. Then she heard Daryl yell, holding up the fence with his shoulder.

Beth's resolve broke.

Ignoring the pain that flared in her shoulder, she began to run down to the scene. As she got to the first fence, out of breath and drenched in her own sweat, her chest on fire as her shoulder screamed out in agony, Daryl and Rick came running past her.

'Beth!' Daryl shouted, pausing briefly to look at her, 'get back!'

'I want to help!' she shouted.

'Fuck sake Beth get back!' Daryl yelled, then he ran ahead and jumped into the front seat of the jeep. Beth watched in horror as Rick loaded the three baby pigs up onto the attached trailer and Daryl pulled out through the gates Maggie was pulling open.

The car drove out, past the throng of walkers and into the middle of the surrounding grass, then it idled to a stop.

Beth wiped the sweat from her face as her heart hammered even stronger, beyond what she thought was already her capacity after having run to the fence.

Rick pulled a squealing pig out of the box on the trailer and after a moments pause, slit it's throat.

Beth cried out loud and turned away, the twist flaring up more pain in her side.

The sound of the engine starting up again reached her, but she did not look back around. Her stomach was churning.

'Beth,' Maggie said, out of breath, 'Beth what are you doing here? Do you even listen?'

Beth turned around to look at her sister, wide eyed.

'It's working,' she said, 'they're moving away.'

Beth nodded. Then she vomited.

'Hey, hey!' Maggie said, grabbing her sister's hair and holding it back for her. 'Let's get you back to bed.'

'What if I'm sick!' Beth gasped, standing back up and wrapping her arms around her stomach, 'what if I've caught the bug! The killer flu!'

'Beth you're fine!' Maggie said, leaning in close to her sister's clammy face. 'You're wounded and you exerted yourself.'

But panic had risen in Beth. Maggie grabbed her forearms and shook her gently, ignoring the grimace of pain it caused.

'Listen to me.' Maggie hissed. 'You're fine. Get back to bed and tell no-one about this, okay?'

'Why I -'

'Because they will panic. And Daryl will blame me for helping you out of bed.'

Beth nodded.

'Okay,' she said as tear begun to roll down her cheeks, 'okay.'

Maggie wrapped an arm around her little sister and helped her around the back of the prison, away from the sound of the engine. As they reached the square, Beth scrunched her face.

'What's that smell?' she asked, her voice thick.

'What smell?' Maggie asked.

'That smell!' Beth gasped, 'it smells like – like burning like – like charred flesh!'

'I don't -' Maggie said slowly, but Beth had pushed her aide to be sick again.

Once she stood back up to look at her sister, Maggie set her features into a tight, indifferent one, the only hint of worry aimed towards her sister's fragility. She hoped her exterior did not betray her inner turmoil; was Beth infected?