[Author's Note: Happy Birthday to my lovely buddy Ayo! I hope your day is filled with happiness and joy (and not zombies…!). I hope you enjoy this chapter you perfect human being you 3 Also the Ayo in this story is only loosely based on you.]

…

We arrive at the checkpoint to be greeted by Ayo, the kind young woman who helps circulate food to those who need it. As my father and Peter go to the goodshouse, and Meghan and Jonah rush the angel to the sick bay, Ayo offers to tell me a bit about the place, to take my mind off things for a bit.

People with extra goods come by and trade some for a room in the grand hotel she managed to find, a crumbling jewel nestled in the forest. It looks like it used to be fancy, a major source of income for the owners, but Ayo tells me its origins lie in domestic use, owned by the Casenturie family. Tired, dirty, and sometimes bitten people flock to Ayo's Zombie Hotel. She hates to turn anyone down, she says, especially bitten ones. She gives the infected a last chance at happiness before they turn.

I admire what Ayo does, but I just guess it would be difficult to knowingly welcome a Zed, even if it hasn't turned yet. When I say this to her, she laughs and replies, "They're still human until they turn. Sometimes they bring extra food and gear just so someone can understand they're still human. Families turn out their own because they don't trust them, but they also don't want to shoot them. I get that." She smiles warmly, but I sense a bit of sadness behind it. I suppose if you invest so much time in the dead, you don't get too attached to life.

…

After Ayo excuses herself to the sick bay, I meander around the Zombie Hotel's court alone, watching people bring supplies to and from the supply houses just outside. Rooms encircle the gaudy court, with three levels and a majestic staircase with patchy red carpeting worn along the steps.

People are thinner than they should be, unnaturally whittled down by hunger and weathered by Zeds and the fight for survival. The deadness in their eyes and the shuffle in their steps make it difficult to differentiate the survivors from the Zeds, and the new strain isn't even a factor in my mind.

Uncle Jonah approaches me out of breath from running. "Aeowyn! Meghan needs you in the sick bay."

"What for?" Meghan is a nurse; how can I help her at all?

"Not sure exactly. I'm sure just for moral support." He squeezes my shoulder, attempting to be comforting, but it's just awkward. My mind flashes back to when Jonah knocked on my door, after Sherlock died, needing me for moral support.

"Okay. Where will you be?"

"Goodshouse. Taking quick stock before we move on. Gotta be at the Y before noon."

"'kay." I nod and locate the sign for the sick bay.

…

The sick bay is one of the larger rooms in the house. There are lines of beds, generally empty, but some occupied by the bitten or close to turning, moaning and shivering. I spot Ayo attending one of them, a young boy with a blood-soaked shoulder, wailing in pain and bucking his small body against the sheets.

"Shh, shh." Ayo attempts to comfort him, but he is deaf to her shushes and begins to scream, thrashing wildly and covering his ears with his hands, eyes shut tight against the world. I stop and watch, in curiosity and slight fear.

The boy suddenly leaps for Ayo, and the fury and hunger is apparent as he opens his eyes. A certain fire in them has been extinguished, but something else lurks behind them. A need for flesh. He reaches for Ayo, and I step forward to assist, but a sharp shot and the boy slumps down, a fresh hole in his forehead.

Ayo sighs and turns, noticing me. The other patients cower in their beds, shivering in either fear or the knowledge of what awaits them. "I'm sorry you had to see that," she says softly, as if it's her fault the boy was bitten.

"No, it's…it's all good." She tries so hard. All I want to do is just hug her and tell her it's not her fault, that it's okay. It's the zombie apocalypse and she does everything she can to make sure everyone else is fine. Bless her.

She looks tired and blood stains cover her front. "…Good. Okay, well." Before she turns to go, I rush forward and hug her tightly, despite my earlier predisposition.

She's surprised at first, but I feel a pat on my back. "Thank you so much for this," I say, pulling away. "You've given a lot of people something to live for."

I don't say this because the Zombie Hotel has helped me, but I feel it explains the hug. Besides, without Ayo's Hotel, the angel we picked up would probably not be breathing. She smiles and nods her head slightly. "Thank you."

I turn and walk to look for the angel, and I smile knowing maybe I do have something to live for. Maybe I can make others happy, even if they don't care for me. Make Sherlock proud. I take a deep breath. I can do this.

…

On the far end of the room, near the windows, I locate the bed holding the angel. The sunlight hits her face and her eyelashes look feathery and long. Her face has been cleaned, and she is more breathtaking than before. She isn't conscious, and I find myself wondering what color her eyes are.

Meghan is sitting beside her. I notice some blood on her arms and decide not to bring it up. "Aunt Meghan? You needed me?"

"Aeowyn. This girl—do you recognize her?" Her voice is kind of hoarse and I assume it's from yelling directions at Jonah.

I shake my head no.

"You sure? Didn't go to school with you?" She looks like she thinks I'm lying to her.

"I'm sure. Never seen her before."

She leans back. "Nobody else has, either. No family, no clothes, no money. No weapons. Nothing." I look down at her, sleeping peacefully. Chest rising and falling, rising and falling. Alive. "Not a scratch on her, zombie-wise."

I look back at Meghan. "So?"

Her eyebrows rise. "So? She's not infected. She's been out there for god-knows-how-long and she's not infected! It's a miracle she's even alive!"

"Keep your voice down."

"You don't think she's…" She looks around and her voice drops, "…immune?"

"I don't know. You're a nurse!"

"I quit nursing school to marry Peter. I never finished," she admitted.

"So do you think she's immune?"

"I don't know what I think. But I know that there are people who would pay big money for immunity. Especially with this new strain going around. We could…we could get help. We could live in safety, Aeowyn. Your father would be so happy. You could go back to school. Clint and Dean could begin school. And Martina—she wouldn't have to know what a zombie is." Tears of excitement form at the edges of her eyes, and I hate to shoot her down.

"Aunt Meghan! We can't sell out this girl! How do we even know she's immune, anyway? And nowhere is safe. Not with this new shit going around. I'm sorry, Aunt Meghan, but she's hurt and you should do no harm. Right now, I'm pretty sure she trusts you. Like I trust you." I sling that at her, and I see it hurts. For good measure, I add, with intensifying volume, "And my father. Jesus. Even I don't know what would make him happy right now."

"Why don't you ask Izzy‽" she yells, and it stings.

"You knew?"

"Who the fuck doesn't?"

I bite my lip, glance at the angel innocently resting on the bed, and walk away as calmly as I can. The patients stare as I pass by them, and before I reach the door, one of them says to me, "Smooth." I flip him off and enter a random empty room, near the sick bay. I find the granola bar and bite down on it, grinding my teeth and regretting everything I've ever said.

"Here's to you, Sherlock," I say, raising the bar above my head and chuckling until the tears force me to choke.

…