It took almost a month for me to fully recover from my injuries. Even though my arm was no longer in a sling, it was stiff and ached every time I tried to really put it to use. So I had adjusted to using only one arm. A task I never wanted to deal with.
I was watching the Walkers swarm around the west fence, my eyes half closed from exhaustion. It had been a busy day. With winter fast approaching, there was a lot that had to get done. Glenn, Michonne, Rick and I had made a run into town to gather as many supplies as we could. At the time, no one questioned Daryl's lack of a presence, but as I was sitting against the stone wall, my eyes locked on the fence outside, I found myself wondering what was going on.
That whole week, something seemed off in C block. No one said anything, but it could be felt. The Woodbury survivors had been whispering about it as I made my rounds that afternoon, handing out blankets and helping some of the women round up the children for the night.
Scout let out a low growl beside me, his ears perked as he sniffed the air. A cool late autumn breeze had set in. I was wrapped in a blanket, my thin frame still not ready for the winter weather. Even in Georgia, the weather could get fairly cold.
"Easy boy," I coaxed as I rubbed behind his ears. He growled again, this time getting to his feet. I got to my knees, listening as the sound of footsteps quickly approaching grew louder.
"Easy," I whispered to the dog as I leveled my machete in my hand. Whoever it was, it was definitely human. Walkers didn't run. I held my stance as the door swung open, clanging loudly against the wall.
"Katie, come quick," Glenn's troubled tone came. Though it was dark, I could see concern etched into his features. "It's Mackenzie."
I didn't wait for him as I threw down the machete, Scout at my side as we tore through the prison halls, reaching C block in record time. As I was let through the gate, I could vaguely make out the sound of someone coughing.
"Hold up," Glenn gasped, nearly smacking face first into my back. I turned so I was facing him. I must've looked crazy, 'cause he took a step back. "She's got a fever."
I didn't wait to hear what he said next. I pushed Carol out of the way, nearly knocking Hershel off his feet as I kneeled on the ground next to the bed my daughter was laying on.
"Mommy," she moaned, her face paler than the sheet she laid on.
"I'm here, honey," I said softly. I stroked her hair softly. "I'm here."
"The fever started an hour ago," Hershel informed me. "How long has she been coughing like this?"
I looked at Angel. I had been so preoccupied with helping the group that I barely saw my daughter most days. She closed her eyes as she tried to think back.
"About a week now," she said softly. "I'm sorry Kate, I thought it was just a cold."
"It's okay," I said softly. I brushed her hair out of her face as I planted a kiss on her head. "Kenzie, tell mama what's wrong," I said gently.
"My throat," she croaked. I smiled sadly as I traced my hand down her neck carefully. Her lymph nodes were swollen. I pulled her shirt away, revealing an angry rash across her chest.
"Shit," I muttered. I knew that rash all too well. "Move Judith to another cell," I said softly.
"Why?" Rick's deep voice demanded.
"She's got Scarlet," I sighed. "Anyone under 6 is at risk."
"It's highly contagious," Hershel agreed.
"What about the rest of us?" Beth asked.
"It's more common in kids. My granddad used to tell us it was so rare for an adult to get it, he'd never seen a case in anyone over 10 in the 56 years he practiced medicine," I explained.
"I didn't know your grandfather was a doctor," Hershel said, interested.
"He was an old family doc, nothing special. He lost two daughters to the fever back in the 70's," I sighed. "I'm going to have to find a hospital," I added.
"What?" Daryl asked, his voice hitching. He stifled a cough before continuing. "There ain't no point."
"I'm going to need antibiotics, Daryl," I said coolly. "Besides, it wouldn't hurt to get our hands on some modern medicine. That cough o' yours hasn't gone away yet."
"M'fine," he retorted.
"Uh-huh, and the sky's purple," I said with a sad smile. "Winter's setting in. Colds are gon' spread like wildfire if we aren't careful."
"Makes me wonder…" Hershel sighed.
"What does?" I asked softly.
"Patrick got sick right 'fore he turned," he reminded me. They'd lost a lot of good people a few weeks before my group stumbled into their lives. From what I had gathered, a boy, Patrick, had gotten sick and turned. He wound up taking out a lot of the Woodbury survivors.
"Scarlet Fever's treatable," I said softly. "My son had it when he was younger."
"You also had doctors back then," he reminded me gently.
"I know what to do," I argued. "I've been down this road before. 'Sides, ain't gon' just give up on her."
"Mommy," my daughter groaned. She looked at me with sick, sad eyes. "Mommy, m'I gon' die?"
"No, honey," I said softly. I kissed her hot forehead. "You're gon' be just fine."
I rubbed her arm softly before turning away from her, my heart breaking into a million tiny pieces. I knew it wasn't good. Of all the illnesses she could have caught, Scarlet Fever was the last I had hoped for. I was prepared for almost anything, but not that. Not a fever that claimed so many lives in the past. Not a fever that was so similar, so dangerously similar to the fever brought on by a bite.
I walked out of Cell Block C, my heart in shreds as I looked at my best friend and gave a feeble nod.
"One week," I said softly. "If I'm gone any longer than that, don't come after me."
"You know I will," she said softly, pulling me into a hug. "Where're you headed?"
"Remember that little place outside of Atlanta? There was a hospital back there and Scottie was all 'it's not safe' but I'm wonder…" I started but Angel but me off.
"No way. First off, Atlanta's too far. Secondly, it's overrun. You'd have to cut through Atlanta to get to the town, and god only knows what lies past it," she shook her head. "Try a bit south of here though. I lived down in Tifton for most of my life. There's a few hospitals in between here and there and it's only what, like 2, maybe 3 hours away if you take one of the cars?"
"Tifton was one of the first towns to go under," I reminded her. That was how we met up with her and her sister in the first place. "What makes you think it's any different now?"
"The first to go down were the first to leave," she reminded me. She had been chased from her home a week before the outbreak spread north.
I nodded as I thought about it. Then I remembered that it wasn't really fair of me to ask to burn a day's worth of gas getting there and back.
"I'll see if Rick'll let me use one of the horses," I thought out loud.
"Absolutely not," Hershel said, coming over to us, his prosthetic leg thumping loudly against the floor. "It's too dangerous."
"Michonne does it all the time," I pointed out.
"Michonne also has both her arms."
"So do I!" I almost screamed. "I'll be fine. And it's better than wasting gas," I argued.
"She has a point, dad," Maggie, his oldest daughter, said softly. "Besides, she'd be safer on a horse than on foot."
"And if she needs to stop and sleep?" he argued.
"I won't," I said quickly. "I wouldn't even consider it under these circumstances."
There was nothing more Hershel could say. In under an hour, it was set. Angel agreed not to come after me, but she didn't like it. She said if I was gone more than three days, she was sending someone out to find me. Or find supplies. Whichever came first. I agreed to that as I pulled her in for a quick hug before mounting the young horse, leaving the comforts of the prison yard and trading them for the insanity of the real world.
I stole one last glance at the prison before kicking the horse into a steady gallop, his hooves kicking up dust as he flew across the open land. Deep in my heart, I knew it was a futile effort. Scarlet Fever wasn't easy to treat and somehow, I knew it wasn't going to end well for my precious daughter. I couldn't have been more accurate.