Georgie

Georgie sat bolt up in bed, disorientated. Where the hell was she? The last thing she remembered clearly was being under the ice, dying. After that, she had snap shot images, snippets of film almost, and she couldn't figure out what was real and what was confused dreaming. She remembered being cold. She remembered being carried by someone who had been talking about Disney for some reason. She remembered Daryl putting her on the bed and rubbing her hands. She frowned, and rubbed her face, then started as she registered her bare arms. When the hell had her clothes come off? She looked around the room and saw them neatly hung over a radiator. Couldn't have been Daryl then. She saw Carol and Sophie curled up in a bed next to her. She smiled in relief. At least Sophie was safe. She looked around the room, but didn't see Daryl anywhere. Had she hallucinated him then? But surely Carol couldn't have gotten her here by herself? She wiggled out of the wraps of blankets and towels that she had somehow gotten wrapped up in. She pulled the thinner blanket around herself and stood up, scanning the room. She saw two doors. Moving towards the nearest one, she put her ear to the wood and listened. No noise. She opened it cautiously, and saw a very swish, very modern bathroom.

"Not bad," she murmured. "Not bad at all." She walked into the room, her feet making a soft padding noise on the white tiled floor, trailing a finger along the sink basin. As she did so, she noticed a large tube of tooth paste, a toothbrush, soap and a pair of tweezers. She picked up the tweezers and glanced into the large mirror above the sink. She looked a mess. Her cheeks were hollow and there were dark circles under her eyes. She bared her teeth, and sighed as she saw her chipped canine tooth. And her eyebrows looked like something from Sesame street. God, why did women in movies always look so perfect? Even when they supposedly been on the run for weeks and weeks. She picked up the tweezers and looked back into the bedroom. She didn't want to wake up Sophie and Carol, and she didn't know where Daryl was, if he was with them. Why not? She perched herself on the edge of the sink and made herself comfortable.

Plucking her eyebrows was strangely soothing. Georgie hadn't realised how much she missed what had been normal. Just sitting and not thinking about anything of importance, just her vanity. God it felt so strange and familiar at the same time. When she finally finished, she regarded her reflection. She didn't really look any different, but she felt slightly better about herself. She put the tweezers down, and opened the cabinet behind the mirror. Not much there, but a razor, some shaving cream and some bottles of pills. She glanced down at her legs. Well, she'd already done her eyebrows. What was a little vanity now and then.

Legs smooth, and eyebrows groomed, Georgie walked back into the bedroom. Sophie and Carol still hadn't woken up. For a moment, she worried that they had maybe died in their sleep, but the Carol sighed, and cuddled Sophie closer to her. Georgie smiled, and moved to the other door. Again, placing her ear to it, she heard nothing. Pushing the door open, she walked into the living area, where Daryl was sprawled over the couch. She pulled her blanket tighter around her, and moved around to his head. He was also asleep, looking almost peaceful. She touched his arm gently. He was ice cold.

"Bloody hell Daryl," she muttered to herself. She padded back to her bed, and pulled the thicker duvet off it, dragging it to the couch. She placed it over him as gently as she could, and pulled it so it covered him properly. She looked at him for a moment, but he didn't stir.

By now Georgie had some idea of where she might be. This must be the house that Glenn and Maggie had found. She remembered now. Daryl and she had been going to check it out, but then she had stayed with Sophie. So, Daryl must have brought them here after falling through the ice. And that must mean that it was safe-after all why else would he have brought them here. So, there was no harm in exploring. Except...

She looked down at herself, dressed in her underwear. Perhaps she should put her clothes on. The movies may have been wrong about looking good in crisis situations, but why tempt fate? Women who wondered around in their underwear were the first to go. She went back to the radiator, but it was cold and her clothes were still damp. She frowned and looked around. Her eyes fell on a chest of drawers at the foot of the bed she had been in. She opened the top drawer and started to rifle through the clothes. The person who had been in the room, may have once been around Georgie's size, but she had lost so much weight, that most of the clothes hung off her. Plus, they had obviously been on a summer holiday, as she couldn't find a pair of jeans or trousers anywhere. Finally, she settled on a baggy t-shirt, and a pair of cargo shorts. Not much coverage, but better than looking like a sick play bunny. Her boots were still wet, so she decided to risk going barefoot. She'd be fine. She tip toed past Daryl and peered through the peephole in the door. The corridor looked clear, so she turned the handle and carefully opened the door.

She slipped out into the corridor and looked around. Spotting the stairs, she made her way down them into a spacious reception area. She wrinkled her nose. It was a lot of wood, and stone, with random floral cushions thrown in places. She wiggled her toes, enjoying the feel of thick carpet between her toes, and looked around for something that might be the reception desk. It was to her left, an ugly stone creation, with a thick wooden desk top. It was covered in leaflets, and she could see keys and a telephone behind it. She walked over and shuffled through the leaflets, seeing if she could find anything out about the area they were in. She found a booklet that looked promising, titled "Wives and Daughters Hide Out." She hoisted herself up on the counter and started to study the map on the back. It looked vaguely like the area that they had been in, with a large lake and some cabins around the edge. The leaflet claimed that from the cabin area around the lake, to the hotel, if you followed the road, it would take two hours to reach the hotel. She glanced up at the snow outside. Even though it didn't look like it had snowed the previous night, it was still thick. It would probably take the camp a lot longer than that. She return to the booklet and started to read through it.

The sound of someone slowly coming down the stairs made her jerk her head up, to see Carol coming down the stairs. She swung herself around on the counter and watched her descend the stairs, looking for some reason apprehensive.

"There you are. I was worried." She walked up the counter and stood in front of her. "You should have woken me or Daryl up." Georgie shrugged.

"All three of you were out for the count. I didn't want to disturb you." She slid off the counter, not quite meeting Carol's eye. It was kind of true. She hadn't wanted to wake the three up. They were sleeping indoors, on vaguely comfortable furniture in the first time in God knows how long. But, she also didn't want to have to talk about how she was feeling, if she was coping with yet another near death experience, if she was crazy yet. Because that was all she had had since the formation of the committee and her refusal to take on a leading role within the camp. Like her being a leader would solve all the camps problems. Surely everyone had been through the same things as she had, or worse. But apparently if she didn't cry, or make a big deal about it, she was the one who wasn't coping. And all everyone wanted to do was make her cry, or make her talk about it and she just didn't want to. She blamed Ben and his psycho babble. However, Carol seemed to buy it and nodded.

"What should we do now?" As she said those words, Carol's stomach growled loudly. Georgie smiled.

"I think the restaurant is over there. Maybe there's some tinned food we raid." Carol looked uncomfortable. "It'll be ok. T-Dog wouldn't have told Daryl to bring us here if it wasn't totally safe." Carol still didn't look convinced, but her rumbling stomach seemed to have reminded Georgie how hungry she was, and she moved across the reception area through the doors marked restaurant.

In contrast to the reception, the restaurant was incredibly elegant. White linen table cloths covered each table, embroidered with small roses and violets around the edges. Crystal decanters and glasses decorated the tables, as well as silver cutlery and cream napkins. The carpet here was red, but just as thick. But even here, there were hints of what had happened. A large red stain on a table, a knocked over glass. Plates covered in mould, napkins thrown to the floor. Georgie wondered if the hotel had been abandoned due to a zombie attack, or something less dangerous. She noticed two large meal doors that she assumed led to the kitchen and made her way towards them, Carol close behind.

The kitchen was bigger than any Georgie had seen, on TV or real life. The smell was awful; it was obvious that any fresh food available had rotted away long ago. Carol wrinkled her nose and placed her hand over her face. Georgie moved away from the general area that the smell seemed to be coming from, and started to look through the cupboards. Carol followed suit, pulling cans out and placing them on the side. They were huge commercial size tins, mainly of soup and chilli.

"Gee," Carol commented. "For a hotel this fancy, they didn't seem to cook much. Good for us though." She picked up a tin that was about twice the size of her head. "Mushroom soup sound ok to you?"

Georgie was just about to answer, when the kitchen door banged. Her reflexes kicked into action, and she grabbed the nearest thing that might qualify as a weapon: a large butchers knife. Whirling around to the kitchen door, she stuck the knife out, almost stabbing Daryl in the face.

"What the hell ya doin' woman? What the hell. The pair of you can't just wonder off an leave me with the brat, what the hell..." He smacked the knife out of his face and glared at Georgie. Georgie put the knife back on the table, overcome with a sudden urge to giggle. She gave Carol a side glance, to see if she was finding this as funny, and was surprised-and slightly impressed-to see her also placing down a slightly smaller knife. She wondered how effective she would have been with it. Sophie was a little way behind Daryl, and when she saw her mother, she ran around him to her. She was back in the clothes she had been wearing when she had fallen through the ice. Georgie hoped they were at least dry. Turning her back on Daryl she resumed her conversation with Carol.

"Yeah mushroom soup sounds nice. We'll have to have it cold though. Yum." Daryl snorted and walked past the two of them to the stove. He turned a few knobs and pressed the clicker. Flames spurted out of one of the rings. Georgie and Carol stared. "How did you know that the gas would work?"

Daryl picked up one of the knives and started to idly play with it. "In Atlanta, we saw a gas cooker workin." Georgie waited for a further explanation, but Daryl didn't offer one. She shrugged and grabbed a clean-ish pot as Carol rummaged in a drawer looking for a can opener. She turned around to Daryl and Georgie.

"You two can wait in the restaurant and I'll bring it out to you two. Sophie and I have got it covered." Daryl wondered out of the kitchen and Georgie followed. Daryl sat himself at the nearest clean table, reached over and shook the decanter. Georgie sat herself opposite him. He looked at her, and placed it down on the table.

"Fuckin' empty." He leant back and looked over his shoulder. Georgie put her elbows on the table and looked at Daryl.

"Thank you." He looked back at her. "Thank you for carrying me here. And saving my life. And er..." here she smiled slightly, "thank you for trying to warm my hands." Daryl snorted.

"Dumb thing to do. Ya whole body frozen an all I can do is rub ya hands." He almost looked embarrassed.

"Hey. My hands are important. How else am I supposed to shoot arrows? And skin rabbits? And sock you in the face?"

"I'd like ta see you try. You're skinnier than a bean pole now. Ya should eat more. Ya got no muscle, no power."

"More than you." Daryl snorted and shook his head. Georgie smiled. She liked it when it was just her and Daryl, or her Daryl and T-Dog. Daryl was almost likeable. Like now. This conversation was almost the sort two friends would have, easy and effortless. Plus, unlike the rest of the campers, he had never tried to make her talk over her emotions or discuss what had happened to her. That was the best part about men like Daryl. They never wanted to talk about tricky things like emotions. She leaned forward on her elbows and playfully narrowed her eyes at Daryl, waiting for his reply. But when he replied, his tone was less even.

"Merle used a gas stove to cauterise his hand." Georgie sat up right and looked at him. "When we went back to find him. He heated an iron and cauterised the stump. That's how I knew..." He looked over his shoulder again, away from her. Georgie bit her lip. She had no idea how to respond. She wanted to go over and put her arm around his shoulder, or hold his hand. That's what she would do with anyone else, but Daryl would most likely just shrug it off. She felt as useless as she had done in the complex, when Daryl had told her what had happened to his family. Before she could think of how best to respond to this news, a noise from the reception made them both leap up. She glanced at Daryl, who was staring at the reception area.

"I thought it was safe here," she whispered.

"It is." Daryl was still focused on the reception area. "It ain't walkers. Listen."

Georgie moved around the table listening intently. He was right. It was defiantly footsteps, but they weren't shuffling and clumsy like walkers steps. She looked at Daryl and made a move towards the reception area.

"Woman! What the hell, ya can't just..." She didn't hear what she couldn't do, before she had walked into the reception.

"Georgie." Adele and T-Dog rushed forward and enveloped her in huge hugs. Georgie caught a glimpse of Andrea and Dale holding guns, looking relieved; Katie less so. Daryl moved out of the restaurant, and nodded at T-Dog. Georgie untangled herself from Adele and Georgie and turned to Daryl.

"Tell Carol that she'll need to find a few more tins of soup."