A/N: Hey guys! Please don't kill me for having this chappie be two weeks late. I've just been so busy with school and family and stuff. And, to be honest, this chapter had me stumped for a while. I knew what I wanted to write, but I couldn't put it into words, you know? Btw, happy late Easter!

PS, I recently found out that Chandler Riggs is going to the Boston Walker Stalker. Guess what?

I'm near Boston! Asdfjkladhfhsd. I'm sooo excited for it! I can't believe that I get to meet him.

Okay *Whew* Mini fangirl session over. Onto the much needed chapter.

I've been inside this stupid office for about two days. I've done absolutely nothing. At all. I was going crazy.

I had no chores to do, no walkers to kill, no one to talk to (unless Carl comes over for a bit, but he still couldn't come in.) This was torture.

There was still no word from mom and the others that went on the run for meds. It was to be expected, since the vet college WAS far, but my nerves have been running on high since I got here. You never know what's happening out there.

I sat in the rolling chair, my head spinning. I fanned myself with a file from the desk. It was really hot in here.

I coughed, my shoulders shaking as I nearly hurled. Dammit. I grabbed a paper off the desk, coughing up the stupid red goop into the unfinished case.

I'm fine, I told myself, you'll stop coughing soon.

When I did stop, I put my hands to temples and rubbed them. This stupid flu. Ugh, it was wearing me out.

I hated having this. I knew I was at risk for having it when I walked into block A, but I never thought I'd actually get it. I denied it at first, saying that I'd be fine. The coughing was because of the dust. I was feeling really warm because of the room not having a breeze, not because I had a fever.

And the others still don't know. I haven't told Carl.

A knock on the door brought me out of my thoughts. "Hello?"

"Just me." Carl's voice answered on the other side.

I smiled, making my way over to sit against the door, as I always do when he visits. "How are the others?"

"Fine. No one else has coughed or anything. How about you?" He answered, sitting against his side of the door.

I rubbed my temples, giving a weak smile and a quiet, "I'm okay. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Good. Maybe the others will come back today and you can get outta there."

I weakly laughed. "Maybe."

"...Are you sure you're okay?"

"Of course. Why?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. You sound... Different. Like you have allergies or something."

I sighed. "Yeah. Probably just allergies." I took my knife out of its sheath on my hip, lightly stabbing the wooden floor. "Any word from my mom?"

"... No." He eventually answered. "Sorry. I'm sure she and the others are fine."

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "How have you been?"

"I'm fine." He replied. "I'm just babysitting. Woop-de-freaking-doo. We could all be infected, you know? I was hanging out with Patrick just a few hours before he died. I'm at risk, just like everyone else, and instead of helping out, I'm stuck babysitting."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, don't be sorry."

"Okay..."

We sat together in silence. I had a mental battle with myself. Should I tell him? Should I stay quiet? I need to go to A! No, I could stay in here, I'm not hurting anyone. Argh.

That's when a loud cough started in my throat. I tried to hold in the cough, but of course, I couldn't stop it. I lurched forward, my mind going blank as my stomach churned. I coughed and wheezed, my arms hugging my sides and my head spun like I was on a roller coaster ride.

"Alyssa!" Carl's worried voice on the other side of the door exclaimed. "Are you okay?!"

I crawled on the floor quickly, finding the nearly empty trash bucket underneath the desk. I coughed up blood into it, my hair sticking to my face and neck as I heaved. I continued to cough up the disgusting mixture, my eyes tearing up as I did so. I hated getting sick as kid, and that hasn't changed at all.

"Alyssa?" Carl asked through the door when I finally stopped. I tossed the trash to my left, not bothering to fix it as it landed on its side. I pushed the sweaty strands of hair from my face with shaky hands, and I stood up from the floor.

I walked to the door, my hand resting on the doorknob. I whispered. "You need to take me to cell block A."

"No! No, no." Carl groaned. "Not you, too!"

I opened the door just a crack, seeing him stand on the other side. He was upset; that was VERY clear. He was frowning deeply, his hand hovering over the gun in his holster, and his eyes... They were normally so bright and blue, I swear, half the time they saw into my soul; now, they were clouded and dark, sadness filling up his irises.

"I'm sorry." I said to him, opening up the door for the first time since I've been put in there. I watched as he took a few steps away from me. I frowned. I didn't like being alienated like this, but, I knew it was for the best.

"Let's go, then." He answered, gesturing in front of him. I walked forward, hearing his footsteps behind me as I kept walking with him to block A.

When we got to the cell block, he opened the door for me.

"Good luck." He whispered to me as he closed the metal door behind me.

I nodded. "Thanks, cowboy."

"I love you."

I gave a sad smile to him. "I love you, too."

He then left, and I looked into the cell. People were everywhere, coughing and groaning. Their skin was pale and ghostly, and their eyes were sunken, with dark circles around them. Their hair was sweaty and matted against their foreheads. I wonder if that's how I look, too.

"Alyssa?" I heard someone call my name, and I turned to the left. It was Hershel, a somber look in his eyes.

"I-" I started, but began to cough instead. I wrapped my hands around my stomach as I shook violently and coughed up blood. Hershel took a tissue from one of his pockets, handing it to me. I nodded to him, a silent thanks, and took it from his hand. I coughed into it instead, thankful that I had it.

"Glenn's up there." He told me, pointing to a cell up the stairs. "You should go rest with him. I'm sure he'd love the company."

I nodded to him, discarding the tissue into a trash bin and bounded half-heartedly up the stairs.

"Hey." I greeted slowly to Glenn, walking into the cell. He was in the bed, his legs swung over the sides, his head resting against the wall. His hair was sweaty and matted, his eyes drooping and he was shivering. Behind him, lying on the bed, was a half empty pack of travel tissues. The packet was bright and colorful, a strange blob of happy against the dark and dreary room.

Glenn looked up at me, then frowned. "You, too?"

I nodded, sitting next to him on the bed. "Mom will be back soon. She and Daryl and the others will have the meds. We'll be fine."

He gave a weak smile to me.

I started coughing. I groaned, "Not again," and quickly grabbed the tissues that were on the bed. I coughed into them, my shoulders shaking every time I heaved into them.

Glenn's hand began rubbing my back. "It sucks, I know, but it gets better." He continued to rub my back, trying to make me feel better. I continued to cough, but my shoulders stopped shaking.

When I did stop, I murmured, "Fucking hell," under my breath. Glenn gave a weak laugh.

I rested my head on his shoulder. "This doesn't get better, does it?"

He shook his head. "No. It doesn't."

"Glenn! Alyssa!" Hershel's voice called us. "C'mere. I need your help. Sasha, you too."

I raised an eyebrow, but walked with Glenn to the old farmer. He was in a cell, trying to hold down a man who was coughing violently. He had medical tools at his side: an intubator tube and a balloon pump. In his hands was a metal object to help open the patient's mouth.

"Alyssa, hold his legs down." Hershel commanded, and I went to the mans legs. He kicked and thrashed, but I managed to hold them down.

"Sasha, help her out." Hershel told her, and she went to help me. Together, we held down the legs.

"Glenn, get his arms." Hershel ordered. Glenn complied.

The man continued to thrash around as Hershel tried to intubate him.

"Henry, I need you to calm down." Hershel tried to ease the man, holding the large metal object above the mans mouth. "We're trying to help."

Henry stopped thrashing around, for the most part. Hershel managed to get the metal piece in, and used it to guide the plastic tube into the throat. He successfully connected the bag to the tube, and began pumping it at four second intervals to push air into the lungs. Glenn sighed, coughing a little, and took his arms off of Henry's as Henry relaxed his extremities.

"Drink some of that." Hershel jerked his neck to his left, at a full thermos container. "All of you."

Glenn grabbed it, twisting the cap off and pouring a brown tinted liquid into it. He took a gulp of what I expected to be tea, then gave me the thermos. I did the same, filling the cap up and drinking the warm mixture. I'd guess it was chamomile, or something. I wasn't great at guessing tea. I then gave it to Sasha, who graciously took it from my hands and drank eagerly.

"Some council meeting, huh?" Hershel spoke as he squeezed the air bag.

"We're two members short." Sasha replied, twisting the cap back on the thermos.

"I think we should make some new rules before they get back." Hershel continued with a smile. "I hereby declare we have spaghetti Tuesdays every Wednesday."

Sasha groaned, scratching her wrist. Glenn rested against the wall, panting.

"Well, I for one, second the notion." I smiled at him, raising a closed fist in the air.

"First, we'd have to find some spaghetti." Hershel smiled at me. The others just rolled their eyes.

"Minor details." I replied, shrugging my shoulders. I then coughed, and groaned afterwards.

"You okay to take over?" Hershel asked Sasha, referring to the air pump in his hands. She nodded, moving to the pump.

He put her hand on it, giving directions. "Every five to six seconds, squeeze. If you start feeling lightheaded, grab somebody else to take over." She nodded to him. "We'll take it in shifts."

He turned to Glenn and me. "You two want to help me go on my rounds?"

I nodded to him, and Glenn said, "Yeah. Sure."

He stood up, having some difficulty, but managed to get on his feet. I followed suit, getting up from the floor at a snails pace. Hershel grabbed his packs and lantern and got to the doorway of the cell, waiting for me and Glenn patiently.

"How long will that keep him alive?" Glenn asked, nodding his head to the intubation.

Hershel shook his head. "Just as long as we're willing to do it. As long as it takes."

I nodded and followed the two out of the cell, seeing Sasha squeeze the bag as we left. We hobbled down the stairs, making our way to a cell down the left of the block. When we made it to the first cell, we found a patient, one from Woodbury, lying motionless on the bed. His eyes were open but not seeing. There were blood stains on his cheeks and drooping down his throat. Hershel waved his lantern in front of the patient's eyes, but as suspected, he didn't follow the bright object.

Glenn took out his knife from his sheath, only to be told by Hershel, "No. Not here." The old man quickly left, grabbing a stretcher as Glenn re-sheathed his knife.

"Help me get him on this." Hershel said.

"Okay, but in a couple of hours when Henry's dead-"

"Glenn."

Glenn continued. "How are we gonna get his body down the stairs, across the cell block and through those doors without anyone noticing?"

"If that happens- IF- you're gonna help me." Hershel answered, a passion in his voice. Glenn gulped, his hand rubbing his forehead.

"And what if I'm gone?"

"Shut up," Hershel pointed to the body on the bed, "and help me get him on this."

With some difficulty, the three of us moved the body onto the stretcher. We covered it with a white sheet, and began to wheel it through the sick cell block. Glenn opened the door as a person, covered by shadows, walked to the light.

"What are you doing?" Lizzie asked us.

"We're taking Mr. Jacobson to a quieter place." Hershel calmly answered, walking up to her and placing a hand on her forehead, checking her fever.

"Go get my copy of 'Tom Sawyer' from my room." He smiled to her. "I want you to read it by tonight. We all got jobs to do. That ones yours."

"I'll go with her." I offered, giving a look to Glenn. He nodded, so I walked to Hershel and Lizzie. "I always wanted to read 'Tom Sawyer.' Never got to before." Since I knew that Glenn and Hershel could take care of the body, I would help and keep the other kids busy.

"That would be nice, Alyssa." Hershel nodded, allowing me to walk to Lizzie.

She coughed into her elbow. "We'll never finish it."

I gave a sad look to her. Hershel bent down to talk to her. "Why?"

"It's gonna get too dark." She replied. I frowned; not what I was thinking. Or, maybe it was, just disguised.

"Well," Hershel grabbed her hand tightly, "Give it your best try. And drink some tea."

I smiled to Hershel and Glenn as we walked away, my hand clapping her shoulder. "I'll make sure she does."

Together, she and I walked to Hershel's cell, and I told her to sit on the bed. She obliged, and I quickly looked through the small pile of books he had on the bedside table. "Tom Sawyer," was about a third into the pile.

"Now, have you read about Sawyer before?" I asked her, trying to be cheery as we walked back to her cell.

She gave me a bored look. "No. Not before."

"Okay, I can work with that." I attempted to give a bright smile, trying to boost morale. It didn't work.

While walking, I heard the others in the cell. It was horrible and bleak there. Everyone was coughing and sweating, myself included. The fever made me sweat bullets, and my poor shirt was halfway soaked with sweat. My coughing, though it had ceased for the moment, was still painful. My throat was so itchy.

When we got to Lizzie's cell, we saw another child sitting on her floor, a bundle of light brown curls atop his head.

"Lizzie!" He smiled to her. "You're back."

"Yeah, Luke." She said, moving to sit on her bed. "Hershel wants us to read."

"Could Alyssa read the story to us?" Luke asked, his eyes alight with happiness. He coughed into his hand, frowning.

"Of course. I'd be happy to." I smiled to him, flipping to the first page of the book. "If Lizzie doesn't want to."

Lizzie shook her head, lying on her side and pulling up the covers. "No. You can read out loud."

"... Okay." I nodded, sitting cross-legged on the floor with Luke. I began to read from the page in front of me.

I was on page 42 when the man died. I heard it in the cell with Lizzie and Luke. Hershel went around the block, checking patients. It wasn't out of the ordinary. Hershel had checked Dr. S' cell. I don't know what Caleb had said to the vet, but it must've spooked him. Hershel was walking around the block, telling everyone calmly, to shut their doors. That's when someone who walking behind Hershel stumbled to his cell.

The kids and I went to the bars of the cell door, watching the man behind Hershel. He stumbled as he coughed and gurgled, and he hit his head on a metal beam, falling to the ground in result. He thrashed around on his back, his eyes, ears, and mouth bleeding profusely. Everyone watched as his movements and gargles stopped, and he laid motionless on his back.

Hershel looked at the man, pure grief in his eyes. However, he stayed rational, and spoke to everyone in the block. "Everyone, get back in your cells."

No one moved from their spots, as if they were rooted there. People coughed and groaned, but no one physically moved from their standing positions.

Hershel spoke again. "Go on; get back in your cells."

"C'mon, kids." I whispered, shooing Luke and Lizzie into the cell. I walked back out and saw Sasha pushing the stretcher to Hershel. I got a good look at the old man, and frowned. Hershel looked so worn out. He kept working and working, not stopping for even just a minute, and it was burning him out. My heart dropped.

"You heard the man." I spoke up, walking to them. My voice, though a little quiet and raspy, could be heard from the echoes. "Get into your cells; rest. No need to watch him."

That caused a few people to listen. Satisfied, I helped Sasha move the stretcher to Hershel.

"Let's get him on this." She told him through her raspy gasps.

Hershel nodded, collapsing the stretcher to the floor. The three of us moved the mans lifeless body onto it together.

"Go rest." Hershel stressed each syllable. "Both of you. Can you make it to your cells by yourselves?"

Sasha nodded. I nodded as well, but began to push the stretcher to the best of my ability.

"Alyssa-" Hershel started.

"No." I interrupted. "I'm not going back into that cell until this- HE, is taken care of. Have you looked at yourself? You look like you're going to work yourself to death. I'm not gonna keep watching you. I'm going to help you. Okay?"

He sighed at me, giving me the, "Look." The one that says that he doesn't truly agree, but he had no other choice. "Fine. Help me with this, but you're going straight back to that cell afterwards, okay?"

I nodded, grabbing one side of the full stretcher. Hershel grabbed the other, and together we pushed it to the empty concrete room. Before the apocalypse, I think this was where the prisoners got to talk to their friends and family. It was fully made out of concrete, like every other part of the prison, but with one large window on one side. On the other side of the large window, there was a room exactly like this one. They reminded me of conjoined conference rooms.

Once Hershel and I pulled the stretcher into place, he slowly reached for his small black Bible, his hand hovering over it for a moment. He shook his head then, and pulled his arm to his side.

"Hershel, we need to take care of him." I said quietly, coughing as soon as I finished the sentence.

He nodded. "I know." He threw a white bed sheet over the body gently, took out his knife and held it with both hands, above the dead man's face. He closed his eyes, just for a moment, and plunged the knife into the head, yanking it out as soon as he finished the job.

"Hershel." Someone from the other "conference," room called. The person walked to the window so we could see them and hear them better. It was Rick. He must've just come back from the run. My heart sunk, realizing that that means that Carol isn't here anymore.

"Third one we've lost." Hershel gestured to the dead body on the stretcher. "We're burning him behind the blocks." He gave a look of distaste. "Burning them. That's what it's come to."

"Are you okay?" Rick asked him. I looked away from the two for a moment, coughing into my elbow. I wheezed a little afterwards, and I groaned. I hated the coughs.

"I talked to him yesterday about Steinbeck. He told me a quote." Hershel continued, after my small coughing fit. "'A sad soul can kill quicker than a germ.' That's exactly why I didn't want them all to see what happens. I know they know, but I didn't want them to see it right now."

"They're seeing you, Hershel. They see you keep going. Even after all the choices keep getting taken away." Rick said, pacing around the room. He gave an exasperated sigh, and walked back to the mirror. "When we get past this thing, it's not gonna be like how it was, is it?"

Hershel shook his head vigorously. "No."

"Was that denial? Not seeing things for how they were?" Rick ran a hand through his already messy hair. He was agitated. I wondered for a moment if he thought that this shitstorm that we're in was his fault. That's what it sounded like.

"No. You just caught a break. You needed some time. You got some." Hershel assured the sheriff. "You got lucky. We all did. I still think there's a plan. I still believe there's a reason."

"You think it's all a test?" Rick asked. I raised an eyebrow at the old man. How could Hershel still believe that this is all a plan? I couldn't believe in things like that anymore. From how I see it, if God were real, he'd stop all of this shit from happening.

"Life is always a test, Rick." Hershel said wisely. Rick grasped the bottom border of the window. Rick looked so lost, his eyes looking anywhere but our faces.

"I need to talk to you about Carol." He told Hershel, finally looking up into Hershel's eyes.

"Alyssa-" Hershel tried to tell me to leave, his hand pointing to the door back to the block.

I shook my head, raising my hands. "I already know."

Rick nodded, allowing me to stay with them. He told us the major details of what happened on the run. He spoke about two other survivors who wanted to join the group; a man and a woman. The woman didn't survive; the man was never found afterwards. He also told us about Carol's departure.

"I had to." He said after the story was told. "She couldn't stay with us. Not with my children here. Not with everyone here."

Hershel gaze softened. "I understand, Rick. You made the right call."

"You think so?" He asked, standing up straight.

"Of course. You didn't kill her. You left her with supplies. You gave her a fighting chance. I only wish that you didn't make his decision by yourself."

Rick nodded. "I know."

Coughs could be heard from the cell behind us.

"We should go, Alyssa. Check on the others." Hershel told me, and he began walking towards the door.

I nodded. "I'll be there. Just give me a minute."

He nodded, walking outside.

I turned to Rick. "How's everything out there?"

He ran a hand through his shaggy hair. "Everyone's alright. The buildup at the fence is a bit overwhelming, but we're gonna handle that."

I nodded. "How's Carl?"

He sighed. "Carl's upset. You're in here, and I'm not letting him do anything. He's upset, but he's okay."

I sighed, but gave a grim nod. "And any word from my mother?"

He shook his head. "No. No one from the run is back yet. I'm sure they're fine."

"Yeah, I'm sure, too." I replied. I turned away from him as I coughed, and the blood and mucus expelled from my throat. "Ugh. It hurts. Every damn time." I pushed back the hair from my face, both of which were slick with sweat.

"I'm sorry." Rick said from the other side of the glass. "Go. Rest, or something."

I nodded. "I will. Please, tell me when they return. From the run."

"O' course." He then left the other conference room, closing the door loudly behind him.

I walked out of the room, looking around the cell block.

"Hershel?" I weakly called out, looking for the man.

"Alyssa! Get over here!" He hissed, and I found his form hanging outside a cell door, Sasha's legs also hanging out.

"What happened?" I asked, quickly making my way towards them and hopping to the floor.

"Found her here. Don't know." He answered quickly, his hands shaking slightly as he grabbed a plastic pack from his side. It was an IV kit.

"C'mon, Sasha." He whispered as he worked on her. "You know how to fight. Just hold on. Just hold on. Don't give up on me now."

He and I moved her to a proper resting position, with little difficulty. We just moved a pillow under her head. He then put the IV needle in her arm, securing it with two strips of medical tape. I held the bag out, a little high up so the liquid would move to her arm easily. It was a little while before she finally opened her eyes.

"Welcome back." Hershel greeted, relief clear in his voice.

"I passed out?" Sasha asked, her voice groggy.

"You were dehydrated." Hershel said simply, with a smile. "Being a hero takes a lot outta ya."

"You should know." She replied, a small smile playing on her lips. "I thought you were an idiot to come in here. I mean, I was sure you were just gonna be a dead foolish man."

"I can't tell if that's a compliment." Hershel played.

"I don't know what I'm sayin'." She weakly replied, the smile coming off her face and her eyes closed. "I must've hit my head. I don't believe in magic, or luck. I do the math, and I don't gamble." The smile returned to her face. "But I don't know if I'd be here right now, if you weren't so damn stupid." She chuckled lightly. Hershel and I smiled to her as she spoke.

"You know what?" He chuckled back. "I'm gonna take that as a compliment."

She sighed at him. "Good."

We sat there, the three of us, in silence. My arm started to hurt from holding the bag in the air for so long, but I didn't complain. The pain, the very slight pain, was welcoming. At least I could still feel it.

"Alyssa." Hershel said my name, grabbing my IV bag from my hand. "Could you go check on Glenn for me? Give him a break from intubating Henry."

"Of course." I said, standing up from my spot on the floor and brushing dust off of my pants.

I walked out of the cell to the stairs, pausing every few steps to catch my breath. As I said before, I hating having this damn flu. I felt so weak, every second. My bones ached, my joints were stiff, my lungs felt like crap. I could hardly breathe without coughing up blood and mucus every five seconds. And having to stop almost every three steps… It was like admitting I was weak. I couldn't just push through it without consequences.

When I finally made it up the stairs and into the cell, I found Glenn sitting on the floor, Henry splayed out in front of him. He squeezed the air bag connected to the plastic tube that was stuck in Henry's throat.

"Glenn." I spoke his name out loud, cashing him to jerk up from his spot. He sighed when he saw it was only me. "Hershel told me to relieve you. I get the honor of squeezing the bag."

"Okay." He nodded, his right hand rubbing his forehead. He moved out of the spot so I could sit down. I took the whole bag in my hands as I sat, squeezing it for the first time. Glenn moved to sit next to me instead. I then squeezed the bag again. And again. And again. And again.

I watched Henry's chest rise and fall with each pump of the bag. I stopped pumping for a moment, putting my index and middle finger on the mans throat. I found his pulse, and felt it against my two fingers. I smiled; he was alive. I continued my pumping, my head bent over and my elbows resting on my knees.

"How are ya?" I tried to make conversation with the man next to me. He groaned/coughed.

"I'm living." He replied.

"Yay." I feigned a cheer, taking one hand off the pump to make a fist and pump it in the air. He gave a weak laugh.

"Sasha fainted." I told him, pumping again. "Hershel's with her. He's got an IV in her, too."

Glenn nodded. "But she's okay?"

"Yeah." I said. "She's okay."

The reply was met with silence. I didn't mind, though. I guess that silence wasn't all that bad. Glenn rested his head against the wall, coughing. I took my two fingers, finding Henry's pulse on his neck and checking it. It pumped against my fingers again, and I sighed happily.

I continued my air pumping for ten long minutes, my hands repeating the motion over and over and over again. I decided to check his pulse again, and put my two fingers to the same spot on his neck as I did earlier.

I found nothing.

"Glenn." I anxiously called, and shook his shoulder nervously. He turned towards me, and I gestured to Henry. "He doesn't have a pulse."

He shooed me over, then began CPR on the man. He did a set of compressions on Henry's chest, and squeezed the air bag twice before repeating the process.

"Her-" Glenn called out. "Hershe- agh." and he began to cough. It was more than coughing, actually. He kept coughing and coughing, his mouth drooling the red mixture all over the floor. He was choking.

"Glenn!" I worriedly called, grabbing his shoulder as he fell on his side to the floor.

What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?

He kept choking and throwing up all over the floor, barely breathing at all.

I jumped up quickly, grabbing the cell door to push me up. "I'll be right back. I'm gonna grab Hershel!" He kept coughing and choking on the floor, so I ran hurriedly to the old man down the stairs.

I was out of breath when I reached him, his calm demeanor changing when I did.

"Alyssa. What's wrong?" He asked me without a second heartbeat.

"Glenn-" I gasped, my hands resting on my knees as I tried to catch my breath. Running- a bad idea. My already fucked up lungs could hardly take regular breathing, let alone running down stairs. I gasped and panted, struggling to take each breath.

"Hershel!" Lizzie's voice called up the stairs. She must've found Glenn. Hershel and I both turned look up the stairs, but out of the corner of my eye I saw something moving behind us.

"Hershel!" I moved him out of the way as a flu-infested walker made her way towards us from behind. He landed on the floor with an, "oomph!" and instead the walker came towards me. In a practiced movement I grabbed my knife from its trusty sheath, but I was too slow. The stupid sickness made my reaction time too slow, and the walker pushed me to the ground. My knife clattered to the floor, and my arms were pinned to the walkers chest and stomach. I had my right forearm pushing against the walkers chest, and I tried to get her gnarling teeth away from my flesh.

"Everyone, get in your cells!" Hershel called out to the others. Always trying to save everyone.

A man from a few cells to the right walked out of his cell, a small hand gun held firmly in front of him. A blonde woman, from about two cells down, walked out of her cell, trying to kick the walker off me. Another walker from behind the man moaned, his teeth chattering as he tried to find his meal.

Everything happened so fast after that moment. The blonde woman finally yanked the walker off of me, but before I had a chance to thank her and kill the walker, the gun from the man blasted and she was bleeding from her shoulder. The man who had the gun missed, not because he was a bad shot, but because the walker behind him ripped his flesh from his arm. He toppled to the ground, the walker pinning him down and biting him numerous times.

I stood up, grabbing the hilt of my knife as I did, and watched as the man, screaming, shot his gun again. Thankfully, I wasn't hit by the speeding bullet. I pulled Hershel up from the ground, assessing the damage before us. There was one walker to our right, a woman bleeding out as well, a walker to our left, eating a man who tried to save us, and it looked like Lizzie was trying to move a walker-fied Henry from Glenn. She was talking to him like he was a pet as she walked backwards. "C'mon here, Henry. Good job. Away from Glenn. That's right, follow me. You're doing a great job."

She was doing a great job moving the walker away from Glenn, but she tripped and fell, and the walker made it on top of her. She screeched at the top of her lungs and Hershel bounded up the stairs to help her. He yanked the walker off of her, tossing it to the side and it landed on the awning-like net, just above a cell over to my left. I looked around me, seeing the two walkers. The woman had died, clearly, in her cell. Blood was everywhere.

"DADDY!" I heard a muffled scream to my left, past the feasting walker. It was at the door.

Quickly making up a plan, I ran to the door, through the small amount of people getting out of their cells. I got to the front door of the block, finding Maggie. She was just about to shoot the window of the door. She was clearly relieved to be brought inside the block.

"What's happening?!" She asked me, running into the block.

"Shit's happening!" I replied, running with her. I raised my voice to an almost scream. "EVERYONE! Get in your cells!" Few listened to me.

I groaned, knowing my vocal chords would hurt, but screamed out, "GET. IN. YOUR. CELLS!" Finally, people listened. Maggie and I closed them as we ran through the block. I massaged my throat with one hand as the other yanked cell doors shut.

As she and I ran, and I sped her up to what was happening with my scratchy voice. "People have turned. Two, as far as we know, are out and about. Glenn's in trouble. Dr. S is sick, Sasha's down for the count. And I don't know where Hershel is!"

"Glenn's in trouble?!" She repeated, turning to me and stopped running. I was thankful that we did, since my lungs were just about to give out.

"Up." I pointed to the stairs, breathing raggedly. She ran to the stairs in the back of the cell, not missing a beat, leaving me to close up all the cells. I nearly hacked up a lung as I stood alone, grasping the bars of the cell in front of me. When I finished my coughing fit, I closed the rest of the cells.

"Now, stay! All of you." I said to the rest of the sick as I was about to go up the stairs. I coughed as I rested my hand on rail, my scratchy throat spewing up stupid blood and mucus. I fucking hate puking.

When I did stop (and trust me, it took a while,) I hobbled up the stairs on shaky legs. Glenn was still on the cell floor, chocking on his own blood, wheezing. Hershel was above him.

"We need to intubate him." I said quickly, plopping down to Glenn's side.

"We still have it." Hershel spoke. "Stay with him. I'll get the bag."

I nodded, and watched as he pulled himself off the floor to grab the intubation tools from Henry's corpse. I roughly hit Glenn's back, trying to help him cough up the disgusting blood that was chocking him. I couldn't tell if it helped or not, but I continued the motion.

"C'mon, Glenn. You've got this. Fight it." I murmured under my breath, hitting his back repeatedly. He turned his head upwards, wheezing uncontrollably. His face was going from an unhealthy red to a light shade of blue.

"C'mon, big guy. Fight it." I whispered again. Maggie ran into the cell, grabbing Glenn's head and putting it in her lap.

"He's turning blue!" She shouted to Hershel, who was quickly hobbling his way towards us.

"Clear his airway!" He shouted back. Maggie turned Glenn's head to the side, hitting his back like I did moments before.

Hershel ran through the cell door, popping on the floor with us. "Roll him on his back."

"Dad." Maggie helplessly pleaded as she watched Glenn choke.

"Hold his arms down." Hershel ordered his daughter, cleaning off the intubation supplies with an alcohol solution at an alarming rate. "Alyssa-"

"His legs." I finished for him, nodding and holding down the Korean's lower extremities.

"Come on, son." Hershel spoke to Glenn, grabbing his thrashing head. "Come on, you know how this works." Hershel fought against Glenn's struggling head, forcing the tube into his throat. "Just relax." He connected the bag to the plastic tube. "Stay with us. Stay with us..."

Glenn's thrashing limbs slowed down, and eventually stopped, as Hershel began pumping the air bag that was now secured to Glenn. I sighed in relief.

"You're gonna be okay." Maggie whispered to her husband, kissing his sweaty forehead softly. "We're gonna be okay." She kissed him again before moving off of him.

"I didn't want you in here." Hershel told his daughter.

"I know." She responded. "I had to. Just like you." He gently wiped a bit of blood from her cheek. "Daddy." She kissed his hand.

Lizzie made her way over to the doorway, leaning against it.

"I told you to stay out." Hershel told her.

"Looks like you've got a band of misfits." I jokingly spoke, coughing soon after. I removed my arms from Glenn's legs, seeing as he already passed out.

"I reckon so." Hershel gave a small chuckle.

"Is it over?" Lizzie asked, looking down at us.

"I hope so, honey." Maggie answered, stroking Glenn's matted hair. Lizzie moved her foot, swishing her boot in what Glenn had thrown up just moments ago. I rested my back against the wall, panting. I rested my eyes for a moment, closing them.

We all heard a door creak, and I opened my eyes with a groan.

"I'll go see who it is." I offered, standing up from the ground. No one else moved from their points, so I walked down the steps. Tyreese and Bob walked through the cells, holding hunting bags full of medicine.

"Sasha." Tyreese demanded. "Where is she?"

"Uh." I spoke, raking my brain to remember. "Follow me."

"And Hershel?" Bob asked, shouldering the pack.

I pointed up the stairs. "Cell one hundred. Maggie and Glenn are in there."

He nodded, and began jumping up the stairs. I walked with Tyreese to the left of the block, going through the cells full of the sick.

"My mom. She okay?" I asked him, looking through the bars of the cells to find Sasha.

"She's fine." He responded. "She's with Daryl. Getting the truck back."

I nodded. "Thank you." I kept looking through the bars, finding his sister napping on the floor of one near the end. "Here."

He quickly opened the door, moving to the floor and waking her up. I didn't stay to watch the reunion.

I walked back through the cells, moving at a snails pace. I was so tired.

"What a hell of a day." I muttered under my breath, getting to the front of the cell. The door bursted open, my mother going through it.

Her eyes gleamed in the dark. Not a happy gleam; not the normal, joyful, excited gleam that had returned to her eyes. This one, this was from tears that had almost sprung from her eyes. "Alyssa!"

"Mom." I took a few steps back, holding my hands up. "Don't. I can't get you sick."

"Like hell you will." She responded, walking forward. She pushed my hands down, then threw hers around my small form. "Oh my god..." She whispered into my hair, her hand pushing it away from my face.

I smiled weakly into her shoulder, where my head met. I was still very short against her height. I coveted the warmth I felt from her, just a moment, before pushing her away from me as I coughed into my elbow.

"Sorry." I apologized for the cough, then plopped on the floor unceremoniously.

"Don't apologize." She said to me, sitting down in front of me. "How long have you been here?"

"'Bout... Two days? Three, maybe?" I answered, thinking. "Long enough."

"Oh, my god." She whispered. She rubbed an eye with her wrist.

"Is everyone out there okay?" I asked, crossing my legs.

"Yeah." She answered, giving a weak smile and a nod. "Everyone's okay."

"Good." I nodded, yawning. "Tonight's been one hell of a night, I can tell you that."

"I bet, Liz. Seems to me like I've missed so much." She responded.

"You didn't know."

"Yeah. I didn't know." She spoke the phrase with disgust. "I should have."

"How could you have known, mom? I didn't even know until after you guys left."

"I should have known, Liz! I'm your mother. Mothers know these things. It's intuition."

I rolled my eyes; a small attempt at being playful. "We both know that there was no possible way that this could have been found out before you left. Mom, this just... Happens." I could tell she didn't like the answer, but she stayed quiet. I attempted to change the subject. "You guys got the meds, right?"

She nodded. "Enough of it. The place was overrun, so we got what we could and ran."

"Perfect."

"You're getting it. Right after Glenn." Mom she pointed up the stairs lazily, where Glenn and Bob and the others were.

"There are people here who need it more than me." I argued lightly.

"You're getting it, Liz." She shook her head. "No use trying to fight me about it." She stood up from the floor, offering me her hand. "C'mon, let's get up there."

I groaned at her words, but took her hand and stood up. Together, we walked gradually up the stairs, pausing about two or three times for me to catch my breath. Ugh, stopping made me feel weak. I wasn't weak.

When we finally made it up the stairs and to the cell, a needle with a clear substance was being injected to Glenn's arm. I shivered in disgust; I hated needles. Maggie was with him, pumping the air to his lungs. Hershel must've gone to bed.

"Her, too?" Bob pointed to me with the needle in his hand.

Mom nodded. "Yeah." I coughed into my elbow loudly, wheezing when I finished. Mom gave me a few pats on the back, trying to help me get the shit out of my lungs.

"Sit." Bob gestured to the edge of the bed, a couple feet from where he was. Mom rested her back against the wall, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Bob continued his work of mashing pills together in a small bowl, then tossing the powder into what I think was saline. That's what doctors use, right?

Anyway, he took a spoon and mixed the two substances together thoroughly. He grabbed another needle from his bag, put the sharp tip into the medicine-infused liquid, and pulled back the plunger, sucking up all of the fluid. He then took a small packet, ripping it and grabbed a small, wet cloth and rubbed my arm with it. I think it was what doctors called an alcohol prep.

I winced as he stuck the needle in my arm. "Ugh." He pushed the substance in and pulled out the needle. Bob grabbed a small, circular band aid and put it on the injection site.

"VoilĂ ." He grinned. "Easy-peasy."

I nodded, lightly rubbing the band aid. "Now twenty four more people to go."

"Yeah..." Bob gave me a half-grin, sarcastically adding, "That's gonna be fun."

Maggie spoke from her spot on the floor. "Alyssa, you should get to bed. Daddy told me you haven't slept at all. They're back; you should go rest."

I nodded slightly, agreeing. It felt like I hadn't slept in days.

"I'll walk you to your cell." Mom offered, uncrossing her arms and holding out her hand. Instead of taking it, I stood up by myself and walked through the door. She followed.

We walked until we found an empty cell. Mom pointed to it. "Bingo."

I nodded, and we walked into the cell. "Cozy." She chuckled lightly.

I hopped into the bed, coughing lightly. Mom sat at the edge of it, grabbing my hand gently.

"You're gonna be okay." She whispered, kissing my forehead.

I corrected her. "We're gonna be okay."

A/N: Hope y'all liked it. Next chapter is the mid season finale, and I'm soo excited to write it! Since we all know that the group gets broken up, can you guess who Alyssa ends up with for the long journey?