A.N.: Thank you all very much for the reviews and the support. Enjoy the chapter.

. . . . .

Carl shouts my name. I'm on the ground. The walker is above me, reaching, and I scramble away with my palms tearing against the concrete, but oh God, my bow's gone, my bow's back there –

The walker's head blows up and I'm safe. For the moment. And that's it, that's all I get, because walkers fill up every last inch of the area before me, and they're coming, and it doesn't make sense, but I stumble to my feet, Carl yanking at me, and as we start to run again I have enough sense to scream "Walkers!" at the top of my lungs. The next thing I know, Carl and I are back in the main part of the courtyard, and the others are turning towards us, confused, shocked, horrified. My bow, my bow – there, there, on the ground, I grab it and throw my quiver on my back, and there's a gunshot and Rick yelling from all too far away, and I nock an arrow and it goes into the nearest walker's brain, and another gunshot and another and Carl jumps up onto the bleachers and shoots and I just keep pulling arrows out and aiming, and there's yelling, and there are so many of them, so many walkers, and it makes no sense, none at all, and oh my God, Hershel, where – he's moving across the yard, Beth's with him. Lori and Carl are to my left, guns up, and I hear Carol's voice and gunshots from farther away, too, and my dad must be coming, right? He'll be here any second, and so will Rick –

There are a hundred walkers.

"Get out of there! No! Lori!"

That was Rick and he's still too far away. Somebody's saying something about a gate being open, T-Dog's saying something about a gate being open. Bam bam bam. My hand goes to my quiver and grasps air. No, no, I've only shot – seven arrows. Damn it, damn it, goddamn it to hell, I shoulder my bow and pull out my gun and miss the first walker I aim in on, and then I miss it again and someone else shoots it.

"Lori! Here!"

That was Maggie, and now Lori's grabbing my shirt and tugging me towards the entrance, where we were just a minute ago, it's clear enough to run for it now and Carl's on Lori's other side and Maggie's waiting by the open door to the cage-hallway. We rush through and Lori shuts us in. I take one last look around the yard as walkers reach their fingers through the caging, and I see T-Dog and Carol still out there, all the way on the other side of the yard, and I see Beth and Hershel locked away in a fenced-off place that I don't know what it's for but it looks secure, and I don't see my dad, I don't see him, but now Lori's herding us into the prison and then the heavy door is slamming behind us and it's quiet and dark and cool.

Maggie bounds down the dining room steps and strides over to the entrance to the cell block, Carl right behind her, me right behind him, Lori last, none of us talking, not yet. Maggie's five feet from the door when a walker stumbles out at her.

They're in here, too, they're in our cell block. And as Maggie whirls and pushes Carl and then me to the other side of the room, I remember the picture I have in my cell.

There's a second door here, one leading deeper into the prison, and Carl opens it and goes through, then me and Lori and Maggie, and the door shuts behind us, and are we safer? Really? Because we have no idea what's down here, except more walkers, of course there will be more walkers, of course there will. But we push forward anyway, forward into the dark. We don't have flashlights, only the gray beams pouring through tiny windows high on the walls, and that's not much, not at all. My bow is useful now only as a club, and I'm glad Carl's in the lead, because my revolver and I clearly do not match up well anymore. Still, I have it out as we work our way through the corridors with no destination, checking down hallways, wincing when something cracks beneath our feet. I only have four bullets left, though. Carl's gun holds more, but he must be close to out, too. Does he have extra ammo on him? Damn it, why don't I –

Alarms start to sound, deep, droning alarms from high above us, and for a second I'm locked back in a huge computer room with a mad scientist, a movie-sized screen telling me I have a half-hour to live. But I'm back to now in just a second, and Carl's still moving, so I'm still moving, too. But I ask about the alarms over my shoulder, and Maggie answers, her voice is lower than usual. Afraid. "I don't know what they are, Sydney. Just keep goin'."

And I do. Red lights are now flashing above us, but I keep going, I keep moving, and we need to find something, a room, something –

There's a throaty sound from behind me, a sound like a wounded animal, and I halt and turn and Lori's got her head bowed against a wall. Shit. Maggie rushes to her, begs her to keep up, but Lori doesn't move. She says something's not right.

"Are you bit?" Carl's voice is too high here.

"No. No . . ." Lori rotates, presses her back against the wall, Maggie gripping her arms. "I think the baby's coming."

"Mom – ?"

Then there's growling, and shapes appear at the end of the corridor. A lot of them. Up come our guns, mine and Carl's both, but Maggie shouts that there's no time, turn back. We listen, Carl going first, then Maggie and Lori, and I'm last. I glance over my shoulder every other step as we run, and the walkers, they're catching up. They're not fast, really, but they're fast enough right now, when we have a woman in labor on our hands, and I bump into Maggie as Carl leads us around a sharp turn. Lori's gasping. Hurry, hurry . . . Up ahead, Carl's voice: "In here!" Maggie and Lori disappear through a doorway he's found, and I do the same, and Carl slams the door behind us. Sort of. He pulls it shut time and time again, but it won't close, not all the way, something's jammed or blocking it or something.

"Just leave it," I pant, brushing the hair off of my sticky neck, wishing for a ponytail holder. "The walkers won't notice."

I actually don't know that, but it would be great if it were true.

Three steps down, a turn, three more steps down, into a little brick-walled room filled with pipes and things that look like boilers or something, but I don't know, and I don't care, Lori's about to have a baby and it's the worst time she could have possibly chosen to do so. Lori, she's clinging to a chain hanging from the wall. Her eyes drift up. "What're those alarms?"

"Don't worry about it," says Maggie hurriedly.

"What if it attracts them?" says Carl. Nobody answers that.

This room has a desk over on one side, and a table on another, and it's dark, very dark, the windows don't let a lot of light in here either. "Lori, let's lay you down," says Maggie.

"No. Baby's comin' now."

"W-we have to get back to our cell block," says Carl, "And have Hershel help –"

"We can't risk getting caught out there," I whisper before I can stop myself. It's true, isn't it? We barely made it in here, there's no way we can get back, not all of us, not with Lori like this, and Maggie, she's nodding, her eyes on Lori, who's clenching the table.

"She's right," Maggie says, and Maggie's nervous, she can't hide it, but I'm glad she's with us, so glad. "You're gonna need to give birth to this baby here." I stare at Lori's belly, her swollen belly that seems like such a part of her now. There is actually a real baby in there, and it is coming out, now, here, in the middle of a dark and dirty room of pipes.

Lori's breaths, they're ragged and short. "What's she doing?" asks Carl. "Can't she breathe?"

"She's fine." Maggie's voice still has that anxious edge, but her words are clipped and businesslike, and her arms wrap around Lori's waist as she says "C'mere, let's get your pants off . . ." and unbuttons the jeans. Lori lies down on the floor. As Maggie peels off the pants, she looks at me. "Sydney, you're gonna need to help me deliver the baby. You up for it?"

Nope.

"Yeah."

Maggie tosses the jeans to the side. Maybe it should be awkward, but truth is Lori being half-naked is the easiest part of the whole situation for me to deal with, Carl here or not. Maggie puts her hands on Lori's knees. "I'm gonna examine you, see if you're dilated."

"D'you know how?" Carl asks. His voice is still too high, all wrong. The word hysterical pops into my mind.

"Dad told me, but trust me, it's my first time."

Carl turns, maybe because Maggie's spreading Lori's legs – if so, Carl's going to have to get over that pretty damn soon – or maybe just to check the door, but I watch Lori, who's bending her head back, and I watch Maggie, whose face shows the quickest flash of fear as she admits, "I can't tell."

"I gotta push . . ."

"Okay . . ."

"I gotta push."

"Okay."

Lori gets to her feet, somehow, Maggie kind of helping, and Lori's hands grasp some pipes. She makes a grunting noise, her face twisting, then . . . "Somebody!"

Maggie grabs one of her hands off of the pipes, holds it. But Lori takes it back. "I'm okay, I'm okay . . ." she huffs, but no she isn't, that's not what okay sounds like . . .

"You're doin' great, Lori." Maggie's rubbing her back. "Just keep doin' it, your body knows what to do, let it do all the work . . ."

Lori cries out again. Maggie repeats that she's doing great. Carl and I stand off to the side, doing nothing, not knowing what to do, because what are we good at but putting walkers down? And I hate everything, everything about this. Maggie goes into a squat, watching in between Lori's legs, and I want this baby to come out, now, I want this all be over . . .

"Lori, stop, don't push, somethin's wrong!"

And then Lori's letting out the worst scream I've ever heard from a human being and all I can see is Maggie's hand in a single stream of light, covered in blood.

Carl's hand clamps onto my arm so tightly that some part of me is aware of pain, but that part has no place here and now, so I let Carl clasp away as Maggie gets Lori back to the ground, flat on her back. Lori's hair is soaked, her eyes are half-shut. Carl lets me go, gets on his knees beside Lori's head. "Mom. Mom, look at me, look at me, keep your eyes open."

Her hand's in his. It's the most they've touched in months.

Maggie's on the floor, too. "We have to get you back to Dad."

"I'm not gonna make it . . ."

Is that we she said? No, no, it can't be. She's talking so softly, I just heard wrong.

"Lori, with all this blood, I don't even think you're fully dilated yet – no amount of pushin' is gonna help –"

"I know what it means. And I'm not losin' my baby. You've gotta cut me open."

A beat passes. Then Maggie shakes her head. "No. I can't."

"You don't have a choice."

"No, no . . . " I'm the only one still standing, and I take a step back now. That can't happen, no way. "I'm going for Hershel."

"No!"

I stop, grit my teeth, look at Lori. She's exhausted. More than I've ever seen her, and that's saying something. But there's still a force in her eyes that holds me here, even with all my instincts screaming for me to run, find Hershel, save the day. My feet don't move, they just can't move.

Maggie strokes Lori's hands, and she's on the verge of tears, I can tell by her voice. "Look, Carol's the one that practiced that. Dad only taught me the steps. Lori, if I –"

"Please."

"I have no anesthetic, no equipment –"

"Carl has a knife."

". . . You won't survive."

Then it's out of the question! Can't she see –

"My baby has to survive. Please. My baby . . . For all of us – please, Maggie! Please!"

Carl still has her hand.

"Please."

And then Maggie's pushing Lori's shirt up, revealing her stomach.

I come down to my knees, mostly because my legs can't be bothered to hold me up anymore. I pull my bow and quiver from my shoulder.

"See my old C-section scar?"

"I can't," chokes out Maggie, even as she stares at the dark strip of skin.

"You can. You have to." Then her head turns. It seems like a very tiresome thing for her, turning her head. Her pretty head. Lori's so beautiful, even now, on the floor, about to – "Carl? Baby, I don't want you to be scared, okay? This is what I want. This is right."

I crawl over to her, to Lori. To Carl. I don't touch him, or her, but I'm close, and I can hear, and I listen.

"Now you – you take care of your daddy for me, alright? And your little brother or sister, you take care of them –"

"You don't have to do this . . ."

He's crying. I bow my head.

"You are gonna be fine." Her voice gets harder, fiercer. "You are gonna beat this world, I know you will. You are smart, and you are strong, and you are so brave. And I love you."

I press my forearm to my mouth. Maggie's arm wraps around me and her head nestles into my neck, and she says shh, but it doesn't mean much, because she's starting to cry right along with me.

"I love you, too . . ."

"You gotta do what's right, baby. You promise me you'll always do what's right. It's so easy to do the wrong thing in this world . . . So . . . so if it feels wrong, don't do it. Alright? If it feels easy, don't do it, don't let the world spoil you!"

Carl. Carl. He's crying, I want to reach out to him, I want to – but this is their moment. I've been in this same moment before and it was ruined by someone who was just trying to take care of me, and I'm not going to make that mistake, I know better, so I let them be, as hot tears stream down my face and onto my arm, I let them be.

"You're so good . . . My sweet boy . . . The best thing I ever did . . . I love you –"

He falls into her arms, sobbing. They're both sobbing.

"I love you, my sweet, sweet boy, I love you . . ."

Maggie. I cling to Maggie.

"Okay . . . okay . . ." Lori's saying, and it's over. The goodbye. It's over. Carl's sitting back up. His hat's gone, his hat's fallen off. The first time I ever saw Carl with tears on his face was when Rick showed up at the survivors' camp long after his wife and his son believed him to be dead. How things have changed. How they've changed.

"Maggie." Lori stiffens out on the floor. Preparing. "When this is over you're gonna have to –"

"Shh, shh, shh –"

"You have to do it, it can't be Rick!"

Maggie takes a breath. A long, deep breath. And Lori, Lori says alright. Alright, alright. She touches Carl and says it's alright. And it's not alright. That's a lie. It's not alright.

Silver flashes below me as Carl's knife passes from his hand to Maggie's. His hand, it falls on my lap for a moment, like he can't bear to hold it up anymore, then it makes its way to his mother.

Carl. Carl.

Lori looks up at the ceiling, straight up at the ceiling, and she goes someplace far away. "Goodnight, love."

Maggie's hands touch her stomach. "I'm sorry."

The sound of slicing. And Lori screaming again.

Carl yells to stop it. Stop it, Maggie's killing her. He moves for the knife, I block him, shoving into him as hard as I can, and he weighs a lot more than I do, but somehow I push him away, and I'm not sure if what I do after that is a hug or a pin, but I just know that Carl stops shouting, just wails into my shoulder. When Lori's scream is cut short, Carl looks up, I look up. Lori twitches. Then she stops that, too.

And from where Maggie is, from what she's doing, there are sounds. The kind you hear when you gut an animal. Then, "Sydney, give me your hand."

No. No. I'm taking care of Carl, back the hell off.

"Sydney, please."

Goddamn it, I didn't sign up for this! I never agreed to this!

But my arm slides from Carl and I rip off my release trigger and I give that hand to Maggie and she tells me things and I do them. Can't cut too deep, or she'll cut the baby. Carl sniffling to my left. The clatter of the knife, the squish-squish of organs. Maggie says she sees the uterus. My hand is inside Lori's belly. Soaking wet. Red. Lots of red. Maggie says she's gonna pull the baby out. She can't tell if this is the arm or the leg. Lori doesn't move. Lori's dead. Maggie says again that she's gonna pull the baby out. Then there's a baby coming out of Lori. There's a baby girl coming out of Lori. Maggie's holding a baby girl now. A long rope of a thing connects her to Lori, Lori, pretty Lori. The baby is still and quiet. Maggie taps its chest, its back. The baby cries. The baby is alive. Lori is dead but the baby is alive. This is what she wanted. This is what she wanted. My hand slips from Lori, from her blood. Her cooling blood.

Carl takes off his overshirt. Maggie cuts the rope and the baby's free. Maggie wraps Carl's shirt around the baby. Lori's baby. Carl's sister. Maggie's standing. Where are the alarms? The alarms have stopped.

"We have to go."

I rise.

"We-we can't just leave her here." Carl's next to me, standing up, too. Face swollen, but hat back on. Looking like Carl again. "She'll turn."

I close my eyes, for just one moment, before I reach behind me and pull out my revolver.

"Don't, Sydney."

Carl's watching me. A new tear slides from his eye.

And I understand what he wants. "No."

"She's my mom."

"Carl. No. No." I step up to him, close. This voice I hear does not belong to me. "No. Carl –"

"I have to."

"No!" And that's all I can think to say. Desperately, I look at him desperately, waiting for something to click inside of his mind, for him to realize that he needs to let me do this. Because this is how it's supposed to be. Dale dies, I get a gun to Carl, makes sure he can protect himself, try to convince him it's not his fault. Carl gets sick in the woods, I head out in the snow to get him help, maybe save his life. I protect Carl. I keep him from things like this. That's how it is, that's how it's supposed to be.

But I'm watching Carl's eyes now, and nothing's clicking for him. "No . . ." I whisper out, one last time, but it's useless and I know it, I know him, it's useless.

"She's my mom," he says again.

I look at him, shaking my head, tears slipping down both of our faces. But Carl doesn't budge, not in any sense of the word. Not until my head bobs up and down, just once. Then he turns. I turn at the same time, but in the opposite direction. I scoop up my bow, my empty quiver. I don't look at Maggie. We go up the first three stairs and turn. The next three stairs, to the door that doesn't close. And we wait.

Bang.

. . . . .

The air out here is too clear. Too fresh. It's hard to breathe and I'm dizzy. The sun is too bright, even behind the clouds. There aren't enough clouds. Clouds should fill every last inch of the sky, thick, heavy ones that pour down lots of rain. The cage-hallway is too small. I'm glad when we're down the steps, the three of us – the four of us. I'm glad when Maggie pushes the door open and we're out in the yard. Who's out here? Lots of people. I find my dad's face and Rick's face and then I stop looking for faces. Lots of walker bodies, lots of walker bodies.

Maggie goes forward first. Maggie and the baby. Then Carl. Then me. Carl's moving slowly. Maggie's moving slowly. Me too, me too. There's blood all over my hands. All over. Maggie's still crying a little but Carl and I aren't. The baby whimpers some.

Rick's moving towards us as we move towards him. Rick has an axe in his hand, but then he lets it fall. Rick's shirt is splattered with blood. Rick shakes his head at Maggie. Rick steps around for a while. We've stopped, me and Maggie and Carl. Carl is in the middle. Rick doesn't look at him. Rick looks at Maggie. At the baby. Rick asks where is she, where is she? And Maggie lets out one high-pitched sob. Rick moves past Maggie then, and Maggie takes hold of his arm. "No, Rick, no –" Maggie doesn't sound like herself. She loses Rick's arm, though, because she's holding the baby and can't let her go, of course. Rick stops behind her anyway, facing the cage-hallway. Rick starts to cry. I've never seen that before. Rick's fists go to his eyes, then they drop. Rick looks over at Carl. I'm looking over at Carl, too. Carl is looking at the ground. Rick bends forward. "Oh, no . . . no . . ." Rick's sobbing, sobbing. Rick's face is crumpled. Carl looks at the ground some more. I take Carl's hand, which is not something he and I do with each other, but it's what should happen. Rick cries no again, walking this way and that, and I press my cheek against the back of Carl's shoulder, watching as Rick falls to the ground and looks at the sky. My free arm wraps around Carl's. Carl presses his head against my head, breathing steadily but gripping my hand with fingers that feel like iron.

Rick cries no some more and his daughter cries with him.