Hola! Here is the next chapter, I hope you like it, and please review! Thanks to all who have stayed with me! ~Lizzy~

Four: While I breathe, I Hope

Beth is worse by morning. Her eyelids slowly peel over her yellowed eyes as she wakes, the white an off color. I feel her cheek with the back of my hand, which feels hotter than yesterday. Her chest goes up and down quickly, abnormally, and when I check her pulse I count a hundred and fifteen beats per minute.

"How do you feel?" I ask as I press a cold water bottle to her cheek, trying to cool her down. She opens her mouth to speak, but it comes out a low rasp.

"I'm alright." She starts up a coughing fit again, waking up Carl from his sleep on the back seats of the car. I help her lean forward, and I press my palm flat on her back, feeling her crackling breath. She shakes with chills, and her skin pertains a pale color.

"You look horrible." I observe, helping her lie back again on the seat. "Will you drink some water for me?"

"Mmm… I'm not really thirsty."

"Please?" She agrees, but only can keep down a few sips without coughing. "You're so hot."

"I feel so cold." Her hands shake like miniature earthquakes, her eyes squinting shut as she tries to get enough air. "Ow, OW!"

"What, what is it?"

She squints her eyes shut. "It hurts to take a deep breath, oww."

"Here, take it easy." I gently rub my stub nails on her back as Carl kneels on the floor, his eyebrows furrowing between his bright blue eyes.

"Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine." I retort quietly, helping her lay back again. "Do me a favor, Carl, why don't you go sit on the hood and keep watch." I click my gun onto safety and hand it to him. "I'll take care of Beth."

He retrieves the gun from my hand and is considerate to shut the car door quietly as he gets out of the car, and he hops up onto the hood.

I spend the entire morning trying to get Beth to drink water, eat a little food. Unfortunately, it seems like it is a task just for her to stay awake, but her coughing doesn't permit much sleep. Every time she coughs, I think she is going to choke, and I make her sit up. It's horrible to watch. I've never taken care of someone so sick before. I've had to keep an eye on my sick brother before, but he would just sit on the couch and watch TV, color, or sleep. I can tell right away that this is different than your average fever and cough. First of all, the whole damn car shakes whenever she hacks, and after a few hours of normal coughing, she begins coughing up bloody mucus that looks like currant jam. It scares me, but I try to keep a straight face and tough it out for her. She's in a lot of pain, and I'm the only one to take care of her.

Her breath is raspy, and I can just tell it isn't right. And I know it's not asthma, because it is accompanied by the fever, chills, sore throat, mucus. And then the vomiting. She coughs so hard, she starts to vomit everything up. And it's bloody.

"Shhh, it's alright, it's gonna be alright." I hug her, letting her rest her chin to my shoulder. "Take little breaths, and your ribs won't hurt as bad… shhh."

"I – ahh-haa!" she cries out pitifully, grabbing her chest. "Oh, Paige, OH! OW!" she looks so helpless. I take her head against my shoulder.

"Easy Beth, easy… shhh, it's alright, it's okay. Just breathe, breathe, shhh, shhhhh." She closes her eyes and moans herself to sleep.

While she sleeps, I rub her back, trying to soothe her in her restlessness. In her slumber, she talks about someone named Jimmy, and occasionally she giggles or twitches like she is being tickled by a feather. "Jimmy, I think we should… mm…" she mumbles, going in and out of nonsense talk like she is delirious even in her dreams. "Maybe we could go…" she coughs in her sleep and turns into my side.

I hate to admit that I am scared for her. I have never been scared for someone like this. Being gutted by the rotties in the moment is one thing, but dying slowly of – this, this is unorthodox. I feel her pulse every now and then, and when I'm sure it is safe to leave her, I quietly close the door of the van and sit next to Carl on the hood.

"How is she?" he asks without looking at me, staring off into the foggy distance. Night is falling again. I think we both accepted the fact earlier in the day that we wouldn't be setting off again today to locate the others.

"Not too good… asleep now, though." I say half-heartedly, wiping my hand down my face. "Hungry? Thirsty?" I offer him a bottle of water and he gratefully drinks off of it, handing it back to me after his thirst is quenched.

"She's going to be okay." He decides, laying my gun between us. "Right…"

"Yeah." I put my hand over his gently. "She's going to be fine."

He looks down at our hands. "Even if this happened, I'm glad I got lost with you."

I take him against my side, laying his hat in my lap and stroking his hair, rubbing my fingertips on his back. "Well, I'm not glad you're here. But I'm glad you're safe. You were very brave."

"You think?"

"I know. You were very valiant to protect us like that. Your dad would be real proud, Carl. He will be when we tell him, yeah?"

He smiles against my shoulder, then frowns. "You know, she wanted to kill herself."

"What?" I stare down at him.

"Beth… she wanted to kill herself. She tried to."

I stare down at him for a moment then search for my words. "W-when?"

"When we were staying at their farm… Hershel… he kept the walkers in the barn because they were his family, friends, neighbors… all people he knew. He didn't see them like we do, like they're already dead. He saw them as people." He looks up, lifting his forehead from my shoulder. "When the… walkers got out of the barn… they were all killed. And her mother and brother were two of them. She was in this… shock. I'd never seen anything so scary, Paige. I didn't know that could happen to people… she just stared and stared and stared, like she was looking at nothing. And then when she woke up, she wanted it all to end. She wanted to end her life."

I sit there speechless for a moment.

"Paige, open this fucking door! Open it now, damn it! You don't want to do this!"

I sob under the sink, holding tightly to my wrist as I wait for it to bleed out. Blood stains my clothes, gets all over the bathroom of this abandoned house. "Petey? I need help." I sob, and he jams a screwdriver into the lock.

"Paige?"

I look down at him. "That's scary."

"She cut her wrist. With a piece of glass. Then she decided she wanted to live."

"What a turn-around." I say, looking back through the windshield to check on her. Her back goes up and down quickly with breath. "We need to get her back, to Hershel."

"Think they're still in there? Or looking for us…"

"Probably looking for us." I smile, ruffling his hair. "How 'bout you come back in the van, it's cold out here."

He nods and lets me lead him inside. We're extra quiet, as Beth is finally sleeping without being disturbed by reckless coughing. I kneel beside her and gently stroke her stringy, unwashed hair out of her face like a mother would to her sick child, even though I am in no way a mother. Carl sits cross-legged beside me, slowly putting his hand over Beth's, gently smoothing down her arm. "Get better, Beth." He says softly, his lips pursing together. She fails to stir in her sleep, and continues to shiver with severe chills.

I sit with her through the night. I don't think Carl sleeps much either, because when Beth wakes choking his eyes flash open. We're running severely low on water, and our food supply is a box of crackers I took from the grocery store and put in my bag. Beth, of course, doesn't eat, and it scares me when she adopts decreased thirst as one of her symptoms. There is also an abated level of consciousness. She is out longer than she is in, and she ceases mumbling in her sleep and sleeps so silent that I could mistake her for a corpse. A few times, I desperately lay my ear to her chest to make sure she still breathes. A few times I am sure she stops breathing. I've finally had enough.

"She needs help, and I'm not sitting here waiting for her to waste away. I don't know what the hell is wrong with her, but it ain't good. She needs a doctor, and I mean now."

"Where will we go?" Carl stands, bending over to stand upright in the van. "What if they're looking for us? They could be close to finding us."

"Yeah, they could. But she needs – I don't know, something. I don't know." I bury my face in my hands. "I – I don't know what to do." For once I really don't. A life of elaborate plans and prints, I have always seemed to know exactly what to do. I was always the one with the crazy plan that always worked. Now, I have nothing. Carl puts his arm around me.

"Paige… Beth needs you. She needs us. If we left, she'd be alone. And no one can go alone, it's too dangerous. There are more walkers out there, and we can't risk it."

Damn, how does he come up with such adult decisions? I wrap him in a hug. "You're right, you're right, Carl. You smart, smart boy." I ruffle his hair. "I promised to keep you safe. You're the one keeping me safe."

He smiles with just his lips as he often does. "Hey, I'm the only man here."

I smile and pat his head. "I'm going to go look down the road a ways… I promise, you'll be able to see me. I'm just going to see if I can see how far the road goes before it hits a town. You stay here, take care of Beth. Here." I dig into my pocket and toss him the bottle of pain meds. "If she wakes up, give her two of those, and make her drink water. Okay?"

"I'll take care of it." He nods, shaking the bottle close to his ear as I step out of the van, slinging the gun on my shoulder.

"I'll be back." I say as I close the door quietly, hiking down the road and into the dark. I know Carl will be alright for a moment. When I am a suitable distance away, I fall to my knees, burying my head in my hands. Sobs escape my mouth, my lips quivering and tears leaving streaks in the dirt on my cheeks. I can't feel my fingertips in the cold, and the tip of my nose is numb, but I don't care. I let my nose run, tears fall, arching my back down towards the abandoned road. "God…" I say between sobs. "What the hell… why does this have to happen to me." I hit myself in the side of the head. "Wake up! You're at home! Wake up! YOU'RE AT HOME! DAMN IT!"

I cry harder, beating my fist on the pavement. I've spent my life becoming invisible, and now when someone needs me most, I want to disappear even more than ever. "I don't ask for much. In fact, I've never asked you for anything. And for you to fuck me in the face, that's not okay! No! I never asked you for a thing! And now I ask you for this one thing, and you shit in my face!" I sniff, a long, drawn-out snuffle, and wipe my nose with the back of my hand. "What, is a walker going to lollop out of the darkness and eat me? Is that how you treat people? I know, Beth tried to hurt herself. Carl told me about all of it. She broke one of your big rules, not to commit suicide… she corrected herself! And then you shit on her! How long before she can't breathe? They trusted me! They trusted me, and she's not okay, and that's on me!"

I yank my rifle off my back by the strap, tossing it out in front of me with anguish. "There, you can have that. All you do is take from people. When have you ever given anything? You're always taking people. Look at all the people you've taken! And they walk around the earth as your bloody reminders. And I don't know how I feel about you, but I know Beth has faith in you. And if that's enough, I don't know. But if you really do care about the human race – or what is left of it… you'll give me a damn miracle that will help us, because we're stuck with one sick person, a thirteen-year-old, and me. And I'm at the end of my rope here. That's fine if you don't wanna help me. But don't expect me to owe you anything."

I grab my gun up and clutch it furiously, spitting on the ground before I get up. I turn my back to the dark and walk back to the van.

"Her heart rate is one forty." Carl says as I time on my watch with the cracked lens.

"We're low on water." I say softly, only in a croaked whisper. "All three of us are dehydrated."

"We have a little water. I'll get it."

"I'll get it." I stand up, but as I try to take a step, stumble into the side of the van, feeling rather dizzy. My head spins, and Carl catches me. "It's okay, I'm fine."

"You need water. Here, drink this." Carl says, handing me the water that's left. "How much have you had."

I don't have an answer as I slowly drink the water, my head between my knees. "I think I'm fine now. Have you felt dizzy at all today?"

"A little… when I went out to the woods to go to the bathroom, I felt – I donno. Like I couldn't walk in a straight line."

I feel his forehead, but he doesn't feel warm. My guess is that it's dehydration. "Carl, we really can't stay here."

He rubs his thumb and forefinger together. "Where do we go?"

"I don't have a damn clue." I sigh, pushing my hat off my forehead to rub it where it hurts. There is a hollow, dizzy-like feeling in my head. Like something there is missing, or a reality deficiency. "But Beth can't be here. it's safe for now, but – she needs real medical attention. We can keep giving her the light pain meds and fever reducers, but that ain't gonna cut it for long now. She needs an inhaler, a respirator or something. Some type of medicine that we don't have…"

"I know." He says matter-of-factly.

"I think the only choice we have is for one of us to go out and look for help."

"I'll go."

I actually laugh at that. "No you won't."

"Why not?"

"Carl, I'm in charge of you, and your mom and dad trusts me with you. I don't think I'm going to let you go off on your own looking for them. You need to take care of Beth while I'm gone. She won't wake up a lot, probably. If she does, don't worry her. She doesn't need more stress. Check her pulse every half an hour, like I taught you, and if she starts to cough, she has to sit up. Do you hear me?"

He suddenly hugs me. "Be careful."

I rub my hand on the back of his head. "Of course I will be… of course. You stay in here." I slide his Epic towards him. "If rot-heads come, you know how to defend yourself. If there are too many, you hide in here and get yourself and Beth under the seats. I'll be back soon, hopefully with help."

He hugs me again once more before I set off, my light pack on my back and my gun slung over my shoulder. I look back once to see him watching me out the windshield. With each step I take, I think of Carl, and Beth, and the others that I must find. I imagine what I will say when I find them, memorizing the location of the APV and thinking about retracing my steps over and over. I take mental photographs of things to remember, think of things that make a difference such as on the right side of the rock-hill, or the moss on the tree I made a left at is shaped like Abraham Lincoln. Every twig that snaps, I aim my gun at it, only to see nothing.

It feels like I walk for weeks, though in retrospect, it's only hours. I sweat in my brown coat that is already getting dirty, and my hair falls in messy clumps in my face as I trudge along at the same speed, never ceasing, only to rest.

I hear a crackle up in the trees, and I point my gun, resting it on my shoulder. Another snap, this time on the ground. I back up slowly, trying to be quiet. I scream slightly and jump when I bump into something warm and solid, whipping around to point my gun. Daryl clamps a hand over my mouth.

"Bitch, don't you scream like that again and you'll attract every walker round here within a mile!" he hisses under his breath, his breath smelling of coffee, for some reason. I push him back after biting his hand lightly. I wouldn't think about breaking the skin, his hands are covered in dirt.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" I murmur, less surprised to see him and more angry that he startled me so badly.

"Looking for your dumb ass! I see I found it, but where are Beth and Carl?" he lowers his crossbow, contemplating on whether he thinks I might somehow try to jump the only man I've seen in days. As if he couldn't take me on. It wouldn't be a horrible fight.

"Miles back." I say between panting so heavily I have to throw myself, or rather fall against a tree to hold myself up. I feel sweat on my chest, behind my ears, and down the back of my shirt like a drip IV, and my throat feels so dry. I think I even feel a little bit light headed.

"Whoa, whoa." He catches me as I fall onto my knees, wheezing from running. I'm barely even able to talk through my labored breaths, and when I look up, I see two Daryls that appear to be spinning like a kaleidoscope. Everything blurs around the edges like fog, and I feel a ringing in my ears, like it is in the back of my head. When I finally can see without wobbling, Daryl puts his palm under my chin and looks into my eyes.

"Damn eyes are glassy, when's the last time you drank?"

"I think it was…" my memory escapes me. Seems like just yesterday I had a drink. "I had the last of it a while before I left. Which was…" I struggle to stare down at my watch. "'Bout half a day ago."

"Shit, drink this." He hands me a tattered water bottle that has the seam of a crack forming in it, and I try taking it, but I can't tell which one to because I am still seeing two of them. He ends up pressing it to my lips as I reach aimlessly, dumping half of it into my mouth. I gulp it down, even if it tastes a little too much like minerals and he probably got it from a stream or something, but it is still cold and feels good on my dry throat.

He crouches on a log with the soles of his shoes pressed to the rough bark as he watches to make sure I drink. "Where are Beth and Carl? Weren't they with you?"

I slowly look up, feeling slightly better, in the physical sense; still trying to catch my breath as if it has somehow ran away from me for good. "They-they're about…" I pant heavily. "I don't know how far I came, it seems like for days… but maybe six or seven miles or so."

"Damn, we really do need to get you a cookie and some juice, then." He offers me a grimy hand and helps me up. "Come on, we're set up about a mile or two from here. We've been searching for you for damn near two pissin' days," he slings his crossbow onto his back and pulls me to my shaky feet. I duck when he holds out his hand, but he pffts. "Hold still, I gotta see if you're burnin' up." He presses his palm to my forehead. "I left my bike at the road, this way."

"Bike?" I gulp. That's right – I may have survived my entire family trying to pull out my innards and floss their teeth with my small intestine, and I very well have lived on my own for months, but I have always been afraid of motorcycles. Maybe I was traumatized as a kid, I don't know. But I'm just absolutely, positively afraid of them. The dumbest thing. And especially since Daryl is going to be driving.

"Yeah, what'd you think? I was gonna give you a piggy-back?" he grabs my wrist and pulls me through the low hanging brush, his breath freezing in the air. I let him, still trying to catch my breath and stumbling. His Hardtail is sitting at the side of the road, looking even more scarier in person. It has the kind of handles that are up high and make you look like a gorilla when you're holding them way up there, and a low seat. It's wheel is also way out in front like a trike, but this isn't any trike. He climbs on and kicks it to life as I stand there, panting and dumb.

"Well, what're you waiting for, ain't got all day." He rolls his eyes. I slowly climb on the back, still shaking though it feels like a thousand degrees in my coat. He turns around.

"You scared of some pussy-ass little bike?"

I don't say anything, but he fixes the collar of my coat so it is farther up around my neck. Surprising, I didn't know he cared. "Keep that pulled up, it'll get cold." Then he turns back and takes the handlebars, kicking off from the ground. "Hold on tight, then."

I listen, wrapping my arms tightly around his torso as we speed through the crisp air, the sound of the chopper blocking all audibility; if he were to talk to me, I wouldn't be able to hear him. He is right, it does get cold, but I keep my arms around his torso, which is warm, and he smells slightly of firewood and cigarette smoke. Still feeling exhausted, I lay my cheek to his back, feeling him hmph, but not objecting.

The camp is set up a few miles away, as much as I can tell. When we reach it, my cheeks are red and numb, my fingers clenched together around Daryl's torso. My hands have a tingling feeling for being in this position for so long. They feel like miniature fireworks as I am ripped off the back of the cycle as Carol hugs me close to her for a long time. I feel slight sobs in her chest as she hugs me, and I even hug her back a little. As much as I don't like to admit it, now it seems hard to go off on my own. I miss the people like Carol.

"Paige," Rick checks to make sure that I'm alright. "Are you hurt? Where are the others? Did you get lost?"

I pant out the story. "Rotties, in the store. I had Carl and Beth with me, and we thought there was only one, a worker that probably hadn't left the store since he died. There was an entire herd of them in there or something, came out of nowhere. They might have been tucked away in the employee lounge or something, I have no idea, but – "

"Where's Carl?" Lori says, a slight waver in her voice.

"And Beth?" Maggie says, tossing a long blanket on my shoulders as Hershel makes his way over to us. I huddle in it gratefully, puffing my breath in the cold. Maggie takes Hershel's arm gently, looking up at him. They can't bear to hear that something happened to her. Lori looks terrified as well.

"They're on the side of the road. In a van, not ten miles from here. Carl is fine, but Beth – something happened. I don't know, maybe she got scratched, bit…" I have no idea what happens when someone is bit, how they change. I know that they get sick, I have heard that. But how the sickness is, I have yet to find a clue.

"Oh my God." Maggie starts to basically hyperventilate, and Glenn takes her in his arms.

"We're going to get them." I say. "Get me into a damn car now, we need to go get them. South Carolina isn't far now, and we need to find Bamberg. My friend, the other that was with me said we needed to find Bamberg South Carolina, and there would be a way to find his cousin." I suddenly blurt.

"Wait, why didn't you tell us where exactly before?" Glenn asks, a confused look across his slender face.

I fidget with the hem of my coat. "I wanted to… make sure I could trust you."

"Vice versa." Daryl rolls his eyes. "If we're going to locate them, standing around here talking about who trusts who ain't gonna help, so let's get on with it." Daryl points at me, then Glenn. "Save this for later, for now, Beth and Carl."

I help the others speed take down the camp, the few tents that had been set up, and a few tarps, tossing them carelessly in the back of the Dodge Ram as the rest of them do as well. It is a little confusing to direct Glenn in the right direction, as I'd gone as the crow flies through the woods, but after nearly giving up and turning to hopelessness, I see the tiny dot of the van past the hill.

"Is she hurt? Please tell me she isn't hurt." Maggie says hoarsely, putting her hands on the sides of her head, slightly rocking.

"I don't know. Just shut up so I can concentrate." I growl, locking my hand around the handle of the door so I can jump out as soon as we come to a stop.

The few cars ahead of us make it to the van first before we make it to the bottom of the hill. I jump out of the car as Carl runs into Lori's arms, his hat falling over his eyes.

"Carl!" Lori cries, enveloping him in her arms.

"I'm okay, mom. I'm okay." Carl pushes Lori's hair back and hugs her, showing her that he's intact. After their family is reunited I climb into the van along with Hershel and Maggie. Glenn and Carol wait on the outside, their hands in the pockets of new coats they must have swiped from the store. Not very heavy ones because the so-called apocalypse happened around the beginning of summertime, as I can remember it, just as school was getting out, and there weren't many warmer clothes, but they are better than nothing all the same.

"Beth? Beth, wake up." I shake her softly, and she moans, opening her discolored eyes, struggling to lift her head. She looks around as if everything is shaking for her, and I lift her head up gently with my hand. "It's okay, look who's here."

Hershel takes her in his arms and hugs her gently. "Sweet, sweet daughter." He says softly, stroking her hair. Maggie envelopes her as well, rocking her sister. She goes into a coughing fit, and Hershel gently holds her head up to help her stop the coughing.

"Daddy?" she croaks softly. I notice that her skin has taken in a light bluish tint, and not the kind from the cold. Her mouth opens quickly to let in air, trying to catch her breath, and she reaches for her sister Maggie. "I –" she coughs, trying to lift her arm to cover her mouth. Maggie rubs her shoulders gently with her nails that have dirt under then, patting her back as she coughs. They all look so incredibly worried, and I don't blame them. I was dying with worry, and they are her only family.

"We need to get somewhere with medication. Diagnostic tools." Hershel says, lifting her out of the seat where she has been for the past two days, ceasing most movement.

"The hell, you don't know what's wrong with her? I thought you were a doctor!"

Maggie pulls me out of the van and out of the way so Hershel can carry her out. "He's not a doctor, he's a veterinarian."

"Oh." I say. "We need to get to Bamberg now. Today. We need to find this place."

Maggie's lip trembles. "How long do you think she has?"

"As long as she can hold on." Rick says, already climbing back into the car. "Let's go, wasting daylight. We need to move if we're going to get her to the Carolinas."

This seems like the longest ride of my life. We lay Beth across my lap and Maggie's in the back seat. She is quite delirious and cries out in her state of unconsciousness. Her delirium is the thing that scares me the most. One moment she will mumble and curl up on herself, then become very silent and very still. I watch her pulse beat in her neck like a beacon, that tiny beacon of hope that we'll get there soon if it just keeps beating. Maggie rubs her back gently, comforting her cries and moans of pain as she takes too deep of breaths.

"It's alright, it's gonna be alright." Maggie keeps comforting her sister when she is out of the delirious state, or even still in it. "You're gonna be fine."

When she comes out of her aberrant state, she will start to choke on the mucus in her throat again, coughing up the jelly-looking substance, and a few times, I doubt she will stop breathing she is hacking so hard, but she makes it through each time. But the next time I fear that she won't.

"Almost there." I whisper to her at one point. She continues to shiver, tremoring like she can't retain her heat. But she must be at least a hundred and five degrees. We stop for nothing, though our fuel level gets low. There is nowhere to cypher gas now, and I just pray that we can coast in on exhaust fumes if need be. We follow the road signs and a map that Lori spreads out in her lap and reads to Rick as he drives. The other car that Carol drives rumbles along behind us as the sky dims.

We coast into the town, finally. The sign reads Bamberg welcomes you, but seems rather eerie and deserted as we roll in. a few stray walkers wander in the street, occasionally looking up to as much as notice us as we go by. There are old newspapers, trash, cans in the road, along with a few sand bags that were set up in front of shop doors, maybe to keep them from coming in. No one comes out of the unlit shops, though, nothing more than I expected. It isn't until we get out of the town-part that the signs start to appear.

Go this way. One of them says in faded red spray painted stencil letters. Refuge in ten miles.

"Follow them." I say, remembering what Petey told me to do. Follow the signs until you see a private road and the estate is nestled near the Blue Ridge Mountains. I once had specific directions, but when I was alone once, I was forced into the water with clothes on and all when running from a few rotties. I remember what Petey said, I just hope he was right.

Turn up ahead. The last sign says though almost too faded to read, slightly dripped paint as if it has rained many times since it was put up. I give Maggie a hopefully look as she continues to speak to her sister softly as her chest rises quickly with the rapid breath, the pulse beating out of her neck.

"We made it." I whisper, continuing to gently smooth over Beth's hairline. She barely moves, limp and breathing so quickly it is like a baby's heartbeat in the womb.

There is one more ragged sign that says turn, stop at gates, and we pull down the long dirt drive that is really the size of its own dirt road, and dust rises as Glenn technically floors it. It is time to face that we are desperate. It is pretty safe to say that Carl and I haven't eaten in days, and not only because of the whole living-in-the-van situation. We definitely haven't had enough to drink, and our food supply is low. I believe that we have gotten used to eating and drinking small amounts.

There is a metal gate where the road cuts off and turns into a larger estate path, and the fence turns to wood. The other cars stop behind us with the sounds of horrible breaks and suspension, and Glenn looks at me as if to say "now what?"

"I'm getting out." I say as I shift Beth out of my arms and into her sister's, opening the door. I lean on the fence, peering into the dim light and feeling the cool air on my skin for the first time since the car ride. It isn't very cold here in the Carolinas. Now that night is nearing, it feels about fifty or forty degrees, and it is probably warmer during the day. I yell out to a light in the distance that looks like a beacon lantern but is so far away. "Hello!" I call, my voice hoarse. "HELLO!"

Hershel joins Maggie in my previous car and they both takes care of Beth as she continues to hold on. I can hear the coughs from here as she struggles to gasp in enough breath. Maggie touches Hershel's arm gently as she cries.

"Someone!" Rick yells. "Please!" There is not one sound or movement and Rick continues to yell. "We followed your signs, we need your help!"

There is yet again no answer, and I feel a deep pain in the pit of my stomach. If I am wrong, or rather Petey was wrong, Beth is going to die out here, and we might wither away along with her. If there are no longer people here – we are totally fucking screwed beyond screwed and it is all my fault. This is out last hope.

"Please, let us in, let us in!" I scream, feeling a lump in the back of my throat. This is all my fault. This is all my fault, and now these people are going to die. The lump in my throat suddenly dissolves and my world comes crashing down as I fall against the gate. This can't be it. If it is, then what was ever the point of surviving? What was the point of slaying my own family, fleeing Tennessee and jumping into Petey's car, making it all the way here for nothing? What was the point of me dragging Carl away from the rot-heads if we are all just going to die? What was ever the point of will Beth to live? What was the point of me ever becoming friends with her in the first place?

"Please, we're dying!" I sob, barely audible. No one ever hears me, but suddenly, there is a slight rumbling sound in the distance. I uncover my eyes, pushing my hat up off my forehead and see a pair of headlights heading down the dirt path. The tires utter deep crushing sounds as they roll down the drive, and I jump up to my feet. A man screeches the car, which I can see in the dimming light of the twilight is a blue sedan that looks rickety but like it gets good use, to a stop, jumping out.

"Holy shit!" he exclaims, running his hair backwards through his black hair that looks like it hasn't been cut in a while. "I – I haven't seen people around in – months!"

"Please, let us in!" Rick exclaims as Carol takes me in her arms, trying to calm my crying. She sooths me with a hand on my back and her soft motherly rocking. This is one of my weakest moments, which there have been a few of, but I just feel like I can't even do one thing for myself, which is stopping my child-like blubbering. "We have a girl, she's sick."

"Bitten?" the man narrows his eyebrows and slightly backs away. "Is she bitten? If she is, I can't let you in."

"No." I break free of Carol again and walk up to the fence. "Something else, she's sick. She can't breathe," I suddenly grab him by the shirt collar, half pulling him over the top bar of the fence so my face is close to his. "You let us in, now! You have someone who can help us? DO YOU!"

He looks slightly frightened and intimidated by me, and he opens the gate, then heads back to the car he came in. "Follow my car."

We do just that. It isn't until we are up and over a large hill on the private road that I see the estate. It is large and intimidating; a house that looks about three stories tall and has a few vehicles parked outside. It is complected in black and white rutters and enforced concrete. There are a few other dim structures that I can barely see, and the porch lights are on to the house.

We pour out of the cars as a very tall man that looks like he has to duck in the doorway runs off the porch like he has been waiting at the window. He has a slight scruff on his face, and he looks about maybe thirty or forty years old, and his face is chiseled with a long chin that is shaped like a square. A woman comes running after him, her small shoes clicking on the paved path to the door.

"Where's the girl?" he says immediately, which confuses me because the only person that could have known would be the guy who got the gate. I quickly observe a radio communicator on his shoulder, like the ones I've seen cops use, and the other man has one as well. It figure, I can tell as much that the property is huge and the ability to communicate is a major asset. No wonder, these people are preppers; they must have thought of everything.

"Here." Rick leads him to the car where Maggie and Hershel cradle Beth and Daryl keeps close watch.

"Is she bitten? I said, is she bitten!" the tall man yells, and I notice has a slight but noticeable Australian accent.

"No!" Rick yells back, and the man reaches for Beth to take her in his arms.

"I'll get her." Daryl growls, stepping in front of him just in the way so he can't touch her. He scoops her body up in his arms as she barely stirs, looking dead. The tall man speaks as Daryl carries her, following the woman into the house.

"Name's Dr. Chester Auwley. People call me Devil." He says as he swings the large door open, guiding us into a room with brilliant bright lights and white walls. It looks almost like a hospital room, and I suddenly realize that it is, in a sense. This house doesn't really look like a house on the inside. This room seems to be some sort of infirmary, or an operating room. I have never met a prepper before, but Petey had told me how crazy they thought they were, and how wrong he knew that they were to think that when the world went to shit. "I'm gonna take good care of her."

"What's wrong with her?" I demand. I've been waiting to know for so long.

"Hard telling now, miss. What happened? Has she been coughing, wheezing, choking?"

"Yes. Coughing up this – mucus and stuff."

"Her skin's blue." The man who opened the gate observes as Daryl lays her down on a small bed with nothing but sheets.

"Right, Tidan, get me my stethoscope." Dr. Devil says, and Tidan, who happens to be the black-haired one, retrieves it for him. He presses it to her chest and sides, gently applying pressure. "Alexa, write this down for me." he calls for the woman who followed him outside before, who can't be more than twenty or so years old clicks a pen as he says. "Dyspnea, agonal respiration," he opens her mouth and shines a light inside. "Mucus buildup and possible breathing obstruction,"

"So, what's wrong?" Maggie demands again, and Glenn holds her tightly. "She's my sister, can you help her?"

"We're going to do everything we can to help her." Dr. Devil says, snapping on a pair of latex gloves. "Her breathing is obstructed severely, and she needs to breathe mechanically. I'll have to insert a tube, which might work."

"Tube, wait, what tube!" I squeak at him, my voice getting higher and higher.

"It's called a tracheostomy. I'll be inserting a tube through the neck directly through the trachea so she doesn't have to use effort to breathe; if she won't do it on her own, we have to force air in and out of her trachea so she can get enough oxygen. It is standard procedure, and won't take me more than five minutes. I've done this many times before." He clears his throat. "She needs this."

None of us object. Beth looks so helpless, so dead right now. She has been out in the wilderness and burning up with a high fever that put her out cold into a state of unconsciousness for this long, it makes me wonder if she will die right here on the operating table. Maggie gulps. "Will she feel it?"

"In this state, probably not. She'll feel it when she wakes up, but I need to do it now. Tidan, scalpel, and Alexa, gauze and a light." Tidan hands him a wrapped tool, and the woman, Alexa, clips a light to the bar on the table that shines into Beth's face. "I need two people to hold her arms down. Sometimes when you cut the skin, it wakes reflexes." Hershel takes one of her arms, silently pressing his fingers into hers, but Maggie hangs back.

"I – I can't watch her get cut open like that, I – "

I gently take Beth's arm that has taken on a slight bluish pigment. Especially around her lips and ears have turned blue. "I'll do it."

"Okay, everybody," says Dr. Devil in a loud and clear voice. "Tidan, I need some saline bags pronto, let's get an IV going. Hold her hand, this might burn her." He says as Tidan hands him the clear fluid bag and he pokes the needle into her hand on the side that Hershel is on. She lies motionless and unresponsive as he sets the IV tube in her papery skin, then places tubes in her nose and around her head. "Alexa, iodine wipes."

She hands him an open packet, and he wipes Beth's pale neck until it is a stained brown color, then washes it off. I suddenly feel light-headed and dizzy as Devil unwraps the scalpel that is stainless steel and has a light green handle to match hospital attire. I've shot many rotties, and seen much gore in my day, in this world, but something about human gore just always made me a little queasy. In my health class, I couldn't even watch the baby birth video when I was in high school.

"Okay, everyone get a side, saline bag on the bed. Lift on my count, one, two, three." He says, and he, Tidan, Alexa, and Hershel lift her to a shiny steel-looking rolling table. Alexa transfers the light over, and we hold down her arms again. "What did you say her name was?"

"Beth." Maggie says between sobs, and Lori and Carol hold her. Devil nods.

"Beth, okay. We're going to be right here with you, Beth." He says though she is unresponsive. "This saline will keep her in la-la land if she is to wake up, but I can't risk it with anesthetics, there is no time. It's okay, this has been done with conscious patients before. Musta done this in Nam a thousand times." He places a piece of gauze on her neck, making the skin taught by pulling. "You have the tube ready?"

"Yup." Tidan says, snapping on a pair of identical latex gloves to Devil's and holds up a tube and another device I can barely see because my vision is shaking so badly.

"You the daddy?" Devil says to Hershel, who nods. "Hold onto your little girl."

Another girl is suddenly in the doorway, a calm expression on her face. Her hair is a soft sunny yellow color, much yellower than my blonde hair which is straight and light blonde, and hips that are about three times wider than mine though she is average in weight. She takes Lori by the arm and directs her towards the door. "How about I go get you all something to drink? Come with me, this way."

"I'm staying." Maggie decides, though she is squeamish with the idea of her sister getting cut open without being actually knocked out, though she is pretty much out anyway. Glenn takes her waist; he is not leaving either.

"Alright, but if you get squeamish, you might'nt wanna watch." Dr. Devil adds.

The scalpel cuts a clean line vertically down her neck as I watch; I don't want to, but it is like watching a car wreck. You can't help not watching. Alexa holds her head straight as Tidan stands on deck with the supplies and other instruments. Devil continues to cut through the skin, and I suddenly wish I am not watching. It feels like every time he makes a cut I feel a lurch in my stomach that I am going to vomit, but Beth needs me, so I keep it down. He finally cuts through the layer of skin, and I remember enough form my anatomy class that the next to come is the layer before the trachea, and then the trachea. He cuts an incision in the tracheal region, and uses a suction to suck out access blood and the secretions in the airway. I have to try extra hard to choke back my vomit this time, but Hershel gently lays his hand on top of mine and I stay with it.

Devil places something over the tube that I can only describe as looking like a big pacifier shell, and takes the tube from Tidan, fishing it down her throat. There is a slight hissing sound, and I realize that it is Beth's breath as she inhales directly through the neck now, and Devil puts a collar around the "pacifier" collar that keeps the tube in place. I choke a little again at the image of a tube protruding from someone's neck, and her breath still sounds horrible; broken and labored. Devil gives her lungs another listen. He makes a grimacing face.

"Euuhh… I think I might know what this is."

"Pneumonia?" Alexa suggests. Her little voice sounds like belles and as if it belongs in a Broadway show musical. She is quite beautiful. There are slight crinkles around her eyes though she looks very young, and has long red hair cut off in a perfect line to her shoulders.

"Just what I was thinking. Viral pneumonia. I know because there was sputum in her throat. Did you give her any medicines?"

"Uh, yeah." I say, leaning into Hershel as my head spins. "Some fever reducer. Tylenol."

"Figures… her temperature's pretty off the charts. Hopefully those fluids will get that down."

"Will she wake up?" Hershel says. "Sir, I am a veterinarian. I've done tracheostomies on animals during surgery before, but does this apply to human beings as well? What is her condition?"

"She is not well. Weak, fatigued, I can flat out tell you that right there." He scratches his square chin. "You're lucky you got here now. She probably couldn't have taken it much longer."

"Thank you." Hershel puts his hand on his shoulder gently and looks at the other two that assisted. He stumbles forward slightly, but I catch him, my own vision spinning.

"Whoa, now. Are you alright?" Alexa takes his arm.

"We haven't had much the past few days." I say softly, holding onto Hershel's arm.

"Oh, dear. Come with me, you need water and food, don't you?" Alexa takes my arm. I look back longingly at Beth, who looks like a bluish alien with the tube in her neck. "It's alright. She's in good hands."

"I'm staying with her." Hershel takes his post next to her beside, or rather rolling shiny table-side, and gently reaches out to stroke her face.

"I'll get him something." Alexa promises me, taking my arm to hold my wobbly figure. Maggie kisses her father's head and takes Glenn's hand, following the beautiful red-haired woman leads us to a large kitchen with a long cherry table with dark finish. The rest of my people are sitting at the table, and Carl beckons to me as soon as he sees me standing there.

"I saved you a seat by me." he says. "If you want to sit here."

"Thanks." I pat his hat as I always do and he pulls the chair out for me. There is a large assortment of food set out on the table. Real food. Not freeze-dried food I, or powdered food I expected that doomsday preppers accumulated. Alexa pours me a cold glass of water with perspiration running down the sides and I drink it gratefully. I notice that there are others sitting at the table. A Hispanic-looking man sits at the head of the table, watching as we eat, relishing in our happiness. A few other people are here as well. The yellow-haired woman who led the rest of them out before Devil performed the surgery on Beth. A stringy boy who looks about fourteen with an olive complexion. A plump woman with dark hair pulled up in the back in a bun.

"You must be Paige, then," she older-looking Hispanic says, rubbing his mustache. "My name is Emiliano Pepito Osvaldo Rodriguez. But you can call me Pepe."

Pepe. I remember Petey telling me about him. This is his cousin. "Petey sent me here."

"Oh, mi primo!" he laughs, then his face becomes grave. "Where is little Petey?"

He wasn't so little, I think. "He – he didn't make it. We were… friends." I trail off.

"Let bygones be bygones, we are amigos now. Welcome to mi domicilio. We call it Mientras que Respiro, Espero. That means while I breathe, I hope. Very appropriate for the circumstances, no? And they called me crazy. I muttered at then, someday you will come crawling to me and I will have the last laugh. Petey will be greatly missed, amigo."

We are all silent, and he speaks again. "You are all welcome here. We originally built the estate to house many. I was not an old sour-puss, and I knew that there would be others who needed help. So, I ventured out to put up the signs after the – disease became wide-spread. The last one to wander in was Olive." He looks over to yellow-haired Olive, who sets another plate of food on the table. "So, your home is my home now. As long as you can earn your keep and defend from the carriers." I realize he is referring to the rotties, much like walkers, geeks. Carrier is just another word for them.

"There are showers, if you like." Says Olive, pouring more water for the half-full glasses. I don't blame her for mentioning it. We all probably have a smell of our own, and we don't look too good either. The bunker showers are set up like locker room showers but with the comforts of home. I stand with the warm water rushing over my body for at least an hour, groaning at the feeling of something other than plain soap in my hair. I condition it until it feels soft again and I'm sure every bit of dirt is scrubbed off my skin and I look pale as a ghost in the foggy mirror. Someone has left me a soft navy blue robe on the hook for me, and I gratefully wrap myself in it and comb through my hair with a pink comb that has been set on the sink counter, and then dress in the clean pajamas that someone also left for me. It is a soft gown a little past my knees and I pull on a clean pair of socks before going to visit Beth before bed.

Hershel still stays close to her side, and Maggie gently smooths over her father's shoulders as they listen to Beth's breathing and heart beat on the machine that is newly connected to her. I stand in the doorway for a moment, soaking in their sorrow. When I can no longer take it, I retreat to the block of bunkers that Pepe assigned us to live in for the time being. The beds are comfortable, the blankets a gray and black design, and it feels nice to lay my head on a pillow for once. When I am almost asleep, I feel a knock on the door.

"What?" I sit up, watching as Carl walks into the room. He is dressed in a pair of pajamas as well that are maybe about a size too big for him, falling over his hands and feet, but his hair is washed and combed. I pat the bed for him, and he sits next to me. "I almost didn't recognize you without the hat." I ruffle his damp hair, and he smiles. "Something wrong?"

"If you hadn't have gone… Beth would have died…" he says softly, pursing his lips as he often does. "You saved her."

"Nah…" I pat his knee. "That doctor saved him. We're lucky we got here in time, and that we're here at all."

"I know." He says. "I just wanted to tell you."

"Go to bed." I softly smile and kiss his head. He blushes. "I'll see you in the morning."

"I get my own room." he grins and shuffles out of my small room with his pants falling over his feet. I lay my cheek against the pillow comfortably and sleep comfortably for the first time in weeks.

But by morning, Beth's condition deteriorates.