Comatose
Madeline slammed her fist angrily against the wall, anxiety breeching her mind and tormenting her with guilt. After she and Daryl had returned from the run she was put back in her cell without so much as a "Thank You". She could have been in there for days for all she knew but it was probably only six thirty in the evening. She hated feeling like a prisoner; like a criminal! All she wanted to do was helping those kids and bring them home and this is what they do to her?!
"Where are you?" She pleaded mentally, staring at the Polaroid picture until her eyes stung. She remembered the compass she'd given Gwen weeks ago and taught her how to keep the sun on her right in the morning and on the left in the evening to reach where they were going. It was dark when they were attacked, they could have gone backwards for all she knew! She told them to stay away from the main road, too many risks and they'd be hard to miss from anything with eyes. They still had food, Madeline always told them to keep extra cans on them, and if she remembered right, Ollie was the one with a can opener…
Madeline's stomach gurgled deeply at the thought of food; she carefully placed the picture back in her pocket and sat on her metal bed. She would have to wait to eat until supper was ready; assuming those people would even allow her to eat. As if on cue Carl came up the stairs and stood at her cell, reaching his slim hands inside and handing her a familiar dog-eared deck of cards.
"You saved them?" Madeline smiled, his kindness making her heart swell. Guilt trudged on her mood when she recalled how she had carelessly stomped all over them when Daryl had ever so charmingly come to fetch her for their run.
"Well yeah, I figured if we were gonna keep playing we'd need these." He joked, a shy chuckle brightening up his face. "Well aren't you just a charmer, aren't ya?"
"Thanks for being so nice to me." Madeline confided, feeling a twinge of melancholy in her gut. He'd even cleaned the mud from her boots off of most of them, some cards were too stained to completely clean but they were still legible.
"It's nothing; I do it because I really do believe you're looking for those kids." He answered honestly, a pitiful smile dimming his features once again. "Supper's ready, my dad said it was alright for you to eat with us since you helped bring in supplies with Daryl." Carl pulled out the set of keys and unlocked the door with a quiet click. He slid the door open with a screeching scream and motioned his hand forward, saying "Ladies first."
Madeline wanted to hug the boy so much her arms ached but she kept it to herself and gave him a polite nod. He followed behind her, his light footsteps making a faint thud against the cement floor. When they descended down the iron stairs she was greeted by the whole group, save the old man on the gurney from earlier.
"We wanted to thank you." said a feminine voice. Madeline looked at the very pregnant woman and suddenly felt a horrible foreboding. She hid her thoughts well and gave her a friendly smile instead, responding, "You're welcome" before being allowed to stand on her own two feet at the flight of the stairs. The woman was maybe a few inches taller than her and wore jeans with a flowing white shirt to accommodate her belly. "My husband said you wanted to give me these." She held the bottle of vitamins in her hand and smiled warmly. Madeline didn't know how to react; she simply shrugged her shoulders and brushed that darned lock of hair that kept getting in her face. "It was a nice thought, thank you."
Madeline was inclined to think that the game of Twenty Questions was going to go into overdrive now that they were started with them. The group walked with her outside to the yard where an old checkered table cloth was laid out with cans of beans and cooked meat. If she got to have a meal, Madeline would tell them all they wanted so she could gain their trust. She needed to leave and soon. She didn't want to stay longer than a day but something told Madeline that they wouldn't exactly let her leave just yet. If they would even send a small party with her just to check where the kids were it'd be enough for her. The thought died when she saw a gang of three heads wobbling their way from the far edge of the forest towards the prison. She bolted towards the fence, pressing her face as close as she could to try and see them; who they were, what they looked like. Narrowing her eyes as much as they would go, she seethed in frustration then asked if anyone had binoculars.
"I do." Daryl answered, moving up to where she was and handing her a busted scope. Madeline put it to her eye and looked, struggling with the optic mirror to find the bobbling heads but Daryl's calloused hand gently guided her to where she intended to look. Suddenly Madeline collapsed, her knees gave out and Daryl flinched to gather her in his arms. "Don't just stand there!" He hollered at the group, grabbing under her arms while Glenn picked up her legs. The two men carried her back into the Prison while Rick saw something flutter out of her jeans and carry with the wind. It landed at his feet and he bent down to pick it up, curiously eyeing the family-like group in the Polaroid picture.
Rick went to investigate where Madeline was standing and found the cracked scope. He used it to find the moving heads and what he saw made him sick to his stomach. In the distance, along the border of the fence, were two blonde children and a third girl, unrecognizable due to the destruction of her face. The blonde children were scuffling along, matching bite marks on opposite side of their throats, fingers broken on each hand and bleeding black blood, teeth marks all over their fleshy arms, torn to shreds presumably by the other. The third girl toyed with the ribbons of skin hanging loosely where her nose used to be, mutilating herself as she tore the strips of flesh off and hungrily wolfed the pieces down her broken jaw. Rick retched and covered his mouth, realization horrifying his psyche to its core, his mindset shattering with the gruesome fates that the children endured.
He glimpsed at the photo once more, mortified at the reality. Those children were lost in those woods almost a full day and they wound up dead. Then they came back. He felt a tremendous amount of guilt for not believing in Madeline, for holding her hostage all this time while she begged for him to let her go and find them. The women stood there, completely confused about what was going on and what to do.
"You guys go on and eat; I'll take care of this." He ordered steely, striding back into the prison before anyone could object.
"Damn!" Daryl cursed angrily as he and Glenn carted Madeline back into her cell. She dropped like a shot doe and would've cracked her skull if he hadn't been quick enough to snatch her up before she passed out. It was bad enough she made him feel like a drooling teenager but now he had to be playing Nurse?
"Hell no!" He thought as he dropped her upper torso squarely on her bed with a loud thump. "She wasn't going to make him stoop that low."
"Take it easy, man." Glenn hushed, scooting her knees gently on her bed after hissing at the pain he didn't even feel. He lifted his chin to look at her serene face; definitely sure she'd feel that once she woke up.
"Shut up..." Daryl grumbled, huffing out of Madeline's cell, wanting to be as far away from her as possible. He'd almost knocked heads with Rick at the corner because he failed to notice he was coming up from behind.
"I don't think what she saw made her faint for nothing," he started, beads of sweat lining his brows. He wiped a hand over his face and stretched the skin on his chin, his mind seeming to be buzzing like a beehive.
"Whatcha mean?" Daryl asked, his head tilting curiously in Rick's direction.
Rick shook his head and licked his chapped lips, a habit Daryl noticed he did when he was figuring out how to say something he knew wasn't going to be a walk in the park to say. "Those kids she said she needed to find? They're dead."
"Wait, what?" Glenn asked, his breath stolen right out of his lungs. Rick put his hands on his sides and let out a deep sigh before looking the two men in the eyes.
"They're dead." he repeated solemnly, placing the photograph he had found beside Madeline's head. "And it's my fault for not believing in her." He finished, turning his back and exiting the room as a dark cloud quickly settled in the air. Daryl and Glenn stood there silently for a few minutes and looked from the comatose teen to each other in silent understanding. Someone had to stay and break the news to her when she woke up. A pained moan below alerted Glenn and he gave Daryl a pitiful nod as he sprinted out of the room to tend to the awakening Hershel.
"Hey grab me some grub while you're down there!" He yelled, following Glen's shadow. "Damn it!" He cursed again, storming out of Madeline's cell to grab something to eat and sate the howling beast lurking inside his belly.
Canned beans and undercooked rice was on the menu, all washed down with hot, cloudy rainwater they had saved from a storm a few days back. The group ate in polite silence on the concrete, aside from Carl and Beth evoking up an interesting conversation about how the grass never seemed to grow in the courtyard on front of the prison.
"So what are we going to do about the girl?" Lori asked casually, using a trusty spoon she'd saved from Hershel's farm to pick up stray grains of mushy rice out of her plastic bowl.
"Her name's Madeline." Carl interjected, his brown eyes dead-set on his mother with a cold firmness. His mother was fixing to ground him for a week when Rick interrupted.
"We're going to cross that bridge once she wakes up." Rick stated, shifting his eyes between his wife and his son; his stone-firm voice ending their minute argument. The two resumed eating their rice and would dare to give each other questionable glares from under their eyelashes the rest of the meal.
Carl noticed Daryl coming towards the picnic a few feet away and tried to hide his happy smirk. He plopped himself on the tattered tablecloth with a bitter scowl wringing his face, instantly killing his sarcastic vibe. Daryl didn't look too happy to be bothered by his questions about his new friend.
When everyone was done with their meal he Beth and Maggie began scooping up cans when Beth handed Daryl an unopened can of beans.
"It's for her." She said shyly, brushing a stray blonde hair out of her forehead, looking at her feet and batting her eyelashes timidly at the gruff, muscular man. He adjusted the bundle of opened cans in his arms so he had room in one hand to grab the small tin can out of hers. Daryl said a silent thank you and tipped his head at her before turning away and heading back inside the confines of the prison; blissfully unaware of Beth's pathetically obvious infatuation with him.
"You really need to get over yourself; he's way too old for you!" Carl teased under his breath when he passed by the hapless teen who stood as still as a statue, gawking over the fingertip Daryl's rough, calloused palm brushed against.
"I don't even like him, Carl!" Beth squawked, a cherry-red blush staining her smooth pale cheeks. She threw her head back proudly and puffed her chest out as she marched back into the prison, for once thankful her father was unconscious so he wouldn't chew her out about her secret crush. "I don't even like him..." She thought stubbornly, shaking the thought out of her head with a scoff.
Daryl was in and out of Little girl's cell so fast he nearly knocked the tin can against her foot when he placed it at the edge of her bed. He could hear her shifting her weight against the squeaky springs, her breath hitching as if she was having a nightmare. Daryl went to go and hole up into his tower when he was in the way of a swaddling Lori Grimes.
"'Scuse me." He muttered, squeezing beside Lori's bulbous belly. He prayed he wouldn't have to have a talk with her, but with a disappointed cringe he felt her fingernails grazing against his arm.
"Daryl, she's a good kid." She sighed, shifting her weight from her swollen feet using his arm for balance. He grunted in acknowledgement, running his tongue over his teeth as he counted the seconds until their conversation would be over. He hated talking to Lori; everything she did seemed to fray on his last nerve, regardless of what kind of mood he was in. "Rick told me about what had happened we can't just toss her out like garbage!" She continued, using her arms for dramatic effect, making herself look like a retarded penguin. Daryl held his tongue as she rambled on, but her couldn't help but grind his jaws together harder the longer she spoke. "I know you may not like her but she was with you longer than any of us and Rick isn't in too good a place to guilt you into talking to her, but I am."
"Uh huh" He agreed mindlessly, nodding his head as he tried to drown out her voice with random thoughts. He wondered if he could do a hundred pushups in under a minute, how many squirrels he had eaten this week or how long it has been since the first walker he had killed, even what day it was! "Feels like a Tuesday..."
"…So will you please do us the favor and try to look after her?" Before Daryl could spit that he'd rather chew off his own foot before he was left in charge of some whiney teenager he heard her clear her throat behind him.
"Hey, sweetie, how are you holding up?" Lori asked with genuine concern, swinging her weight towards Madeline. Daryl swung his foot around so he could look at her better, and the young girl seemed to have aged ten years. Her long wavy hair was let to cascade down her bruised shoulders, framing her dirt-coated face. Black shadows hung under her eyelids and the way she slowly twisted her neck to meet his gaze he could have sworn he looked straight into her soul. With a squeaky hiccup she gave him a goofy, toothy grin and chuckled deeply in her throat, wiping trailing tear stains off of her cheek with her forearm.
"For a stupid child-killer I feel great!" She slurred, throwing her hands in the air and swinging them around like an imaginary noose. "I mean, they died because I left them alone but what was I supposed to do?" She continued, laughing hoarsely and swaying from side to side, dropping her hands and shutting her eyes. "I thought they'd be safe, I tried to protect them, but... but..." Madeline lost her voice, shuddering with quiet sobs as she tried to blubber on but failing to find the words.
"It's alright, sweetie, it wasn't your fault..." Lori soothed, wrapping her arms around Madeline and rubbing her back reassuringly; who kept weeping and moaning against her shoulder. Daryl shoved his hands into his pockets and frowned, tapping the tip of his boot on the floor awkwardly as Lori comforted the very emotional, very drunk teen. He could smell the whiskey on her breath when she spoke to him, how that got by Glenn and Rick when they inspected her stuff was beyond him but he couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Remembering the way he had acted after Sophia... he would've drunk himself to sleep for a week if he had had any booze. Luckily for him he didn't; but he couldn't help but wonder if this was how the world was going to be from now on.
"Why don't you go back to your cell and try to rest?" Lori whispered gently into Madeline's ear, smoothing her hand her over her hair. Daryl saw Madeline nod her head and shuffle past him to go back to her cell. As she walked down the narrow aisle her feet wobbled and she dropped to her knees, the back of her shirt hitching up to reveal the bottom of a tattoo on the small of her back. Daryl's eyebrows rose instinctively and he flinched at the sharp sting when Lori slapped him on the arm; all but hissing at him to go and lend her a hand. With an irritated roll of his eyes he walked over to Madeline and mechanically put her arm over his shoulders and lifted up, wrapping a hand around the curve of her hip to keep her from slipping over. Knowing from experience with Merle, drunks liked to wriggle around and try to shake loose but Madeline just hung her head against the nape of his neck and kept limp.
"I'm sorry you had to see that..." Madeline giggled, propping herself up on her elbows after Daryl had lain her down to give him a better view of her slim abdomen. He swiped his hands out from under her, wiping them down on his jeans with a scowl curling his face.
"Don't even start," He spat, plopping on the floor and waving his arm out of the cell for Lori to leave. He glanced under Madeline's bed and saw the culprit of her sob story; a half empty travel-sized bottle of Jack Daniels rolling around innocently out from under her hand. With his arms resting on his knees he stared back at Madeline, who watched him through her fluttering eyelashes, smiling bedside himself as he watched her drift in and out of consciousness over the next few minutes. She lay down on her side to look at him, hazily admiring how handsome he was now that she was wasted out of her rational mind.
"Ya know you'd be kind of cute if you weren't such an asshole." She commented sleepily, tucking her arm under her chin and finally closing her eyes. With a dignified scoff he shook his head and made himself comfortable on her floor, resting his eyes as the warm afternoon sunlight glowed in through the iron bars of the prison windows.
It must have been around seven when Madeline finally sobered up enough to walk around because once Daryl cracked his eyelids open a slit he jolted to his feet and speed-walked down stairs to find her. As usual no one was asking too many questions about what he was doing or where he was going; most of the daily chores were finished so everyone was desperately trying to figure out other "methods of entertainment" to keep themselves busy.
After scoping out their cellblock he discovered that Maggie and Glenn were "conveniently" missing since Carol had volunteered to look after Hershel for the day, Rick was polishing his gun and doing an ammo count in the lobby while Carl played cards with Beth on the table in the cafeteria, and Lori hung up the last of the laundry on an open hand rail. Leaning against the rail of a flight of stairs he contemplated asking Carol if she'd seen Madeline but realized he might sound worried about her and decided to head back to his storage cell and have a decent place to get some sleep. He saved that cell to keep some extra weapons in and since people would probably go looking in his perch, he liked the escape. Having his neck so oddly angled gave him an awful crick in his spine so he felt like a little relaxing would do him good. He put his hand on the back if his beck and tried to rub out the aching knot but as always he couldn't seem to reach the spot where it hurt.
"At least I can have some alone time." He thought hopefully as he followed his feet, staring at the floor while he let his feet take him where he needed to go. Daryl Dixon had half a foot past the doorway to his cell in the far side of block C, the farthest one down the aisle with a line of sight that let him watch everyone downstairs without giving them the courtesy to see him watching. That's why he picked it; he wanted privacy, to be left alone; in solitude! Yet there she was, half dressed in his personal space with her eyes as wide as a star-struck deer and frozen with one leg in her pants and the other on the ground.
"Jesus, Dixon!' She squeaked in surprised as the shoved her feet into her pants and frenziedly threw on a black tank to cover herself in vain attempt. The flustered teen ran her hand through her damp hair, putting it over her shoulders as she crossed her arms and gave him a look that let him know she was mad as hell. "What are you doing in here?" She sneered, her face contorting like an angry lion. Daryl dragged his fingers over his mouth and looked back at her with a devilishly sarcastic grin.
"Well I'll be damned if I interrupt a strip-tease in my own goddamn room!" He answered sharply, indicating where his backpack was, his spare pistol and set of arrows were, knowing she had at least enough sense to figure that out on her own.
"Shit," she cursed under her breath as she let her arms fall and shrugged in meager defense. "Yours was the only one open..."
"Jesus can't a man get some privacy without having some woman always yellin' at him?" He scoffed, moving past her and jumping onto his bed. "You can get out now!" He hissed, watching her storm out of his cell as he tried to relax, his mind souring all and any attempts at peace now that the image of her half-naked was seared into his mind. "Stupid girl..." He thought bitterly as the picture of her gave him rushes that reminded him of how MIA his manhood had been in almost a year. Of all places in the prison she just had to wander into his cell, honest to God he wished she'd have found the catacombs and played hide and go seek with an army of walkers and see how much of a smartass she was then.
Madeline stormed off with the aisle swerving and orbiting around her, her head throbbing in pain as she determinedly staggered back into her own cell. She couldn't believe the nerve of that arrogant redneck! She dropped face-first onto her bed and lost herself in the flat, moth eaten pillow, the dull cotton wrapping around her face in a comforting embrace. She dangled her hand off the edge and knocked down something that was placed by her bed frame. She sat up to investigate, crisscrossing her legs and reaching down to retrieve the mysterious item.
Careful not to spill its contents, she suspiciously sniffed the lid; nearly dropping it as her mouth filled with excited saliva. Someone had given her food! Reminded of her hunger by the roar of her belly, she dove into her backpack along the corner to find a plastic spoon and plunged into the tin can of beans like a rabid animal scarfing down chunks of meat off of a fresh carcass. Within minutes the can was scraped clean and Madeline licked off any leftovers from her spoon and threw it back into her backpack. She was satisfied for now, but with a long exhale the throb in her head returned with a vengeance, wresting with her brain deep inside the cage of her skull.
"Don't think about it!" She ordered her mind, yanking her pillow off of the bed and smashing it against her face. She pressed her back against the wall, the cool concrete sending tingles down her burning skin. The evening air was starting to thicken like mud, the sun may have been crawling under the earth but it wasn't going to let its absence change the intensity of the heat, radiating over the prison like some kind of inverted microwave. She released her grip on the pillow and laid back down, forcing herself to keep her mind occupied on anything that wasn't related to... Them.
She reached under her shirt and twirled the metal dog-tag in her hand as she tried to imagine the one thing left in the world that would never change: her father's face.
She pictured him as she always did, in his white t-shirt and jeans, the same dog-tag she wore still dangling around his neck. He had melted caramel eyes and a clean cut, his biceps were the size of basketballs and she could feel his strength when he wrapped his arms around her and whispered in her ear,
"I love you Mad Maddie." Madeline clutched the dog tag on her neck with all her might, as strongly as she felt he was, as hard as he could be for her but would never show it. She could feel the ghost of his lips pressing onto the crown of her head and telling her she would always take care of her because she was a princess and was her brave knight...
"And a brave knight has to leave sometimes to protect the kingdom, right?" The smell of his cologne was crisp and musky; still in his arms she could smell him and believe every word he said, he had to protect her, of course it made sense to leave.
"Okay, Daddy." She mouthed, unshed tears creeping through the corners of her eyes as she pictured the saddened smile he gave her, knowing he had only hours before he would have to leave; oblivious to his fate only days after... Madeline rolled helplessly onto her side once more and silently wept at the bittersweet memories of the father who would never know how horribly the world he tried to save would turn on the person who he loved most and morph her into the murdering monsters he had fought so hard to protect her from. He died almost a decade before the outbreaks, years before the country would collapse in on itself and the army would swallow itself with murder, massacre and suicide.
Her memories took a dark turn as she relived the planes literally falling out of the skies, trains derailing into traffic and streetcars exploding as bombs were set off and riots were unleashed upon the unsuspecting public. The rabid, gnashing teeth ripping off flesh flashed through her mind and she could still see the thick blood pooling in the streets as crowds of people scrambled in every direction, hoping to escape the chaos. Her world was a battlefield; only her enemies were both undead and alive.
As her anxiety steadily ate away at her sanity Madeline was startled by the sounds of laughter emanating underneath her, people still finding joy in this world that would eat you alive at any given moment. "Alright, that's enough of that," the down-trodden teen thought glumly, forcing her to get out of bed and find something productive to do with her "new friends"
There was actually much to be thankful for after her decision to join the ranks of her companions and away from her own morbid thoughts. Having been granted permission to carry a handy survival knife was a small, but treasured relief to Madeline. The sheath kept on her lap band gave her the assurance and peace of mind that if the world went to hell (again) she'd at least be defensible. The morning after she'd made a fool of herself Rick also made her an addition to the group official by allowing her to roam freely around the prison. Her actual knife was formally returned to her after her fifth day with the group, but her tomahawks were still on hold for another two days. If she really needed them, she didn't doubt Rick would lend them to her, but having his family sleeping so close to the newbie made him understandably paranoid. Although she was still a little shaky on matching names with faces, she had a general idea of who was who. Some were easier to remember than others.
Rick, Lori and Carl were a family; and so were Hershel, Maggie and Beth. Glenn was the Asian, T-Dog was the only black guy and Carol had shaved her head. There were some Undesirables that they shared the far side of the prison with, but Madeline reasoned that the less she knew about the outsiders then easier it would be to "dispose" of them. Then of course, there was Daryl. Ever since she had arrived he always seemed to give her an angry glare and some sort of snide comment on anything and everything she did. She was also quick to discover how much she despised the ever-so pleasant nickname he had given her.
"Hey, little girl, would you stop bein' useless and help clear out these walkers?" Madeline shut her murder mystery novel and dropped it on her bed, by force of habit rubbing the small of her neck where her dog-tags hung by idly and rolling her eyes as she followed the vindictive redneck. She knew his type; headstrong, cocky, prideful and extra aggressive. He was "nice enough" to let her know that the route to the infirmary was quickly refilling with Walkers (as they also called them) and it was their job to go in and brush off the blunt of them and try to salvage any medicine.
Madeline tucked her long hair into a messy bun and tightened the knots of her laces on her boots as she and Mr. Redneck-Know-It-All geared up at the hall entrance. "Thanks," she smiled kindly at Beth, (?) slipping her hands through the sleeves of an old, slim jean jacket. It was a snug fit but it offered her arms vital protection so it was better than nothing.
"Don't mention it." The young blonde breathed, shyly looking at her with a half-smile that drooped limply on the corner of her mouth. She was about to ask her if anything was troubling her but the vexing man awaiting her made yet another aggravating comment toward her fashion sense made her stomp over toward the entrance so he's finally shut his yap.