"This used to be real nasty, remember, sweetie?"
Carol nodded, but said nothing. Dr. Beachum applied more ointment to her stomach, gently massaging it around the stitches from the knife wound. The ointment felt lovely. Cool and soothing on her warm, burning skin. The tiny nurses station was stifling hot. All around the walls, children's drawings still hung by the tape, though many were starting to curl in the heat and the colors were beginning to fade. Dr. Beachum had beads of sweat all over her forehead and brow, but it didn't seem to bother her in the slightest.
"Yes ma'am, when they brought you in here, I thought to myself, 'now, who on earth would want to hurt such a poor, sweet thing?' This world has gone lost its damn mind. I'm so glad those boys found you when they did. Who knows how long you would have lasted out there on your own."
Carol was silent. Dr. Beachum stared at her with concern, but shook her head and continued with her ministrations. Carol grimaced slightly at the throbbing pain in her arm. She tried not to touch it, but the urge was too great.
"Nuh-uh, none of that now," scolded Dr. Beachum, catching her. "I will change your dressings for that soon, you just sit tight, ok sweetie?"
Carol wished she wouldn't call her that.
Time seemed to have slipped by, for as soon as she started, Dr. Beachum had finished redressing the injuries to her arm and leg. Carol moved gently to the floor from the table as Dr. Beachum rolled the wheelchair behind her.
Carol looked at it with reservation. "How long before I can walk on my own again?"
"Give yourself some time to heal first," said the doctor. "Is there some place you gotta be, or something?"
Carol held her gaze, then dropped it. "No," she said, lowering herself slowly into the chair.
Dr. Beachum made for the handles, rolling her towards the door, but Carol stopped her. "It's ok," she said. "I can take it from here." Carol pushed herself along, pausing at the threshold.
"Thank you, Dr. Beachum," she added softly, and she was out the door.
Carol found herself in a long hallway, rolling down the vinyl tile floors and passing by old lockers and classrooms that had been turned into housing apartments and storage units. People watched her as she went. It was a bit surreal. Like being the new kid in school again. She didn't like being the center of other people's attention. Especially when these people were complete strangers. She felt vulnerable enough as it was, and if anything were to happen, she hated the idea of not being able to make a quick getaway on her own.
The heat of the nurses station had left her feeling woozy. She decided some fresh air would do her some good. Carol pushed herself out the front doors and rolled down the handicapped ramp way. She positioned herself beneath a wide tree, and stared out over the courtyard.
The Kingdom, as it was called, had once been an old elementary school, transformed now into a grand safe haven for many people. She couldn't say if there were more people here than in Alexandria, but it certainly felt like it. Probably because they were all packed in like sardines. They had high and sturdy walls, but not much room to stroll around and view the gardens.
Carol looked up. On the second floor of the school was a large balcony. Behind it she could see green plants and vegetables growing inside glass walls. A greenhouse, she surmised. She could hear the sound of neighing in the distance. The bus garages had been converted into stables, and it seemed that all transportation here was done on horseback.
Sometimes at night, when she would lie awake in her room, she could hear the distant soft roars of some large animal. The first time she heard it, she thought she had been dreaming. But when she had asked around if others heard it too, they would smile knowingly at each other, and just nod their heads. It was infuriating, like they were all in on some big joke that Carol did not find especially funny. There was something odd about these Kingdom people. Especially the man who ran the place.
The night she had met Ezekiel was the second day after she had arrived there. She was laid up on a cot in the nurses station, her stitches still itching and her arm and leg burning and throbbing. She was hopped up on whatever pain medication they had given her and she was in no mood to talk or see anyone.
He came in through the doors, a large man with a heavy long coat, dark skin, white dreadlocks decorated with feathers and beads, a full beard, and a Hawaiian T-shirt. At first she thought he was just another patient, or a crazy person, until Dr. Beachum and her nurses stood at attention and bowed. "King Ezekiel, welcome," Carol heard them say.
"Efficient and capable as always, Dr. Beachum!" said the man, kindly. "And how is our newest arrival?" Ezekiel pulled up a chair and sat down so that he didn't stand above her but met her at face level. He smiled warmly, his voice soft and soothing. "You're in good hands, my lady. I heard of my patrol guards picking up two lost strangers in need. I always like to meet new members personally and welcome them into my Kingdom. I am Ezekiel. You are safe here, you have my word on that. As soon as you are able, Dr. Beachum will have someone help you get acclimated to your new home. If you choose to stay, of course."
Carol could only stare back at him, blankly.
"I'm sure you have many questions for me," he continued, "but now is the time for rest. I have already spoken to your companion. Morgan is a good man, I can tell. I feel as though I can trust the two of you now that we've met. After all, I have always prided myself on being an excellent judge of character!" Ezekiel smiled brightly, rose from his chair, turned to Dr. Beachum and the nurses, and bowed. They bowed back at once.
"Dr. Beachum, where would I be without you or your amazing staff? My Kingdom would surely crumble into ruin!"
Dr. Beachum blushed as the nurses giggled.
"Take care, my lady," Ezekiel addressed Carol as he headed out the door. "Remember that tomorrow is always a better and brighter day." He flashed one last smile, closed the door behind him, and was gone.
My lady? King Ezekiel? Was this guy for real?
"He is something else, that man," said Dr. Beachum fondly. Carol thought so too, but with far less affection. She would stay vigilant for now. Any man who called himself a King must have had a couple of screws loose.
That had been more than a week ago. She hadn't seen the man ever since.
A cool breeze whipped the branches above her, and sunlight came filtering in through the gaps in the leaves. It was peaceful here. Safe.
But something wasn't right. Nothing nefarious or sinister. Just... not right.
She had felt numb ever since she arrived there. Like a car on auto pilot. She would get up, eat, exercise her leg, eat again, and sleep. Sleep if she could, for in the small hours of the morning, her mind would stretch beyond the boundaries of earth. So many thoughts came to her unwanted.
Did you make the right decision? Did you abandon your family for their sake or yours? Are you really so selfless? Or are you just a coward?
Am I a coward? she thought. Maybe she was once. She thought she had changed.
But she had changed. She wasn't the same woman that she used to be. After Sophia died, she could have died along with her. Instead, she had found a strength in her she never knew she had. Life had beaten her into the dirt and she had fought back, kicking and screaming. She had found a new life, a new family. She had found love and friendship in the most unlikely places. She had found Rick and Carl and Glenn... Maggie, Michonne, and Daryl...
...She had found Daryl.
No. Carol immediately put an end to that. She swallowed hard, straightening up in her chair. She was doing it again. Allowing her mind to drift into dangerous waters. She blinked away the sting in her eyes. She ignored the aching pain in her stomach.
They were gone. He was gone. She had made her choice. It was for the best.
She had to leave them. A war was brewing, she could feel it, and there was no chance that any one of them would make this out unscathed. Someone would die. They all could die. And she was tired of it, tired of all the death, tired of the killing. She just couldn't do it anymore. And that made her dangerous. Because if she couldn't be willing to kill, then she could very well put someone's life at risk. How can she protect them if she can't kill for them?
She almost let Maggie die because she hesitated. She killed those people... the one's who took her and Maggie... and it nearly destroyed her. Her death toll was rising. Rising to the point where she could no longer keep count. She's killed bad people, but she's killed the innocent, too. Everyday she would see them. Everyday their faces would appear to her, haunt her, remind her of all her past atrocities and sins. It tortured her to the point where if she screamed, nothing would come out. She could see the blood coating her hands... never dry, alway fresh... always new... always running. Running, running, running down...
I am losing my mind.
"Good morning," said a voice. Carol started. Morgan approached her slowly, casually, like he had just gotten back from a refreshing stroll in the park. He stood beside her, silent for a while.
"When you get yourself back on your feet again, we can set out and head for home."
"No." Carol's voice was harsh and cold. A tone that came automatic whenever she spoke to the man. "If you want to go, you can. But I can't go back there."
Morgan gazed out serenely over the courtyard.
"You know, this place... this place has practically everything Alexandria has. People, food, medicine, walls. The kind of stuff others might want. That others might kill for. That's something you mentioned here in your letter..."
"You have my letter?"
Morgan removed the slip of paper from his pocket, showing her. Carol glared at him.
"That wasn't meant for you."
"Maybe not," said Morgan. "But as sturdy as this place is, people could come here and take everything away just as easily as they could back home. Then what? The Kingdom is no different than Alexandria. The only difference is that no one here knows you. No one here cares about you. No one here loves you. I'm thinking you probably want to keep it that way. You can't get hurt if you sever all ties. It's easier not to care about strangers. But take it from someone who's been there, Carol... being on your own, alone, without a friend in the world? That's no way to live your life."
Carol puffed out a laugh. "Why do you care so much? You don't know me. Do you think you can help me? Fix me? Cure me? I never asked for your help. I never wanted it."
Morgan sighed. "You are undeniably the most infuriating woman I have ever met."
"Good."
The childish response caught Morgan off guard and he laughed. Shaking his head in defeat, he rolled his shoulders and made to leave.
"Morgan," Carol called after him.
Morgan paused, turning back.
"That man who shot me... He was going to kill me, but you stopped him. Why? Why did you kill him?"
"Why did I kill him?" said Morgan. "Because I had to."
"I thought you were against killing," Carol challenged. "I thought to you, all life was precious. Are you turning against your own beliefs now? Is that what you're doing?"
"No. That's not it. I did what I did because you were going to die. I gave that man a choice. He could have walked away, he could have lived. But he chose death. To save your life, I had to take another."
"And what made my life more precious than his?"
Morgan tossed his hands up, letting them fall. "I'm still learning, Carol. I'm still figuring this out. I don't know what's right, I don't know what's wrong. But I know I got to you. I also know you got to me. Maybe we can't live on the extremes anymore. Maybe sometimes you have to kill. And maybe sometimes you don't."
Carol shook her head, exasperated. "How many people did you kill before you lost your damn mind?"
Morgan's eyes were reflective and calm. "Just one," he said. "My son."
Carol felt all annoyance drain away as she stared back at him, stunned. Morgan gave a sad smile, nodded, and turned to leave.
Carol sat alone in her wheelchair as birds chirped above her. She thought about what Morgan had just said. His son. Dead. Another child lost to the madness. Unwanted memories came to her then. She thought of Sophia running into the woods. That had been the last time she had seen her daughter alive. She thought of Lizzie and her knife, covered in her sister's blood. She remembered the feel of the gun in her hand as she raised it, aiming for the back of the girl's head. She could feel the pull of the trigger, and then the gun went off...
The sound of the gates cracking open snapped Carol back to her senses. A large horse-drawn wagon pulled in carrying two men on top, escorted by several patrol guards on horses with spears. People in the school had gathered outside, slowly catching on to what was happening. The wagon rolled in and the courtyard became full of jubilant onlookers.
"No shit, the run team's come back!" Carol heard a younger man say.
"Check it out, they must've hit the jackpot," laughed another.
Indeed the wagon was stacked to the brim with what looked liked a plethora of food, water, medical supplies, and other goods waiting to be put to use. The mood became ecstatic and joyous. Carol was fairly disinterested, until a loud, rumbling, roar vibrated off the walls and into her stomach.
Carol whipped around. There was Ezekiel, standing on the front steps, a great smile beaming off his face. In his hands he held a chain leash, holding back a large, fully grown, growling tiger.
What the hell—?
People backed away from the steps and looked up towards their King. Ezekiel was patting the tiger's side, speaking soothingly to it. "There, there, Shiva 'ol girl," he cooed. "There, there, that's right." Ezekiel raised his arm out and a silence fell over the crowd.
"Welcome back, dear friends!" he exclaimed. "This is wonderful news indeed! Our run team has returned with many gifts for us all, and we must take advantage of it. As our food supply is already full and abundant, I believe it is fitting that a feast be in order!"
The crowd began to cheer, clapping loudly and whistling. The tiger roared again, agitated by the noise. Carol sat slack-jawed in her chair. The only one frozen in a sea of wild celebration. This had to have been the strangest community she has ever come across.
I don't believe it, she thought in awe. Another mad man is running the show...