The day drags on endlessly. Edwin cannot even help Dale or T-Dog with the RV or look for supplies with his injured ankle. He's left to languish inside, sweat dripping down his neck, stale air swirling in the bedroom. He curls up and clings to the plush lion that Carl gave him, sliding fitfully in and out of sleep and feeling no more rested than the last time he was awake. Dale comes by at some point, coaxing him to drink and asking if he has any antibiotics. He tells him no, and drifts back into that hazy half-sleep, unable to bring himself to even care about why Dale asked.
"Shot?!"
He blinks sluggishly, lifting his head from a damp pillow. No matter the illogic of hope, some part of him crumples when he hears Dale's incredulous voice. There is no Mouse rushing up to hug him.
"A woman came riding up on a horse and took Carol," Lori explains. "We need to get to that farm. Carl and Rick are there, I have to go—"
"Slow down!" Dale demands. "What happened?"
"We weren't there," Glenn cuts in. "It's— It's like Lori said. This chick came out of nowhere like Zorro on a horse. I don't even know. She said that Sophia had been shot and told Carol to come with her."
Sophia. Mouse was with Sophia. Sophia's been shot.
Edwin forces himself up, gasping for breath. He drags himself off the bed, staggering to his feet. His head feels full of cotton, his skin raw from tears. He comes up to the RV's door just as Dale demands, "You let them take her?"
"Climb out of my ass, old man." Daryl snaps. "She knew Rick's name, Sophia's and Carol's. Hell she knew Carl's name, it's like Lori said, they're at some farmhouse up the road."
"Which is why we need to go there!" Lori shouts.
"Mouse."
They all stop, turning to look at Edwin. He hovers in the doorway, using the wall to support his weight.
"Mouse, did they…" He clears his throat.
"No," Glenn says apologetically. "They didn't say anything. But, we know Mouse was with Sophia, right? Maybe we can— we could backtrack from where they found her?"
"I'll head up to the farm in the morning," Daryl says. "Won't be no point heading up now, it'll be too dark to track by the time we get there."
"Wait, wait," Dale shakes his head. "We should all go there now, the group is split. That makes us vulnerable—"
"No!" Edwin doesn't mean to shout, but he hasn't meant to do many things lately. Everyone but Daryl flinches, shooting him wary glances.
"I— No," Edwin rubs his hand over his face. "We can't just— What if she comes back, what if she…"
She isn't coming back. She went into the woods with Sophia, Sophia's shot. She went into the woods, and Sophia was shot. She isn't— She…
"If Mouse found her way back, and we were gone," Andrea shakes her head. "That would be awful."
Daryl nods thoughtfully. "Okay. We got to plan for this. I say tomorrow morning is soon enough to pull up stakes. Give us a chance to rig a big sign, leave her some supplies. I'll hold here tonight, stay with the RV."
Dale shrugs. "If the RV is staying, I am too."
Edwin tries to speak past the knot in his throat, to tell them there's no point. Mouse is— There's no point.
"I'm in," Andrea adds.
"Well," Glenn begins. "If you're all staying then I'm—"
"Not you, Glenn. You're going." Dale cuts him off. "Take Carol's Cherokee."
"What?" Glenn scowls. "Why me?"
"We need to reconnect with our people," Dale insists. "But more importantly, you have to get T-Dog there. This is not an option. That cut has gone from bad to worse. He has a very serious blood infection. Get him to that farm, see if they have any antibiotics. Because if not, T-Dog will die no joke."
"Lori wants to go, she can—"
"Glenn," Dale shakes his head. "We can't ask Lori to— to leave her son once she's there, and Carol needs support! Someone needs to be there who can come back in case we need to communicate."
Edwin glances around, finally spotting T-Dog standing off from the others. He's wrapped in a heavy blanket, hunched over and shivering. Guilt tightens in his chest. If he hadn't tried to kill them all, if he'd warned them instead, they would have had time to loot the CDC for supplies. They'd have medicine, food, and countless other sundries.
He heads back into the RV and goes straight to the bed, curling onto his side and squeezing the lion. He doesn't want to be here. Why her? Why can't it have been him who was lost in the woods? No one would miss him. She'd get over him. Why did it have to be her?
Eventually, a car rumbles to life, the engine's grumbling fading into the distance. The RV creaks and groans as Dale, Daryl and Andrea make their way inside. Edwin hides his face, shaking his head when Dale asks if he wants something to eat. There is a pit in his stomach twisted with pain, and the thought of swallowing anything is enough to make him gag.
In the morning, they move on like Daryl suggested. They paint words onto the windshield of a car, entreating Mouse to stay and assuring her they'll come back. They leave food and water out beside it, then Daryl mounts his motorcycle to lead the way, while Dale takes the wheel of his RV.
The instructions this mystery girl gave are straightforward enough. Back down the highway two miles, then drive down until they reach the mailbox labeled Greene. They're in the thick of farm country, golden and green fields left to grow wild stretch out on either side of the dirt road between encroaching patches of forest. They find the right driveway, unlock the gate and pull through, latching it shut behind them. The house they pull up to is picturesque in its perfection; grand and old, white walls and two stories with a wrap around front porch. The property is edged by woods with a stable for horses close to the forest and an old barn in the distance.
Edwin would be in awe, he thinks, if he could feel anything at all beside the painful pulse inside his chest. Still, when Andrea folds her arms and gives him a stubborn look, he struggles up from the couch and stumbles outside to greet their new acquaintances.
There's an old man at the front, dressed in what was once no doubt a pristine white shirt with suspenders holding up his brown slacks. Now it's stained with blood, and the shadows beneath his eyes are dark. Beside him, there is a beautiful young woman with chestnut brown hair, and a smaller blonde girl who looks uncertain.
"Do any of you have O negative blood?" The old man demands before they can so much as say hello. They all stop in their tracks, and the bottom drops out of Edwin's stomach.
"I'm A positive," Dale hesitantly supplies. "I'm not sure if everyone knows their type—"
"No one has O negative blood," Edwin says, his voice cracking as realization hits him.
The beautiful woman's head drops forward, her shoulders hunching as she sighs. The blonde beside her covers her mouth, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around the girl who is most likely her sister. The brunette hugs her loosely.
"Are you sure?" The old man demands, his expression intent.
"I checked everyone's type when we first met." Edwin explains quietly. "I had the supplies so I— So I checked."
"How is she?" Andrea steps forward, her eyes wide with alarm.
"Alive," the old man says shortly. "I'm Hershel, these are my daughters, Maggie and Beth. Everyone else is inside. Excuse me."
Hershel goes back into the house, leaving the rest of them alone to introduce themselves.
"Well," Dale clears his throat, stepping up to the porch and offering his hand to the brunette. "I'm Dale. This is Andrea, Daryl and Doctor Jenner."
"Maggie," she shakes his hand stiffly, her gaze flickering to Edwin. "You're a doctor?"
"Not the type you're thinking of," Edwin answers the accusing gaze. "I am— was a virologist."
Beth gasps, looking up excitedly. "You were? Do you know—"
"Not now, Beth." Maggie cuts her younger sister off. "You must be starving. Come inside, we'll get you something to eat."
They're brought in and introduced to three new faces, Patricia, who looks old enough to be Maggie's mother, but is in fact married to Otis, a larger fellow with a guilty look in his eyes, and Jimmy, a teenage boy with freckles speckled across his sun-pinked skin.
"It's my fault," Otis admits as Patricia joins Maggie and Beth in the kitchen. "I didn't see her…"
"Anyone could have done that," Rick comes out of a room off to the side, shadows under his eyes. He lays a hand on Otis's shoulder. "And you more than held your own last night."
The large man shrugs, staring at the ground.
"What happened?" Dale demands as they gather in the living room. T-Dog stirs in a large chair, sitting upright with a groan. He looks better than he did yesterday, though as tired as any of them.
"We were out looking for the girls," Rick explains, shaking Glenn's shoulder to wake the young man up. Glenn starts, looking around dazedly. When he sees them all, he gives a wave, sitting up to make room on the couch for the others to sit down.
"Heard a gunshot, then shouting," Rick continues, sitting beside Glenn. "Found Otis holding pressure down on Sophia."
"Was following a buck," Otis adds mournfully. "I swear I didn't— I didn't see her."
"Mouse—" Edwin manages to say.
"No sign of her," Rick looks away, his fingers clenching into fists. "Last night, me, Shane and Otis, we all went up to a FEMA camp nearby, got some equipment for Sophia's surgery."
"Well how did it go?" Dale demands. "Is Sophia going to be alright?"
There's a moment of freezing silence that speaks for itself. Otis doesn't look at anyone, but after a moment he shares, "We were hoping one of y'all on the highway would be a universal donor."
"She's strong," Rick cuts in firmly. His face is pale, but his expression is one of determination. "She'll make it." He turns to Edwin and offers him a nod. "I'll head back to the woods in an hour to look for Mouse, just need to get some maps of the area from Hershel."
"I'll go with you," Otis adds at once. "I know the area I can— I can help you all look."
"Not before you get some rest," Patricia chimes in as she enters from the kitchen carrying a pair of bowls with her. She passes out hot oatmeal to her husband and Rick before going back for more.
"She's right," Maggie adds, passing around bowls from her own tray. "You both need to get a few hours of sleep. You'll just get yourselves hurt if you go out right away."
"I've been sleeping long enough," Daryl stands up as he accepts the oatmeal. "Just give me the maps, show me where y'all found Sophia. I'll head out right away."
"Daryl, we can do this properly now that we have a base of operations," Rick glances up with a frown. "You don't have to go out there alone."
"Like I said, got enough sleep last night," Daryl sneers.
"I'll go with you," Edwin sets the bowl he hasn't touched aside. His stomach twists at the thought of food. Mouse hasn't eaten since those crackers, she— He can't.
"You'll just slow me down, no offense," Daryl says coldly. "Girl, get me them maps already. Daylight's wastin'."
Edwin slumps back onto the couch, staring at the rug. There's a grandfather clock ticking in the background. The sound of cutlery clinking on china echoes in his ears. His eyes burn.
"The missing girl, she's yours?" Otis inquires.
Edwin tries to respond, but he can't make a sound. He shakes his head, unable to lift his face to look the other man in the eye.
"Doctor Jenner took Mouse in when her mother died," Rick chimes in. "We don't know her name. She hasn't spoken at all since we met her."
"Oh, my God," Patricia says, stepping up beside her husband and gripping his shoulder. "That's awful."
Edwin stands up. His ankle throbs, but he limps over to the front door regardless. He doesn't want to talk to these people, doesn't want to deal with them. He wants to be out there looking, not in here.
He stops short when he sees into the room that Rick came out of. Carol is hovering over a bed with Lori standing behind her. Sophia looks tiny, spread out over the stained bedsheets with only a thin linen to cover her chest. Carol's face has aged overnight, lined with grief and fear, her blue eyes red from crying. She looks up briefly, then away too fast for Edwin to process what she might be feeling.
He stumbles out the front door, his throat tight. When he sees how far away the RV is, he shudders, staggering to a chair set up on the porch instead. His fingers dig into his knees as the breeze lightly brushes his cheeks.
He's vaguely aware of people coming and going. Daryl talks with Rick and Hershel over a map spread out on an old beaten up truck's hood. Daryl heads out alone, while Rick and Hershel continue to speak.
"You're Jenner, right?"
He looks up to Maggie, slowly nodding his head. She looks him over, a calculating look in her hazel eyes. "Is it true? You're a virologist?"
"I—" He swallows to clear his throat. "Yes. I was."
She nods. "Come inside. Don't think I missed you not eating."
He flinches, looking down at his hands. "I'm not hungry."
"You think that girl would want you starvin' yourself?"
Mouse offering him a cracker. Edwin's shoulders hunch. He shakes his head.
"So come inside," Maggie holds the door, giving him a pointed look.
It takes a long time for him to stand and stagger into the house. Maggie closes the door behind them then takes his arm, guiding him forward. At some point, most of the group vacated the farmhouse. He'd been vaguely aware of the tents sprouting up on the front lawn.
Maggie pushes him down into a chair at a long dining table, then heads off to the kitchen. Patricia is down at the end, drying off plates and cutlery that have already been washed.
"Otis is resting," she nods to him in greeting. "He'll go out and find that girl in an hour or so. He knows the area better than anyone."
Edwin nods, gripping the edge of the table as hard as he can. He feels like he's about to float away, dissipate. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't have left the CDC.
Maggie returns with an apple cut neatly into slices, along with a little dish of peanut butter. There's a cheese sandwich, on actual bread spread with butter.
"Eat," she orders, sitting down nearby. She raises her eyebrows and folds her arms. "I'm not moving 'til you do."
Shakily, Edwin grabs a slice of apple. He forces himself to dip it into the peanut butter, raising it to his mouth and chewing mechanically. His body doesn't feel like it exists. He can't taste anything. He makes himself eat regardless, working his way through the meal in front of him. Maggie takes the plates when he's done, vanishing back to the kitchen. When she returns, she isn't alone, Beth at her side. Patricia left at some point, but he can't remember when.
"Maggie," Beth eyes Edwin excitedly. "Please?"
The older girl sighs, giving her younger sister a pointed look. Beth blushes, shifting uncomfortably on her feet.
"It's fine," Edwin says flatly. He knows what they must want to know, what anyone would want to know. "You can ask."
"You're a virologist," Maggie cuts to the point. "What can you tell us about the disease?"
"Not as much as you'd think," Edwin sighs. "Don't get bit or scratched. You probably already knew that."
The girls glance at one another and nod. It's Beth who asks, "What about a cure?"
Edwin snorts and shakes his head. "I doubt it."
"Why?" Maggie demands.
Edwin sighs and rubs his face. Because he destroyed the best samples he had. Because it should have been him that died, and Candace who lived.
"Because the amount of resources, time, organization, and skills required to find one aren't likely to be found together in any one place currently," he finally says. "Any one of them? Sure. Two maybe even, but considering the current state of the world any cure will be long off."
"But, it's possible," Beth insists, her eyes wide and hopeful.
"Sure," Edwin shrugs. "I guess."
Maggie frowns while Beth looks up at her excitedly. "Alright," the elder sister finally says. "Your friends are setting up outside."
He recognizes the dismissal for what it is. Slowly, he pushes himself up, wincing as he stands.
"You hurt?" Maggie asks, her distant demeanor breaking into one of concern.
"I twisted my ankle." He shrugs. "I'll be alright."
They watch him leave, and this time he limps his way back to the RV. The windows are open, airing out the interior. Even so, it's uncomfortably warm inside. He can't bring himself to care about the stale stench of sweat. He just staggers back to the bed and lays down, squeezing the lion tight in his arms.
He doesn't get to rest long before the door creaks open. "Doctor Jenner?" Dale calls out, his footsteps thumping into the interior.
Edwin grimaces. With a sigh, he pushes himself up, rubbing his face. "In here."
"Do you think you could come down to the Greene's well with me?" Dale requests, twisting his hat in his hands. "We have something of a problem, could use your expertise."
His expertise? Who needs his expertise? What good has any of his expertise done for any of these people? He was supposed to save the world, and he ruined everything . He just wants to sleep. He made a mistake, and he never should have come along. If he'd stayed behind, it would be done, he'd be done, it wouldn't hurt anymore.
Mouse would try to help though, wouldn't she? She wanted him to let them all in, even though she could barely stand to look at the strangers, could hardly eat in their presence. Being around them made her anxious, but she wanted to help them anyway.
"Yeah… sure." Edwin reluctantly follows Dale out of the RV and across the yard to where a sizable crowd stands. As they get closer, the unmistakable growls of a walker become audible, echoing up from an old stone well dug into the ground.
"Maybe we should just shoot it?" T-Dog suggests, grimacing down at their water-logged problem.
"Whoa!" Maggie lifts her hands and shakes her head. "Guys, no."
"Why not?" Glenn demands. "It's a good plan."
"It's a stupid plan." Andrea states with a roll of her eyes. "If that thing hasn't contaminated the water yet, blowing its brains out will finish the job."
"It'll already be contaminated," Edwin says as he reaches them, glancing briefly into the well. He's glad he got up now. He might wish he was dead, but he wouldn't wish turning due to contaminated water on anyone. "It'll clear up eventually, but even if we get it out intact, I'd recommend relegating this well to use on cattle and crops."
"It won't infect the cattle?" Shane demands. He folds his arms, eyeing Edwin warily, but for once, his tone is not overtly hostile.
"Not enough to carry over to us," Edwin explains. "Technically the water might even be safe for human consumption, but without proper equipment to test, the risk is too severe."
"What about if a walker bites down on an animal?" Dale inquires. "There was a deer up near the camp we had outside Atlanta, Daryl took it down, but a walker got to it first."
Edwin frowns as he thinks. "That one depends. If the deer was already dead when the walker bit into it, then it would probably be safe. If the animal was alive, there'd be a much higher risk due to blood circulation."
"How high?" Andrea inquires curiously.
"Guys, this is really cool and all," T-Dog quips. "But we have a god-damn walker in the well."
"Right," Shane nods, refocusing his attention onto the problem. "We'll come back to that later, Doc."
"Any ideas?" Andrea looks to Edwin pointedly. "We can't shoot it, obviously."
Edwin steps up to the edge, eyeing the slick walls. The walker barely seems aware of them, shifting idly in the murky water. He's surprised the skin hasn't sloughed off entirely, although it's bloated up with enough water to make gender impossible to distinguish.
"Someone needs to be lowered into the well," he says at last. "Carefully. Take something sharp down, put it down. Once it's dead, secure the body with ropes, multiple locations. I'm honestly surprised it hasn't started falling apart, it's absorbed enough water that it could tear off around any of the joints easily enough."
"No," Maggie steps forward, her expression horrified. "You can't be serious."
"What?" Shane shrugs. "It's actually a pretty good idea." He nods to T-Dog. "Dawg, go find us some rope."
"You're not killing it," Maggie adds as T-Dog walks off, her expression disbelieving.
"What?" Glenn shakes his head. "Why not?"
Maggie opens and closes her mouth. "Look just, I'll go get my dad. We'll handle this."
"We got it," Andrea reassures her. "We want to help out. Besides, this will be easy."
"So who's going down?" Glenn asks.
Minutes later, Edwin finds himself helping to lower the young man into the well, the rope secured around Glenn's waist and thighs, heavy duty gloves on his hands, and a pitch-fork selected as his weapon of choice. Maggie gave them more protests, then hurried off as they moved the plan forward. Lori spots from beside the well, directing them to lower Glenn as needed.
"Almost there," Lori says. "Yeah, okay. Hold it, I think that's—"
The pump they secured the rope to creaks. Edwin steadies his feet, his fingers tingling as adrenaline surges through his veins. He tightens his grip on the rope just before the pump rips free of the ground.
Glenn screams, crying out and shrieking for them to pull him up. Edwin drags on the rope as hard as he can. His plan. He should have offered to go down. He should have—
"Wait!" Lori gasps, the relief in her voice obvious. "He got it! He got it, it's okay!"
"Glenn?" Dale shouts. "Glenn, are you alright?"
"Yeah— Yeah I'm fine!" Glenn squeaks. "I got it, you can, go ahead and lower me down!"
They ease forward, lowering Glenn into the well. He lets out a yelp as he comes in contact with the water, and they all relax when the rope slacks as he gets to his feet.
The rest of the task is straightforward. Edwin shouts down instructions as Glenn secures the walker in multiple locations. Dragging the damn thing up out of the well is more problematic, and they wind up throwing down another rope to pull Glenn up first, since he's lighter than the walker by far.
"What's the meaning of this?" Hershel comes up, his expression thunderous, just as Glenn emerges from the well. Otis, Patricia, Maggie and Jimmy are close on his heels.
"We're almost done here," Shane steps forward, waving a hand to the well. "Just need to pull it up, might need to borrow a horse or something. Damn thing's heavier than a load of bricks."
"You didn't—" Maggie stops herself, rushing up to the edge of the well. She peers down and gasps, covering her mouth. She looks to her father and nods wordlessly, stepping away from the well and bending over to lean on her thighs.
Hershel's mouth tightens. "We'll take it from here. I'd like the rest of you to leave, please."
The group look among themselves, clearly confused. Shane's lip twitches, his eyes narrowing with anger. After a moment, he shrugs, waving the rest of them away. "Y'all heard the man, Hershel's folks will take care of it. Come on people, let's clear off."
As Edwin makes his way back to their little encampment, he notices that Glenn lingers behind longest. He speaks to Maggie before jogging to catch up.
"Oh hey, Jenner," Glenn says as he slows down to a walk. "I'm heading into town with Maggie, is there anything you need?"
"I…" Edwin shakes his head. "No, I'm... I'm fine."
Glenn nods and starts to move away, when a thought crosses Edwin's mind. "Wait," he hurries up, reaching for Glenn's shoulder. "Wait I— Mouse. She— She has a hard time eating, and she's been out there awhile. If there are any protein powders left for— like for shakes."
"Oh, yeah," Glenn smiles. "I'll keep an eye out."
Edwin watches Glenn walk away, unsure why he spoke up. He sits down in a camp chair someone set up in a circle, exhaustion dragging at every limb. He should get up, go find something to do, offer to help out. Instead, he stares at the ground until the occasional looks from passersby drive him back into the RV.
He wakes up to screaming, panicked cries coming from the main house. He struggles upright, crawling out of bed. By the time he makes it to the door, the screams have changed. No longer panicked, now furious and shocked. Someone sobs disconsolately. Lori sprints up the stairs of the porch, Carl on her heels.
"Stay here!" She orders the boy, but he ignores her and follows inside.
"What's going on?" Dale is on top of the RV keeping watch. Edwin can tell how badly he wants to head inside, but he's afraid to abandon his post. "Lori?"
Edwin makes his way to the farmhouse, dread tight in his chest. He pushes the door open, stopping in the entryway as his gaze is drawn to the bedroom off to the side. Carol is sprawled over the bed, sobbing as she clutches at Sophia, who lays limp beneath her.
There's a knife sticking from the side of Sophia's head. Her eyes are open and milky, her expression slack, skin pallid.
Sophia is dead.
Rick, Shane, Otis and Andrea all went out looking for Mouse after the well was secured. By the time they make it back, the grave is dug. Edwin joined Patricia and Jimmy in doing so, none of them speaking. He ignores the constant twinge from his ankle, forcing the shovel into the earth again and again. Every movement feels disconnected from the last. He can't breathe, but somehow he's still moving.
"That should be enough."
He pauses, looking up at Patricia. Her cheeks are smeared with dirt and tears. She offers him a broken smile, and then her hand.
He takes the offer for what it is, allowing her to help him crawl up out of the pit they've dug, Jimmy scrambling up after him. No coffin, just a hole four or five feet deep, too small for an adult. He stares down into it, the memory of another too small hole clawing for his attention. That funeral had been a closed casket, the body too mangled for chemicals and gloved hands to wrangle into a lifelike facade.
When the others return, they gather around the grave, holding a subdued funeral as the last of the daylight fades. Otis hangs well back from the rest, his wife holding him tightly. Even from afar, his crying is audible. Carol can barely stand, hanging off of Lori as Rick carries Sophia's body wrapped in white sheets. He and Shane ease her down into the hole as Carol falls to her knees.
There are no words. Rick stands there staring into the ground, his eyes haunted. Andrea steps forward to fill the grave, and then Rick and Shane join her. Slowly, the group disperses, leaving Lori and Andrea to offer Carol what comfort they can, while Otis and Patricia hover in the background.
Edwin makes it to the firepit, then collapses into a camp chair. Daryl sits nearby, his expression dark. Someone lit a fire, sap crackles and pops, smoke drifting lazily. Edwin hunches forward, digging his hands into his hair.
"Stop moping," Daryl growls. He stands up with a huff. "Girl's out there, okay? I'll find her tomorrow."
As the hunter walks away, Edwin starts to laugh. He trails off into sobs, ripping at the roots of his hair. Why is he still here?
END NOTE: Heavy chapter. How is everyone feeling? I hope your real life is nowhere near as depressing as Rick's crew right now. Any thoughts people would like to share? As always, any and all comments are greatly appreciated including politely worded critique.