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The council met in the library, concerned over the implications of such a fast-moving illness. Carol suggested separating anyone who had been exposed, but Daryl didn't see how that was possible—so many had been, including everyone at this table.
Hershel asked if anyone was showing symptoms of illness, but Carol wasn't sure if that was the right question. "We can't just wait and see," she said. "There's children. It isn't just the illness—if people die, they become a threat."
After a moment, Hershel nodded. "We need a place for them to go. We can't let them stay in D; we can't risk going in there to clean it up."
"We can use cell block A."
"Death row?" Glenn asked. "I'm not sure that's much of an upgrade."
"It's clean. That's an upgrade," Daryl pointed out.
Even as they spoke, they heard a woman cough from across the room. Carol was out of her seat instantly, sensing the threat. They had all blinded themselves to these possibilities for too long. She didn't intend to lose a moment. Not again.
Karen and Tyreese were in the hall, and Karen was coughing pretty hard.
The rest of the council followed Carol, explaining the situation. To her credit, Karen understood the danger almost immediately, and pointed out someone else who had been coughing and should be quarantined.
While Tyreese took Karen to get her things, Glenn went to get the other sick man, and Hershel headed for the dispensary to see what their stockpile of medicines looked like, Carol stood there, steeling herself for what had to be done.
"You all right?" Daryl asked her.
"I'm worried about Lizzie and Mika. They were around Patrick."
"We all were. Karen and David are going to be separated till they feel better."
"You're right," she told him, although she wasn't sure if he was. "You okay?"
He wasn't; she could see it in his face. But he said he was. "Got to be," he added, trudging off to go collect the dead and see that they were properly buried.
Carol went to find the girls, who were standing outside near the fence, looking at the walkers who swarmed the perimeter. "We're going to bury your dad," she told them. "You can visit, bring him flowers. Lizzie, we're going to have to talk about what happened in there."
Lizzie got to her feet, wandering down the fence, giving no indication that she had heard.
"Your daddy asked me to protect you like you're my own, and I will," Carol continued, following her. She took Lizzie by the arm. "It's time someone told you the truth. Honey … you're weak. You lost your nerve. You have to trust your gut and you have to act fast every time." It was harsh, and she knew it, but harsh was how you had to be now. Harsh is what she should have been to Sophia. "That's life and death."
"He's dead!"
"I know, and I'm sorry." Carol pulled her close. "But if you want to live, you have to become strong."
Lizzie just kept repeating "He's dead". "He was special, and now he's dead. Why'd they kill him? Why'd they kill Nick?"
"You're so stupid," Mika said.
As Lizzie rushed off, Carol followed the direction the girl had been looking in. "Nick?" All she saw was a pile of dead walkers.
Mika looked up at her. "She's messed up; she's not weak." And then she, too, headed back to the prison.
Carol stared after her. Was Lizzie not aware of what a walker was? Did she not understand death? She'd thought she understood what happened in the cell, but maybe Mika was right—maybe it was something entirely different.
Later, she found the girls near the fence again, staring at the dead who crowded it. "Lizzie, those are walkers. Nick was a walker. You don't feel bad about that walker dying. You feel bad about your dad." No response from either girl. Both of them stood still, holding on to the inner fence. "You loved him and he's gone," Carol continued.
After a moment, Lizzie said, very quietly, "Yeah."
Stepping forward, Carol knelt and cut a piece of the wildflower. She tucked it behind Lizzie's ear. "There." After a moment, Lizzie reached down and took the knife out of Carol's hand, tucking it into her own belt.
Carol smiled. At least she had done something right. These girls would live. They would survive.
Later that night, when everyone was asleep, Carol made sure that everyone would survive. In the darkness, she moved quietly to cell block A and she stood listening in the hall as Karen and David coughed in their sleep. Was it worse than it had been this morning? She couldn't tell. And really, it didn't matter. Because none of them could afford to risk it.
Carefully, quietly, Carol unlocked the door to Karen's cell. She stepped in, and she did it. Karen was just a walker, wasn't she? Or she would be, in a matter of hours, if this illness was allowed to take its course. No different.
And then she stepped into David's cell, and she did it again. Whatever happened, whoever else became weak, Carol was not going to be. Not ever again.
Quickly she dragged first one body and then the other out back, to a disused courtyard, and there she set fire to the bodies, standing in the shadows until the burning was done, just in case anyone came to investigate.
When it was over, she stood in front of the remains, wishing she could afford to feel badly about it. For a moment, she hesitated, feeling as though she ought to say something, but what was there to say? An apology? An explanation?
At last she shook her head and walked away, secure in the knowledge that she had done what she needed to do in order to keep the people she cared about safe.