Chapter Two
"So, let's let things come out of the woodwork
I'll give you my best side, tell you all my best lies"
Homemade Dynamite by Lorde
My body had apparently needed all the rest, because I didn't wake up until the next morning. A tray of some kind of stew and crackers was sitting on the small desk in my cell from the night before, untouched. Someone must have brought it in and I hadn't so much as cracked open an eye.
I found myself sitting on the edge of the bunk bed, staring at that tray of food like it had personally offended me, trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do. I wasn't the "survive a zombie apocalypse" type. I wasn't a Maggie or a Michonne or a Carol. The most I could offer was the knowledge I had picked up over the many lives I had lived and an inappropriate joke here and there.
I had been a doctor a few times, so I could definitely provide healthcare. I had been in the military on multiple occasions, although it had been a while, and a police officer at some point, so I had a pretty good working knowledge of most firearms. I was a pretty good shot, if I remembered correctly, and could defend myself sufficiently, which had to work in my favor at least a little bit. Cooking with minimal ingredients was a strong suit of mine, thanks to my brief life during the Great Depression and my childhood.
I sat there for a second, my brain scrambling to think of anything else, but coming up completely blank. Was that really all I had? That and my knowledge of the events that were supposed to happen to the group, but I couldn't exactly tell them that. I could only imagine walking up to Rick just to say, 'Hey, totally crazy but if you guys ever see the sign for Terminus, don't go there. They will literally try to eat you. Okay, bye!' Because that sounds psychotic.
I groaned out loud and dropped my head into my hands. I was in this damn place in my body. Which only made me think maybe this was it. This was the last life. Why else would I be me? What kind of cruel fucking joke was the universe trying to play?
"You having another one of your moments?" I heard a voice drawl from the bars of my cell.
My head snapped up and I locked eyes with Rick. I had been in the midst of a mental break yesterday, so I didn't have time to really take him in. He was clean. His eyes looked clear. That was a good indication that we were either pre-Lori dying or post his little psychotic break. I crossed my fingers for the latter.
"Probably," I said, standing up and taking a couple steps towards him, "Do you think you could take me to the bathroom? And, if you're feeling real crazy, possibly let me shower? I smell worse than the dead right now."
He raised an eyebrow at me.
A nervousness settled deep in the pit of my stomach, for some reason. Probably because I felt like I was standing in the presence of a celebrity. Which, of course, just caused me to ramble.
"Oh, and I don't think I have any spare clothes. If I could maybe steal some from someone, I'd really appreciate it. Also I'm hungry. Like really, really hungry. I didn't wake up to eat last night."
I knew I was asking for a lot, but I was confident that if I didn't shower and get food in my stomach immediately, I would pass away.
"You think you can answer some more of my questions before we do all that?" Rick countered as he rested his forearms on the bars in front of him.
I couldn't help the eye roll. I really couldn't.
I fully understood why he was being cautious, however my nervousness at being in front of the man was quickly transforming into irritation. He didn't know me and I could, in fact, be a psychopath, but I was also on the verge of throwing a hissy fit similar to that of a toddlers. I think it was because I was hungry. Like most people, I was never very pleasant when I needed food.
I took one step closer to him, holding his gaze as I started to speak. "I'm alone. No one will be looking for me, I promise. I got out of New York with some friends, but they all died. Lone survivor here. I can help your group, if you let me stay. I was a doctor, I'm a decent cook, I'm good with guns. More importantly, I'm not crazy and I won't kill anyone."
Rick raised a brow at me again, which just made me want to stomp my foot.
"I don't know if we can trust you yet," he said.
"And I don't know if I can trust you yet. Listen, I just want to shower and eat. If you decide at any point that I'm a threat, you can drop me off somewhere far, far away and I will never darken your doorstep again. I'm one person and I'm assuming, from the amount of voices I've heard coming and going, you have quite a few people here," I sighed, shrugging my shoulders.
"We've had one single person cause problems for us before."
This man could test the patience of Jesus himself.
"Just let me shower. You can even hold my hand while I'm in there, if you want to," I said, placing my hands on my hips with an annoyed exhale.
His eyes widened for a fraction of a second as a blush crept across his cheeks.
"I'll have Carol come get you," he said, shaking his head, "But if you harm - "
"Any of your family I will die. Noted," I cut him off.
He narrowed his eyes at me, but he didn't look angry. If anything, he looked like he wanted to laugh.
"Fast learner. Must be all that doctor training." He turned on his heel and left me standing behind the locked bars alone.
Carol had appeared pretty quickly with some folded clothes and a grocery bag of hygiene items. It was pretty obvious that she had decided to use her "den mother" act with me. I'd watched her do it a hundred times before on the show and having it directed at me felt like an out of body experience. Immediately, she started trying to get nonexistent information out of me.
As we walked through the cellblock, which I quickly realized was the block the main group stayed in, she told me about the prison and asked various questions. I answered politely, but if I was being honest, Carol scared the shit out of me. More so than anyone else on the show. She was smart and she had no limits on what she would do to protect the group. If Carol thought I was a threat, I might as well kiss my ass goodbye, because she would not hesitate to take me out.
After she showed me the pump mechanism for the showers, she left me alone, stating in an almost stern voice that she would be 'right outside the door' if I needed anything.
I didn't even care that the water was lukewarm. It felt like I was in heaven for a moment, until I looked down to see all the dirt and blood circling the drain. That prompted me to start washing my hair and skin aggressively, being cautious of the bruise on my side and the lump on my head.
After scrubbing off the dirt and probably a few layers of skin, too, I wrapped a towel around my body and carefully brushed through the rat's nest that was my hair. It took an embarrassing amount of time to get my long hair into a manageable state, but I genuinely felt better afterwards. I brushed my teeth and then started to pull on the clothes Carol had given me.
The black leggings were comfortable, definitely better than the blood soaked jeans I had on previously. The bra was one cup size too small, but I wasn't going to complain, as it seemed like the least of my problems right now. The maroon v-neck and dark flannel fit perfectly and surprisingly, so did the white tennis shoes she had given me.
I threw everything back into the bag and wrapped my dirty clothes up in the towel. A harsh exhale fell from my mouth as I stopped to look at myself in the mirror on my way to the door. I wasn't sure that I would ever get used to seeing myself again.
Walking out of the bathroom, I found Carol leaning against the wall right next to the door.
"I'm sorry that it took so long. I was disgusting," I said to her with a wry smile that she quickly returned.
"Don't even worry about it, honey. I took just as long when we finally got the shower situation taken care of. You already look like you feel better. Why don't you go put your stuff back in your room and we can go hunt down some food? I think they're making deer for lunch."
I could see the underlying skepticism on her face as she talked to me. The way her eyes seemed to take in every little thing about me. It made a shiver run down my spine.
"Do you think I can just grab some food and go back to my room afterwards?" I asked her, "I think I want to be alone today, if that's okay. You can lock the cell door or whatever behind me, if you need to."
I should probably try harder to meet everyone, become friends with them or something, but I was honestly not digesting any of this well. The thought of talking to people made me want to projectile vomit. I didn't think I was emotionally capable of handling the distrusting looks and prying questions, while simultaneously making a conscious effort not to let on that I knew entirely too much about... well, everything.
"Are you still not feeling well?" Carol asked, fake concern coloring her tone.
"Yeah, my side is still hurting and I have a headache," I said, looking down at the floor.
It wasn't necessarily a lie. I did have a small headache and the dull throb in my side, while considerably better than when I woke up yesterday, still didn't feel great.
Carol was quiet for a moment before I heard her sigh.
"Listen, you don't have to lie to me," she said quietly and my eyes snapped up to hers, "Being around a lot of people when you're finally somewhere safe is a lot. It's hard to deal with, especially if you've lost everyone. I get it. Why don't you go hang out in your room and I'll bring you a plate? I'll make sure everyone gives you some space for a few days. How does that sound?"
She thought I was being standoffish because I missed people I'd lost, which couldn't be further off base, but I'd let her believe what she wanted. She actually sounded sincere when she spoke this time, which eased some of the tension in my shoulders.
"That honestly sounds great. Thank you, Carol. Really." I reached out, squeezing her hand once.
I turned away from the woman and made my way back to my cell. Carol didn't follow, so I assumed she wasn't going to lock me in, not that it mattered much. I had every intention of hiding out in my room for the rest of forever. Or, at minimum, the remainder of the day.
Jogging up the stairs to the second level, I headed down the long walkway, looking in every cell I passed. I made a game of trying to guess what room belonged to what person. It kept me entertained until I got to my area, which was just sad looking. The gray concrete walls, gray floors, and gray bedding made my nose wrinkle.
Pushing my interior decorating needs to the side, I designated a spot for dirty clothes and lined the hygiene stuff Carol had given me up on the dresser. I spent a few minutes moving everything around and singing quietly to myself, just trying to stay busy, when a heavily accented voice about gave me a heart attack.
"Ya got a beautiful voice, angel."
I turned quickly, wincing at the pain in my side, to find Merle Dixon leaning against the entrance of my room with his arms crossed and a shit eating grin on his face. His broad shoulders took up most of the space, blocking out the little bit of light that had been able to filter in, and his ridiculously blue eyes were fully concentrated on me, like he was tracking my every response to him.
My mouth fell open for a second, because for some reason I assumed Merle was dead by now. The way the showers had been set up and Rick's lack of crazy had made me think I had woken up somewhere between season three and four, or possibly just in season four somewhere before they left the prison. If Merle was alive though, it must be earlier than that.
My eyes caught on the contraption he had over his missing hand, noting he didn't have the dagger on it right now, before slowly travelling back up to his face again. He looked just how I remembered in the show. Tall, short hair, solid body, cargo pants and white tank with a button up that was left open and tight around his biceps. Even I had to admit that Merle Dixon had beautiful arms, the kind that were sculpted from doing manual labor.
"Ya know what strikes me as odd?" He asked before I could say anything, "I swear I've heard ya voice before. When I was gettin' the shit beat out of me by some very bad men. Started yellin' at 'em 'bout some walkers. Only reason I was able to make it out of there alive. Weird, huh?"
Several thoughts filtered through my brain, starting with: What the fuck is he talking about?
"I'm sorry. I don't think I know who you are," I said slowly, crossing my arms over my chest.
I knew enough about Merle to know that I needed to keep my guard up around him.
"Name's Merle Dixon. But from the look on yer face when ya seen me just now, sure did look like ya knew me."
I shrugged my shoulders, but maintained eye contact with the man.
"I think I'd remember you. You don't look like the type one forgets easily," I responded evenly.
His eyes narrowed, and I felt like prey that had just gotten locked in the sights of a predator. I could tell by the expression on his face that he didn't believe me, which was understandable. I obviously knew who he was, but I didn't know what he was talking about. I'd been in this world for less than twenty-four hours. It wasn't possible that he had heard me anywhere except for in this cell.
"Huh. Must be mistaken, then," he said slowly.
"Must be."
Merle nodded his head and then seemed to relax as the lines on his face softened slightly. I was trying to figure out what caused his demeanor to shift when I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs.
His head turned slightly as he glanced down the walkway.
"What're ya doin'?" A gruff voice asked.
Daryl Dixon.
I wasn't the biggest fan of Daryl. I liked him, but I think everyone who watched the show liked Daryl. He was Daryl, but he just hadn't been my favorite character.
"Just talkin' with our new friend here," Merle smirked before turning his head back in my direction.
"The hell ya talkin' 'bout?" Daryl grunted as he stopped beside his brother.
But then Daryl Dixon's eyes met mine and the weirdest thing happened. It felt like the first time I heard a song and knew it was about to be one of my all time favorites. Like I had taken a shot of whiskey and the sweetest burn was slowly crawling down my body, from my head to my toes.
I had met many people throughout my existence and grown to care about quite a few of them. I've had people that meant a lot to me, kids I had birthed, grandkids I watched grow up, held the hands of friends and family as they died. I'd carried people with me in my heart from one life to the next. One of the greatest benefits of living so many lives was that I had gotten the pleasure to know and love so many incredible individuals.
What I hadn't experienced with anyone, in any of the bodies I had inhabited over the years, or even in my own body in my original life, was what I felt when Daryl Dixon's eyes locked on mine.
I had a fleeting thought that something deep in my soul had been waiting to meet this man, but I quickly shook it off. I was probably just fangirling. Who wouldn't fangirl a little over Daryl? With his bright blue eyes that were the same shade of a clear summer sky and those arms that were unexpectedly well defined...
Jesus, is it getting warm in here? Why do I feel so toasty all of a sudden?
I realized then that I was still staring at his arms, in the most embarrassing way humanly possible. I snapped my eyes up to his again and noticed the pink tint to his cheeks.
"Hi, I'm Scarlett," I said, my voice sounding weird, even to my own ears.
"Daryl."
"My baby brother is a man of few words, if ya couldn't tell," Merle chuckled, taking way too much delight in Daryl's embarrassment.
"You should take a page out of your brother's book," I suggested, earning a playful glare from Merle.
"Yer a spitfire, angel," Merle drawled out, "I think I like ya."
"I'm not sure if I should be happy or scared by that," I replied with a small smile in his direction.
"Both, if ya were smart," Daryl mumbled before turning to Merle, "I need yer help with somethin'."
I used the short second that his attention was focused back on his brother to take in his appearance fully, not letting my eyes linger too long on any one thing. He had on dirty jeans and a black button up that was ripped at the shoulders. His brown hair was shaggy, but actually looked clean, and there was some dirt on his face that just added to his appeal, for whatever reason.
I immediately decided that he was gorgeous, but I couldn't remember if I had always found him this attractive.
"And what would that be, Darlina?"
"We got some wild pigs. Can ya help me or not?"
Aside from Daryl's voice sending a pleasant shiver through my body, fear and confusion speared through me for two reasons. First, if they were bringing in pigs, that meant this was absolutely somewhere between seasons three and four, like I had originally thought. Which meant Merle should definitely be dead at this point. If that was off, what else could be wrong that I wouldn't be able to predict or stop? Second, I was pretty sure the pigs were the reason for the sickness that killed a ton of people in the prison during season four. I could remember them outright saying that at any point, but I had seen a bunch of fan theories saying it had been contracted from the pigs.
Realistically, there were multiple illnesses that it could actually be. Tuberculosis, some variant of the Spanish Flu, just a really aggressive strain of the normal flu. If it wasn't the pigs and the sickness still spread, I would figure that out, but if it was the pigs and I didn't try to stop it, I'd feel like an asshole. Regardless, I sure wasn't going to die from this shit.
Death hadn't scared me in a very long time, but now that I was possibly on my very last life, I couldn't help but be a little nervous of the unknown.
I looked up at Daryl, who was saying something to Merle with an exasperated look on his face. I wanted to keep staring at him, but instead I opened my mouth.
"Don't bring pigs inside the gates," I said, mentally scrambling for a story I could sell to back up my demand.
I felt both mens eyes turn to me with questioning looks and I took a deep breath.
"Listen, something is wrong with the pigs in this area. They're carrying some kind of flu. I saw it when I was out there. It makes you really fucking sick. Fever, chills, cough, the whole nine yards. But then you start choking on the fluid build up in your lungs and blood comes from your eyes, nose, throat, and ears. It kills you. Painfully," I explained to the dumbfounded men.
"And when did ya see this happen?" Merle asked, both brows nearly raised to his hairline.
"Within the last week or two," I answered.
"Who?"
"My last group," I responded evenly.
"They all died?" Daryl asked, a roughness coating his tone.
I nodded my head and the brothers shared a look.
"Yer gonna need to talk to Officer Friendly, angel," Merle said, his eyes landing back on me.
Daryl was already turning around before he spoke. "I'll go get him."
Merle and I were alone again. Which was unfortunate, but I decided then that I didn't have time for any pity parties and my wallowing would need to be put on pause. Daryl bringing up the pigs reminded me again how absolutely insane this world was. If I wanted to live for longer than twenty-four hours, I was going to have to pull myself together.
That would start by building relationships with people. And having loved this show as much as I did, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that if anyone knew how to survive, it was the Dixon's. So, instead of laying on the uncomfortable bunk and crying about the loss of air conditioner like I had planned to do, I sat at the chair in front of the small desk and turned towards Merle.
"You've called me angel three times now. Is there a reason why or do you tend to flatter all the women around here?" I asked him.
Another grin settled on his face. "Saw ya tattoo when Daryl carried ya in yesterday."
An icy feeling that I hadn't felt in a long time crashed through me. Shame mixed with the immediate need to remove myself from this conversation.
Merle seemed to catch on to the shift in my demeanor almost immediately, because his face softened. "Daryl's the only other one that seen it... saw the marks on ya."
I swallowed and mentally prodded myself, desperate to change the subject. I wasn't in the mood to trauma bond with someone over shitty parents.
"So, Daryl's the one that brought me here?"
Merle nodded his head, "Found ya out in the woods. All banged up, lyin' next to some walkers. Ya take all of 'em out?"
Hell if I know.
"I think so. I hit my head pretty hard, though. I don't remember exactly how I ended up there," I shrugged.
"Ya get Hershel to look at it? And that bruise on yer side? Looked pretty nasty yesterday."
"I think he looked when I first got here, but I can take care of it now. I was a doctor before."
Merle let out a whistle. "Pretty, beautiful voice, sassy, and smart? Now that just ain't fair, sweet cheeks."
I barked out a laugh, slightly surprised at how genuine the sound actually was. "Oh, Merle. Flattery will get you everywhere with me."
The conversation was cut off by Daryl's gruff voice. "Merle! Bring 'er out here!"
Merle's head turned slightly to look over the railing outside my room and I caught a small eye roll as he looked back at me.
"Officer Friendly and his merry band of assholes would like a word," he said, forcing another chuckle out of me.
I stepped towards the doorway, but Merle didn't move.
"You're coming with me, right?" I asked, my eyebrows drawing together slightly.
Maybe I did already trauma bond with Merle during our twenty minute conversation, because the thought of going out there alone gave me heartburn.
Merle gave me an uncharacteristically genuine smile. "Right behind ya, angel."
I nodded my head and squared my shoulders. I was a professional at performing for people and this was no different. I just needed to convince them not to bring those pigs in here. That couldn't be too hard, right?
I strode out of the cell with Merle right behind me. His presence at my back made me feel a little braver, oddly enough. As I hit the stairs I finally looked down at the people in front of me. The Walking Dead fan in me wanted to squeal, cry, and kick her feet, but the bigger part of me, the part that wanted to live, quickly shut that shit down.
At the bottom of the steps Rick stood with Daryl, whose eyes were watching my every movement. I sent him a small smile, which only made his cheeks flush again and his eyes shift away from me quickly.
Behind them stood others. Sasha, Glenn, Maggie, Hershel, Bob, Carol, and Carl formed a semi-circle around the two men, watching me as I walked down the steps with Merle. I had a feeling, from the intensity of their stares, that everything about me was being scrutinized in that moment. I was glad I had been able to shower before doing this.
Carol had a plate in her hands and when my eyes met hers as I made it to the bottom, she stepped forward to hand me the dish. Quite literally nothing else mattered as I looked at the food. Some kind of meat, rice, and corn. My stomach let out a loud rumble.
"Good fucking God. This looks delicious," I breathed, as I reached for the fork and shoveled a bite of corn into my mouth.
My eyes closed for a second. I knew I had been hungry, but that first bite almost brought me to my knees. A snicker sounded behind me and I looked back to find Merle watching me with the corner of his mouth tilted up.
"Don't you laugh at me, Merle. I was starving. You're lucky I didn't start chewing on you up there," I said.
"Unless you like the taste of cigarettes and liquor, I would advise against that, sweet cheeks," he teased, bringing a smile to my face.
Turning back to the intimidating group, I backed up and sat at the bottom of the steps before looking at Rick, who was watching me with cautious amusement.
"Hi, friends. I'm Scarlett," I started, waving at the group with my fork, "Did Daryl tell you what I said about the pigs?"
I shoved another bite in my mouth as Rick nodded his head. "He did, but I want you to tell us exactly what you saw again."
I raised an eyebrow up at him as I chewed the rice.
"You have an aversion to saying please, don't you?" I asked, causing Merle to snort as he dropped to sit on the step behind me, but I launched into the same spiel I had given Daryl and Merle before.
"That doesn't sound impossible. Birds and pigs are how diseases used to spread," Hershel said thoughtfully when I finished.
The group in front of me started debating as I kept eating. My eyes followed the conversation, bouncing from person to person like I was watching a basketball game. It was a surreal moment for me.
I shoved a piece of the meat in my mouth and let out a quiet groan, momentarily checking out of the scene before me. "This is so freakin' good."
"It's deer," Merle said quietly, "Daryl caught it yesterday."
"This could change everything for us, though," Rick said loudly to the group, causing me to tune back in, "It could provide a way for us to eat for a long time."
"But will it matter if we all end up dying from some kind of weird flu?" Glenn responded, putting his hands on his hips and looking over at Maggie.
I kept listening while I ate. Maybe there was a way to treat the pigs? Hershel used to be a vet. If I could convince them to go to the vet college, like they had in the show, there had to be something he could do. We could quarantine them away from everyone and have anyone who treated or fed them wear masks until Hershel deemed them healthy. And if we went to get the meds, if someone did get sick, we could help them anyway and prevent anything from becoming unmanageable.
I cleared my throat and the group looked at me. "There's a vet college I passed a while ago. If there's someone here that's good with animals, maybe we could isolate the pigs and treat them. Keep contact minimal with everyone else. We could raid the college while there. The same medications they use for animals are what we would need for people for the most part, anyway. It couldn't hurt to have an overabundance of meds handy. That way if someone does get sick, I can treat them."
"I know exactly the place you're talking about. The veterinary college at West Peachtree Tech. People may not have thought to look there for medication. It's not a terrible idea," Hershel agreed, "I can treat the pigs. I've had to do similar things before."
"Could be a big risk, though. That's about fifty miles out," Daryl said.
Glenn shrugged his shoulders before folding his arms over his chest. "We've raided every pharmacy nearby. It might be worth it."
Everyone was quiet for a moment and then Rick looked over at me with a hard face, his light eyes seeming to be searching for something in mine.
Fabulous. He's about to completely shut me down.
My shoulders sagged a little bit as I took another bite of my food, defeat heavy in my chest. I don't even know why I thought Rick would listen to me. It took an act of God to get him to trust new people.
"You'll go, if we do this," he stated, his voice level.
Merle jumped in to defend me before I could say anything. "Hold on a damn minute. She has a bruise coverin' her side and a knot on her head that ya can see right now. She doesn't need to be out there until she's healed."
Which surprised me so bad I choked on a piece of corn and threw myself into a coughing fit.
"It's her idea. She should be the one to execute it. We've all done more with worse injuries," Rick responded, shrugging his shoulders.
"Don't mean shit. She's a doctor. She's useful here. Not like we have an unlimited supply of medical professionals runnin' around," Merle growled.
The way he said 'medical professionals' made me want to chuckle, except I was in the middle of a very real panic attack, so that didn't happen.
Rick didn't relent even a little bit. "Which is why it might be a good idea for her to see what medications would be useful to bring back."
I was scared of leaving the prison. I hadn't seen a walker in person yet and I didn't want to ever, if I was being honest, but that wasn't the reality I was living in. I had to help if I wanted them to let me stay.
"I can go. It's fine. I'll pop some tylenol and be good as new," I said over the mens irritated voices.
"I'm goin', too," Merle said with a harsh, annoyed tone.
"Nah, I'll go," Daryl grumbled, "I know how to get there."
"The three of us will go, then. We can leave tomorrow morning," I said with a fake smile as I stood up from steps, "Carol, where can I set this plate? I think I'm going to go take a nap."
"I'll take it for you," the woman offered.
As I handed her the plate, my hand started shaking and Carol's eyes bounced up to mine. She knew I was scared. Great. I didn't give her time to say anything, though.
"It was nice to meet all of you," I said to the group as I turned to go back up the stairs, only pausing to squeeze Merle's shoulder in a silent 'thank you'.
I headed back to my cell, feeling my blood pressure rising with every step. Once I was on my bed, I let out a shaky breath.
Realistically, I knew I was going to have to go outside at some point and that eventually I would come face to face with that dead, but I was still terrified. Instead of dealing with my fear in a healthy way, I unpaused the wallowing and cried myself into a restless sleep.