Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

September 25, 2010

Ada sighed, using the back of her gloved hand to push her hair out of her face. It was getting blisteringly hot in the hospital. The air conditioning had been off completely for over a week now. Technically, the air conditioner still worked – but Dr. Macones insisted that it was a drain on the hospital’s resources, and therefore had limited its use to only four hours a day, when the heat was at its worst. Now that they were inching towards October, Dr. Macones wasn’t allowing its use at all. It made tasks like cleaning up the few patients left in the Harrison Memorial Center even more unbearable for her.

She was a doctor, for Christ’s sake – not a nursing aide. Not just a doctor, but a surgeon, and a damn good one at that! Unfortunately for Dr. Ada Walsh, it didn’t matter that she had went through eight years of higher education, a five-year residency, and a two-year trauma surgery fellowship. She was now responsible for all levels of patient care – from removing burst appendixes in hospital rooms to wiping the ass of a comatose man who hadn’t been awake to see the dead get up and start eating the living.

“Fuckin’ bastard,” she grumbled, “I can’t believe after all these years, this is how I finally get to see what Rick fucking Grimes has in his pants.”

Pulling the pair of gloves that she had been wearing off, she threw them into the trash, walked to the sink, washed her hands, and donned a new pair. She had taken to thinking of things in steps like this – grab a basin from the cabinet, fill it with water, grab a cloth, wet the cloth, clean Rick’s face, etc. – ever since Dr. Macones had decided to take her swan dive off the deep end.

A little over a week ago, stragglers had come into the hospital. They were all male, all wounded and looking for supplies; instead, they found Dr. Macones and Kate alone on the ground floor, leading dead-ones out of the side doors. The two women patched them up and invited them to stay for a few days, only for the men to return and snatch Kate right out of the damn broom closet her and Dr. Macones were hiding in. Apparently, Dr. Macones had given Kate a needle and a vial of fentanyl as an alternative to living through their torture, but that didn’t make Ada feel any better about the situation.

Kate had been her best friend. They met two years ago when they both came to work at Harrison Memorial and hit it off immediately. Kate, just like Ada, had an overbearing older brother who was a cop, a piece of shit ex-military father who played fast and loose with his fists, and a mountain of student loan debt from paying her own way through medical school.

Ada hated herself for not being here when it happened, but they were running low on food. She had to go and find something for them to eat or there would be no point in continuing this sham operation they had going on here. If she had known that Dr. Macones was going to start handing out free euthanasias to the patients left in the hospital, she wouldn’t have bothered. With so few left after Dr. Macones' 'mercy,' they probably had enough to feed the ten stable and ambulatory people in the hospital for the next three months.

She walked back over to the sink, dumped out the water, and threw away her gloves. She turned the water on to wash her hands but paused with her fingers under the flow, blessedly cool against her flesh. She stood there for a long while, thinking about everything that had happened; the virus itself, the hospital staff barricading themselves in the doctors’ lounge, the National Guard rolling in to clean up the place, Shane telling her to leave – that they have to get out of the city, her pulling his own gun on Shane when he tried to force her to come with him....

The water started to numb her fingers, but she still didn’t pull them away, lost in remembering the look of betrayal on her brother’s face.

“Dr. Walsh!” came a harsh voice in the doorway, “you’re wasting water.”

Ada turned as Dr. Macones stomped into the room then leaned over her to push the faucet into the off position.

Ada bit her tongue so hard the taste of iron bloomed in her mouth, the salty, metallic taste overcoming her urge to punch the woman in the face.

She swallowed thickly, ripped a paper towel out of the holder, and wiped her hands while walking out of Rick’s room. Dr. Macones followed her out, still nagging about wasting resources behind her. Ada wanted to tell her that she was the one protecting these resources; that she was the one who had went out into the world and stolen much of them, but she didn’t have it in her to start an argument. Instead, she nodded, apologized, and started into the room of Betty, the next patient on her rounds.

“Betty’s not there; you can take her off of your list.” Dr. Macones said from behind her.

“Great,” Ada replied, not bothering to turn and face her. She wanted to say, Great, Dr. Kevorkian, another soul to add to your tally, but of course, she didn’t. There was so much she wanted to say these days that she just couldn’t force out of her throat.

“That’s what I was coming to tell you. I helped three more over last night.”

Ada closed her eyes and forced out, “who else?”

“Well, Betty, of course. Also Mr. Russel in 2121 and Mr. Saints in 4432.”

“Mr. Saints?” Ada spun around to face her, “but he was comatose. He couldn’t consent to that.”

Dr. Macones frowned, “well, yes, but he hadn’t been awake in three months, Dr. Walsh. It’s inhumane to keep someone in that condition.”

Ada tried to will her beating heart into submission. She knew that her pulse point would be jumping in the hollow of her throat, alerting Dr. Macones to how much this fact upset her. She didn't want the other doctor to know how much Rick meant to her, to have that power over her.

“He couldn’t consent.” Ada repeated.

Dr. Macones frown deepened, and she fixed Ada with a long, hard look. Ada stared back at her, refusing to cower to the woman, even if she was now Harrison Memorial’s own Angel of Death. The standoff lasted a few seconds before she turned and walked slowly away, leaving Ada standing in the doorway to Betty’s empty room.

Once the other woman had rounded the corner, Ada slipped the key to the third-floor rooms out of her white coat pocket and locked the door to Rick’s room. Regardless of if she thought he would wake up or not, it would be Ada’s decision – not Genevieve Macones’s if letting Rick live was inhumane.

*****

Rick Grimes had always been a part of Ada Walsh’s life. In fact, her very first memory was of them and her brother playing in the creek behind their houses. She could close her eyes and see it now, the later afternoon sun pouring in from behind the trees, the dark green-brown of the water as her brother and Rick splashed about, the lightnin’ bug that she caught in her hands, it crawling on her muddy finger as she held still, still, oh so still. She was sure if she focused hard enough, she’d feel the squidsh of the red, Georgia clay mud between her toes and the ache of the sunburn on her shoulders and nose. The heat, so heavy, so stifling, had been what drove them to the creek that day. Her brother and Rick were pulling each other down, wrestling in the shallow water, talking a mighty big game about catching a frog that they would force her to eat. She sat on the bank, eating the popsicle Mr. Grimes gave her, the sweet juices running down her fingers to her elbow, down her chin and onto her shirt.

That was how her daddy found them, wet and dirty and tired from a long day of play.

“What the hell do you think you two are doing, huh?” Butch Walsh growled out, grabbing Ada by her hand and pulling her to her feet. “Your mama's 'bout home from work and she’s gonna tan your hide for ruinin’ your damn clothes.”

“Sorry, daddy,” Shane said, trying to run out of the water towards her. The current was too strong for his legs, though and he fell, getting even more mud on the front of his shirt.

Ada giggled at her brother looking so silly, but her dad gave her a look that made the laughter catch in her throat. She was only four years old, but she still flinched as her dad raised his hand to strike her. She had already learned.

“I’m real sorry, Mr. Walsh – it’s my fault.” Rick said, before her dad’s hand finished its arc. “It was my fault. We was playing in the yard, but then it got so hot. I figured we could go swimmin' to cool down. Shane said he wasn’t ‘ppossed to, but….”

“Damn right he ain’t ‘ppossed to,” replied her father. “And the girl? I’m guessin’ y’all just wanted to get her in a wet shirt, huh?”

Rick looked from Ada to her father dumbstruck, unsure of what to say back to the man. Her dad released her hand, the skin tackily clinging to his from her popsicle earlier, to cuff Shane around the head. They went inside, but Rick stayed there, sitting in the shallow water, his face red and fists clenched. Ada watched him through the window during dinner until her daddy got up to close the curtain.

That was only the first time Rick Grimes saved her from the rage of her own father. Despite the way the memory ended, that sticky-sweet-cool mud-summer feeling settled into her bones every time she looked at Rick. Nothing ever came of it, of course; Rick was too noble, Shane too protective, and Ada much too close-mouthed to ever acknowledge how she felt for him. But even though the words were never spoken aloud, Ada knew that they knew, all three of them.

*****
October 21, 2010

Ada was pulled from her pleasant summertime dream by yelling coming down the hallway. She immediately threw the covers off the bed, shoved her feet into her boots, grabbed her gun, and went to the door. She carefully opened the door, gun raised before her, and checked the left then the right. She didn’t see anything, but she could hear the commotion from the far right end of the hall.

“You killed her!” A man’s voice cries, “My Karina! You killed her!”

Ada creeps down the hall, as quiet as she can, her finger on the trigger ready to fire. As she comes to the room, she sees Dr. Macones on the floor in front of a man she doesn’t recognize.

“Ada! Shoot him!” Dr. Macones cries, “shoot him now!”

“Who are you?” the man screams, turning to face her, “Did you help her kill my wife?”

His voice breaks on the last word and she feels her heart lurch into her chest. Of all the possible causes for violence against doctors, this was always the scenario they used in conflict resolution training.

“Sir,” Ada starts, putting both her hands out in front of her, the gun still in her hand but turned towards the wall, “my name is Dr. Ada Walsh. I’m not sure what’s going on here, but I’m sure we can figure out a better solution.”

“Better solution? Is that what you told my wife before you shot her up with some drug? That it would be a ‘better solution?’” He spits.

“No, no! Of course not.” Ada responds, speaking softly as if to a spooked animal. “I had nothing to do with that. I just woke up and heard the commotion.”

“Leave.” The man tells her. “Get out. Right now.”

“Sir, I can’t –“

“LEAVE!” The man bellows, “GET OUT!”

Ada feels her heartbeat in her chest, in her head, in her toes. She uses ten of them to go through as many scenarios as possible. If she goes, the patients would be at risk; however, it doesn’t seem like he’s after anyone but Dr. Macones, so she doubts that he will intentionally go after Rick or the other three patients left alive. If she stays, she will most definitely be caught in his anger at the other doctor.

“Do I need to leave the room or the hospital?” She asks slowly. “I just want to understand what you want from me.”

“Just go.” He cries, his hands shaking as tears stream down his face.

“Okay,” Ada says, stepping backwards carefully, “okay.”

She takes ten big steps backwards before turning and fleeing down the hallway. She grabs her go-bag and eases herself out of the window, dropping to the street below.

It’s alright, Ada, she tells herself, We’ll circle back tomorrow and he’ll either be gone or we’ll get Rick out of there. He’ll probably let us take him, he's just grieving.

It’s okay. We’ll come back tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Chapter Two

September 9, 2010

The National Guard had been stationed at Harrison Memorial Center ever since the Governor of Georgia declared an official State of Emergency twelve days ago, on the day of the Fall. At first, they had been helpful; unlike the hospital staff, they had no qualms about putting down the reanimated corpses. They stood guard at the beds of unstable patients, ready to step in when the doctors and nurses’ oaths made them hesitate. Too many of them did hesitate, leaning down to try one last rescue breath only to have a chunk pulled from their face or neck.

They were a comforting presence. On the day of the Fall, they had freed Ada and ten other doctors from the doctor’s lounge and helped to bring some sense of order back to the hospital. It had worked for a while, but this morning something changed.

“Dr. Walsh,” came a voice from the doorway.

Ada turned, seeing Colonel Michael Jameson, the highest ranking officer at the hospital. He tilted his head towards the hall, indicating for her to step out of the room.

Ada nodded, then turning back to her patient said, “okay, Ms. Nash. That should be the last wound check before we let you out of here. Everything seems to be healing well. I imagine you’ll be sent home today or tomorrow.”

“But – what about the crisis? Can’t I just stay here? I don’t want to go out there!” Ms. Nash’s voice climbed an octave with each sentence.

“The National Guard has secured the city. You’ll be escorted to the safe zone and protected. Don’t worry, this will all be over soon.” Ada soothed.

With one last smile, she snapped her gloves off, washed her hands, and went to join Colonel Jameson in the hallway.

She put on a bright smile and asked, “what can I do for you, Jameo?”

The smile didn’t stay for long. With one look at the Colonel, it slid from her face and her heart clenched in her chest. His face was wan; he looked as though he had seen a ghost.

“Mike, what is it?” Ada probed.

“There’s been a new command from HQ.” He paused, clearing his throat before dropping his gaze to the ground, “We’re losing control. We’ve been ordered to enact the contingency plan.”

Ada stared blankly at him, willing him to continue. She had never seen this look on his face. Usually he was loud; a boisterous presence that you couldn’t help but to gravitate towards, like a golden retriever. Sure, he was strict with his troops, but he never lost his humor, even in stressful situations. They had grown to be friends in the past twelve days, close quarters and a common purpose will do that. It was odd to hear his voice so pinched, see his shoulders so tense. It made her uneasy, even more so than his vague words.

When he didn’t elaborate, Ada pressed again, “What does that mean?”

“We’re supposed to humanely execute everyone in the safe zones – including the hospitals. Then we’ve been ordered to fall back to the nearest base. We’ll be heading to Fort Benning soon.”

Ada felt as though the world had tilted on its axis. Her ears hummed, a long monotonous tone that made her feel like bees had been stuck in her head.

“-come with. I’ll vouch for you. You can pass as military.” Ada barely heard his words over the buzz.

“What?”

“You can come with us. We’ll need doctors and you’re close enough to military; it’s not like anyone is going to be checking a roster. We’ll get you a uniform and –“

“Stop.” Ada said, “Back up. You’re going to kill all of us?”

“Look, most of us just plan on splitting. You know us. We’re good guys. Things are just…” He ran a hand through his dark hair, “they’re getting out of hand. The Brass wants to get a better hold on this thing. Fewer civilians… fewer dead-ones.”

“What about supply drops? Are those going to be gone too? We have people here – sick and well.” The question was illogical, the answer obvious, but her head was spinning and the question tumbled out unbidded.

“Yesterday was the last one.”

Ada cursed under her breath, putting her hand against the wall to steady herself. They were already running low on antibiotics and fever reducers; during the first days, doctors had given both to almost everyone who walked in the door. No supply drops meant that they would be gone soon. It also meant no more food coming in. She knew from the survivalist books she used to read for fun that food goes fast, exponentially faster than you anticipate. But most importantly, no military meant no one she trusted to watch her back, at least not when it came to using deadly force. It meant no one to guard the doors while she took care of the people here; no one to guard the lounge while they took turns sleeping; no one to round up all the dead into the cafeteria. It would fall to her. The other five doctors left at the hospital wouldn’t have it in them; two were internal medicine physicians, one a pediatrician, and the other two dermatologists – all soft by trade. Some of the nurses might be willing to help, but —

Ada was pulled from her thought spiral by Colonel Jameson putting his hands on both of her shoulders.

“Look, I need you to decide.” He said, fixing her with a hard stare.

“I – I can’t just leave. Who will take care of everyone here?” She said, voice wavering.

“There isn’t going to be anyone to take care of, Ada. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

“When are you starting the –“ her voice broke, and she cleared her throat, “when are you going to start killing them?”

“Ada!” A familiar voice called, drawing her attention away from Colonel Jameson and the heinous truth of what was about to happen.

Pushing forward past the man, Ada cried, “Shane!”

She shot forward, hugging her brother with all she had. He was wearing his full uniform; his service piece strapped to his hip. She took a moment to breathe into his shoulder, letting his presence calm her as it had their whole lives.

Ada turned to ask if she was allowed to bring anyone else when Shane suddenly pushed her behind him. Down the hall from where they stood, a young soldier had turned his gun on some of the nurses. The hall was deathly quiet; the only sound that broke the stillness was the heavy breathing of the one nurse held at gunpoint.

“Hey!” Ada cried, trying and failing to shove past Shane to get to the group. “What’s going on here?”

“She’s bit!” The Guardsman spat. “Besides, we have our orders. Even if she wasn’t, she wouldn’t be getting out of here. No civilians are.”

As soon as the words fell from his lips, a panic erupted in the hallway. Immediately, those closest to the doors broke off from the rest, desperately trying to get out before the man began firing.

The second the door opened, the Guardsman opened fire – mowing down almost all of the people who stood in his way. Ada was rooted to the spot, watching in horror as the nurses, some she had known for years, were brutally murdered in front of her.

Colonel Jameson, looking guilty, took off his semi-automatic rifle and shoved it into her hands.
“Take her and go.” He said to Shane.

Shane grabbed her roughly by the arm and immediately started running away from the group, dragging her behind him. Ada looked back at Jameson, who gave her a single nod before heading towards the younger soldier.

Ada needed to know what he was going to do; she needed to know if she was right to trust him before, if he really was planning on just leaving.

They were at the stairwell door, though, and Shane was soon pushing her through it. He grabbed the rifle from her hands, slung it over his shoulders and handed out his service piece for her to take instead. With numb hands, she grabbed it, holding it out in front of her like their daddy had taught her years ago.

“How do we get to Rick?” Shane rasped, leaning against the door.

Ada nodded and took off up the stairs. They could hear more gunfire coming from the floor below and knew that apparently Colonel Jameson had been wrong; the men were planning on following their orders. The third-floor hallway was blessedly empty when they came out of the stairwell, and Ada rushed over to Rick’s room. Pulling the key out of her pocket, she opened the door and ushered Shane in, closing it behind her.

“We’re going to have to take the equipment with us. We should also get a stretcher. They’re much easier than these bulky beds. There should be one at the end of the hallway.” She told him, already taking the medication pumps off the standing pole and getting ready to move them to the stretcher.

“Look.” She told him, “I need to go get some things. We can’t leave here without medication, IV nutrition, fluids. He’s breathing on his own, but he’s not doing much else.”

Shane looked at her, an unreadable look on his face.

“I’m going to go get everything we need. You stand at the door and cover me.” She said.

Ada ran out the door and into the hallway, grabbing a stretcher from the transport room. She then ran into the supply room, grabbing as much as she could and throwing it into patient belonging bags. The bags went onto the stretcher, and she started rolling it back down the hallway.

She was halfway there when more people burst out of the stairwell and into the hall; they were all civilians, mostly nurses and three of the remaining doctors. She locked eyes with one as the soldiers followed through the door. She could hear them begging, pleading for them to just let them go. The soldier hesitated for a moment before opening fire, shooting them all in the chest and stomach. Four more soldiers followed out of the stairwell; one walked forward and pulled out a pistol, placing well aimed bullets in their heads after they had slumped to the ground.

“It has to be the head, yardbird.” The one with the pistol told the young one, cuffing him on the helmet.

She was frozen again, unable to move as they turned to face her.

Just then, a moaning came from the stairwell and dead-ones started pouring out. One immediately fell onto the nearest soldier, not managing to bite because of their body armor, but still knocking him to the ground. The dead-ones just kept coming from the stairs. They were all in either scrubs or gowns, but even if they hadn’t been, she would have known, instinctually, that they were the people in the hospital that they didn’t put down properly. There must have been twenty standing there in front of her now, reaching for the soldiers and getting knocked back by the force of their bullets.

She used their distraction to slip into the room beside Rick’s, frantically pulling the batteries out of the monitor and medication pump before grabbing the extras stored in the room. She knew that Rick would need them; without power, the batteries would be the only way she could monitor his vitals.

She crept out of the room and slid along the wall into Rick’s room. Shane had tucked himself against the inner wall, waiting either for her to return or for him to have to start engaging with the soldiers.

“Twenty more seconds and I would have had to come after you.” Shane told her in a sharp whisper.

Ada was getting Rick unhooked from his current monitor when she heard footsteps at the door. Immediately, Shane ducked into the bathroom and she dove behind a cabinet, out of the line of sight from the door. She held her breath, hoping and praying that he would just sweep the room and not actually come in. The young soldier from earlier raised his gun at Rick, and she bit her hand to keep from crying out, from begging him not to do it. He hesitated for a long moment before Colonel Jameson’s voice rang out from the soldier’s walkie.

“All clear. If they’re not dead, they will be soon. Let’s go before we can’t.”

The soldier lowered his gun before walking away.

Ada felt hot tears streaming down her face as she panted for air. She bent over at the middle, trying desperately to get ahold of herself. Shane came out of the bathroom then, gently nudging the door closed and locking it.

“Hey, hey.” He crooned, “it’s alright. They’re leaving. Shh, shh, little bird.”

He rarely ever called her little bird anymore, not since she had left King County for medical school in Washington. Hearing the nickname startled her out of her panic, allowing her to take full, satisfying breaths. Her face was tingling, her legs like lead, but she was breathing again.

“I haven’t had a panic attack in years,” she panted.

“Well, I’d say this is as good of a reason to have one as any.” Shane said, stepping back from her.

“We have to get the stuff.” Ada said.

“Ada,” Shane started, tone soft, “how are we going to get him down the stairs, out of the hospital, and into the car? I can’t carry him alone, not with all the wires and shit, plus one of us has to cover the other.”

“What?” Ada asked, mouth open.

“Ada, we have to leave him. The dead are going to swarm us. We can’t carry him, and we can’t push him. I should have said something earlier, but I wanted you to be able to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” Ada repeated, voice devoid of any emotion.

“Yes, little bird. Goodbye. We have to get out of here. The safe zone isn’t safe anymore and the army is mowing people down in hallways. You have to think rationally. I know you’ve not been able to do that with Rick historically, but you have to now.” Shane said, dragging his hand through his hair.

“No.” Ada said, a burst of white hot fury coming through her shock. “No, I won’t leave him. It’s only been twelve days. We induced his coma for seven. He could wake up any time.”

Shane went over to Rick’s bed, grabbed him by the shoulders, and began roughly shaking the man. He bent down by Rick’s ear and bellowed, “Rick, man! You have to get up! You have to! It’s now or never man, lemme tell ya.”

“Stop!” Ada cried, running forward and pushing Shane by the shoulder.

Shane stumbled backwards then snarled. “You’re coming with me. I won’t let you die here. Not when he’s already dead.”

He stomped forward and grabbed her arm in a bruising grip, dragging her forward as he had earlier.

Ada could think of nothing except Rick; the boy who had distracted her dad from hitting her and ruining their perfect memory, the boy who had punched her prom date in the face for standing her up, the boy who got expelled from school for fighting the chemistry teacher who felt her up in the supply closet, the man who physically held her up at her mother’s funeral. She wouldn’t leave him, not for Shane, not for anyone.

Slowly, Ada raised her gun and pointed it squarely at Shane’s chest. A look of betrayal unlike anything she had ever seen took over her brother’s face. They stood there for a minute, lost in the stand-off before Shane scoffed and threw his arm into the air.

“There ya go again. Picking him. He’ll never want you, you know. Never. He sees you as a sister.”

Ada said nothing, even though the words dug holes into her chest. She only stared, gun unwavering in her grasp.

“Fine. Have it your way.” Shane said, stomping over to the door, “When he dies and you realize I’m right, go to the quarry. The one grandpa used to take us fishing at. I’ll be there. Waiting to prove I’m right.”

With that, Shane turned and walked out of the door. It snicked shut softly behind him.

Ada stood there, still as a statue, tears running down her face. She heard her brother fire a few shots, a few doors banging, some shots again but this time from below her, then finally nothing. Only the soft beeping of Rick’s heart monitor.

Her brother was gone.

*****
October 23, 2010

Ada opened the lounge window as gingerly as she could. She peeked her head in, straining to hear any signs of life from inside the hospital.

There weren’t any. It was completely and unnervingly silent.

She reached in, dropping her bag down onto the couch under the window before carefully climbing in. She had given it two days, hopefully long enough for the man to be gone.

She desperately needed to check on Rick. His bandages would be rank by now, his IV fluids long dry.

She crept to the door, her brother’s gun raised before her. She opened the door before stepping out into the hallway and checking left, then right. The hall was dark but clear of any threats. She continued to the stairwell and ran up to the third floor, taking the stairs two at a time, her flashlight beam bouncing up and down with her steps.

She made her way past the cafeteria, which the National Guard had used for the dead since outbreak day. They always said that there were too many inside; that it would eat up too much ammo to put them down. As she passed, fingers of dead-ones slithered out from the narrow gap between the doors, reaching for her, towards her life. She continued down the hall, still littered with the bullet holes the soldiers left, stopping briefly at the set of double swing doors leading to the next wing.

Alma lay there, just as she had for months, blonde hair still splayed underneath her, eyes grey and flesh completely gone. Each time she passed these doors, she stood there, making herself look. She knew that she should retrieve her body; that she should take her outside, bury her, give her the last rites she deserved, but she couldn’t. She hadn’t allowed anyone else to, either. Instead, she served as a reminder to Ada, that anyone could be taken at any time.

She came to the nurses station next, an out of place, yet familiar smell reaching her nose - used matches. Clare had always kept them at the nurses station; she said that she hated using lighters for cigarettes, that she smoked the way the French intended. Ada had always thought it was dumb to have matches in a hospital, but now the smell made her worried about more than an oxygen tank explosion.

She took note of the phone hanging off of the counter, the scattered items that had been knocked to the floor. Someone had definitely been here.

She immediately dropped into a crouch, clicking her flashlight off and placing it into her belt loop. She walked forward, pushing each door open before stepping inside, systematically clearing each of the rooms. She saved Rick’s room for last; she felt numb and dazed, terrified of what she would find.

At last, when all of the other rooms on the hall had been checked, she stood in front of his open door. She couldn’t see the bed from here, but she could see the IV pole in the middle of the room, knocked to the ground, the monitor facing her.

Slowly, she pushed the door further ajar, her eyes shut tightly. Her hands shook so badly she almost dropped her gun. Slowly, she opened her eyes only to find an empty bed.

Ada immediately started sobbing, dropping to her knees in the middle of the room, the gun tumbling to the ground. She rocked back and forth like a child. She hit herself in the head with her fists, wailed, scratched at her chest, delirious in her grief.

She was furious with herself. She had left him; she had left him and that man - that man had killed him. It was all her fault. She had stayed for no reason, separated from her brother for no reason.
She sat like that for a long time, the room growing dark around her.

Finally, long after her tears had run dry and her knees started to ache from her sitting on the hard floor, she looked up, taking note of the limited view of the room she had from her knees. There was a small puddle of blood on the floor, right under an IV cannula that had clearly been pulled from Rick’s vein. The bed was clean, other than a spot of blood that would have been under the left side of his body where the gunshot wound was. There was nowhere near enough blood to make her believe that he had been killed - at least not while in the bed.

She stood up so quickly that she felt faint, all of the blood rushing to her legs that had been folded under her for so long.

She couldn’t believe she had been so stupid. She wasted the entire day thinking Rick was dead, that the man had killed him, but if that had happened, it at least didn’t happen in this room. She pulled off her bag and went to the bathroom. If Rick had woken up, he would have been thirsty. She put her finger down the drain and just as she suspected, it was wet. The water had been running sometime recently.

Elation leapt into her chest, but she forced herself to choke it down. Just because he was alive when he woke up, didn’t mean he was now. He could have run into that man or a — Ada placed her hand against the wall to steady herself —- a dead-one.

He didn’t know about the dead. He didn’t know that the world had ended.

Bile, sharp and acrid, rushed into her mouth and she dropped back onto her sore knees, vomiting violently into the toilet. She had to track him down. She needed to find him, to explain what was happening.

She ran over to where she had dropped her bag and grabbed her knife, axe, and all of the extra ammo she had. She was going to make sure he wasn’t in this hospital.

Strapping her knife and axe into her thigh holsters, she left the room, holding her hands crossed with the gun in her right and the flashlight in her left. It was how Shane taught her to clear rooms in emergency situations.

She had already cleared the South Recovery wing, so she started by systematically checking the rest of the third floor, then the second, then the ground floor. Knowing Rick, he wouldn’t have bothered going up - there was no way out from higher. She took down three walkers, one being Dr. Macones, who she gently laid in a bed and covered with a sheet.

Sprinting back up to the third floor, she did the same for what was left of Alma, giving her at least some dignity in her death. She rushed back into Rick’s room and grabbed her backpack off of the bed, digging out the empty water bottles. She quickly filled them in the sink before piling as many supplies as she could back into the bag. She put gauze, tape, medication, needles, syringes, anything that she could fit. She flew back down the darkened stairs, into the doctor’s lounge, picking up what little food she had that would travel well: two granola bars, some nuts, some dried mango strips, and what was left of the beef jerky.

She wanted to leave now, but it was well past dark. She knew that leaving during the night was a stupid idea, the dead-ones seemed to get more active after dark, maybe it was the cool air.

So, instead, she sat and waited, bouncing her leg anxiously and biting her thumb nail to shreds. She managed to get a few hours of sleep, but woke as soon as the sun started pouring into the lounge.

Without sparing another look back at the hospital, she strolled out into the early morning sun.

*****
Ada walked for hours. Rick might have a headstart on her, but she knew him as well as she knew herself. He would go home, she was sure of it.

The Grimes family lived in a small suburb of King County, almost on the county line. The hospital was on the other side of the county, near the center of town. It made for a short drive but a long walk. She tried to jog for as long as she could, but found herself tiring quickly. The supplies she carried weighed her down. Eventually, however, she saw the sign indicating the front of the subdivision.

She broke into a jog here, running down Rainey street as fast as she could. When she got to the Grimes’ house, the door was ajar. Cursing under her breath, she braced herself with her knife, jogged up the few stairs to the door, and pushed into the house. It was painfully quiet; it was one of the first times she had been in a real house since the Fall, and it was strange not to hear the hum of electronics in the background, the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway.

“Rick?” She called out. “Rick, it’s Ada. Are you in here?”

Silence.

She went up the stairs.

“Rick, please. It’s Ada. I know you must be confused.”

Silence.

He wasn’t here.

Ada let out a deep breath, refusing to let herself panic. He had a headstart on her, but that didn’t mean he was dead. It didn’t.

He wasn’t dead until she saw it.

She noticed the missing pictures on the walls, the open drawers in the master and in Carl’s bedroom. Clearly they had been alive when they left here too. Even though Shane hadn’t mentioned anything about taking Lori to the quarry last time he had seen him, she knew that he wouldn’t have left them alone.

Walking back into the kitchen, she noticed the door to the cupboard where they stored the china, extra appliances, and extra keys was ajar. Only one set of keys was missing and Ada knew which one it was - the keys to the station.

Sure, anyone could have broken in and stolen them, but that was unlikely. The keys were unmarked; no one else but Rick and Shane would have known what they went to. Shane had his own set, he wouldn’t have needed Rick’s.

Ada ran back out into the street and up past the entrance sign. She turned back onto the main road and went for a half mile before going down the little unpaved lane she and Shane lived off of. Their house was empty, too, just as she had known it would be.

She went up to her room, grabbing the backpack she had used to travel across central Europe two years ago from the closet. It was huge; she used it instead of a checked bag on all of her flights and it could hold much more than the Jansport she had now. She carefully repacked everything from her old bag before changing clothes. She added more clothing to this bag and whatever else she thought might be useful. On her way out of the door, she grabbed her old med school textbook, “Harrison’s Principles of Internal Medicine.” It was thick and heavy, but she wanted to keep it with her, in case she ever needed it. Books were priceless now, especially books such as these. Besides, she wasn’t going to walk to the station - she was going to drive.

She went into the garage and manually opened the door. Getting into her car, she took a steadying breath before starting it up and pulling out into the driveway.

The ride to the station was uneventful and it made her nervous. She felt uncomfortable with the lack of dead-ones around. She knew there was a reckoning coming; she could feel it in her bones.

She pulled into the station and cut the engine. She had just opened the door when she heard a gunshot.

She threw the door to the car open, stumbling in her haste to get out of the vehicle. She hit the ground hard, twisting her wrist underneath her. It bloomed immediately with pain, white hot and vicious.

It took her a second to build up the wherewithal to stand. As she pushed herself up with her good hand, she cried, “Rick!”

“Ada?” Rick’s voice called to her from the backside of the building. She had just made it to the back of her car when a black man and a little boy rounded the corner, followed closely by Rick.

He was there, silhouetted by the afternoon sun and dressed in his full uniform. He had clearly just showered, his curls still were wet, and one small drop of water darkened his collar. He was clean shaven, but most of all - he was standing. He was awake.

Ada felt her knees buckle, but Rick was there to catch her before she hit the ground. Unfortunately, her wrist got shoved between the two of them and she cried out, mind going fuzzy with pain.

Rick immediately went to release her but she cried, “no!” flinging her arms over his shoulders and crying desperately into his neck.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m alive. I’m here.” He soothed.

“No, it’s not okay,” she said, hiccuping. “I’ve - I’ve been taking care of you all this time, but there was this man and he made me leave and then when I got back you were gone and I couldn’t find you and -”

Rick cut her off by pulling her in even tighter to his chest. They stayed like that for a moment, forgetting about the other two people who were standing off to the side.

Rick pushed her away gently, holding her shoulders so that he could look into her face, “do you know where Lori is? Carl? Shane?”

Ada shook her head, tears flying, “I last saw Shane over two months ago.”

“Rick,” the black man from earlier called. “We should get going. They are sure to have heard that shot, man.”

Ada and Rick both turned to look at him before nodding.

“I was going to leave the city,” said Rick. “Head towards Atlanta.”

“The refugee center?” asked Ada. “I heard the broadcasts, but they stopped a while back. I couldn’t leave the hospital because you weren’t able to move.”

Rick walked up to the car, opening the passenger door for her. He went to get in, but she told him to wait, remembering the supplies she had in her car.

“I’ve got stuff we need,” she said, turning away from the car.

“No, sit.” Rick said, “you stay in the car.” He closed the door between them before she could respond.

Ada rolled her eyes at him; already he was acting as if she was the one who had just woken up in this strange new world and not the one who had been surviving on her own for months.

She leaned over the center console and used her good arm to manually roll down the window. “Make sure you siphon the gas from the other cars,” she called.

He waved his hand at her as if to say, “of course,” before turning to the man and child. They were just on the side of too far away, but his voice carried enough for her to catch his careful words to Rick.

“They may not seem like much one at a time, but in a group, all riled up and hungry – man, you watch your ass. That wife of yours too.”

“Oh, Ada’s not -” Rick started before cutting himself off, “ – you too.”

He siphoned the gas from her car and picked up her bag from the passenger seat. Coming back to their car, he slung her bag into the backseat before sitting heavily in the drivers.

“Do I need to check your bandages? I've been gone for two days, so,” she prompted.

“No,” Rick cut her off, “Morgan helped me get it changed when we showered.”

“God, a shower would be nice,” she said, flopping her head back on the seat.

“Ada, I’ve got to find Lori and Carl.” Rick said.

“I know.” she replied, turning to look out of the window.

As they pulled out of the police station, Ada noticed Leon Bassett on the ground. He had been nice, if dopey. They had went on a few dates, but nothing to write home about. Rick and Shane had teased her mercilessly for it, but nothing was said now.

She turned, reached into her bag, took out a roll of gauze, and gingerly wrapped her wrist, using pens she found in the glovebox as a makeshift splint.

As she and Rick left King County, she couldn’t help but think that her old life was officially gone. It would never come back.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three

October 23, 2010

Right outside King County, Rick made a stop. He pulled the car over to the side of the road, stating that he had something he needed to take care of.

Ada, who had been dozing in the passenger seat, offered to come with him.

“No, this is something I need to do on my own.” He replied, walking off towards the field.

Ada, feeling uncomfortable sleeping alone in the car, got out too. She went across the street and into a house.

The second she opened the door, a dead-one rounded the corner, groaning and gasping. Its shambling gait quickened towards her, and she quickly pulled her knife out of its holster. She charged forward, placing her left arm across its throat and using it to hold it against the wall. With her other hand, she plunged the knife into its eye, pulling it out swiftly in one movement. She had learned that stopping after the initial plunge all too often resulted in the knife getting caught in the dead-ones skull. Blood splattered onto her arm and her fresh shirt, coagulated and stinking to high heavens.

Grimacing, she used her good hand to knock on the wall of the house, inviting any more dead inside to make themselves known. When she heard nothing, she went through the house and made sure there weren’t any lurking in rooms, waiting to grab her when she least expected it. She peeked out the door again before pushing it to, not wanting anything to come in behind her.

She went through the house systematically, bathrooms and kitchens first, looking mostly for medical supplies. The bathroom had a few over-the-counter fever and pain reducers, so she tossed those in a bag she found downstairs after taking three for her wrist. She took a few knives from the kitchen along with some canned food, and from the bedrooms she changed her shirt out for a light pink blouse. It was a little too dressy for the apocalypse, but most of the t-shirts were too small.

After she found all that she could in the first house, she went to the second. There she had a little more luck, finding antiacids, antidiarrheals, and a bottle of antibiotics that was only missing two pills. Smiling at her find, she ran downstairs, stopping to grab some bottled water in the kitchen, and made her trek back to the car.

Rick was waiting for her there. They got back into the car and drove off without saying anything to each other.

They drove for hours, and the only thing that had been said in the car was Rick’s occasional callout on the radio. “Broadcasting on emergency channel; we will be approaching Atlanta on Highway 85. Anybody reads, please respond. Hello? Can anyone hear my voice?”

No one had responded yet, so Ada took it as her cue to speak.

“It happened fast, you know?. You were shot on August 25. By the 28th, almost everything had fallen. The National Guard came in, maybe 30 soldiers or so, and secured the hospital and the surrounding areas, but that didn’t last long. By early September the National Guard turned on us. They were mowing people down in the hall, Rick. People, not dead-ones.” Ada let her voice trail off.

“Walkers.” Rick said. When Ada looked at him quizzically, he elaborated, “Morgan called them walkers.”

“Well, that works as well as anything. At the hospital, we just called them dead-ones.” Ada replied.

Rick said nothing, silently inviting her to continue.

“That was the last time I saw Shane.” She let her head rest against the passenger window, the cool glass helping distract her from the pain in her wrist and in her heart. “He came to get me, to get us. But, when the soldiers started shooting people, he – he wanted me to leave you there.”

Rick slowed the car down, coming to a stop in front of a small farmhouse.

“We’re out of gas,” he said. “We already used what we siphoned earlier and we’re still an hour away from the city. We’ll look around, but continue. What made you stay?”

Ada hesitated for a minute before saying softly, “I just couldn’t. We were standing there in your room and he was shaking you, trying to get you to wake up. And I thought about leaving, I’ll admit it. I really did. But then I looked at you and I just couldn’t. You needed me more in that moment than Shane did. So, I stayed.”

“That’s all you’re going to tell me?” Rick asked with a frown, “I know Shane. I know that he didn’t just say, ‘ok’ and walk away.”

“He tried to force me to leave. I raised his gun at him. I guess then he realized I was serious, that I wasn’t leaving.” Ada said quietly.

Rick just looked at her, searching her face for something. She wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but before she could decide if he had found it, he was out of the car. Ada climbed out after him, silently walking behind him.

“Thank you,” he said, turning to face her on the porch of the house. “I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you. I’m grateful.”

Ada smiled, “how many times have you saved my ass, huh? I owed you one.”

Rick returned the smile before turning and knocking on the front door.

“Hello?” He called, “I need to borrow some gas.”

“Borrow? What are you going to give it back?” Ada said under her breath.

Rick rolled his eyes at her and called again, “Hello? There’s a police officer and a doctor out here. If anyone needs help, we can trade it for some gas.”

“I don’t think anybody’s home, Rick.” Ada said as they walked down the short porch to the front window. Rick continued to the other side, looking into the side window as well. As he stood there, his breathing quickened and Ada asked, “what? What is it?”

She pushed past him before Rick could stop her, his insistence that she didn’t need to see this falling on deaf ears. As she peered into the window, she first saw the man in the chair, half of his head missing, his brains splattered on the wall. He was still holding a shotgun, making it clear that he had been the active part of the murder-suicide that clearly occurred here. Behind him, in blood, was written “GOD FORGIVE US,” in large, shaky letters. Looking away from the man, she saw an older woman laying on the floor. Blood and brains making a halo around her head where it lay on the carpet.

She ducked backwards away from the window, hand over her mouth as bile rose in her throat. She had seen some rough things in the past few months, a fair share even before then during her work as a trauma surgeon, but there was something about knowing the man had dipped his hand in the woman’s brain matter to smear the words onto the wall behind them that turned her stomach.

Rick came up behind her, rubbing her back soothingly. “Well, I don’t think they’ll care if we steal some gas.”

Ada shot him a glare before hurrying back down the steps and into the yard. Rick sat on one of the concrete benches, while Ada took a seat on the tree swing. They sat there for a minute before Rick got up, walking over to the old farm truck beside the tree. He checked for any keys before slamming the door shut. Walking around to the side of the truck, he inserted a tube from his bag and tried siphoning gas from the tank. Unfortunately, there was none.

Ada stood up, ready to go grab her things from the original car when they both noticed a nickering from behind them. A horse stood in a small fence behind the truck, large and red with a white face. Ada shot Rick a goofy smile before telling him, “go grab the bags from the car. I have another idea.”

Rick walked off, shaking his head to go and gather their gear.

Ada stepped forward carefully, speaking in low tones towards the majestic beast.
“Hey, buddy.” She crooned, “My name is Ada. Aren’t you a beautiful boy? I sure wish I knew your name. I’m not gonna hurt ya, buddy. We’re all friends here.”

The horse reared back once, pausing her approach momentarily, but ultimately Ada’s hand came to rest on the side of his neck. She pet him heavily, giving him scratches on his strong, broad neck while continuing to say nonsense encouragement. She grabbed a rope from where it was thrown over the fence and wrapped it around its neck. She used the rope to lead the horse over to the barn, where she found a full saddle, bridle, bit, and reins. After getting it all situated, she then led him back over to Rick, who was waiting with their bags. Rick helped her saddle up the horse and to clip their bags to the side of the saddle.

He helped her to swing up on the horse, who shifted under her with barely contained energy. Rick then threw himself up and over, Ada’s arms coming to wrap around his waist.

“Just go easy now, boy. I haven’t done this in years.” He said before clicking his tongue and digging his heels into the horse’s sides.

The horse took off at a walk before shooting directly into a gallop. Ada laughed loudly, the feeling of the horse combined with Rick’s continuous “woah, woah, easy, easy, boy” sending her into childlike glee. Her and Rick rode once like this before, back when she was first learning and he didn’t mind having her so close physically.

The horse gradually slowed to a trot once he got out his excitement at being free once again, and they continued at a more leisurely pace. As they approached the city, Ada told Rick, “wait, that’s the turn off to the quarry.”

Rick came to a stop before the exit, turning his head so that he could hear Ada better.

“We should go there first,” she said. “Shane said that’s where he was going. He told me to come and find him there.”

Rick grimaced, instead looking towards the cityline in front of them.

“Don’t you think it’s more likely they would be in the refugee center?” Rick asked.

“Come on, Rick, you know my brother. He told me to go to the quarry; I really think that we should go there first.” She replied.

Rick hesitated for a moment before leading the horse further at a slow walk.

“I think it’s a bad idea. It’s out of the way and it will be getting dark soon. If no one is there, then there’s no way we would make it to the refugee center by nightfall.”

“We don’t even know if there is a refugee center, Rick. Like I said, the National Guard turned on us. Who’s to say that didn’t happen here?” She said, beginning to feel annoyed.

“Well, what about this,” Rick started, “I’ll go forward towards the refugee camp. There’s a greater chance Lori would have gone there. She wouldn’t want to be camping in the woods. You take the horse and go see if Shane is at the quarry or if he maybe left something for you. If there’s nothing there, you come to the refugee center. If there’s no refugee center, I’ll circle back around and come to the quarry.”

“No,” Ada said. “Absolutely not. We shouldn’t split up.”

“Look,” Rick said, “this is the easiest way to check out both places. You have the horse, I won’t be as fast on foot. You’ll be able to catch up to me easily. I won’t go any further than three miles from I-85. I promise.”

Ada hesitated, thinking for a minute. It wasn’t the best plan, it certainly wasn’t the one that she would have made, but Rick was hell-bent on finding Lori. After a long silence, Ada finally agreed.

Rick slipped down from the horse and dug into the bag he had taken from the police station. He drew out a walkie, strapped it to his belt, and handed the other to her. He then grabbed a rifle, some ammo, and an extra magazine for his pistol.

“Planning on running into trouble?” She asked.

He didn't reply, instead fixing her with a unamused look.. He grabbed another rifle out and told her to put it around her shoulders, just in case. He took the bag with him, which made Ada nervous; clearly, he was preparing for the worst and it made all of the worst case scenarios come to the forefront of her mind.

Ada sat there for a minute before pulling the horse to the left, towards the exit that went to the quarry.

“Be smart.” She told Rick, “I love you, man.”

“I love you too, Ada-Spade.” He replied.

She knew if she looked at him again, she wouldn’t have the strength to leave him behind, so instead she clicked her tongue, urging the horse forward while Rick walked towards Atlanta on foot.

She really hoped this wasn’t a mistake.

*****
Ada rode the horse hard, pushing him up the mountain as fast as he would go. They stopped to rest once, Ada cupping water in her hands and letting the horse drink from them. Once the horse had drunk, they sped off again, climbing the Georgia mountains with the ease that told her the horse had been hiking before. The paved road helped immensely, as she didn’t have to worry about where the horse was stepping.

Eventually, she came across a camp. Shane’s Jeep was parked diagonally across the entrance, reinforcing the thin, blue entrance bars that crossed the path. Ada backtracked a bit before jumping the horse over the bars just left of the car.

“Shane?” She called out, desperation in her voice. She hadn’t let herself think of what she was going to do if she got to the quarry and he wasn’t there. Seeing his Jeep had made it real – she was going to see her brother again.

An old man in a ridiculous sunhat and an older woman with glasses stepped forward to greet her. A tall, lanky man who had been sitting on top of the RV also climbed down and took the reins of the horse from her.

She knew that she should introduce herself, should be polite, but she didn’t care. She called again for her brother, desperate to see his face. She dropped down from the horse, muttering a small, “hello,” to the three people closest to her before taking off at a run to the side of the camp. She could just see the familiar green top of Shane’s tent; she had bought him that tent three years ago, when he was deep into his outdoorsman phase. She took off towards it at a sprint.

As she approached, her brother and Lori spilled out of the tent, both of their hair mussed and cheeks red. Lori wiped the side of her mouth guiltily, and she immediately understood what had been happening in the tent. She didn’t care, though, not when Shane was standing directly in front of her. She ran forward, collapsing into his arms, and pulling him to her. Shane’s hand came up around her to rest on the back of her head as he pulled her as close as possible. After staying like that for a while, Ada pulled back, apologies falling from her lips.

“I’m so sorry. I just couldn’t leave him, not when he needed me. I’m so sorry for pointing a gun at you, Shane. Please, I’m so sorry.”

Shane shushed her, refusing to hear the countless apologies.

“No, I’m sorry, Ada. I should have never put you in that position.”

Ada turned to Lori, taking in her completely shocked and dumbfounded expression. “Rick’s alive,” she said. “He’s went towards the refugee center. We split up maybe two hours ago, but he’s alive.”

Lori looked green, then grey, then a blistering red. She lunged forward at Shane, wrapping her thin hands around his throat, demanding answers.

“You told me he was dead!” She screeched, “Dead! You said that you knew he was dead!”

“Lori,” Ada started.

Lori whirled around, pinning Ada with her fury in turn, “And you! How dare you not find me sooner! How dare you keep him for yourself, you selfish girl!”

“Hey!” Ada said, “I was busy keeping him alive! I’m sorry I didn’t take time off of that to come visit you at your fucking campsite.”

Lori fumed, face contorted with rage as she looked at the siblings.

“Look, Shane had every right to believe he was dead, Lori. The National Guard had just been shooting civilians in the hallway. He didn’t do anything wrong.” Ada said.

“Didn’t do anything wrong?” Lori yelled, “He told me my husband was dead! He used that to get me and my son out of King County when I should have been there with my husband!”

“That’s what Rick would have wanted, though. He would have wanted you safe.”

“Don’t you speak for Rick, you –”

Just then, Lori was cut off by the boisterous shout of, “AUNT ADA!”

Before Ada had a chance to even brace herself, she found her arms full of Carl. She laughed and fell to her knees, taking the boy with her. She snuggled in as close as possible to Carl, breathing in his boyish scent and reveling in the fact that he was here, he was safe.

Seeing Carl reminded her of Rick, though, and she stood, fixing Shane with a distraught look, “but, if you’re all here,” she started, “then there must be no refugee center.”

“What? Of course there isn’t,” Lori said, but before she had even finished her sentence, Ada took off, headed back towards where she had left the horse at the entrance to camp.

Shane followed after her in a half-jog, “Ada, where are you going?”

Ada grabbed the reins of the horse from the older man who had been standing there, watching the scene with an interested look on his face. She mounted the horse before turning it to face Shane, Lori, and Carl.

“We split up. He was insistent on going towards the refugee center, said that Lori ‘wouldn’t want to be camping in the woods.’ I insisted on coming here first.”

“If you’re all here, then I’m guessing he’s about to walk into a shit show.”

“Fuck,” Shane swore, throwing his cap on the ground, “the city is overrun. We go for supplies, nothing more, nothing less.”

Ada’s head was buzzing, panic filling her from fingers to toes. “I have to go get him.”

“On a fucking horse?” Shane said, “No way, we’ll go in my Jeep.”

Ada nodded, immediately sliding out of the saddle and following her brother over to his car.

“Wait!” Lori said, “You can’t just run off. We already have too many people in the city. What if something happens here?”

“Are you kidding me?” Ada replied, “He woke up yesterday. He’s barely killed two walkers. I can’t leave him in a city you just called overrun.”

People were surrounding them now, all wondering who Ada was and what she had done to cause such a panic.

“Jim, you’re in charge here. Make sure we have a watch on the RV and on all three perimeter points.” Shane said. “Ada and I are going to get someone from the city.”

Jim nodded, immediately pointing to three others, indicating that they should go do as Shane said. Shane turned the key in the ignition, the Jeep rumbling to life underneath them. Before they could leave, the older man with the sunhat ran over, holding the walkie that Ada had clipped to the saddle bag.

“Thought this might come in handy,” he said.

“Thanks, Dale.” Shane said, right as Ada said, “Fuck, I’m being so stupid.”

She turned the dial to channel 4, the channel the three of them had always used when they were kids.

“Rick,” she called, “Rick come in.”

Only the crackle of the radio came through.

“Rick,” she tried again, “please tell me you’re not in the city yet.”

“Ada?” Rick’s voice rang out from the walkie, sounding muffled.

“Rick, I found Shane! There is no refugee center. The city is overrun! You need to get out of there.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Rick said.

“You noticed? What do you mean?” Ada replied.

“I ran into some trouble, but I found a group. We’re trapped on top of a rooftop. There’s dead as far as I can see.”

The walkie slipped from Ada’s sweaty hands, landing with a clank on the Jeep’s hard floorboard. Shane immediately leaned over and picked it up.

“Who did you run into?” He asked into the walkie, “We have some people in the city right now. Is that who you’re with?”

“I don’t know. There’s an Asian kid, a blonde, a racist fucking asshole,” Rick replied.

“That’s our group.” Shane said, shooting Ada a smile. “Look, man. We’re headed your way. Just hang tight.”

“No!” Rick cried over the walkie, “Don’t come here.”

Ada ripped the walkie from Shane’s hands, “What are you talking about?”

“We’re surrounded. Don’t come here, you’ll only get yourselves killed.” Rick said, “Look, I have a plan, but we need to start now.”

“Rick, no!” Ada said.

Shane wrestled the walkie back out of her hands, putting his hand up to stop her from trying to take it back.

“You sure, man?” Shane asked.

“I’m sure. No point in you coming. Protect Ada.”

“Hey, Rick, man. By the way, Lori and Carl are here.” Shane said, finally looking over to the pair.

Rick never replied. He had turned off the walkie.

*****
The waiting was the worst part. Shane had practically needed to sit on top of her to make sure she didn’t run off to try and save Rick and the rest of the group.

The older man from earlier, who she had learned was named Dale, brought her a bottle of water along with a bowl of beans. Although her stomach growled at the smell, she couldn’t bring herself to eat. Instead she sat, picking at the skin on the side of her thumbs until they bled. She hadn’t moved from the Jeep, despite the fact that Shane had taken the keys.

Eventually, the sound of a car alarm reached their ears, and the entire group stood.

“What is it?” Lori called, her arm around Carl’s shoulders.

Dale lowered his binoculars, “Stolen car is my guess.”

Just then, a cherry red Dodge Challenger with two black racing stripes pulled into camp, the alarm deafeningly loud.

“Holy crap, turn that damn thing off!” Dale yelled.

“I don’t know how,” a young Asian man replied.

Immediately, people descended on him, Shane telling him to pop the hood so that he could disarm the car alarm and a blonde girl pestering the kid about her sister. The Asian guy got back into the car to pop the hood of the car, voices and alarms mixing into one overwhelming cacophony.

Ada stood, jumped over the half-door of the Jeep and walked over to her brother. As she approached she heard the Asian kid saying, “Everyone’s okay. Well, Merle not so much.”

“You crazy driving this wailing bastard up here? You trying to draw every walker for miles?” Shane asked, still leaning over the hood of the Challenger.

“I think we’re okay,” Dale said.

“You call being stupid okay?”

“Well, the alarm was echoing all over these hills, hard to pinpoint the source. I’m not arguing, I’m just saying.”

Shane fixed Dale with a scathing look, hand on both of his hips like our mother had always done.

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt you to think things through a little more carefully next time, would it?” Dale said, clearly wanting to ease the tension between himself and Shane.

“Sorry. I got a cool car.” The kid said.

Ada smiled before stepping forward, hand outstretched. “Ada Walsh,” she said.

“Glenn Rhee,” he replied, shaking her hand.

Before anything else could be said, a box truck pulled up the narrow pass. People started piling out of the truck, hugging their families and laughing.

Just then, Rick came up the short walk. Ada made to run towards him, but Shane stopped her with a hand on her arm. Lori and Carl ran forward, Carl screaming, “Dad! Dad!” Rick grabbed Carl and fell to the ground hugging him, before standing and walking up to Lori, the three of them coming together in a tangle of bodies.

Rick looked back at Shane and Ada, a smile on his face.

Shane and Ada both stood there, watching the reunion, jealousy sinking deep into their bones. “Well, guess that’s that.” Shane said before walking away, headed towards his tent.

Ada noticed Dale watching the two of them closely, but said nothing, instead turning to follow her brother.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four

October 23, 2010

“For two months, I didn’t leave the hospital without someone I trusted there.” Ada said, “Then this guy… he broke into the hospital, lost his wife… he made me leave. I was gone for barely two days. I came back and you were just… gone. Nowhere to be found. Everyone else was dead. I had to clear the whole hospital before I believed you had left it alive.”

“It was disorienting; I guess that comes closest. Fear, confusion, all of those things, but disoriented – that comes closest.” Rick said, staring into the fire.

“Words can be meager things. Sometimes they fall short.” Dale responded, sitting his cup of oatmeal on the ground by the fire.

“I felt like I’d been ripped out of my life and put somewhere else. For a while, I thought I was trapped in some coma dream, something I wouldn’t wake up from – ever.” Rick continued, pulling Lori and Carl closer to his chest.

“Mom said you died.” Carl interjected, voice sounding as soft and young as he was. Lori reached up to pet his hair. “Said you and Aunt Ada both died.”

Rick and I shared a look from across the fire, before he responded, “She had every reason to believe that. Don’t you ever doubt it.”

Lori looked at Shane and Ada, before explaining that the patients’ families had originally been told that their loved ones would be medevaced to Atlanta, but that it never happened.

“The plan was always to stay.” said Ada, “The National Guard came to help us secure the hospital. There were ten doctors left after the first day, two dozen nurses, at least 35 soldiers; they thought it would be enough to maintain control, but it was just too big to secure properly.”

“From the looks of the hospital, it got overrun.” Rick said.

“Yeah, looks don’t deceive.” Shane said, “I barely got them out, man. Ada… Rick… I didn’t think y’all made it.”

“Ada told me what happened that day, in the hall. I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you, Shane, for saving my family. I can’t begin to express it.”

“There go those words falling short again, paltry things.” Dale added.

Ada leaned her head onto Shane’s shoulder, taking comfort in his presence despite the air of tension that came from Rick’s gratitude. She knew that they would have to talk about it soon, but right now it was warm around the fire and everyone she loved was here.

Just as Ada was dozing off against Shane’s soldier, she felt him tense beneath her.

“Hey, Ed. You wanna rethink that last log?” Shane called, his voice barely over his normal speech.

“It’s cold, man.” Ed responded. Ada had met him earlier that day. He wasn’t a pleasant man, balding and overweight. He had been yelling at his wife, Carol, when she came to borrow some tampons from the other ladies. She immediately took a strong dislike to him.

Ada heard Shane’s teeth grind together, “Cold don’t change the rules does it? We keep our fires low, just embers so we can’t be seen from a distance, right?”

“I said it’s cold. Why don’t you mind your own business for once?” Ed replied, kicking his feet up towards the fire.

Shane stood, gently maneuvering Ada so that she was resting against T-Dog’s shoulder. Ada sat up though, worried about the sudden shift in energy from the rest of the group. She could tell this ‘Ed’ guy tested Shane a lot.

Shane went over and said something to Ed, spurring his wife to pull the log out of the fire. Shane stomped out the log, before leaning down and speaking to Ed’s wife and child. Ada knew the look on Carol’s face. That haughty ‘I don’t know what you think you know, but my marriage is great.’ It was common in victims of domestic violence, especially when in front of their abusers. Ada knew that questioning Ed’s authority right in front of his wife and child would likely mean a long, awful night for Carol and maybe the little girl, but she agreed with Shane. They didn’t need to draw attention to themselves, the attention of the dead or the living.

Shane’s butt had barely touched the ground beside her when Dale piped up, “Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon? He won’t be happy to hear his brother was left behind.”

Ada sat up straighter at this; she hadn’t heard anything about someone being left behind during the Atlanta fiasco. Of course, she had spent most of the afternoon moping, feeling guilty about moping, and avoiding the newly reconciled Grimes family, but someone being left behind? That didn’t sit right with her.

“I’ll tell him. I dropped the key. It’s on me.” T-Dog said.

“I cuffed him. That makes it mine.” Rick immediately rebutted.

“Guys, it’s not a competition.” Glenn said, talking for the first time since they had all sat around the fire. “Besides, I don’t mean to bring race into this, but it might sound better coming from a white guy.”

“I did what I did. Hell if I’m gonna hide from it.” T-Dog said. Ada had immediately taken to the man. He was a solid presence, stoic and honorable. He reminded her of a knight from a storybook; a protector. She had only known him the one day, but she could see it in his behavior, in the way he spoke of honor, and in the way he had brought over half of the quarry group here in his church’s van.

“We could lie,” Amy suggested.

“Or we tell the truth. Merle was out of control. Something had to be done or he would have gotten us all killed.” Andrea responded. “Your husband did what was necessary and if Merle got left behind, it is nobody’s fault but Merle’s.”

Lori looked away, discomfort clear in her face. Ada wasn’t sure if it was the direct reference to Rick that spurred it or the fact that this discussion was occurring in front of Carl.

“And that’s what we tell Daryl? I don’t see a rational discussion to be had from that, do you?” Dale said, looking to Andrea for her opinion. “I’ll tell you – we’re going to have our hands full when he comes back from his hunt.”

Ada, Shane, and Rick looked at each other over the fire, silently communicating that this was something they would need to take care of before it got out of hand. Shane and Rick may have been the cops, but Ada had always been the peacemaker.

“I was scared and I ran. I’m not ashamed of it, but I stopped long enough to chain that door. Staircase is narrow. Maybe… maybe half a dozen geeks can squeeze against it at any one time. It’s not enough to break through that – not that chain, not that padlock. My point – Dixon’s alive and he’s still up there, handcuffed to that roof. That’s on us.”

T-Dog got up, walking away from the group and into his tent. Everyone else looked away from each other, not wanting to see their own guilt or mortification mirrored on anyone else’s face.

Ada, though, she stood, locked eyes with Rick and Shane, and tilted her head for them to follow her. They both stood, Rick placing Carl’s head gently in Lori’s lap, then they walked a small distance from the fires.

“We can’t leave him up there.” Ada said. When Shane immediately started protesting, Ada raised a hand to cut him off. “No, Shane, don’t. We can’t leave him there. He’s a human being. Racist asshole or not, that’s not who we are. It can’t be who we are.”

“Glenn pulled a lot of them away from the building with that car of his.” Rick said, “There might still be a way for us to get up there without too much trouble.”

“That sounds like a lot of wishful fuckin’ thinkin’ to me, Rick.” Shane said, running his hand through his hair, “Ada, I see what you’re saying, I do - but you don’t know this man. He wouldn’t spit on you if you’s on fire.”

“I took an oath, Shane. In front of God and my family, I swore to do no harm, not when I have the power to fix it. That doesn’t just go away because people stopped dying properly. And you two, you both took an oath to serve and protect, regardless of how much people deserve our help, we all three are obligated to give it.”

With that, Ada fixed the two of them with a long look before walking back to her brother’s tent. Behind her she heard the group breaking away, everyone headed to their own tents. She crawled into Shane’s sleeping bag and lay there - staring at the light of the moon that managed to penetrate the canvas. She slept fitfully, uncomfortable with feeling so out in the open and also horrified at the thoughts that had filled her mind since the afternoon.

She was jealous. This was nothing new to Ada; she had always been jealous of Lori Grimes. It started back when she had first met her, when she was still Lori Nickles, the tall, skinny cheerleader to Rick’s quarterback. She was popular, the kind of girl who won both Homecoming and Prom Queen, yet nobody seemed mad at her for it.

The first time Ada saw her was when Rick brought her over to meet Shane and Ada’s mom. Rick’s own mother had died during childbirth; Mrs. Walsh was the closest thing he had ever known to a mom. It was a big deal to Rick, and he had wanted their mother’s approval.

Ada still remembered that dinner perfectly. Fifteen year old Rick, boyish and handsome, his curls still long and wrapping around his collar, walked in with Lori Nickles on his arm and told momma that ‘this was the girl he was going to marry.’ Ada was only twelve at the time, but she felt a white-hot fury leap into her throat at those words, thrown out so easily, so carelessly. Lori had just laughed, her graceful neck bending backwards slightly, revealing the appealing line of her collarbone. Ada spent the rest of the meal with her fork clenched so tightly in her fist it left an imprint in her skin. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the teen; her wavy brown hair, glossy and tame, her big doe brown eyes, the skinny nose, her lithe frame. It all felt a direct counter to Ada, whose kinky black hair was never anything resembling tame – her curls messy at best, frizzy and undefined at worst. Ada’s downturned green eyes, although a nice color, still weren’t quite the right shape for her features, her nose was too big, her hips were too broad. That night, after everyone had gone home, she sat and stared at herself in the mirror, willing herself to become different, to become more like Lori.

Right before bed, her mother had come in, holding the Bible in her right hand. Ada could see that she had tabbed a few verses for her to read. Her mother left, without saying a word to Ada, only placing the Bible gently on the nightstand.

Ada stared at it for a long moment before she flipped open the Bible to see what she wanted her to study. The first tab wasn’t far in; it was Exodus 20:17, “thou shalt not covet.” That night, she slammed the Bible shut, letting it slump from the nightstand to the floor and cried herself to sleep. In the morning, when she went back, she noticed her mother had tabbed other verses about jealousy, about how it “rots the bones,” about how it's evil.

It’s what she thought of then, as she lay in her tent, twenty feet from where Rick and Lori lay in theirs. Proverbs 14:30, James 3:16, Galatians 5:20, but mostly Proverbs 27:4, “Wrath is cruel and anger is outrageous, but who is able to stand before envy?”

She hated herself for being disappointed to see Lori, for still being so jealous despite the twenty years she’s had to let it go. The self-hatred crept into her bones, settling there like an old friend. Suddenly, it was too much. She kicked her way out of the sleeping bag and climbed out of the tent, finding her brother sitting on top of the RV.

She climbed up the ladder, coming to sit in front of him and resting her head on his thigh.

“What a pair we make, huh? The Walshes and the Grimes.” Shane said, voice rumbly from his exhaustion.

“What happened with you and Lori, Shane?” Ada asked, no longer able to hold it back.

Shane’s hand comes to her head and he pets down her curls for a moment before saying, “a mistake.”

“Is that what it was?” She asked.

“It’s what it has to be.” Shane responded.

“Was it ever… before all of this?”

Shane’s hand stills in her hair and Ada holds her breath, “no of course not,” he finally said. “Rick’s my brother; we just… we just got caught up in the grief, is all.”

Ada doesn’t say anything for a while, just sits out and overlooks the tents below. Finally she nods, willing to accept that this is as close as an explanation her brother is likely to give.

“I’m sorry for what I said. For trying to make you choose. You know Rick loves you. Might not… might not be the same, but it’s still love.” Shane said.

Ada doesn’t reply, instead letting the cicadas cry for her.

*****

Ada woke late, so late that the only one still sleeping was Rick. She busied herself by checking up on everyone around camp, learning more names and making sure they didn’t have any injuries or illnesses that needed tending. She had just finished wrapping her own wrist in a brace, courtesy of Dale and his seemingly bottomless RV drawers, when she heard Rick talking to Glenn outside. She peeked out the window and watched him walk over to Lori, who was pinning clothes to the line. The women all shared a coy smile and Ada felt her gut clench. The moment seemed sweet until Shane pulled up, water in old tanks and with a reminder to boil before you use it.

Ada made her way outside; now that Rick was awake, it was time to start making moves towards the man who was left behind. She had barely stepped out of the RV when screaming started; everyone took off running, grabbing tools and weapons. She and Shane were the only ones to bring guns, both preparing for the worst. They found one walker, munching on a deer that had three arrows sticking out of its throat. The men took turns whacking the walker, knocking it down before severing its head.

Ada looked away from the violence and Dale said, “that’s the first one we’ve had up here. They never come this far out of the city.”

“They must be running out of food down there.” Jim said, a skinny mechanic who reminded Ada of a couple boys she knew in school.

Before anyone could reply, a scruffy man with a crossbow sauntered out of the woods, clearly startled by their presence.

“Oh, sonnva bitch! That’s my deer! Look at it, all gnawed on by this filthy, disease-bearing, motherless, poxy bastard!” He landed a kick at the walker with each insult, causing everyone to share a moment of uncomfortable silence.

“Calm down, son. That’s not helping.” Dale said, ever the voice of reason.

“What do you know about it, old man? Why don’t you take that stupid hat and go back to ‘On Golden Pond?’ I’ve been tracking this deer for miles. Gonna drag it back to camp, cook us up some venison.” He said, accent thick and drawling.

Shane scoffed, placing his rifle behind his shoulders.

“What do you think?” The bowman asked, “Think we can cut around this chewed up part here?”

Shane responded before Ada got the chance, “I would not risk that.”

“That’s a damn shame. I got some squirrel – about a dozen or so. Guess that’ll have to do.”

At that, Ada actually looked at the dead squirrels he had on a rope around his neck.

“Those are all clean through the eye. What did that deer do to get three arrows in it and still be kicking?” Ada asked, amused by the man already.

Before he could respond, Amy let out an “Oh, God,” and they all looked down at the severed head on the ground. Its mouth was still moving. Ada felt bile rise up in her throat as the bowman said, “come on, people. What the hell? It’s gotta be the brain. Don’t y’all know nothing?”

The bowman, who she assumed was the ‘Daryl’ mentioned last night, walked off towards camp and Ada nodded her head at Shane as if to ask, ‘this the guy we were waiting for?’

Shane nodded and dropped his rifle back down by his side, following Daryl who had begun calling for his brother Merle.

Shane and Rick both approached, trying to explain the situation that happened with Atlanta. The entire group stood back from the argument, apparently anticipating violence. After a bit of posturing from all three men and a frankly shit explanation from Rick, Daryl lunged forward, knife in hand.

Shane and Rick worked in perfect tandem, taking Daryl to the ground with an ease that only comes from years of police work together.

“Chokehold’s illegal, asshole.” Daryl grunted out from around Shane’s grasp.

“Yeah, you can file a complaint.” Shane quipped, dragging Daryl to a better position.

Rick knelt in front of the two, and said, “I would like to have a calm discussion on this topic. Do you think we can manage that?”

Ada, seeing that things were getting way out of hand, walked forward. Shane let Daryl go and Rick knelt down again, telling Daryl, “What I did was not on a whim. Your brother does not work or play well with others.”

T-Dog, apparently unhappy with Rick taking all of the blame, stepped forward, adding, “It’s not Rick’s fault. I had the key. I dropped it.”

“Couldn’t pick it up?” Daryl sneered from the ground.

“I dropped it down a drain.” T-Dog clarified and Daryl scoffed before standing, throwing dirt, and saying “if that’s supposed to make me feel better, it don’t.

“Well,” T-Dog replied, “maybe this will. I chained the door to the roof so the geeks couldn’t get at him. With a padlock.”

“It’s gotta count for something.” Rick added.

Daryl’s face scrunched up and he wiped his nose with the back of his hand, “to hell with all of y’all. Just tell me where he is so’s I can go get him.” He sounded so much like a scared child it made Ada’s chest ache for him.

“He’ll show you.” Lori said from under the shade of the RV, “Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah, we’re going to show you where he is.” Ada said, finally approaching Daryl. “We talked it over last night – Rick, Shane and I. Rick and I were already planning on going to get your brother.”

“I’m just going to get dressed. Then we’ll be on our way.” Rick said, headed towards his tent.

After a few minutes, he returned, dressed in his freshly washed police uniform. As he approached, Lori asked, “So you, Ada, and Daryl? That’s your big plan?”

Rick said nothing, instead only turning to look at Glenn. Glenn sighed, clearly reluctant but Rick pressed him, saying that he would feel a lot better if he came along. Finally, he nodded and T-Dog said from the woodline, “that makes five.”

“My day just keeps getting better and better, don’t it?” Daryl said sarcastically.

“You see anyone else stepping up to save your brother’s cracker ass?” T-Dog asked.

“Why you?” Daryl replied.

“Man, you wouldn’t even begin to understand. You don’t speak my language.”

“And what about that walker last night?” Jim asked, “They’re moving out of the cities. We need people here for if they come back. We need every able body that we’ve got. We need ‘em here to protect camp.”

Shane looked at Rick, clearly in agreement but not wanting to argue with Ada again.

“It seems to me what you really need most here are more guns.” Rick said, hands on his hips.

“Right. The guns!” Glenn and I both said at the same time.

“Jinx,” I said with a wink. He gave me a beaming smile.

“What guns, Rick?” Shane asked, ignoring me.

“Six shotguns, two high-powered rifles and over a dozen handguns. I cleaned out the cage back at the station before I left. I dropped the bag in Atlanta when I got swarmed. It’s just sitting there waiting to be picked up.” Rick replied, his hand on his service piece.

“Ammo?” Shane asked.

“700 rounds, assorted.” Rick said.

“Still think it’s not a useful trip? Besides, while we’re there, we can see what kind of meds I can scrounge up. There’s bound to be a pharmacy or clinic right by where we’re going.” Ada said.

Shane threw his hands in the air, but before he could say anything Lori said, “you went through hell to find us. You just got back and now you’re going to turn around and leave?”

Carl then added, “Yeah, dad. I don’t want you to go.”

Rick gave Lori an exasperated look, clearly frustrated by her decision to question him in front of Carl and the entire group.

Lori pushed on, unrepentant, “to hell with the guns. Jim is right. And Merle Dixon? He’s not worth one of your lives, even with guns thrown in.”

“And who are you to decide that?” Ada said, “How do you weigh one person’s life over another?”

Lori completely ignored Ada, instead walking towards Rick. “Tell me,” she said, “make me understand.”

“I owe a debt to a man I met and his little boy. Lori, if they hadn’t taken me in, I’d have died. It’s because of them I made it back to you at all. They said they’d follow me to Atlanta; they’ll walk into the same trap I did if I don’t warn him.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“The walkie-talkie, the one in the bag I dropped. He’s got the other one. Our plan was to connect when they got closer.”

“These are our walkies?” Shane said.

“Yeah.” Rick replied.

“So use the C.B., what’s wrong with that?” Andrea threw in. Ada wasn’t sure what she made of Andrea yet, but the longer she was around her, the longer the blonde grated on her nerves. She seemed to always have an opinion, always have the better option ready to suggest.

“The C.B. 's fine,” Shane said, “it’s the walkies that suck to crap. Date back to the ‘70s, don’t match any other bandwidth – not even the one in our cruisers.”

Ada kept her mouth shut about the third walkie currently sitting in the tent, the one that Rick had given her when they split up. If this was what it took to get the group on board, she wasn’t going to spoil it.

Lori finally nodded, and Rick and the others started to get the truck ready to leave, gathering bolt cutters and various other tools they’d need. Ada sat beside Shane, passing a 3 Musketeer bar between themselves. She could tell that he wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t pushing it. The tension between them made her uncomfortable; she desperately wanted to fix it.

Just then, Daryl stomped on the car horn, yelling “let’s go!” to the group.

Shane and Ada stood, Shane grabbing his range bag and walking to the back of the box truck.

“You have any rounds for the Python?” Shane asked.

“No,” Rick answered.

“Last time we were on the gun range, I’m sure I wound up with a few loose rounds of yours.”

Rick gave Shane a goofy smile, “you and that bag. It's like the bottom of an old lady’s purse.”

“I hate that y’all are doing this.” Shane said, “I think that it's foolish and reckless, but if you’re going to go - y’all are taking bullets.”

“I’m not sure I’d want to fire a round in the city, not after what happened last time.”

“Well that’s up to you.” Shane finished digging in his bag and pulled out the rounds he had wrangled. “Huh. Five rounds. Five people, five rounds. What are the odds, huh? Well, let’s just hope that uh, that five’s y’all’s lucky number.”

Rick went around the back of the car to get into the cab, while Shane turned to Ada. “You still have my service Glock?”

“Yes, Shay. I still have it.” She pulled the gun out of the holster and handed it over to him. Shane popped out the standard magazine and pulled out an extended magazine from his bag. He slammed it up into the gun and handed it to her.

“You better be back here by nightfall. I’m going soft by letting you go to begin with.” Shane said, ruffling her curls.

Ada groaned then pulled her legs up into the box of the truck and shut the sliding door. She let herself doze off and before she knew it, Glenn was standing over her shaking her shoulder. They parked on a set of railroad tracks and decided to foot it the rest of the way.

As they approached the exit the shopping center was on, they cut through the chainlink and stepped over the railings onto the pavement.

“Merle first or guns?” Rick asked Glenn.

“Merle! I ain’t even discussing this!” Daryl growled.

“We are.” Rick replied emphatically. “It’s your call, Glenn. You know the geography.”

“Merle’s closest,” Glenn said, starting to jog. “Guns first would mean doubling back. Merle first.”

They barely stopped for breath until they reached the shopping center. They took out one walker on the ground floor before bounding up the stairs after Merle. As soon as they got the door open, Ada knew something was wrong. They all filed out onto the rooftop and before Ada got a good look at what was there, Daryl started screaming.

A severed hand lay on the ground beside a dull hacksaw, bloody handcuffs still swaying in the Georgia wind.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five

No one said anything for a few minutes. The only sound was the heavy breathing of Daryl and the ever present drone of the Georgia cicadas. The hand was laying there, surrounded by blood, flies swarming, almost mocking them.

Suddenly, Daryl wheeled around with a yell, pointing his crossbow directly at T-Dog’s head. Rick immediately drew his Python, aiming it at Daryl without a word or hesitation.

They were all silent for a long, tense moment, Ada itching to jump in and try to settle the situation. T-Dog looked down the bolt of the crossbow without flinching, only his nervous swallow betraying him.

“I won’t hesitate. I don’t care if every walker in the city hears it.” Rick said, a stoney look on his handsome face.

Daryl continues panting, tears welling up in his eyes. Finally, he dropped the crossbow and Rick lowered his gun.

“You - you got a do-rag or something?” Daryl asked T-Dog.

T-Dog pulled a bandana out of his pocket and handed it over to Daryl who picked up the hand and wrapped it up.

“I guess the saw blade was too dull for the handcuffs. Ain’t that a bitch?” Daryl said, sighing heavily.

Ada crouched down beside the hand, examining it and the blood splatter. “The blood is tacky, but it isn’t congealed yet. This couldn’t have happened too long ago. Not with the sun beating down like it is today,” she said.

Daryl nodded in agreement before standing and walking over to Glenn. He dropped Merle’s severed hand into Glenn’s bag and swung his arm back at the scene. “Must’a used a tourniquet too, maybe his belt?” Daryl suggested.

“Oh, definitely,” Ada responded, “there would be way more blood if he didn’t.”

Ada stood and they followed the blood trail left by Merle to the far side of the roof. It led to a different building than the one they had originally come through, and they cleared it as they went. Ada wanted to stop in every room; she saw the drawers and cabinets as hidden treasure chests, waiting to be rifled through. The group pressed on, though, and she begrudgingly followed, only Glenn behind her. Eventually they came across a kitchen, a fire still burning, an abandoned belt and meat weight by the fire. The meat weight had clearly been used to cauterize the wound and Ada swore under her breath.

“What’s that burned stuff?” Glenn asked as Rick picked up the meat weight.

“Skin.” Ada and Rick replied in tandem.

“He cauterized the stump.” Rick said.

“I told you he was tough.” Daryl said, fixing Rick with a stare. “Can’t nobody kill Merle but Merle.”

“He might have.” Ada responded, “if he wasn’t already in shock, he definitely is now.”

“Yeah? Didn’t stop ‘em from bustin’ out of this death trap.” Daryl said, pointing to the broken window pane leading to the fire escape.

“He left the building?” Glenn gasped, “Why would he do that?”

“Why wouldn’t he? He’s out there alone as far as he knows, doing what he’s gotta do. Surviving.”

“He wouldn’t think you’d be coming for him?” Ada asked. “If it were me and Shane was out on a hunt, I’d have been sure that he would come for me. Even if I did need off of that roof, I wouldn’t have left the building.”

“Yeah, well, it’s different.” Daryl grunted. “Better than being handcuffed to a roof and left to rot by you sorry pricks. You couldn’t kill him,” Daryl said, getting in Rick’s face, “I ain’t so worried about some dumb dead bastard.”

“What about a thousand dumb dead bastards? Different story?” Rick replied, squaring up with Daryl.

“Why don’t you take a tally? Do what you want. I’m going to get him.”

“Why don’t we all take a fucking breath?” Ada said, putting herself in between the bickering men. “The dick measuring contest is getting really out of hand.”

She pointed at Daryl, “We came back. We’re here and we’re trying to rescue your brother, but it seems like he cut his losses.” She turned to point at Rick, “You literally handcuffed a man to a rooftop and left him to die. His family has a right to be upset with you, regardless of why you did it. None of this is helping anything. Now, can we come up with a plan or are we just going to keep yelling at each other?”

Rick had the good sense to look sheepish at Ada’s reprimand, taking a step back from Daryl.

“I’m only looking for him if we get those guns first.” T-Dog said, holding his hands in the air, “I’m not strolling the streets of Atlanta with just my good intentions, okay?”

“I think that might be for the best.” Ada said.

Daryl scoffed, walking to the window as if Merle was going to appear in the street suddenly.

“Listen,” Ada said, “the longer those guns sit out there on the street, the higher the chance of them being picked up by someone else. There’s no way that Merle has gotten far, not with the blood loss and shock. We should check all of the buildings around here, but who the hell knows what we will run into.”

Daryl finally nodded, coming back over to stand with the group. Glenn had been crouched on the ground during the argument, and Ada leaned over to see what he had been doing.

“It’s a map of the surrounding streets. Look, I’ll go grab the guns.” Glenn stated, “I’m fastest. l’lll be in and out.”

“You’re not doing this alone.” Rick protested, hands on both of his hips.

“Even I think it’s a bad idea and I don’t even like you much.” Daryl added.

“It’s a good idea, okay? If you’d just hear me out.” Glenn insisted. “If we go out there in a group, we’re slow, drawing attention. If I’m alone, I can move fast.”

Glenn went through his plan, showing on his makeshift map where the guns were and explaining how Daryl, Rick, and T-Dog would each be protecting him.

“What about me?” Ada asked, noticing that he hadn’t said where she would be.

“There’s a doctor’s office across the street,” Glenn said, going to the window and pointing to a short building nestled in between the taller ones. “I’m not sure if anything useful will be there, but you mentioned wanting to try and find one. I’ve passed it a few times, but I’ve never gone in. You can check it out and then come back here. That also leaves us with someone here in a central location. ”

“No,” Rick immediately replied, “I don’t want her - I don’t want anyone out there alone.”

“Rick, it’s fine. The street is clear and we’ve already cleared most of this building. I’ll be fine.”

Rick started to respond only to be cut off by Daryl asking, “we goin’ or not?”

“Rick, I’ll be fine.” Ada said.

“Fine. Let’s go.” Rick said, still staring at Ada with an unreadable look on his face.

They all filed out onto the fire escape, gingerly avoiding the broken glass. Once they were on the pavement, they split up, Rick and T-Dog going left, Glenn and Daryl going right, and Ada headed straight across the road.

She pushed the door to the doctor’s office open slowly, silently praying that there wouldn’t be too many dead-ones inside. The second she opened the door, a feral yell came from her left and she was greeted by a man running at her, brandishing a crowbar in his one hand. Where the other hand should have been was nothing but a bloody stump, burnt flesh clinging to the wound that was still oozing.

She ducked quickly, barely managing to avoid getting whacked in the head. She threw her arms up in surrender and cried, “woah! Woah! Merle! It’s okay.”

The man in front of her was older than Daryl by at least ten years if she were to guess. His skin was grey and pallid and he wavered where he stood. His wife beater was crusted with blood and the scent of burnt flesh clung to him.

Merle squinted his eyes at her before barking, “who the hell are you?”

“My name is Ada. I’m with Daryl. I was a trauma surgeon before all of this. You should really let me take a look at that arm.”

Merle looked at her again, a look of absolute disbelief on his face before promptly collapsing to the floor, out cold.

Ada swore, dropping to her knees to feel for a pulse. It was there, but faint and thready, shock was already taking effect. She shoved the office door shut and swept everything off the front desk in one motion. He was dead weight, but she was strong, and she half hauled, half dragged Merle onto the desk. She was suddenly thankful for Shane’s weekend bootcamps and Crossfit obsession.

Her backpack hit the surface beside him with a heavy thud. She pulled out a tourniquet and cinched it high on his arm, twisting until the bleeding slowed to nothing. He’d already lost too much. She dug for supplies: a brown bottle of betadine, gauze, suture scissors, tweezers, a needle, and the little foil pouch of Vicryl. The cauterization was a mess — blackened flesh crusted around raw, angry meat. It had kept him from bleeding out, but it wouldn’t hold. She poured the betadine over the stump, the amber liquid running down the desk, and the sharp smell filled her nose. With tweezers she plucked away dead, burned tissue, muttering apologies under her breath. They made no difference though, Merle didn’t stir. Ada knew that closing the wound was a gamble. In a hospital, she’d leave it open, let it drain, and start antibiotics, but this wasn’t a hospital. She set the sutures, not tight, just enough to pull the worst of the wound together, leaving space for anything festering inside to find its way out.

When she finished, she laid betadine-soaked gauze directly over the stitches, then padded it with dry layers before wrapping the stump. Her hands hovered over the tourniquet. Currently it was the only thing keeping him from even more bloodloss; if she removed it and he started bleeding again, he was as good as dead. If she left it too long, the tissue below it would start to die. Slowly and carefully, she loosened the strap – no fresh red seeped through the dressing. For now, it held.

Ada sighed, thanking every deity she knew that the sutures and barbaric cauterization seemed to be keeping the bleeding under control. She used a few pillows to prop his legs up, putting him in a makeshift Trendelenburg to encourage his blood pressure to rise, and she put a coat from the corner over his chest. His breathing was shallow but steady enough.
She knew that he needed pain meds, but she couldn’t give him anything strong, not with the shock. The only thing she had that could be injected were opioids, and with him being unconscious, giving him oral meds was completely out of the question.

Her eyes flicked upwards to the cupboards and suddenly, she remembered where she was.

This was a doctor’s office; there had to be supplies here!

She left Merle and ran into the treatment rooms, pulling drawers open and throwing aside paper gowns and tongue depressors until — there. A box of IV kits. Saline bags. She laughed with relief.

In two minutes she had a line running into the back of his good hand, a clear river of fluid pushing its way into his veins. She stood over him and squeezed two full bags of fluids into him, willing his body to fight. His pulse was still weak, but it was growing steadier under her fingertips. She left him again, this time in search of medication. She pushed aside bottles of oral antibiotics and pain killers until she found what she was looking for - one singular vial of intramuscular Rocephin hidden in the back corner of the medicine cabinet. It was usually used in offices like this for gonorrhea, as one shot was enough to clear the infection. For Merle, it was one of the only chances he had at surviving this; now that the blood loss was under control, infection was the biggest threat to his life. Just the one dose of antibiotics increased his chances of survival exponentially. She drew up the medication into a syringe and plunged it into his thigh, saying a prayer as she did. All she could do now was wait. There was no way that she would be able to move him by herself. Instead, she sat by the window, watching for the others to return and frequently looking back at Merle.

*****

When the others did finally return, it wasn’t the same group that left out. Instead of Glenn, walking behind Rick was a tall, lanky hispanic kid with a busted lip and a tattoo of a weed plant on the side of his neck. Rick had his gun trained on the kid, occasionally pushing him by the shoulder to hurry him along. She watched as they climbed up the fire escape and slipped back into the room.

Almost as soon as Rick had entered the room, he came back out onto the fire escape, squinting in the daylight. Ada knew he was looking for her and she stepped outside onto the street.

She jogged across the road to Rick and yelled up the fire escape, “I found Merle! He’s over here!”

Rick shushed her and beckoned her to climb up the stairs. She took them two at a time, eager to tell Daryl that she had found Merle, that he was alive.

“We have a situation. I need all hands on deck.” Rick said.

“What?” Ada asked. “So, you don’t want me to tell Daryl about his brother?”

“Tell me what about my brother?” Daryl asked, coming out onto the narrow landing as well. “You got somethin’ to say?”

Ada looked from Rick to Daryl anxiously. Rick nodded, so Ada replied, “he’s alive. I found him in the office across the street. I patched him up and he’s resting now.”

“What?” Daryl yelled, immediately trying to push past Rick to descend the stairs.

“Daryl!” Rick bit out, “Glenn was willing to put his life on the line for you. We need to take care of this first.”

“He’s stable for now.” Ada told him. “I doubt he’s going anywhere.”

Rick looked at Daryl before saying, “please. Help me get Glenn back.”

Daryl nodded and the three of them went into the building where T-Dog had been questioning the kid.

“Clearly not getting anywhere.” Daryl muttered, pushing past Ada and Rick to Glenn’s bag. He pulled out Merle’s severed hand and said, “want to see what happened to the last guy that pissed me off?”He unwrapped the hand before throwing it in the kid’s lap. The kid immediately leapt from the chair he was in, falling to the floor in his attempt to scramble away from Daryl.

Daryl followed him though, leaning into the kid’s face and telling him he was going to start with the feet this time. Rick pulled Daryl off of him and pushed him across the room before kneeling before their captive.

“The men you are with took our friend. All we want to do is talk to them, see if we can work something out.” Rick said.

They stared at each other for a minute before the kid said, “okay. I’ll take you there.”

*****

Miguel led them to a warehouse about fifteen minutes from where Rick dropped the guns. The area was quiet; the large courtyard was empty and there was no sign of anyone. Right before they entered the courtyard, Rick grabbed Ada by the arm, preventing her from walking through the opening. “Look, I don’t know what we’re walking into. I’d prefer it if you stay hidden. So far, all we’ve seen is men - that doesn’t bode well for your safety.”

Ada frowned, “what was the point in having me come all the way here just to have me hide? Let me take the sniper post; I’m a damn good shot and you know it. Besides, the more men you have down there, the better your chance at negotiation.”

Rick sighed and rubbed the area between his eyebrows. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally nodded. He took a rifle from out of the bag of guns on his shoulder and handed it to her.

“Fine. Take this one. Scope’s accurate, but it has one hell of a kick.”

“Rick,” Ada started, rolling her eyes, “you know as well as I do that I can handle this.” With one last nod from him, she started around the building and climbed the fire escape. She perched herself on the edge of a roof, overlooking the courtyard the men were about to enter.

“Please, please let this go well.” She prayed.

After a few minutes, the men entered the courtyard, weapons raised and Miguel in front of them. Almost immediately, the heavy double doors opened and a man walked out. Ada was too far to hear what was being said, but after a few minutes of what looked to be tense conversation, two more men came into the courtyard. They talked for a while longer and eventually Rick gestured to where Ada was sitting on the roof. She gave a cheeky wave, her crosshairs never leaving the man’s head.

“Oye!” the apparent leader called out.

Suddenly, two men appeared across from Ada, pushing Glenn, who had a bag over his head, forward towards the edge of the roof. Ada saw red. Immediately, her finger was on the trigger, ready to fire. Rick looked up at her and shook his head, telling her not to take the shot. Slowly, they backed out of the courtyard, the muzzle of Rick’s rifle on Miguel’s back. Ada immediately ran back down the fire escape, screeching to a halt in front of Rick.

“We need to regroup. We’re going back to base.” Rick said as she approached, “Once we get there, Ada, I want you to stay back. You’ve seen what these guys are capable of. I don’t want you getting caught up in this.”

She sighed but recognized that arguing at this point would be futile. Rick was too far into the zone, he wasn’t likely to take no for an answer even if she tried to give it. They went back to their makeshift base, Ada branching off to head into the office where Merle still lay as they approached the building.

Thankfully, he was still there and still relatively stable. She tried to keep herself busy; she checked, rechecked, and re-rechecked Merle’s vitals, hung more fluids for him, cleaned him up with a wet rag, filled her backpack with as many medical supplies as she could, and even brought the box truck they had driven here to the front of the offices. Still, she was worried. She couldn’t help but to imagine everything that could have been going wrong at the courtyard.

Right when Ada was considering heading back to the courtyard to rescue them herself; the men showed up at the door, an unharmed Glenn in tow.

She immediately launched herself at him, pulling him into a tight hug. “I was so worried!” she cried.

“It’s okay, they didn’t hurt me. They were actually good people - just trying to keep things going.” Glenn said, patting her shoulder awkwardly.

Rick walked by her, clapping his hand onto her shoulder as he passed. No words were said, but she heard them anyway, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Daryl pushed through the door next, rushing to Merle’s side. “Is he okay?” He asked Ada.

“He’s doing fine; his vitals are stable. I think we should be okay to move him back to camp.” She said.

Daryl insisted on carrying Merle to the truck by himself and no one had the energy to argue with him. The ride back to the quarry was uneventful; the only conversation was Glenn telling Ada about the Vatos and their community. She wished that she had been able to visit and check on the residents of the nursing home, but she knew that there was logically little she could have done to help. Rick had done more than she probably could by giving them some of the guns. She knew that going would only delay the inevitable. The difference between being a general doctor and a trauma doctor was that trauma doctors had to understand triage – some people are lost before you even get to them. They arrived back in the camp shortly before sundown. Dale, despite his general dislike of the Dixon brothers, was nice enough to offer one of the two benches of his RV to Merle while he recovered. Ada sat on the opposite bench, keeping a close eye on Merle in case he took a turn for the worse.

Outside of the RV, everyone was gathered around low fires; enjoying the bounty of fish that Andrea and Amy had brought in from the quarry earlier that day. Ada was secretly glad she had an excuse not to join in; it wasn’t that she didn’t like everyone, but the stress of their situation was taking its toll, and Ada didn’t know how much longer she could uphold the friendly mask she had put on. Instead, she used the little fold out table to clean some of the guns.

Pop the magazine, retract the slide, press the slide locks, slip the slide off, depress the recoil spring, slide out the barrel, clean with a rag, clean with a brush, lubricate, put the barrel back, squeeze the coil into place, pull back, repeat with the next pistol.

The rhythm was a soothing balm to her mind and allowed her to finally sit without a million thoughts running through her mind. She knew that dissociation wasn’t the most healthy coping mechanism, but hey – at least she was coping. Before she knew it, dark had fallen and she had cleaned the majority of the handguns in the bag, only the sounds of metal tinkering and Merle’s steady breathing filling the silence. The peace was broken when the door to the RV opened.

“Here,” Shane grunted, shuffling in holding a plate of fried fish and canned asparagus. “I brought you some food.”

She took the plate from him, pushing the guns and cleaning supplies to the back of the table before placing the plate down. She stared at the fish as if it had personally wronged her.

“You have to eat it.” Shane said.

Ada made a face, her nose scrunching and eyebrows pulling down. “But it’s fish.” She whined. So far she had made it through the apocalypse without having to resort to eating seafood, but apparently her time had run out.

Shane rolled his eyes, pulling his cap off and then throwing his hand in the air. Ada said nothing, just stared at the fish as if it would suddenly transform into a beautiful filet mignon. Eventually, she pulled the plate towards her and began to eat, shoveling huge mouthfuls in at once, desperate to end the experience as quickly as possible.

The second Ada started eating Shane moved to leave the RV and rejoin the group by the fire, wringing his cap in his hands.

“Shane,” Ada called, swallowing thickly, “what happened with Ed?”

“He hit his wife in front of me. That’s what happened to him.” Shane replied, not bothering to turn around and face her.

“Oh.” Ada said, taking another bite of the food. “So… no other motivating factors?”

Shane hesitated at the doorway before turning. He looked at her for a long time, only the light of the fire outside illuminating their faces. He stood there, still as a statue, until finally he came and sat beside her on the bench. “Lori wants me to stay away from Carl. Says that,” he stopped, taking a deep breath, “says that her family is off limits to me.”

Ada looked at him, seeing the hurt that he tried and failed to keep off of his face.

“Well that’s just bullshit.” Ada said.

“She told me that I lost the right to her family when I told her Rick was dead.” Shane rubbed his head, dragging his fingers through his curly hair. “You have to understand, I never thought he would make it out of there. I figured you couldn’t face it and that’s why you never showed. I didn’t know, Ada. I didn’t know he was alive.”

“I know.” Ada said softly, putting her hand on his shoulder. “She’s just feeling guilty, is all. You guys fucked up – royally. I know you thought he was dead, but Shane even if he was, that was so soon for you to…”

“I know.” Shane said. “You know I’ve always made shitty decisions when it comes to who I sleep with. This was no different, but it wasn’t that I wanted to sleep with her. It was that she was…” he paused, searching for the correct word.

“There?” Ada suggested.

“She was familiar, a - a constant.” He replied, “The world went to shit and everything changed and nothing made sense, but Lori – I knew Lori. I know Lori. She felt like before. I just wanted to hold on to that.”

“So you mean you didn’t plan on killing Rick off and assuming his life just because you were secretly always jealous of him?” Ada said, smiling.
Shane cuffed her around the head gently and opened his mouth to reply. Before he could, Amy walked in and headed towards the bathroom of the RV.

“No toilet paper.” Ada said.

“Uhg! How annoying!” Amy said. “Maybe Dale has some stashed somewhere. I’ll ask.”

Ada stood and walked behind her towards the door, tucking her pistol back into her thigh holster. Amy stepped onto the rickety step of the RV, calling to Dale, “hey! Are we out of toilet paper?”

Ada saw the walker before Amy; it was a man, tall with large chunks of skin missing from his cheek. Immediately she pulled Amy backwards as the man grabbed her arm. Overbalanced, Ada and Amy fell to the floor of the RV, Amy trying to pull her arm out of the walker’s grasp. Shane rushed over, pulling Ada out from under the blonde. Amy was kicking at the walker, using her foot to push him backwards, but he just kept coming.

“Amy!” Ada cried, trying to drag Amy further into the RV with her. Shane pushed Ada out of the way, reaching for his knife and stabbing the walker in the head. The walker wasn’t alone, though, and before Amy could pull her legs up into the RV a second dead-one fell on her, biting a large hunk of flesh off of her calf. She screamed, a deep and guttural sound that shook the walls of Ada’s skull. “No!” She screamed, “Amy! Amy!”

Shane killed the second walker before grabbing Amy and putting her arms around his shoulders. The camp had descended into chaos; everyone ran in different directions, pulling their guns out or finding whatever objects they could use as a melee weapon. Shane stepped out into the thick of it, laying Amy roughly on the ground outside the RV. He slung the shotgun from around his shoulders and expertly took out three walkers.

Ada followed, pulling her pistol back out and trying to help thin the herd. Everywhere she looked, members of the group were being pulled down by the dead. Bullets seemed to rain from the sky as everyone tried to re-kill the dead while avoiding the living. A bullet grazed her; it tore through her thin blouse and caused a sharp, searing pain in her arm. Immediately, bright red blood bloomed from the wound and she clapped her hand over it. Thankfully, it wasn’t deep and could wait until later.

The dead just kept coming. It felt as though the entire city of Atlanta had finally managed to find their little camp. She traded her pistol out for semi-automatic and fired shot after shot.

“Everyone to the RV!” Shane shouted over the noise.

The remaining survivors pushed towards the RV; Lori, Carol, and María all grabbed their kids and shoved them into the vehicle, closing the door securely. After what felt like an eon, the smoke from the guns began to clear and the dead stopped coming. Ada leaned over and put her hands on her knees, sucking in deep breaths and trying to calm her racing heart. Straightening up, she looked around, taking note of how few people survived the attack.

Andrea collapsed to her knees beside Amy, a long wail spilling from her lips. Bites littered Amy’s body; her throat was open wide and her eyes were fixed, unseeing at the night sky.

“Andrea,” Ada started, about to apologize.

“Well,” a rough voice interrupted from the doorway of the RV, “ain’t this a party?”

Merle had woken up.

Chapter Text

Merle looked like shit, and that was being generous. He was dripping sweat and wavered where he stood, his skin pale other than the aggressive red of his right arm. In his left hand, he held one of the handguns Ada had been cleaning before the herd attacked. Ada could see the kids behind him, huddled together at the far wall of the RV.

“You shouldn’t be standing.” Ada said with a frown.

Merle curled his lip, “and who are you to tell me what I shouldn’t do, kid?”

“I’m the woman - the doctor, who saved your life.” Ada retorted.

Merle snorted. “Wouldn’t have needed to be saved if it weren’t for Officer Friendly over here.” he said, gesturing to Rick with the gun before making his way down the steps of the RV.

Rick opened his mouth to respond, but Ada beat him to it, “wouldn’t have needed to be saved if you weren’t too busy being a racist, drug abusing asshole to everyone around you, either.”

Merle snarled at her; it might have been intimidating if he wasn’t shaking all over.

“Go lay down before you fall down. You’ve lost a lot of blood and from what Rick tells me, you’re probably starting to detox. This isn’t the time for you to be picking fights. You won’t win them.”

“Oh, yeah?” Merle replied, coming forward and crowding Ada.

Ada stood her ground, staring into the icy blue of the man’s eyes. Shane pushed past Maria Morales, clearly about to come to her rescue; she held up a hand, silently telling him to back off. She wasn’t intimidated by Merle. She had been here before, staring down the face of a man who radiated violence. She had done it at ten, she could do it now.

Merle staggered again, sending him tumbling into Ada. She used his moment of instability to grab the gun and twist, making him release his grip. Daryl came up then, grabbing Merle by the shoulder and steering him back into the RV. Ada followed behind them, choosing to ignore the disgusting things Merle was saying about her and his own brother. Daryl pushed Merle back onto the bench.

“Just stop being an asshole to her at least, dude. She went out of her way to save your life. More than any of these other assholes can say.” Daryl said.

“I didn’t ask for that. I would have been fine on my own.” Merle bit out.

“You didn’t ask, but I did it anyway. You owe me your life; luckily for you, I don’t want much in return. All I ask is that you don’t harm anyone in this camp.”

Merle scoffed, “and if they harm me? If they leave me on a roof to rot?”

“Daryl, you’re on Merle duty. We have people to bury. Don’t let him cause more trouble than he’s worth.” Ada said before turning and walking out of the RV, slamming the door behind her.
Through the thin metal she heard Merle drawl, “well, damn, Darylina. Taking orders from cooze, now?”

Ada ground her teeth together, but forced herself to let it go. They had more important things to do. Namely, putting down the members of the group who didn’t manage to survive the attack. Ada didn’t like the act, but she didn’t want to let any of them turn. They were her people, even if only for a day. She wanted them to retain at least some of their dignity.

They started the brutal process of going to each one of their dead and making sure that they wouldn’t turn. As she drove her knife into the eye socket of the woman who had held her horse’s reins yesterday, she knew that this was part of the price for her family making it out alive. She had known there would be a reckoning, and here it was, in the form of re-killing women, children, and elderly people she had only just met. Everything has a price - and it’s the survivors, not the dead who pay it.

**********

Ada felt like she had only just crawled into the tent when the sun began to rise. She wanted to stay in her sleeping bag within the familiar canvas walls of Shane’s tent. In here, it was easy to pretend that she and Shane were on a camping trip - just like the ones they used to take when they were kids. If she stayed here, the dead weren’t living again; her best friend wasn’t dead; she didn’t feel responsible for the lives of almost twenty people. In her sleeping bag she was safe, transported to the time before. It wasn’t before, though, it was after and Ada wanted to cry. She could hear stirring from outside her tent and knew that the others had woken up, too. She knew she should get up – try and help anyone who was injured but not bit and help organize the dead so that they could be buried, but she laid there - staring at the blue Georgia sky through the skylight flap.

Eventually she heard the telltale sounds of dead bodies being dragged and started to smell burning flesh. She was disgusted that it smelled like a barbeque and suddenly the tent was too small, too warm. She made her way out of the tent and towards Shane, who was sitting beside a low fire with Dale, Lori, and Carol. Daryl, T-Dog and Glenn were gathering bodies, throwing them onto a fire not even twenty feet from where she stood. Across the path, she saw Andrea. She was still sitting by Amy’s body, staring blankly into her sister’s face. It gave her anxiety just to see it; the one thing that Ada had learned for sure at the hospital was that the incubation period varied wildly between person to person. Amy could turn at any time.

She turned to Shane and said as much right as Rick approached, still in his blood soaked clothes from last night.

“She still won’t move?” Rick asked, looking at Shane.

“She won’t even talk to us; she’s been there all night.” Lori replied, shaking her head sadly. “What do we do?”

“We can’t just leave Amy like that. We need to deal with it. Same as the others.” Shane said.

“I’ll tell her how it is.” Rick said, walking across the small path to Andrea. He dropped into a crouch, but before he could get level with her, Andrea had pulled her gun on him, pointing it directly at his head. Everyone jumped up, Shane pulling his pistol from its holster, ready to intervene if necessary.

Rick slowly rose, holding his hand out and apologizing to her as he backed away.

Daryl approached, a pickaxe thrown over his shoulder. “Y’all can’t be serious,” he started, “we gonna let that girl hamstring us?”

“Daryl,” Ada started.

He cut her off, adding, “that dead girl’s a time bomb.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Ada and Rick said at the same time.

“Take the shot.” Daryl said, getting right into Rick’s face. “Clean, in the brain, from here. Hell, I could hit a turkey in the eye from this distance.”

“No,” Lori said, “for God’s sake. Let her be.”

Daryl scoffed, walking away as everyone looked at each other. He and Morales began dragging a body towards the fire, judging from the clothes, it wasn’t a walker - it was one of their own.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Glenn asked, stopping the two men from placing the dead body in the fire. “This is for geeks. Our people go over there.”

“What’s the difference? They’re all infected.”

“Our people go in that row over there. We don’t burn them! We bury them. Understand?” Glenn shouted, his voice wavering with emotion.

Ada was suddenly struck by how much she liked Glenn – he was a good kid, stalwart and headstrong. He was smart too, a natural survivor.

Daryl looked at him for a long time before finally dragging the dead man into the row of their people.

“You reap what you sow.” He said as he dropped the body onto the ground. “You people left my brother for dead. You had this coming.”

Ada squeezed the bridge of her nose, frustrated with the entire situation. It seemed as though the anger ran in the Dixon family.

She sighed, grabbing a bottle of water and a rag, walking towards the row of their people. She began washing their hands and faces, readying them for burial. Glenn noticed what she was doing and grabbed a rag too, reaching towards her to wet it. She offered him a tight smile and he returned it, picking up the hand of an elderly lady and carefully cleaning the blood from her fingers. This small sign of humanity felt good; it was a reminder that even though so many had died, even though death was so prominent, it still meant something to give someone dignity in their death.

The near-peaceful moment was shattered by Jacqui calling out, “A walker got him! A walker bit Jim.”

Ada and Glenn stood as the entire group converged on Jim, everyone calling for him to show them the bite while Jim insisted that he was fine.

Jim grabbed a shovel, brandishing it in front of him. T-Dog ran up from behind, grabbing him and pulling his arms backwards. Daryl rushed forwards, pulling up Jim’s shirt to reveal a nasty, oozing bite on his side.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” Jim repeated, voice small.

T-Dog let him go and everyone backed away, unsure of what to do. This would be the first time Ada had seen it from the very beginning. In the hospital, most people were already having symptoms before they came. After it fell, the majority of deaths had been from other causes, not bites.

“Jim,” Ada said, approaching him with her hands outstretched. “It’s okay. We’ll figure something out. Just…” she placed her hand on his arm, “just come have a seat, okay?”

She steered him towards a chair in front of the RV and made him sit. He nodded at her in thanks and she gave his shoulder a squeeze, trying to muster up a reassuring look. She turned, walking back to where most of the group had convened in a circle.

“I say we put a pickaxe in his head and the dead girl’s. Be done with it.” Daryl said as she joined the circle.

“Is that what you’d want if it were you?” Shane said, fixing him with a glare.

“Yeah, and I’d thank ya while ya did it.” Daryl replied.

“Look, I hate to say it. I never thought I would, but maybe Daryl’s right.” Dale said.

“Jim’s not a monster, Dale, or some rabid dog.” Rick said.

“I’m not suggesting –” Dale started.
v
“He’s sick. He’s a sick man. We start down that road, where do we draw the line?” Rick continued.

“Line’s pretty clear. Zero tolerance for walkers, or them to be.” Daryl replied.

“What if we could get him help? I heard the CDC was working on a cure.” Rick said.

“I heard that too, heard a lot of things before the world went to hell.” Shane said, pulling his hat off and tucking it under his arm.

“What if it’s still up and running?” Rick asked.

“Man, that is a stretch right there.” Shane responded.

“Why? If there’s any government left, any structure at all, they’d protect the CDC at all costs, wouldn’t they?” Rick asked.

“Rick,” Ada started, “while I appreciate the sentiment, you know I do. He’s not just sick. I’m not saying that we put him down without his consent; I’m just saying that he is dangerous. And the CDC…. Rick, you weren’t awake when the National Guard got their orders. I was; I was friends with the senior officer. They were ordered to pull out, kill all civilians, and fall back. I doubt that they would just open the door - even if someone was still there.”

“I think it’s our best bet. Shelter, protection, rescue…” Rick trailed off.

“Okay, Rick, you want those things, all right? I do too, okay?” Shane started, “Now if they exist, they’re at the army base. Fort Benning.”

“That’s 100 miles in the opposite direction.” Lori said, shaking her head at Shane.

“That is right, but it’s away from the hot zone. Now, listen, if that place is operational, it’ll be heavily armed. We’d be safe there.” Shane said.

“I agree with Shane.” Ada said, “They said they were falling back - best I figure they would have went to Fort Benning. It makes sense.”

“The military was on the front line of this thing; they got overrun. We’ve all seen it. The CDC is our best choice and Jim’s only chance.” Rick said, doubling down.

“Yeah, you go looking for Aspirin. Do what you need to do. Someone needs to have some balls to take care of this damn problem.” Daryl said, charging Jim with his pickaxe raised.

Rick was on him immediately, Colt Python pointed and cocked at the back of Daryl’s head. “We don’t kill the living.”
v
“Funny. Comin’ from a man who just put a gun to my head.” Daryl replied.

Shane came to stand between Daryl and Jim, “we may disagree on some things, but not on this. You put it down,” he said to Daryl.

Daryl stabbed the pickaxe into the ground before storming off.

Rick steered Jim into the RV and Ada came to sit beside Shane, perched on the bumper.

“You really agree with me about Fort Benning?” Shane asked, leaning forward to look at her.

“I do,” Ada said, “but I think it’s more important for us to stay together.”

Shane sighed, and Ada continued, “Look, these people. They’re clinging to what they know. They still have faith in the government, in medicine, in the idea that what was true before is true now. Me and you? We know it’s not. Hell, Daryl too.”

“So, we need to make them see reason, then?” Shane asked.

“No, we need to be there when they realize we’re right.” Ada replied. “We can’t force them to realize it. They have to do that themselves. Trying is just going to make them resent us.”

“But doing that, going to the CDC, chasing the past, it puts them all in danger. It puts you in danger, Lori, Carl, those Morales kids.”

“I know.” Ada said with a sigh, leaning over and putting her elbows on her knees. “But, Shane, we’re in danger anyway. The CDC is right there. Fort Benning is 100 miles in the opposite direction, like Lori said. I say we go to the CDC, let them realize they were wrong. Then we can go to Fort Benning.”

Shane nodded, but Ada pressed on, “we grew up quick, Shane. We’re used to adapting. I think that’s what we and the Dixons have in common. We’ve been forced to make survival decisions since we were kids. We know we can’t trust other people with our safety. They don’t.”

“So we go to the CDC, then? We just walk into the red zone?” Shane asked with a sigh.

“We’re used to the red zone, brother mine. We’re strong. We’ll be okay.”

Shane looked at her for a moment before standing and pulling her into a hug.

“I’m glad you’re here.” He said, “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this leader shit.”

Ada hugged him back, squeezing a little too hard, “you’re not.” She said with a wink.

Shane rubbed his head, dragging his fingers through his curls and smiled at her.

*******

While the rest of the group went out to bury the dead, Ada went into the RV to check on her two patients. Merle was asleep on the bench, his breathing deep and regular. Ada placed her fingers on his wrist, counting his pulse. It was steady, but faster than she’d like. He was still clammy, sweat making his wife beater cling to his chest. She went to the cabinet and grabbed out the blood pressure cuff that she had placed there. 90/60. Not ideal. The combination of withdrawal and the blood loss and shock from losing his arm was clearly taking its toll on his body. She went back to the cabinet, grabbing fluids and an IV kit. She quickly put in a new IV, Merle only grumbling a little, and started the fluids flowing. She then grabbed an applesauce from the cabinet along with a bottle of water, a couple of her scavenged antibiotics from King County, and some Tylenol.

She shook him awake, “Merle.”

He didn’t budge. Ada shook him a bit harder, “Merle. You need to eat and take some meds. We’re about to get on the road.”

Merle opened one eye and fixed her with a half-hearted glare. She snorted at him and shoved the applesauce towards him. “You have to eat this. If you won’t, I’ll spoon feed it to you.”

“Spoon feed it to your mama, bitch.” Merle growled out.

Ada sighed, trying to remain patient. She knew it was the withdrawal talking, but taking care of patients that didn’t want her help had never been her strong suit. It was part of why she chose surgery - more time in the OR, less abuse from patients.

Eventually, after more goading, he took the medication and ate the applesauce before slumping back down onto the bench, asleep before his head hit the pillow. Ada knew she would have to monitor his vitals closely; at this point of withdrawal with his injury, his blood pressure or breathing rate could crash at any time. He was okay for now, though, so Ada moved towards the back of the RV where Rick and Jim were talking.

“You save a grave for me?” Jim asked, looking between Rick and Ada.

She frowned and Rick replied, “nobody wants that.”

“It ain’t about what you want. That, uh - that sound you hear? That’s God laughing while you make plans.” Jim said, sweat dripping down his face and onto his shirt.

Rick clearly didn’t know what to say. He took a minute before saying, “what I want Jim - if God allows, is to get ya some help.”

Jim coughed, spitting blood into a bowl that Ada handed him. He was getting worse - and quickly.

“Watch the mangroves. Their roots will gouge the whole boat.” Jim said.

Rick turned to look at Ada, who only shook her head. She could give him something for the fever, but she knew that he would only burn straight through it.

Rick placed his hand on Jim’s shoulder.

“You know that, right?” Jim pressed. “Amy is there, swimming. You’ll watch the boat, right? You said you would.”

“I’ll watch the boat.” Rick said softly, dragging a shaking hand over his face.

Ada tilted her head, indicating for Rick to leave. She put a wet cloth to Jim’s face, hoping it would help to make him more comfortable. She reached for the Ibuprofen, but Jim placed his hand on hers and shook his head.

“Don’t bother.” He said, “save them for someone who could use them.”

She ignored him, shaking four into her hand anyway. “You can use them. It’s not much, but it’ll help you be more comfortable.”

Jim took the pills and swallowed them, giving her a look that held so much emotion it was hard for her to look directly at. His gratitude, his grief, it was choking her. She never was one for emotion.

She stood, patting him on the shoulder before leaving the RV. The rest of the group had assembled in a circle around the main firepit. Shane and Rick came walking up and Shane crouched, addressing the entire group.

“I’ve - uh, I’ve been thinkin’ about Rick’s plan. Now look, there are no, uh – no guarantees either way. I’ll be the first one to admit that. But I’ve known this man my whole life; I trust his instincts. I say the most important thing here is we need to stay together. So, those of you who agree - we leave first thing in the morning. Okay?” He looked to Rick, Lori, Daryl, and Dale in turn.
Everyone nodded except Morales, who only held his head in his hands.

*****

That night, Ada stayed with Merle and Jim in the RV. She needed to be close to Merle in case his vitals dropped. The people on watch came and woke her up every so often, allowing her to feel for his pulse and take his pressure. It wasn’t ideal, but it was holding steady, so she took that as a win. Daryl had stayed in the RV with her, sitting on the floor, legs stretched out between the benches. He said it was to protect his brother in case Jim turned that night, but Ada had a sneaking suspicion it was for her sake, too.

That morning, after coaxing Merle into eating, drinking, and taking more meds, she heard Shane call for everyone to listen up.

She stepped onto the stairs of the RV and leaned against the flimsy railing. Shane and Rick were standing side by side, both clean and holding their weapons.

“Those of you with C.B.s, we’re gonna be on channel 40, but let’s keep the chatter down. Now, you got a problem, don’t have a C.B., can’t raise us, anything at all, you hit the horn one time. That’ll stop the caravan. Any questions?” Shane said authoritatively.

Morales stepped forward, “we’re uh – we’re not going.”

Shane tilted his head, giving him an incredulous look.

“We have family in Birmingham. We want to be with our people.” Maria said.

“You go on your own, you won’t have anyone to watch your back.” Shane reminded them.

“We’ll take the chance.” Morales said, “I gotta do what’s best for my family. We talked about it.”

“All right.” Rick said, “Shane?”

“Yeah,” Shane said, reaching down for the gun bag. “.357?”

“Yeah, Rick agreed, grabbing the ammo.

They brought it to Morales, handing him the gun and ammo.

“Box is half full.” Shane said, to which Daryl scoffed.

The group said their goodbyes to the Morales family, and Ada returned to the RV.

Less than fifteen minutes later, they were pulling onto the road, the quarry behind them. Dale lead the caravan in the RV, Glenn beside him as navigator. Jacqui sat on the bench closest to Jim, putting a wet cloth on his head and trying to keep him comfortable. It was a futile effort, though; he groaned and every bump the RV made. Merle was faring a bit better than Jim, but not by much. By now, he was on day three of withdrawal and he was awake much more often. He had woken up as the RV made its way down the rough gravel road and Ada was glad to see him awake, even if he was unpleasant.

He sat slumped near the back, his bandaged stump cradled against his chest. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days even though he had done nothing but, his skin was slick and pale, eyes darting from window to window as if something might crawl through at any second.

Ada watched him from across the aisle. His leg bounced a frantic rhythm against the floor, but the rest of him sagged like a man half-deflated. “You need water,” she said, holding out a bottle.

He waved her off with a sharp, jittery motion. “Don’t need nothin’ from you, lady. I just—” His words cut off in a snarl. “Why the hell’s everyone starin’ at me? You think I’m weak?”

“No one’s staring,” Ada said evenly. She kept her tone low, careful, the way she’d speak to a spooked dog. “You’re not weak, you’re healing.”

Merle barked a laugh that had no humor in it. “Healing? Feels more like dying. Can’t sit still, can’t think straight, and all I want—” He stopped himself, jaw tightening hard enough that she saw the lean muscle through his skin.

Ada leaned forward. “I know. But if you let that idea run you, it’ll chew you up before the dead get the chance. Right now you need rest more than anything - and food and water.” She held the bottle up again, urging him to drink.

He tried to glare, but his eyelids were already heavy, the crash pulling him down. His leg slowly stopped bouncing. Ada stayed where she was, counting the rise and fall of his chest, quiet as the RV droned on toward Atlanta.

She sighed, taking a drink from the bottle herself instead. She wasn’t sure why she was going through so much trouble for him. Maybe he reminded her a bit of Trevor - she cut that thought off immediately before it could grow roots. All she knew is that she had worked her ass off to keep him alive, she wasn’t about to let him die now. Once he was sleeping deeply, she walked across the aisle and took his vitals again. He was much easier to deal with when asleep, so she took advantage of the respite from his mouth.

Ada had just gotten sat back down and was starting to doze off when the smell of burning plastic hit her nose. She sat up, looking out of the windshield to see smoke pouring from the front of the RV.

“Oh, hell.” Dale said, slowing down and pressing on the horn. “I told them we needed that damn hose.”

Ada let her head plop back against the fabric of the bench, cursing the universe. The caravan stopped and Ada listened from the RV as Dale told Rick that the hose was already more duct tape than hose and he was all out of duct tape.

“God,” Jim groaned from the back, “doc. I can’t –”

Ada stood and rushed over to Jim. He had been quiet for the last hour or so, making it telling to hear him say those words.

“Are you okay?” Ada asked, fully aware of how ridiculous the question was.

“I can’t anymore, doc. Just put me down.” He groaned.

“Okay.” Ada said, “okay.”

She and Jacqui went into the road where most of the group had gathered.

“It’s Jim.” Ada said, “I don’t think he can take much longer of this.”

Shane looked over at Ada, “y’all hold down the fort. I’m going to drive ahead. See what I can find.”

T-Dog and Glenn went with Shane and Ada and Rick returned to the RV, where Jim was sitting looking pale and wan.

“We’ll be back on the road soon.” Rick told him.

“Oh, God. No. My - my bones, they’re like glass. Every little bump, God. This ride is killing me. Leave me here. I’m done. Just… leave me.” Jim said.

Ada felt tears well up into her eyes. She knew that this was one of the best options, but it still hurt to think of leaving the man behind.

“Oh, don’t cry, doc.” Jim said, “it’s okay. I want to be with my family.”

Rick knelt down beside Jim and said, “they’re all dead. I don’t think you know what you’re asking.”

“Rick!” Ada chastised, “I think he does. Maybe even better than you.”

“He’s been delirious. How can he make a decision like that?” Rick said.

“He’s lucid now, Rick.”

“I know what I’m asking. Leave me here. It’s on me. My decision, not your failure.” Jim said, fixing Rick with a stare.

Ada placed her hand on Jim’s shoulder and helped him to button up his shirt. Outside, she could hear the group all arguing on whether or not to honor Jim’s wishes, so to distract him, she said, “tell me something about your family.” She said gently.

“My wife, Gloria, she… she hated cooking. One time, when we were in college, she tried to warm up Ramen noodles. Only… she forgot the water. The whole apartment was filled with smoke and she was still so confused about what happened.” He laughed, only to follow it with a grimace of pain. He took a deep breath and continued, “so when my oldest, Charlie decided she wanted to take cooking classes, she was thrilled. She thought we might finally get to live off something other than take out. The very first day, Charlie cut her finger; she came home and said she never wanted to cook again. So, take out it was, until we had Brittany. She was a type one diabetic. Gloria, after we found out, took cooking classes at the YMCA every Wednesday. She was good like that… always doing what the kids needed.”

Ada smiled, brushing his hair from his face. “So, two kids?”

“Two girls.” He replied, “they were like night and day. Charlie was 14 when we had Britt, but they are - were, good kids. Never fought.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be seeing them again soon, Jim. If there’s anything left in the world that makes sense, you will.”

Jim nodded, a few tears falling, before settling down and resting his head against the cool window.

She stayed beside him, her hand on her knife while he slept. After a few hours, Shane returned with a hose for the RV and some siphoned gas, and Ada gently woke Jim. She led him out of the RV where the rest of the group was waiting. They walked him up to a tree not far from the road, Rick carrying him more than anything.

The group said their goodbyes, Ada lingering to be the last.

“Do you want some medication? It could help… speed things along.” She asked.

“No.” Jim said, shaking his head. “Save it. Besides, it doesn’t hurt much anymore.”

“That’s good, Jim.” Ada said, knowing that it meant he was close to the end. She stood, kissed him on the forehead, and told him, “Gloria, Charlie, Brittany - they would have forgiven you.”
Jim pulled her into a hug. Ada stood and turned, refusing to look back.

Before she could get into the RV, Shane stopped her with a hand on her arm. She raised an eyebrow at him and he sighed heavily before asking, “Dixon? How’s he doing?”

Ada shrugged, “so-so. He’s doing a lot better than expected. Just in withdrawal, which isn’t fun. He’s probably going to get a little worse in the next few days before he gets better.”

“I’ll ask directly - is he worth the trouble?” Shane said, his dark eyes boring into Ada’s green.

“Yes.” She said, “I think so.”

Shane shook his head in disbelief, but dropped it, going to his Jeep and starting it up.

Ada stood there for a minute, hoping that Merle wouldn’t prove her wrong.

*******

The RV groaned over a pothole, rattling the cabinets, but Merle hardly stirred. He slouched against the window, stump hugged to his chest, eyes bloodshot and rimmed dark. His good hand tapped the bench in a nervous, staccato rhythm.

Ada crossed the aisle, steadying herself against the sway. “You’ve barely eaten today,” she said. “If you want that arm to heal, you need food in you.”

Merle snorted without looking at her. “Food ain’t the cure, doc. You know what’d set me right. But you won’t give me that, will you?” His lip curled in something halfway between a grin and a sneer.

“You know I can’t.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” His voice jumped sharp, ricocheting through the cramped space. “Don’t preach at me, kid. You’d let me rot ‘cause it’s easier on the rest of you.”

Ada held his gaze. “You’re not rotting, Merle. You’re coming down. The anger, the emptiness—that’s withdrawal. It’s not you.”

That cracked him. For a heartbeat his eyes flickered, then hardened again. “Hell, it’s exactly me. Mean, broke-down, worth less than this busted arm. Everyone else knows it.” He shoved the stump forward, then pulled it back with a hiss of pain.

“That’s not true, Merle.” Ada said, “I think you’re worth the trouble, it’s you that needs to get with the program.”

Daryl looked up from his position on the floor, eyes blazing. “You lay off him.” His voice was low, dangerous. “He don’t need your pity or your lectures.”

Ada straightened, calm but resolute. “I’m not pitying him, Daryl. I’m keeping him alive. If that makes you uncomfortable, fine. But if we pretend the way he’s talking now is fine, he won’t be.”

Merle chuckled, though the sound broke halfway. “Listen to her, little brother. Sounds like she’s writin’ my obituary already.”

Daryl’s jaw clenched. He looked like he might spring across the aisle, not at Ada, but at the whole damn situation. Dale glanced in the rearview, eyes darting between them. The RV felt tighter than ever, like the air itself was shrinking.

Ada didn’t back down. She met Merle’s glassy stare. “No one’s writing you off. But this is the fight, right here. Not the walkers, not even that arm. This. And you either make it through, or you don’t. I didn’t take you for a pussy, Dixon.”

For a moment Merle didn’t speak. His hand stilled, his jaw worked. Then he turned his face to the glass, muttering, “Keep your pep talk.”

The engine hummed on, carrying the silence with it. Dale gripped the wheel a little tighter, and Daryl’s glare burned holes in the air between them, but no one said another word until they pulled up at the CDC, finally coming to a complete stop after hours of driving.

The sight that greeted them once they all left their cars wasn’t a good one. The parking lot was riddled with bodies, civilian and military alike. The flies buzzed angrily in the humid Georgia air and the stench that rose from the scene almost knocked Ada down. It was clear the military had put up a fight, but had been overrun. Bullet casings littered the ground and the makeshift barricades still held guns and supplies.

They weaved their way through the carnage towards the building, Merle unsteady on his feet but upright. The stench got stronger the closer they got to the building; there were more bodies here, clearly they had fought to get inside and away from the dead-ones. The smell was too much for Merle’s weakened stomach and he retched, leaning over one of the sandbag barricades and vomiting.

Shane fixed Ada with a hard glare, clearly asking if she still thought it was worth the trouble.

“Shit.” Ada whispered. She pulled Merle up by the back of his shirt and pushed a bottle of water in his hands. “Hold your nose.” She whispered sharply.

Merle took a sip of the water before throwing the bottle to the side.

“Don’t you tell me what to do, fuckin’ skank.” He snapped, way too loud for how deep into the city they were.

“Don’t you speak to her like that.” Shane whisper-shouted back. He grabbed Merle by the shirt, fisting the fabric in his hands and wrenching the older man close to his face. “I ever hear you talk to her like that again, I’ll break your jaw. Now shut the fuck up.”

Shane pushed Merle away, causing him to stagger back into the barricade. Ada put a hand on his arm to steady him, but Merle shook it off. The rest of the group watched anxiously, but continued moving forward.

They approached the building and Rick and Shane began jiggling the doors, trying to find the mechanism to open them.

“Nothing?” Rick asked.

Shane tried to lift the door from the bottom before giving up, banging on the door loudly.

Ada shh’d him, her heart beating out of her chest. Walkers had been attracted to their approach and were slowly making their way towards them. Daryl alerted the rest of the group, taking out two with his crossbow.

“You led us into a graveyard!” He yelled at Rick.

“He made a call!” responded Dale.

“Yeah, well it was the wrong fuckin’ call.” Daryl growled back.

Shane lunged forward, pushing Daryl back. “Shut up,” he shouted, “you hear me? You shut up. Rick, this is a dead end. Do you hear me? No blame.”

Carol, Lori, and the kids were all crying now. Lori looked around with wide, brown eyes and pulled Carl even closer to her chest.

“Rick, it’s almost dark.” Ada called, feeling the panic setting in.

“She’s right. We can’t be this close to the city after dark.” Lori added.

“Fort Benning, Rick - it’s still an option.” Shane said.
v
“With what? No food, no fuel? It’s 100 miles.” Andrea snapped.

“125. I checked the map.” Glenn added.

“Forget Fort Benning!” Lori yelled, “we need answers tonight. Now!”

Rick didn’t seem to be paying any attention to them, though, instead his eyes were fixed on the camera above the doors. “The camera! It moved.”

“Rick, you wanted it to move.” Ada said.

“No. It moved.” Rick lunged forward, and Shane tried to convince him that the camera moving was just automated and that he needed to let go. Rick shook Shane off, instead coming to bang on the doors again, crying, “we have women and children! I know you can hear me. Please help us. We have no food, hardly any gas. We have nowhere else to go!”

Lori came forward, trying to reason with Rick, but he just kept yelling. Merle wasn’t even speaking from beside Ada, understanding that the gravity of the situation was just too great. More walkers were approaching, attracted to the commotion, and the kids were crying loudly. Ada’s ears were ringing and she felt her blood pumping in her head, making her vision narrow with each beat. She tried to steady her breathing, forcing the panic down as best she could.

“You’re KILLING us!” Rick screamed as Shane tried to drag him away. “You’re killing us. Please!”

Just as Rick had given in and was starting to retreat, the doors opened, a blindingly bright light pouring from the building into the dusk.