Walking With the Dead

“Emma! Emma, wake up! Emma!”

Emma winced, her cheek stinging as if she had been slapped, and there was a sharp throbbing pain at the base of her skull. And, of course, a wave of fire rushed through her left arm with every beat of her heart. She opened her eyes, only to see her brother leaning over her, panic in his forest green eyes. He had a hand on either shoulder and was shaking her frantically, her head bumping into the truck as he did so. That explains the headache.

“Mitch,” Emma said, but her voice was nothing but a weak croak. “What are you doing?”

“You passed out,” Mitch responded. He let go of Emma and leaned back, but a look of worry still crossed his face.

“Really?” Emma sat up slowly, her head spinning. “How long?”

“’bout five minutes,” Mitch responded, his eyebrows knit in concern. He then tilted his head to the side. “We’re here. Are you strong enough to stand?”

Emma nodded and, holding onto the edge of the truck bed, she helped herself out. Her feet crunched into the fresh snow, and, after waiting for a sudden rush of dizziness to pass, she looked up.

They were parked in front of what must have once been a high school. The building, made of brick, was two stories high, with iron bars grating the windows. A large lawn, edged with a seven-foot cast-iron fence, surrounded the building. There was a single oak tree, void of leaves, sitting in the middle of the lawn.

Emma saw David and the others were already heading to the front steps. Emma picked up her feet to trudge through the snow, but the moment she let go of the truck, she collapsed into the snow.

“Emma!” Mitch cried, and in less than a second he was at her side, grasping her left bicep and helping her up, which only succeeded in Emma crying out in pain. Mitch, in shock, let go of her and she fell back into the snow.

“What is it?” Mitch asked, his voice tense with worry.

“She’s injured, and you just grabbed onto her wound,” Daryl hissed through clenched teeth. He didn’t say it out loud, but his tone clearly indicated he thought Mitch was an idiot.

Daryl knelt down and wrapped his arm around Emma’s waist, supporting her as he helped her up. “How are you doing?” he asked, his voice low so only she could hear.

Emma said nothing, just slowly shook her head.

“Don’t worry. We’re getting you help.”

Emma half-walked, half-stumbled through the lawn with Daryl by her side and Mitch walking a few paces behind. She was thankful there were no walkers nearby, because she was certain that, in her current state, she wouldn’t stand a chance against an attack.

With Daryl’s help, Emma climbed up the steps to the building. Once inside, with the door safely bolted shut behind them, Emma was nearly knocked over as a blur rushed past her and into her brother’s arms.

“Mitchell! What happened? David’s furious, and Bree’s been hurt,” said a young woman. Emma looked back at the speaker. She was Asian, appeared to be in her late-twenties, and had a thick black braid draped over one shoulder. She looked vaguely familiar.

“I’ll tell you later, Lucy. But first, my sister’s been hurt. She needs your help.”

“Sister?” The young woman looked at Emma, and a flicker of recognition, then surprise, sparked in her eyes. “Emma?”

“Yeah?”

“Oh my God. I-I can’t believe it,” the young woman stuttered. She looked as if she had seen a ghost.

“Do you mind playin’ catch up later? She has blood poisonin’ and it needs treated,” Daryl interrupted, his voice stern.

Lucy shook her head, as if to erase her shock. “Of course. Here, I’ve got you,” she said as she reached out to grab a hold of Emma, but Daryl didn’t let go. It was clear that Daryl was not intending on leaving Emma, and Lucy saw that. “Of you can just follow me.”

Emma, Daryl and Mitch followed Lucy down the hallway and into a clean room stocked with medical supplies. “Take a seat,” Lucy instructed, gesturing towards one of the several cots lined up in a row. While Lucy washed her hands with antibacterial lotion and put on a fresh pair of latex gloves, Emma sat down and Daryl helped pull off the jacket, afghan and poncho she had worn to keep her warm. Emma hissed in pain when the poncho, which had been glued to her arm by blood, pulled off, reopening the gash on her bicep.

Lucy, wearing a pair of glasses, looked down at the gash and whistled low. “You weren’t kidding. This is a nasty case of blood poisoning.”

“Can you treat it?”

“Will Emma be alright?”

Mitch and Daryl spoke at exactly the same time, and they looked at each other from the corners of their eyes, a frown on each of their faces.

“Of course. But we’re cutting it close. Mitchell, can you help me get the IV set up?”

“Sure thing.”

“Wait, I need an IV? Won’t normal pills work?” Emma asked, her voice slow and groggy. Her tongue felt heavy and too big for her mouth.

“IVs are much faster than oral antibiotics, and time isn’t something we’ve got a lot of right now.”

While Mitch got the IV set up, Lucy reached into a drawer and pulled out a small brown bottle and a syringe. She pierced the needle through the rubber stopper and slowly filled with syringe with the medication, which she then injected into the drip chamber of the IV. Lucy then sat down in a chair opposite of Emma.

“Flex your right hand for me,” she instructed, and Emma did. It did not take long for a deep blue vein to appear beneath her pale skin. Lucy took an alcohol swab and wiped the back of Emma’s hand. “You don’t have a problem with needles, do you?”

Emma shook her head. “No.”

“Good.” At that moment, Lucy inserted a catheter into Emma’s vein. The sharp sting of pain was washed away as cool liquid from the IV bag merged into her bloodstream. Lucy stood up and watched the solution from the IV bag slowly fall into the drip chamber. After a couple seconds, Lucy gave a satisfied nod. “Good. That’s all settled. Now let’s get working on sewing up your arm.”

Lucy washed the congealed blood from Emma’s arm and disinfected as much of the skin as she could without further irritating the wound. Then she started on the stitches. Surprisingly, the stitches didn’t hurt as much as Emma had anticipated, though Emma was beginning to suspect there was a high-grade pain killer mixed in with the solution dripping into her system because she was beginning to feel light-headed and fuzzy, but in a pleasant way.

Before Emma knew it, the stitches were done and Lucy was wrapping her upper arm in layers and layers of gauze. “Well, you’re all patched up. As long as you take it easy for the next few days and keep the stitches clean, I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t make a full recovery.”

Emma smiled, feeling relief for the first time since the walker attack. “Wow. Thank you, Lucy.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Luce,” Mitch said, standing up behind Lucy and placing a hand on her shoulder. That image of her brother placing his hand on Lucy’s shoulder triggered a memory. Emma jaw went slack.

“Wait, you’re not Lucy, Lucy, are you? Mitch’s girlfriend?” Emma asked, flabbergasted. Her drug-hazed mind remembered the last Thanksgiving she spent with her family. Mitch had brought his girlfriend to dinner to introduce her to the family, but before Emma had the chance to get to know Lucy, Emma ran off to meet her friends at a party in the city.

Lucy, with a sheepish smile, removed the latex gloves and held up her left hand where a sizeable diamond glittered on her ring finger. “Actually, fiancée now.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Fiancée? When did this happen?”

“Last Spring. We were planning on telling everyone at Mom’s birthday party, in June, but someone had to go and runaway to Georgia, of all places,” Mitch said, looking at Emma with an accusing, but joking, look in his eyes.

Emma was too pleased by this good news to feel insulted by Mitch’s slight. “Oh my goodness, congratulations!” Emma stood up to give her brother and future sister-in-law a hug, but she was still weak from her injury and the drugs made her dizzy, so all she did was stumble. Thankfully, Daryl was there to pick her up and help her back onto the cot.

“I think that’s enough excitement for now,” Lucy said, standing up and beginning to put away her medical supplies. “I bet you’re exhausted. Lucky for you, we have several open beds. Would you like something to eat?”

Emma nodded enthusiastically. She was starving.

“Great. Mitchell, there’s some leftover stew in the cafeteria. Could you have Jennifer heat it up? I’ll show Emma and…” Lucy trailed off, looking at Daryl. She furrowed her eyebrows. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Name’s Daryl,” he said.

“It’s nice to meet you, Daryl,” Lucy said, extending her hand out. Daryl did nothing but look at it until Emma jabbed him in the side with her elbow. Then, grimacing, Daryl shook her hand. “Right. I’ll show you to an empty room?”

While Mitchell went to get them some food, Lucy led Emma and Daryl to the second floor. Daryl had a hold around Emma’s waist, and he helped her carry the IV pole up the stairs. Because of her lack of mobility, it took twice as long as it should have to reach the second floor, but Daryl was patient.

Lucy led them into a classroom which, judging from the periodic table of elements chart, posters that labeled the parts of a dissected frog, and the faint smell formaldehyde lingering in the air, was once a science classroom. There were four cots in the classroom; none of them appeared lived in.

“This high school was the town’s evacuation center when the outbreak first started, so they stocked it with plenty of food and medicine. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as safe as they thought it was. When we came here, the building was swarming with biters. But, we cleared it out, cleaned it up, and made ourselves a nice little home. We’ve been living here for about two months without any trouble,” Lucy said, a proud smile on her face, but her eyes had a far off look, as if she were remembering past pain. After a few moments, the cheerful light returned to her eyes.

“The two of you have this room to yourself. Feel free to push the beds together.”

“That won’t be necessary. We’re not together,” Daryl quickly said in a definitive voice that made a frown cross Emma’s face.

“Oh, sorry. I just assumed…” Lucy began wringing her hands together. “I think we have some extra blankets downstairs. I’ll go get them.” Lucy started to turn to go out the door, but then, without warning, she jumped up and threw her arms around Emma in a tight hug. “I can’t believe it’s really you,” Lucy said, choking on a sob.

Emma was too stunned to say anything. Hot tears stung her eyes. What was so important about her that Lucy, a virtual stranger, was glad she survived? Before Emma could even react, Lucy let go and rushed out of the room.

Emma and Daryl barely had a chance to get settled in the room when there was a knock at the door.

“Room service,” Mitch said, sticking his head through the doorway. He was carrying a tray with two steaming bowls of stew and a couple glasses of water, which he set on one of the desks. “I’d advise eating while it’s still hot. Jennifer’s a good cook, but she’s far from gourmet.”

Emma didn’t need to be told twice. She wolfed down the stew, shoveling mouthfuls in before she was even finished swallowing the last batch.

Mitch just watched the two of them eat, not saying anything. There was a strange expression on his face. It was like a mixture of relief and disbelief at the same time.

Suddenly, the door to the room burst open and a tall, young, dark-haired man with a swimmer’s build came walking in. Emma looked up, and the second she saw the man she dropped her spoon, which clattered on the ground, and her stomach churned.

“Kyle, get out,” Mitch said.

Kyle paid no attention to Mitch’s command. “I don’t believe it! Lucy said you found your sister, but I thought she was crazy. I never thought…” Kyle shook his head at a loss of words. “It’s good to see you again, Em.”

Mitch sighed, an irritated look crossing his face. “Emma, you remember Kyle? He went to Tahoe with us a couple times.”

A wave of mind-numbing, icy shock washed over Emma, and before she knew what was going on she heard herself say, “Yeah… Nice to see you again… Kyle.”

Mitch stood up, walked over to Kyle, and put a hand on each of his shoulders, pushing him out the door. “Alright, alright. Now how about you let my sister rest? She’s been through a lot.”

“Sure thing.” But before Kyle was out the door, he paused and looked back at Emma with a smile. “We should really catch up, Em.”

“Yeah…” Emma’s was numb, her voice dull. It was like she was an automaton, working on internal clockwork without thought.

As suddenly as Kyle had appeared, he disappeared. Mitch was standing at the doorway, looking in. For a moment, Emma could see tired lines around his eyes. Have those always been there? she asked herself. She doubted it.

“I think I’m going to take my own advice and let you get some sleep.” Mitch looked over at Daryl, a disapproving frown on his face. It took Emma a moment to realize he was sizing Daryl up. She remembered her brother looking at Jake in that exact same way when she brought him to meet the family.

Emma snorted and lazily rolled her eyes. Leave it to Mitch to play the role of the overprotective brother even after the world they knew has ended. “I’m fine, Mitch. You don’t have to worry about Daryl. He’s saved my life a dozen times over.”

“Uh huh,” Mitch sounded, not at all convinced. “If you need anything, Lucy and I are just next door. Just holler. The walls are really thin,” Mitch said, speaking slowly and looking directly at Daryl.

Emma rolled her eyes. It was like she never left Seattle and the zombie apocalypse never happened. “Good night, Mitch.”

Finally, after lingering for a moment more to continue with his threatening stare, Mitch left and closed the door behind him.

“So… that’s your brother?” Daryl asked, breaking the silence.

“Can’t you see the resemblance?”

“Yeah. Your brother just ‘bout walks as loud as you do.”

Emma sighed, a tired smile on her face. She didn’t have the energy to revisit that old argument again. Instead, she kicked off her boots and fell into the closest cot, scrambling underneath the scratchy blanket. Daryl sat down in the adjacent bed and slowly untied the laces of his boots.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Good. Great, actually.” She closed her eyes, and a smile crossed her face when she felt like she was floating. “Maybe a little bit high.”

“Better hope this place ain’t attacked by geeks tonight,” Daryl remarked.

“It won’t. You heard Lucy. They haven’t had any problem here.”

“Neither did we at the prison. Not ‘til today,” Daryl said, his voice low. “But shit happens.”

Emma’s heart sank when she remembered the walker attack. Was that really just today? The day had been so long; the attack at the prison felt like a lifetime ago. Emma rolled onto her side so she was facing Daryl. He was sitting on the edge of the cot, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees and looking down at hands.

“We’ll head back to the prison tomorrow,” Emma said reassuringly.

Daryl said nothing, just nodded his head and leaned back on his cot, resting his hands behind his head. “What’s the deal with that Kyle guy? You were actin’ weird when he came in.”

Emma opened her eyes, feeling as if she were crashing back down to Earth. “He’s just a ghost I thought I’d never see again,” she responded, her voice barely above a whisper.

Daryl didn’t pry any further. He closed his eyes, and after a few moments Emma heard his breathing even out as he fell asleep. Emma gave a small smile. He must have been exhausted. She spent several minutes watching him sleep. He appeared so peaceful and vulnerable, so unlike his waking self. Watching Daryl sleep made her feel peaceful, but at the same time it filled her with a deep ache.

“Daryl?”

Even though she only whispered his name, Daryl was wide awake in an instant. “What? What is it?”

Emma chewed on her lips. What am I doing? She didn’t know what possessed her to call out his name, but at the same time, she knew what she wanted. “Can we share a bed? Just for tonight?”

Daryl scoffed. “Hell no. You kick in your sleep, and I actually want to get a few hours of sleep tonight.”

“Please? I almost died today.”

“You almost die every day,” Daryl retorted, and Emma found the urge to smile tugging at the corners of her lips, but she fought against it and put on her most pleading puppy-dog eyes. Daryl barely lasted a minute before he gave an irritated sigh and stood up from his cot. “Fine. But only because you look so damn pathetic. And it’s only for tonight.”

Daryl slid into the cot behind Emma, who basked in the radiating from his body. His form easily molded against hers, and a serene calm spread throughout her body. Daryl reached an arm around her waist, hugging her close to him.

“Daryl?”

“Hm?”

Emma smiled. She could hear in Daryl’s voice that he was already half-asleep. “Thank you. For today.”

“No problem, Princess.”