Like it Was Before

Jim is most decidedly unwell by the time I emerge from the RV later in the afternoon, to find Morales and Jess loading up their car. This doesn't immediately strike me as odd-we're to be leaving soon, anyway.
I mean, it's not like we can stay at the camp after all that's happened.
The truth only sinks in once I notice the kids flitting around, hugging everyone, the adults crying anew; something was up. They were going to find their people, or try at least, Morales explains to me and I feel a pang at this-it's foreign to lose someone via a choice they've made.
Among all of this craziness it's easy to overlook the concept of free will completely.
I wish I could change their minds, or ensure safe travels, but all I can do is hug them and say 'I love you' and 'Goodbye'. Too many goodbye's just lately.
The group dynamic shifts yet again as we watch the family pull away and I gnaw ceaselessly at my lower lip, trying to get a handle on my emotions before going to help Shane load up our Jeep.
"Nothing's stable anymore, it seems." This leaves my mouth before I can think about it and Shane levels me with a fierce look, stopping me in my tracks as I watch him throwing tarps over everything-first canvas then plastic, making sure it's all secure and dry.
"There are some thing, Savannah Jane," he murmurs as he works, "That will never change."
I can't come up with a response to this, and thankfully, I don't have to-Shane winks at me before raising his voice. "Awright, everybody, let's load up."
It irks me a little on Shane's behalf that everyone looks to Rick for confirmation.
Rick who nods, just once and sends everyone scrurrying.
Away we go.

xx

It's almost painful leaving the camp, abandoning the good memories we'd scrounged together, not to mention the graves, knowing we would never be back, that Andrea would never be able to visit her sister, or leave flowers, the least of which both Amy and Andrea deserved from this whole mess.
We're three or four hours down the road (which is not to say we're very far from camp) as I muse over this, feet propped up on Shane's dash and I catch him in the corner of my eye yet again taking his battered ball cap off only to put it right back on. A bad habit, right up there with rubbing the back of his head-he was going to have a damned bald spot. I reach over without speaking and catch his hand, stilling him before he can do it again, kissing his wrist, feeling his pulse throb and the anxiousness practically vibrating through him.
"Everything's gonna be okay, you know."
I say apropos nothing and Shane smiles a little, crookedly, one of his dimples coming out.
He begins to speak, something sarcastic if I know him, when the RV honks once before breaking down.
I feel more myself, more together now that I've vowed to take up some of the slack in our relationship-Shane can't be expected to do it all. He squeezes my hand affectionately as we climb out of the car, going our separate ways, him to the front of the RV and me climbing inside of it to help Jacqui administer what meager first aid to Jim we can while the menfolk contemplate the hose.
Meager or not, our first aid isn't doing Jim a bit of good-he's slipping, fast.
I've hardly been in the back bedroom with him for five minutes before Jim's teeth begin to chatter and he's asking for Denna whom I'm almost positive is his late wife.
"Just hang on, okay?" What else can I say to him?
He blinks up at me, eyes clearing as he becomes lucid just for a moment and asks for Rick before abruptly going into convulsions. "Hold him!" Jacqui yells and I frantically grab his shoulders, trying to keep him from falling off the bed or hurting himself worse than he already had.
Did people actually swallow their tongues? I wondered. Should I be worried about that, as well?
"It's okay," Rick soothes, suddenly behind me, maneuvering to hold onto Jim himself as things begin to calm before finally, the man stills. I hadn't even noticed Jac leaving to retrieve Grimes.
"Thank you, Savannah. You did a good job."
I'm grateful for Rick's dismissal and hurry back out into the fresh air, purging my nostrils of the smells of stale sweat and vomit, a sick smell if ever there was one.
Shane brushes past me to help his best friend, and I feel relieved-between the two of them I'm comfortable abandoning my candystriper duties be it as they were, standing in the sun with my arm around Jac's waist. Her and Carol had gone above and beyond for Jim and I was proud to know them, to count them as members of the group and as friends. The three of us look up, our attention caught as Rick and Shane exit the RV, Jim-who is practically unconscious at this point-propped between them as they walk by us without a word stopping at a live oak and depositing the sick man underneath it.
I'm confused, but only for a brief moment-then, all at once, I get it;
he wanted to be left alone to die and like it or not, we had to respect that.
It was time to say another goodbye.
I knew from the moment Jim's bite was revealed that we'd be losing him, but this...this felt different, somehow. Leaving his death (leaving him) open-ended felt like leaving a wound to fester, unable to heal.
Closure didn't feel like an option, not really. However.
However, we were able to make our peace before driving away, and that felt like enough, somehow.
It felt like a grace.
Not that I knew what to say...you never do, it seems until later when you're removed from the situation. Until it's too late, in other words. You'll never know at the right time, that's just the way it is. Not with your emotions going crazy..it's better to accept this and move on.
So I kneel before Jim once more, fixing the collar on his shirt carefully, ever aware of the aching in his bones. "You're a good man." I tell him in a rush. "Thank you for everything."
Jim smiles at me heart-breakingly sad and I quickly move on, making room for the next person in this dreadful procession.
I find myself standing next to Andrea off to the side as Dale says whatever it is he feels he needs to.
"He fought." Andrea speaks suddenly, startling me, jerking her chin towards Jim. She hadn't said much since Amy's turn and this was one hell of a place to start.
"He fought so hard, even after he lost his family, and for what? To die, like this?" Andrea takes a shaky breath and for a moment I worry that she might break. "Amy and I had a dog when we were kids, you know? Or I did, I guess-Amy was too little to do anything with it. We couldn't find him one night and it turns out he went off in the woods next to our house to die. That's what this feels like, you know?"
I don't answer-don't have an answer, much to Andrea's disgust. What she said has hit a nerve.
"Headin' out," Rick calls quietly and I rush to the Jeep, claiming the drivers seat, eager for a distraction.
Shane's tired and doesn't comment on this except to thank me as I adjust the seat, the mirror, taking one last look at Jim in the rear view before starting the engine.
He looks peaceful and it's easier to move on knowing that we're helping to carry out his last wish, something that doesn't always happen, especially in this world.

xx

It's been hours of driving, and small talk and word games by the time we reach the CDC in Atlanta, night falling heavily around us like a blanket. The stench is horrendous, much worse than our earlier bonfire at camp and I'm breathing carefully through my mouth, determined not to throw up the precious food we'd scraped together.
I simply can't afford it, can't afford to lose the calories or become incapacitated even for a moment.
I feel as if this is something I'm learning the hard way over and over again: you never get used to dead bodies piled around you haphazardly, especially when one of them gets up and begins to shamble.
The entire group is wishing they'd stayed in their vehicle or kept driving, myself included, revolted as Rick cheerleads us through it-stay together, keep moving, almost there.
I keep my eyes firmly locked on Shane's broad back, following behind him.
I'm tempted to clutch at his belt as well, desperate for contact but resist.
He doesn't need the distraction, especially once we reach the CDC's main entrance, covered in protective metal, back literally against the wall as walkers are closing in on us from all sides.
Shane shoves me roughly behind him before taking aim at on them corralling a near-hysterical Rick, who swears he'd seen movement indicating other survivors inside.
Lori chimes in with a valid opinion for once; basically, we're fucked if we don't leave right this moment, hole up somewhere. If we don't move, we're dead. Being this far into the city at nightfall is a disaster.
"Savannah," Shane begins, trying to do two things at once, check on me and help his friend.
"I'm fine," I assure him. "I'm fine, get Rick."
It's hard to see such a stoic person fall apart this way and I make a mental note to acquire a gun as soon as possible, assuming we get ourselves out of this mess. No more damsel-in-distress, no sir.
"Back to the RV, guys," I urge, trying and failing to sound more calm than my frayed nerves actually are and miraculously, the group is listening, we're all going back the way we came when the big metal shutters begin to roll up, spilling unnatural fluorescent light out on us, a beautiful sight.
I'll be damned, I think, getting the Peltier women in ahead of me, the cameras really did move.