Tonight the World Dies

The next morning, Rick pulls Daryl and me aside after breakfast, requesting we go hunting. Our food stores are down to next to nothing. We head out quietly and Daryl leads the way into the trees. He is quiet, his steps calculated; I try to mimic him as well as I can. It’s minutes before he speaks.

“How’d you find Gabriel?” His voice is so low I nearly don’t hear him. I carefully pick my way through the underbrush behind him.

“Like he said. I was hurt and needed help.”

Daryl stops and turns a disbelieving look at me. “That don’t answer my question.”

I stare at him for a moment before sighing. “Ran into some bad people, saw some bad shit, did bad shit. Didn’t come out of it completely unscathed. Literally just stumbled on the church. Gabriel was the only one there, and he didn’t hesitate in letting me stay. He patched me up and I just stuck around.”

“These bad people still out there?”

I hesitate, and he notices. “No.”

Daryl grunts and nods and is moving forward again. A while later, he stops again and signals me to do the same. Ahead in the thicket is the tawny hide of a massive doe. She’s aloof to our presence, and Daryl crouches in the leaves. As he’s preparing to fire, a sharp rustle feet away from me startles the deer, and she takes off. Daryl groans, but it’s cut off when a horde of the dead break through the brush.

“Shit, come on!” Daryl ushers me in front of him and we take off further into the woods. I can hear the dead behind us, tripping over themselves. We run for a while, and as the sounds of their groaning fades, we begin to slow down a bit. My lungs burn from running, and beside me, Daryl is faring no better. He leads us through another thicket and I misstep.

White-hot pain sears through my ankle and radiates upwards to the soundtrack of metal clanging together. I drop to my ass in the dirt, my ankle twisting painfully as it’s restrained by a hunter’s bear trap.

“Motherfucker!” I cry. Daryl is in front of me in moments, kneeling in the leaves and examining the trap. My ankle is bleeding and red, the spikes on the trap digging agonizingly into my flesh. I’m biting my tongue so hard I draw blood. Quickly, Daryl disassembles the trap, freeing my foot.

“Can ya stand?” he asks, glancing worriedly from my ankle to my face. I grimace and nod.

“I think so.” He helps me to stand, but as soon as I put weigh on my busted foot, I nearly go down again. “Maybe not. Who the fuck has a bear trap still out here?”

Daryl glances down at the trap, gnawing on his bottom lip. Then he looks at me again, and a newfound worry has settled in his eyes.

“Trap’s been here a while... It’s rusted solid.” My stomach drops and ice fills my veins. Before I have a moment to dwell on it, though, Daryl steps up to my injured side and throws my arm over his shoulder. “Gotta get you back and looked at.”

I grunt every step as he helps me hobble back to the house. We don’t run into the small herd again, and Daryl manages to take down three squirrels and a groundhog on the way back. It isn’t much, but it’ll do for a while. We reach the house, and Maggie, who is standing guard on the porch, pales considerably at the sight of Daryl nearly carrying me. I hear her call for Rick, and suddenly, our leader is there, wide-eyed with worry and fear.

“Got her foot caught in a trap. It’s bad, and the trap was rusty,” Daryl explains shortly. Rick and he exchange glances before turning back to me. I know it isn’t a good outcome no matter how clean we manage to get the wound. The end of the world and it’ll be tetanus that does me in.

Rick helps Daryl get me into the house, and there is a flurry of activity as people realize what’s happened. I’m peppered with questions as I’m seated on the couch, my back against the armrest with my bad ankle propped up. Rick calls for Carol, and I fight back a groan. Could this get any worse? Surprisingly, Carol keeps her face stoic as she looks over my ankle after pulling off my boot and sock, and I almost see a motherly tenderness in her eyes when I hiss as she prods the wound. It’s gone rapidly, though, and replaced with a look I’ve seen on a surgeon’s face before, a look that tells me she’s closed off every emotion. My ankle is cleaned with hot water and soap, and goddamn does it hurt. My fingers curl into the couch cushions.

“I’ve cleaned it the best I can,” Carol says softly to Rick. She turns that emotionless gaze back to me. “All we can do is wait and see. Hopefully we’ll find some medication or an antibiotic, preferably, but I’m worried about tetanus. When was your last tetanus shot?”

“Thirteen,” I grind out. I know what that means, too. The vaccine I received as teenager has now fled my system, leaving it horribly susceptible to the infection. Carol purses her lips and turns away to leave the room. I can hear her speaking lowly with Daryl in a soft, soothing voice. She offers to take his kills and get them started on a fire.

“We’re going to have to move tomorrow,” Rick says. “This area ain’t turning up much. You think you’ll be able to keep up?”

I sigh. “Guess we’ll find out.”

The next morning, my ankle is stiff and I still need help walking. In the drawers we were able to find extra pairs of socks, and so I am given two more pairs to bind my ankle for some support as we travel. I quickly lag behind; my skin is clammy, and I know infection is setting in, and setting in fast. Abraham and Maggie keep pace with me and help me hobble to catch up with the back of the pack. I appreciate the company, but my stomach clenches.

The group has begun to lag again as hunger once again sets in. Our water bottles are barely half full, and we are conserving as much as we can as long as we can. Carl falls behind and into step with me and hands me his water bottle. I shake my head.

“Come on, you’re hurt and you need it more than me,” he insists. I continue to ignore him as he pushes the water bottle into my arm. “Candace.”

“You’re still growing, Carl. You drink it. I can handle it.” My ankle screams in pain as I accidentally put too much weight on it. “Go on. I’m fine.”

Carl sighs in defeat and walks ahead to walk next to his father again. Rick has turned to watch our exchange, and as he falls back too, Maggie and Abraham scoot forward.

“You need to drink. Your bottle is empty. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“Quit worrying about me, Rick. I’m fine. I’ve been busted up worse,” I tell him firmly. “Besides, it’s going to rain. I’ll get a drink then but I’m not taking it from anyone.”

My ears pick up on a small scoff ahead of me, but I don’t address it. Instead I glance upwards at the grey clouds that have been sticking around, silently hoping they open up and give us some reprieve from the heat. Rick sighs and resumes his place at the head of the procession. I am left to hobble by myself for a while, but eventually, my strength fails me and I hit the pavement. Bodies turn to face me in concern, and Maggie is there by my side. I lift the hem of my jeans to look at my ankle. It is swollen, red, and has begun oozing pus. I sigh.

“You need to leave me,” I mutter to her. I’ve warred with myself for a while over my condition, prolonging the inevitable. Anger flashes back at me as Maggie glares.

“We’re doing no such thing.”

“Maggie, think logically for a second, please?” I nearly plead. “My ankle is infected and we have no antibiotics. Putting pressure on my foot is just making it worse and I’m only slowing you down.”

“We ain’t leaving you behind,” she argues, and then she turns to Glenn. “Help me stand her up.”

“Goddammit, I said no,” I cry loudly as Glenn and Maggie haul me to my feet. I do my best to push out of their grasp. The others are openly protesting now as well, just as opposed to my idea as the couple on either side of me. “We have no food and we’re running out of water. I’m just slowing everybody down.”

“We ain’t leaving,” Daryl suddenly growls. “Ya gonna suck it up and walk. We do this together.”

I glare at him, resisting the urge to growl back at him. A heaviness settles in my chest, and I realize that, despite my best efforts not to, I’ve become attached to these people. It’s an uncomfortable weight, and I try to shift it away as I let Maggie, Glenn, and Daryl flank me as our little band moves on, the argument forgotten. I keep quiet as we walk, and as the day drags on I can feel the infection getting worse. I’m feeling faint and tired and heavy.

Daryl is beside me, acting as a guard rather than a crutch, and he knows I’m not doing so well. He puts a comforting hand on my back before seemingly coming to a decision. He nods sharply at me and breaks off from the group.

“Goin’ hunting,” he announces to Rick with a backwards glance at me. Rick nods, and I keep my eyes away when Carol steps forward.

“Mind if I tag along?” I eye the pavement.

“Nah, I got it.”

Carol steps forward anyways and says teasingly, “You gonna stop me?” He relents, and they head off into the woods, but not before Carol turns again and tries to aim another sweet, victorious smile in my direction that I pointedly ignore. I hear their footsteps—or Carol’s, rather—and plod on with the aid of Maggie and Glenn.