AND THEN I FOUND YOU » Daryl Dixon

15. FAITH

"I can walk, you know?"

"Yeah, that ain't how it went the last time," Daryl said.

Cold air breezed past Jasmin's face as Daryl carried her down a hallway, offering a small bit of relief from the fire that was dancing across her skin. Fire was usually a good thing, especially when Daryl was around, but this felt like a wildfire ravaging throughout her body, like thick smoke erupting from the flames and filling up her lungs with each burning breath.

"At least I didn't pass out this time." She looked up at him with a small smile, false hope boldly written across her face.

"Not yet."

A quiet sigh echoed throughout the hallway. "Always the optimist."

The heat emitting off of Daryl's skin was not doing any favours. Streams of sweat trickled from every crevice of her body and she was certain that soon all the water in her body would be gone, left in a trail leading to one of the cell blocks.

Daryl kicked open the metal door at the end of the hallway, leaving a thunderous boom to ricochet off the concrete walls. Violent memories flashed in her mind as she squeezed her eyes shut, watching them inadvertently as if they were playing on a screen in front of her.

Kicking, slapping, screaming, shouting, glass breaking, blood flowing...

An overwhelming stench of bile and blood filled her nose, returning her to reality. The stench of death.

Jasmin lifted her head from Daryl's chest. "Where are we?"

It was silent for a moment, the air around them buzzed with apprehension. The breath in his chest halted for a moment. "Cell block A," he said.

"Death row?" She looked at him, eyebrows pulled inward.

His arms tensed as he tightened his hold on her, as if his embrace could shield her from the sickness that was devastating her body. Doing so caused an ache of his own to fill his chest. There was nothing he could do to rid her of the pain she was enduring. All he could do was hold her and hope she had the will to keep fighting.

Hands gripped onto the bars of each cell they walked past. The only noise in the room was the guttural coughs and splutters as the sickness worsened as time went on. It felt like a zoo filled with caged animals who, at any moment, could turn rabid and strike. The price of admission – pain.

Anxiety filled her mind as they walked past a cell. A man was slumped against the bars, face poking through the gaps. Unmoving. His face wore blood like a mask with trails leaking from his eyes, nose, and mouth.

Jasmin looked up at Daryl as a tremble ran up her spine, betraying the words she was about to say. "I'm fine, Daryl, just let me go and get some water and we can start digging the graves."

"Nah."

"Daryl... please," she reiterated with a whisper, the ghost of her sincerity lingering on her breath. "I'm fine."

He looked down at her with a soft expression. "Ya don't gotta be."

She stared into his eyes for a moment. Once again, she was a burden in someone else's life. How many more times did she have to be hurt – be unable to care for herself, till the people around her began to realise she was useless? She slumped against his chest in defeat as he continued walking.

They finally reached the cell now designated to her. Daryl nudged open the cell door with his foot, carrying her into the darkly lit room, the only source of light burning from the candle that sat on the table next to the cot.

Slowly, she was lowered onto the bed, cool air hitting her body as soon as she was out of Daryl's grasp. The mattress was cold and had a thick layer of dust laying across it, releasing a cloud of particles as she laid on it. The tickle lingering in her chest shot up to her throat in an instant. Choked coughs expulsed themselves as she shot up off the bed, one hand clutching the bed frame as her body hurled forward. Just over the sound of her own choking, she could hear Hershel's named being shouted.

A metallic tang filled her mouth as her lungs constricted. With her last cough, liquid sprayed into the air, turning the off-white bedsheets red.

Daryl squatted down, levelling with the bed, and yanked a strip of cloth from his back pants pocket. He reached over, gently placing a hand at the nape of her neck and using the other to wipe off the blood that covered her mouth. Her head fell forward in exhaustion, letting hair curtain around her face.

"Hey," Daryl murmured softly. His hand moved to her cheek, lifting her face towards him. He carefully pushed back wet strands of hair that clung to her face from the sweat. "Ya gotta stay awake, you hear me? Just until Hershel checks on ya."

She watched him through half-shut eyelids, nodding slightly as she fought back the sleep that threatened to smother her like a heavy blanket.

Almost on-command, Hershel hopped through the door on his crutches, flustered and out of breath. He looked at the girl on the bed then back to Daryl. "How long has she been sick?"

"Not long but it's gettin' worse quick."

Symptom after symptom flushed through her system like a train collecting more and more passengers as it travelled to each station. She dreaded the thought of having to meet death at the final stop. This was not how she wanted to go out; not after enduring everything else that had been thrown at her.

Hershel moved towards her, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Hey, sweetheart."

"Hi, Hershel." Her voice came out as a whisper.

His hand rested on her forehead for a moment. The future flashed in his mind's eye when he felt the scorching heat as their skin made contact – a future that had already caught up with so many in the same cell block.

He pulled his hand back into his lap and gave her a sad smile. "You look exhausted. How about you get some sleep and I'll check back on you when you wake up?"

She thanked her lucky stars. Whether she was allowed to or not, sleep was going to take over soon enough anyway. Fatigue had crept into her eyes, and the weight of her head had resembled that of a bowling ball.

With the little energy she had left, Jasmin's eyes shifted over to Daryl, who had now turned into a dark blob standing beside the bed; that being the last thing she saw before moving onto her side and giving in to unconsciousness she had been so desperately craving.

Both men watched as her body relaxed into the mattress and listened as soft, rattling breaths filled the room. Hershel stood up, pulling the crutches beneath both arms and walked out of the cell, with Daryl following suit.

Hershel stood outside the cell, letting out a pitiful sigh. "There's not much we can do right now except let her ride it out."

"Ride it out?" Daryl eyed him, half expecting it to be a joke. "Man, did ya see her? People are dyin' because of this thing and you're sayin' there ain't nothin' we can do to help?"

"She's strong. She can beat this." Hershel watched as Daryl paced in front of him. "Daryl, I know you care about her, I do too, but we've got no medicine except painkillers and IV's. We're not equipped to deal with this sort of situation. Unless we can get our hands on some medicine anytime soon, waiting it out is the only option we have. Have faith."

Daryl stopped in his tracks and scoffed. "Faith? Faith ain't gotten us nowhere. Ya keep prayin' to God to save these people but how many have died in the meantime?"

"What do you suggest we do?"

"You were a vet, right? There's a veterinary college nearby, ya think it'd have supplies we could use?"

Contemplation washed over Hershel's demeanour as he considered the idea. "If it hasn't been stripped clean."

"Alright then. I'll gather the other council members for another meetin'," Daryl said. "I don't care if nobody wants to come with me, I ain't gonna sit here and wait for her to die. Not her."

He strode towards the cell block exit as determination pulsed through his veins.

Not her.