Survival

The CDC

"Why are you here? What do you want?"

"A chance,"

"That's asking a lot these days,"

"I know,"

I glanced around with unease and rocked back and forth on my heels. This place was offering a shot at safety, doors that lock, bulletproof windows and electricity. I shifted my two-year-old in my arms as I rocked back and forth, his eyes wandering around the giant entryway of the building.

The leader of our group of survivors, Rick Grimes, exchanged words as Rick begged the man to let us stay at the Center of Disease Control. Rick believed this place held promise for survival and finding a cure for whatever illness was rapidly spreading through the world.

The illness was bringing people back from the dead, except they weren't themselves. They came back but only with a hunger for living flesh. The walkers, we called them, had come through and destroyed our last camp. We camped up in a quarry, sleeping in tents and had no indoor plumbing. The Georgia heat was unbearable. We lost a few people. But we had moved on to keep surviving and ended up at the CDC.

My son, Ian, whined as Rick argued with the CDC employee. I quieted him and caressed his hair. I felt a presence at my side and turned to look at them.

Daryl Dixon stood by me. A motorcycle riding redneck, with a soft spot for children. He often tried not to show any compassion or weakness, but I could always see the slight softening of his eyes when Ian cried or through a tantrum. He stood next to me, his elbow touching mine as he trained his crossbow on the stranger, the man deciding or fate. My eyes trained on Daryl's face as I shifted toward Ian, positioning him between myself and Daryl.

"Go get whatever you have left out there," the man pointed to the door. "Once it closes, it won't open again."

Daryl nodded and jammed his crossbow into my open hand. He drew his knife and sprinted back to the cars. The other mothers left their children with me as everyone else ran to get their stuff. I passed Ian to the little girl, Sophia, and stood between the three children and the man allowing us into the CDC. Daryl's loaded crossbow in my hands felt warm and worn in. I glanced back at the open door, watching our people sprint back inside, bags in hand.

Once everyone was back inside, the metal doors sealed us in, preventing the walkers from getting in.

It would also prevent us from leaving.

~~~

Once everyone was inside, our group headed towards the elevators that would take us below ground. The group was too large to fit into one elevator, so I opted for the stairs. I allowed my son to toddle down the hallway as we reached the door to the stairs. I went to open it, shoving the door out of my way with my duffle bag. Daryl's hand planted firmly on the door and shoved it the rest of the way open. I smiled gently at him as I took hold of Ian's hand to start our descent.

"What floor did he say?" I asked.

"Two I think," Daryl huffed. I hoisted my bag back up to my shoulders and adjusted my grip on Ian's hand. We descended in silence the rest of the way down. I did a mental tally in my head of the supplies I had in my bag.

My son had ten diapers, a frayed toothbrush, three shirts, three pairs of pants, two mismatched socks, and one stuffed teddy bear. I would need to start potty training him while we stayed here. It was becoming more difficult to find diapers, and Ian might not be prepared, but it was worth trying. My thoughts kept me occupied as we reached the correct floor. Daryl opened the door again.

The group reached a consensus that we needed dinner. The man who let us in, Doctor Jenner, showed us to the kitchen and smiled as we all expressed our joy at seeing a stocked kitchen. Various group members cooked dinner, going all out to get us full for the first time in a long time.