HEART OF GLASS¹ ━━ the walking dead ✓

[ 002 ] the smile of death

HEART OF GLASS
CHAPTER TWO !

[ season one, episode five ]

Marley's hunt for Sage paused momentarily.

They gathered around Jim with weapons drawn as he backed away, shaking his head incredulously. On his shirt, there was a small patch of fresh blood. Marley's lips parted in shock, and she realised saving him from the sickness was out of the picture. The fever had evidently already struck him. Sweat dribbled from Jim's forehead, and a small smile of denial was pressed to his chapped lips.

"I'm okay," he whispered, paling considerably. "I'm okay. I'm okay."

He wasn't okay.

"Show it to us." Daryl demanded furiously, circling Jim like a vulture. "Show it to us!"

Jim reached for a shovel and raised it, apparently willing enough to swing if anyone came close enough. The group bristled, clamouring for him to put it down before anyone got hurt. In their minds, however, they knew Jim would never deliberately cause harm to any member of the group. But T-Dog rounded on the sick man nevertheless, grabbing his arms and pulling them behind his back. The shovel clattered to the ground.

"I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay."

Daryl lifted Jim's shirt to reveal a crimson ring of teeth puncturing his abdomen.

"I'm okay! I'm okay . . . I'm okay," he repeated over and over and over again.

Marley's hand flew to her mouth and unshed tears sprung to her cerulean eyes. She just stared at the swaying man. They all stared. There was nothing they could say to Jim to make him feel better . . . they was nothing they could say to a man whose life was slowly fading right before their very eyes. They all knew he was a dead man.

And he was not okay.

They gathered around the RV to discuss the situation. Marley, on the other hand, led Jim to a more desolate and quiet section of camp. He shouldn't have to hear the discussion — she knew Daryl would ponder the possibility of putting a bullet through Jim's head, and he didn't need to hear that.

Not right now.

"Here we go," Marley said, helping Jim sit down beneath a cluster of trees. Their bodies were draped in dark shadows that took the overwhelming heat off of their backs.

Jim glanced up at Marley, squinting. "Thank you."

She smiled at him. It was a sympathetic upturn of her lips, which somehow made Jim feel slighter better about his death sentence. It was a kind smile. Warm. So similar to what his son's had been — making him feel better on bad days when work had been tougher than usual, or when his truck had broken down for the fifth time that month.