Daryl's Angel (10th Anniversary Edition)

Chapter 52: Thirty Days Without an Accident

By the time I've gotten my med kit and gone back outside, the supply group is on their way out. I see Carl leading Flame back to the stables and, if Flame is back, that can only mean that Michonne is back too. I pick up the pace, eager to see her. She stands with Rick, talking to Daryl, who's parked on his motorcycle with the convoy waiting behind him.

"You know, just seeing," Daryl is saying as I approach.

"Yeah, I gotta go out and check the snares," Rick says. He's gotten shaggier as time has gone on, with longer hair and a bushier beard. "I don't want to lose whatever we catch to the walkers."

"I'll go," Michonne says.

"You just got here," Carl says.

"And I'll be back," she retorts, grinning. Her attention falls on me as I slow to a stop and the smile remains. "Hey, Hope."

"Hello and apparently goodbye, Michonne," I reply.

She shrugs. "What can I say? Gotta keep moving."

She gets into one of the vehicles and Daryl revs his motorcycle. Rick glances at me and, wordlessly, we run for the front gate. While the Governor may have knocked the original door off its hinges, we've made do. We've made a barricade of sharpened logs, fanning out from a set of iron doors. The doors themselves are hooked up to a pulley system that operates from the inside, allowing for easy opening and closing. Any walkers pressed against the doors get skewered on the barricade when they open. It's a fantastic system, if I do say so myself.

Rick and I pull the doors open, allowing Daryl and the others through, and I wave goodbye as they disappear down the road. The gates swing closed behind them.

"Carl asked me to check on Violet," I tell Rick as we walk back towards the stables. "Anything I should expect?"

"You'll see soon enough," Rick says. "Not sure if there's anything to fix it."

"Well, it's worth a try."

Carl comes around the side of the horse pen, having just finished getting Flame's saddle off, and approaches his dad. I smile at him, leaving them to talk as I split off towards the pig pen.

I notice Violet immediately. She lays on her side, letting out long, laboured breaths. I hop over the fence, kit in hand, already digging for my stethoscope.

I crouch down, popping the buds into my ears and pressing the end against her chest, moving it as I need to. Her heartbeat isn't strong, but it's there. What I'm most concerned about is the horrid sound of her lungs. I hang the stethoscope around my neck and pull out my thermometer, reaching around to stick the end into Violet's anus. She doesn't even squeal—a bad sign.

105º F. Also bad. I grimace at the thermometer even as I clean it off, giving Violet another look. My first thought is pneumonia and, if she's lying down and refusing to eat, there's a good chance it's already serious.

I should check the piglets too, just in case. I'm not even sure I have the right antibiotics to treat Violet and, if she's too far gone, it may be worth it to save what we do have to treat the piglets if they get sick.

I pat Violet on the rump and move to the edge of the pen, just able to see Rick and Hershel talking by the horse pen.

"Hershel! Rick!" I call. I beckon them over. "Violet's got a fever, and with the lethargy and her lung sounds, I'm thinking she's got some type of pneumonia."

Rick sighs, hands on his hips. "Anything we can do for her?"

"Well...that's what I wanted to ask you, Hershel," I say, nodding to the older man. "She's pretty bad. I don't know if she'll recover even with treatment and..."