Down by the water • TWD

A Taste.

Carl walked through the halls after visiting Beth shortly. He was looking for Avery; where had she gone? It had been hours since he saw the girl last; he was growing worried. The boy had already been keeping a close eye on her over the time they spent isolated. She'd been showing signs of sickness; they all saw it no matter how much she tried to hide it.

As the hallway grew darker, it started to become more real. "Avery?" He called out, eyes scanning the darkness sharply. Where was she? There weren't a lot of places she could go to. Carl quickened his steps, walking with a sense of urgency.

That's when he heard it.

The faint sound of shallow breaths filled the room up ahead on the right.

Carl grabbed the doorframe as he ran to the open office. "Avery?" His eyes immediately met her slumped-over body. His eyes widened with fear. "Avery!" He spoke as he bent down beside the girl. His hands shook violently as they lifted her head up from its fallen position. Blood covered her lips, sweat coating her forehead. His eyes scanned over her body, looking for injury of any sort.

Nothing.

She was sick.

Carl started shaking her in an attempt to wake her. "Wake up." The words were coated with worry as they fell from his mouth. She didn't move. He continued to shake her, getting more violent as the seconds passed. "C'mon, Avery." Grabbing a small cloth from his jean pocket, he wiped the blood and sweat from her slackened face. He quickly tried to pull her, getting her to stand. She didn't budge. "Wake up!"

Carl stopped, listening closely. He couldn't hear her shallow breathing anymore, only the sound of his own panicked breathing. He brought his ear to her chest, waiting for the sound to reach his ears again.

Avery's chest rose, barely, but it did.

"Help!"

---

The smell hit Avery first. It was of rot, of death. Her head was pounding, ears ringing. Then the sharp taste of metal filled her mouth. She knew that taste; it's all she tasted in her last memory. Where she was alone in the office, coughing and struggling. Was she still there?

She slowly opened her eyes. Her vision fought back, slowly coming back and unfogging. She tried to make out the two shadows in her room, her eyes not quite fully focusing. The sound of muffled voices from a distance filled her ears. They sounded familiar. She closed her eyes once more, trying to shake her vision clear.

"Avery, hun'" Hershel. How was he here? The last time she heard, he was trying to get into the sick cell to help.

Wait.

Her breathing sped up even as her body protested, feeling the sharp pain in her chest. Avery looked around to see Sasha and Hershel standing in the doorway of the cell. Sasha looked... horrible. Her heavy eyes had dark circles surrounding them, sweat coating every inch of her body. Did Avery look like that?

The girl definitely felt like that.

"Carl found you unconscious in one of the spare offices." Hershel told her softly, his eyes peering at her. She could see the strain in his face, the way his eyelids were threatening to close. How long had he been here? "Rick came banging on the door with you in his arms. Glenn was the first to see."

Glenn.

He was here?

He was sick?

Hershel could see her expression change to realization and fear.

"He's with Jackson, trying to keep him from knowing you're here." He told her, reading her mind. The girl only stayed silent. Trying to process everything. She hadn't realized how much she missed Jackson until Hershel reminded her where he's been. Here. Avery couldn't help but notice Sasha slumped over on the doorframe. She looked like she was going to collapse. "When did you start feeling sick?" Hershel asked the girl, eyes scanning her face for honesty. "Truthfully