The Sheriff's Daughter

Chapter Eighteen: Decontamination

After Dr. Jenner basically ran away from our questions and Vi refused to answer them, we were left to our own devices. It was decided that Dad, Shane, Glenn, and T-Dog would head down to check the generators while the rest of us had a "normal" day.

We all ended up going back to our rooms as the four men disappeared down the hall, but I couldn't force myself to relax in the way that some others were. Daryl seemed to be the exact opposite - he walked straight into our shared room and collapsed on his cot, reaching almost absentmindedly into his bag for a bottle of Southern Comfort.

While he was relaxing, I began moving around and gathering supplies from the bathroom - toothbrushes, deodorant, toothpaste, razors, etc. If it seemed like something we could use on the road, I was packing it.

"What the hell are ya doin'?" Daryl asked, sitting up on his cot.

"Something feels wrong," I explained. "Really wrong. I just. . . I think I need to do this."

"Worried about what the doc said?"

"I'm worried about what he didn't say," I corrected. "Decontamination of a place this big. . . and with everything it holds. . . Something tells me it's not as simple as a facility-wide shower."

We were silent as I finished packing up my bag. As I moved over to Glenn's to put up his dirty clothes, Daryl spoke again.

"How'd ya know all that stuff about the brain?"

Puzzled, I looked back up at him. "What stuff?"

"The, uh, electric charges."

"Oh." I took a bit of extra time to fold up Glenn's jeans, stuffing them into his bag with more care than was actually necessary as I tried to find the right explanation. "Basically, my mom and her parents wanted me to be as close to perfect as possible. It ended up spurring me on to college classes during my junior year of high school. I was in the middle of psychology and human sciences when everything started going wrong. We were discussing the brain in both of those classes. Guess it just stuck."

Daryl nodded, hoisting himself off of his cot.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Ya said something felt wrong, right?" I nodded as he threw some stuff into his bag. "Then I'm gettin' my stuff ready."

"For a fight, or for running?"

"Whatever comes first," he responded, grabbing up his crossbow and checking it.

Once all of the bags in my room were packed, I began making my way from room to room, telling people they should do the same. With Carol and Mom, I both told them quietly so that it wouldn't spook Sophia and Carl.

"The air-conditioning stopped," Mom had whispered to me when I told her about packing her bags. "Do you think it's this place shutting down?"

"It's gearing up for decontamination. Whatever that means in this case."

"Take Carl with you. I'll make sure everything's packed in here."

Somehow, I ended up with Carl and Sophia in the rec room. Carl and I were coloring as Sophia practiced braiding on my hair. She seemed to enjoy it and Carl seemed pleased to not be stuck doing the math problems that Mom insisted on him learning, so I stayed quiet about my fears of what was to come. I reveled in the easy-going nature of Sophia and Carl. Their company was an odd breath of fresh air compared to the likes of the adults.

"Do you think Eliza is okay?" Sophia asked me quietly, restarting the braid that she had been trying to perfect.

The name brought a wave of guilt. I hadn't even considered the Morales family and their safety since everything happened. But Morales was a good man who'd take care of his wife and children no matter what.