Daryl's Angel (Book One in the Apocalypse Angel Trilogy)

Chapter 61: Spaghetti Tuesdays

I get cold, then I get hot. My throat burns and my head aches, like someone is hitting it with a large hammer, repeatedly. That doesn't stop me from helping Hershel with the people who are really sick.

I'm in a man named Henry's cell with Sasha, Glenn, and Hershel. Hershel's inserted a tube down the man's throat to help him breath. Sasha squeezes every five seconds or so.

"Some council meeting, huh?" Hershel asks.

"We're only missing one member." Glenn coughs.

I look down, trying not to think about that last member. It'd hard when he's on my mind every second.

"That shouldn't stop us from making decisions," Hershel says. "I say we have Spaghetti Tuesday, every Wednesday. Now we'll just have to find some spaghetti."

I smile weakly before coughing again. "Hershel, why are you still here? We can't have you getting sick too. You're the only doctor left. Hell, I was here just a day or two ago with you, and now look at me."

"Exactly. I'm the only doctor left to care for these people. I can't let them or any of you suffer alone." He sighs. "The three of you should go get some more tea."

"I'll stay here-" Sasha coughs. "-keep helping him."

Glenn takes his tea from the floor, and I stumble over to the other two mugs that are waiting for us and hand Sasha one, taking the other. I sip it carefully and head down the stairs, my head starting to pound again.

I lie down on my cot, propped up just enough to still drink the tea. Coughing and hacking surrounds me and I close my eyes tightly, shutting out the world. I hear stretcher wheels rolling. Glenn and Hershel are taking someone who's died outside.

I put my empty mug on the table beside my bed and lie down. Hershel walks by my cell, stopping at the door.

"You're thinking about him, aren't you?" he asks. I look at him, and nod slowly. "You'll beat this. I know you will. There have to be survivors."

"And if I don't survive? Then what?" I ask. "What about Daryl?"

"Don't say that. Don't even think things like that." He walks in and kneels in front of me.

"Hershel...we all know it's possible..." I cough loudly, a few flecks of blood appearing on my arm.

"That doesn't mean it'll happen." He takes a cloth, wiping off the blood gently.

"I need to see him. Please," I beg.

"You need to rest."

"Please..." I don't try to hide the pain in my voice.

"Tomorrow. Get some sleep for now." Hershel touches my forehead gently before closing the cell door and walking away.

I get up slowly. If I can't see him, I'll just have to ask someone who knows about him.

I open my cell door slowly, and it creaks a little. I walk from the cell towards the meeting room. Maybe someone will be there. When I enter the room, Rick sits on the other side, his face in his hands.

"Rick?" I ask weakly.

He looks up and his eyes widen. "Hope...you shouldn't be up."

"Daryl...how is he?" I ask.

"He's fine." He doesn't meet my gaze.

"Don't lie to me," I say. "Honestly, how is he?"

"He's healthy, but he won't talk to anyone except for little things like thank you and such. He sits in your cell, staring at the wall or holding one of your belongings...your knife or one of your shirts. I've never seen him pray this much, or ever..." I cough again, and Rick smiles sadly. "I could get him for you..."

"Would you? Thank you, Rick."

Rick nods and disappears down the hallway. I wait for what feels like forever.

I get a dizzying feeling in my head and I grit my teeth, trying to ignore it. Suddenly, my chest seizes up and I can't get enough air. I try to breathe desperately, but no air passes my lips. The dizzying feeling increases and my lungs scream for oxygen. The edges of my vision go dark and I collapse into a heap.