Scarlett (Rick Grimes/OC)

Chapter 4

Chapter 4 

Michonne and I wake before dawn. The cold air is a shock ta’ my system while I get dressed, and I so wish I had coat. At least I can maybe stay inside today to escape the wind. 

“Here,” Michonne says. She tosses a dark brown jacket at me. “That’s the best I got for ya’. Ya’ can have it ‘til we getcha’ somethin’ better.” I look at the fleece-lined jacket and then back at Michonne, but she cuts me off before I can open my mouth. “It’ll fit, even with those two sweaters ya’ got on. You’re thin.” Michonne gives me one final look up and down, lingerin’ on my slightly prominent cheekbones. 

“Thank you,” I mumble as I slide on the jacket and zip it up. It fits fine, and I’m glad ta’ have it.

{~~~}

Only a few people are millin’ about outside when Michonne and I head out fer breakfast. Rick, Hershel, Maggie, and Glenn are all seated at a picnic table and Daryl is gettin’ some food from Carol over at the cookin’ area. Judith is in Rick’s lap, gurglin’ and allowin’ him ta’ feed her some baby food. 

“Mornin’, ya’ll,” Michonne says announces, takin’ some food from Carol. Carol offers me a plate a well, and I accept it and follow Michonne ta’ the table where everybody’s sittin’. 

You know, I can never figure out how old Carol is. She definitely ain’t twenty-two, but her face ain’t all that old. I think it’s the short silver hair and the lines around her eyes that make me think she’s old when she ain’t. She just looks… haggard- like she’s been through some things.

Maggie flashes me a smile when I sit down across from her and Glenn, and I smile back. Maggie is Hershel’s oldest girl, and she’s real, real pretty, all dark hair and green eyes that are only made even prettier by the tan she’s worked up. Glenn is lucky ta’ have her. He’s of Korean decent, I find out, after talkin’ with him a fer a little while, which explains his Asian features.

More and more people come fer breakfast and then leave. After a while, pretty much everyone is gone, except fer a few stragglers. Rick and Hershel are the only ones left at my table, and I’m pretty much just sittin’ there awkwardly and twidlin’ my thumbs. I don’t wanna just get up and look fer the infirmary Hershel mentioned I’d be workin’ in last night, especially ‘cause I could get lost. The whole prison ain’t safe, or so says some a’ the others, and I don’t feel like wanderin’ into a bad situation without backup.

I should just ask, but fer some reason, I feel awkward about talkin’ ta’ Rick and Hershel. Usually, I got no problem talkin’ ta’ people I don’t know well. It’s what makes me such a good nurse. I don’t understand why I’m all tongue-tied. 

“Scarlett!” a man calls from behind me. I turn around in my seat and see Dr. S walkin’ up to me.

“Caleb!” I shoot up from seat and beam at him, happy that I won’ have ta’ get all flustered about askin’ now.

“You ready to work?” Caleb asks, shovin’ his hands in his pockets.

“Sure am.” We start walkin’ ta’ wear I do not know and we chatter politely as we move through corridors and hallways.

Workin’ as a nurse here basically entails cleanin’ cuts and assessin’ bruises, along with occasionally dolin’ out pain meds and puttin’ in stitches. There’s a lot of free time involved, as long as nothin’ big happens, and it doesn’t sound like a hard job ta’ do on the day-ta’-day. It’s better than my old twelve-hour graveyard shift at the hospital, and as a bonus, I ain’t gotta deal with drunk, horny frat boys on the weekends. 

Caleb and I get ta’ work on organizin’ some things. He hasn’t gotten a chance ta’ look at the stuff I brought in yet seein’ that I came in pretty late the other day. We pick through the small tote I was keepin’ my medical things together, pullin’ out bandages and gauze, medical tape and Tylenol… Caleb’s grateful fer all of it, even if it only is little stuff that they already have a lot of.

“Everything counts,” he says when I express to him the fact that the things I have are nothin’ too great. “The way things are now, a sterile bandage and some rubbing alcohol patches can mean the difference between life and contracting a life-threatening infection. You have to remember that we’re practically back in the Dark Ages, minus all the dysentery and the belief that bleeding someone could actually help them recover.”

Caleb and I chuckle at the private medical joke. Medical humor is lost on most, but when you get it, it’s pretty funny.

***

Author's Note-

Hiii!!! Thank you for reading! (/^-^\)

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- Love, Madison (evilqueen098)