[Finished] Living Among the Dead

05. Indifference

I go meet with Aaron at the observation window the next day. He looks bad. Really bad; my baby boy is covered in sweat and paler than I've ever seen him.
"Mommy?" He says, weakly.
I put on my best attempt at a smile, "Hi, baby. How are you feeling, Love?"
He frowns, looking close to tears, "I don't feel good, mommy. The doctor doesn't feel very good, either... I think everybody is going to die again." He sounds almost matter of fact.
I shake my head, "No, baby. No, some people might, but others will live." I say, trying to sound sure.
"Like us?" He asks softly.
"What do you mean?"
"Our family; daddy and Tonia died, but Mason and you is going to live." He sounds certain. Tears are still in his eyes, and there's nothing more that I'd like to do than hug him closely to me, to comfort him.
"I miss them," he continues. "When I die do I gets to see them again?"
My heart aches at this, and I feel the frog forming in my throat; but I know I have to hold back the tears. I know I have to be strong for my son.
"I don't know, Hunny. But we don't have to find out. "Remember when I told you that there will be times you will have to fight?" He nods slowly. "This is one of those times. You will have to fight through this, and it might be hard, baby. But you can do it, I know you can. You fight through this sickness, and then you'll get better. The doctor will make sure of it."
"Somebody said Daryl is gonna get us medicine."
I nod; "Yeah; he, Michonne and Bob, they're going to save you guys; you'll see. Everything is going to be fine."
"Is he our angel?"
The question throws me off. "What do you mean?"
"Granny used to talk about aingeal; our Guardian Angels. Dad taught us after everything... y'know, how to say it and all... he's ours, right?"
"Dad taught you Gaeilge?"
Aaron nods, "Not a lot, but Mase asked him too. Granny used to teach us and he wanted to learn more. But Daryl's our Angel. That's why he has the wings, right?"
I sigh, a small smile on my face, he's so sweet. So innocent. "Yeah, he's our aingeal."
There's a small smile on his sweating face now, "Then I'll be okay, right?"
I nod, blinking back the tears threatening to fall. "You'll be fine. I'm going to go so I can help out, anywhere I can. Go rest, okay?"
He nods, "I love you, Momma."
"I love you too, Mo Mhac."
His smile widens a bit, "When I'm better, will you teach me? We used to hear you and Granny speaking to each other. Granny used to say it was a dying language. What's that mean?"
"I'll explain after you feel better. And yes, I'll teach you. Now, go. Get some sleep."
"It's scary in there..."
"Sing when you get scared. Just like I always do, and before you know it, you'll be feeling better and you'll be back in the cell block with Mason and I."
He nods, and then disappears from my sight. As soon as the door closes behind him, my tears start falling once again.

When I leave, I go visit Hershel, he's quarantined with the kids so it takes a short while for me to actually get someone to reach him for me. When he comes; we're separated by glass doors.
"Hershel, Aaron's saying Dr. S is getting worst. He might not be able to treat the patients here soon."
Hershel nods, looking thoughtful. "Ya heard I was a vet, then?"
"I heard you have a medical background. Were you a Doctor in the Military, or a veterinarian? Not that it matters, a medical background is a medical background in this world anymore. Is there anyway you can teach me how to treat them? Please? My boy is in there, I just lost my husband, I've already lost my little girl, and I can't- I won't lose anymore kids." I'm only vaguely aware of how my words are running together.
"I can't-"
"Please, if you just teach me, I can go in and help them."
Hershel shakes his head, "There's no way for me to teach you what I'd need to in time for you to be able to treat them. What we can do, is we can go find some herbs; make a tea to help treat some of the symptoms. You meet me by the edge of the forest. That's the best I can do."
I nod, and walk away, ready to meet him by the forest.

When Hershel walks up with Carl I try to make light of the situation, "I didn't know we were staging a proper prison break."
"The boy insisted on coming with."
I nod, "Okay."

I look up at the trees and the sky as Hershel starts rummaging for berries, it's beautiful. Carl has his gun out and is looking around, as though he were here for protection. It almost makes me laugh.
"When did your dad give it back?"
Carl glances Hershel's way at his question, "Yesterday, after everything happened."
"You've grown a lot these last few months. There's a responsibility about you. I think it's done you good to step back." Hershel moves to a new bush and Carl and I switch places.
"Yeah," Carl agrees, off handedly. "It was all right. Can't be like that all the time."
"We would have been able to get this done on our own; you didn't need to come, Carl," I butt in.
"It's peaceful out here," remarks Hershel, "These last couple days, we might be safer outside those walls than in."
I hear twigs breaking in the forest behind Carl and begin making my way towards him.
"No, we're not," he disagrees, and motions with his gun in the direction of  the snapping twigs. The three of us walk towards the disturbance to see a torn up camp, next to it, one of the dead; growing into a tree, groans and growls at us.
"Let's wrap this up," Hershel comments before we hear a metallic sound come from behind us and as we turn around we see another one of the dead, a poacher's trap on her leg clanking with every step she takes towards us.
"I second that," I say right as Carl lifts his gun and aims the barrel at the dead.
"Don't," Hershel instructs, placing a hand on Carl's shoulder. "You don't need to."
I pull out my pocket knife and walk forward, plunging the blade swiftly through the Dead's skull.
"It was so peaceful," Hershel comments as he and Carl take the lead in the direction we came from.
"It was," Carl grumbles, "Can't be like that all the time."
I shake my head, "You have to see the good, Carl. You have to look for the peaceful."
"What's the point?" He asks, as Hershel resumes picking the berries.
"The point, Carl. Is that surviving is easy, living with your humanity in tact, is a choice. And it's one you should make. It's not worth surviving if you can't find any reasons to live."

I part ways with Hershel at the gate, determined to find a way to help someone somewhere after Hershel's adamant denial that he'd even think to let me help him treat those who are sick.