Zedler, M.D. // Daryl Dixon

Chapter Five: Jim

•five•

Beatrix

I wake up the next morning to find everyone gone from the RV. I'm in the same position I fell asleep in, so I stretch out my muscles, expecting the crick I have in my neck. A small gasp escapes my lips as I walk outside, taking in the aftermath of the attack last night. Dead bodies litter the ground thoughout the camp, along with a small pile of burning bodies off to the side. Daryl is walking around, taking a pick axe to each body's head for safe measure, while Glenn, T-Dog, and Morales are pulling bodies into the fire.

"Good morning, Beatrix," Lori smiles weakly up at me and I give her a small nod in return. "Do you want something to eat?"

"That would be nice," I follow her over to the fire pit where there's a cooker with some type of meat in it. Lori hands me a bowl of it and I just eat it, not questioning it. "How many people did we lose?"

"A lot," Lori sighs. "Carol lost her husband and Andrea lost her sister."

"Amy?" I question, feeling slightly sad. Lori nods her head and points over to Andrea sitting by her sister's dead body.

"We need to put a bullet in that girl's brain and call it a day," Shane complains, sitting down on the log next to me and taking a bowl of the mystery meat.

"Shane, we need to let her grieve. If she reanimates, then we'll have to deal with her," I say and Shane just scoffs. He's clearly still upset about us leaving for Atlanta.

"Whatever man," he shakes his head and eats his meat from his bowl. While we're sitting down, Glenn has a small freak attack about burying our people and not burning them, and then Daryl screamed about how we had this coming because we left his brother for dead. I quickly finish up my food and go find Rick.

"Anything I can do?" I ask Rick, hoping that he won't make me stab any of the bodies in the head.

"Well, you could start-" he's cut off mid-sentence by Jacqui screaming.

"Jim's been bit! A walker got him," she stands up and points at him, backing away as if the disease was airborn and she would catch it just by breathing near him. Everybody begins to gather around the two of them.

"No, guys I'm okay. I promise," Jim grabs his shovel, holding it up in defense as Daryl runs at him. T-Dog quickly holds his arms down as Daryl lifts his shirt up, revealing a prominent bite mark on his abdomen. He continues to mutter, "I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay."

"C'mon," Shane grabbs Jim's arm and leads him to sit down on a crate behind the RV before returning to the small huddle of us to discuss his fate.

"I say we put a pickaxe in his head, and the dead girl's and be done with it," Daryl grunts, swinging his pickaxe back and forth.

"Is that what you'd want if it were you?" Shane asks.

"Yeah, and I'd thank ya while ya did it," Daryl replies, dropping the top of his axe to the ground.

"I hate to say it, never thought I would, but maybe Daryl's right," Dale sighs.

"No. Jim isn't a rabid dog, Dale. He's a sick, sick man. That's where we draw the line," Rick argues.

"I thought the line was pretty clear," Daryl says, getting more and more agitated. "Zero tolerance for walkers or those to be."

"What if we could get a cure? I heard the CDC was still up and running," Rick places his hands on his hips.

"Yeah, I heard a lot of things before the world went to hell," Shane scoffs. "Fort Benning is our bet shot. If there's any military protection left at all, it'll be there."