Young and Young at Heart (The Rewrite of The Walking Dead Game: S2) [TWDG/TWD]

85. And Then There Were Two

"No, no way," insisted a panicked Christa. "Where? Where do you see a bite?"

"On your back." Christa tried to reach around to her back, but couldn't while holding onto Omid Jr.

"Sarah, could you hold Junior for just a second?"

"Yeah." A tearful Sarah sheathed her machete and approached Christa, who carefully handed her baby to the older girl.

"Keep him away from that stuff on your raincoat."

"I will." Sarah carefully clutched Omid Jr to her shirt, taking great care not to let any of her raincoat touch his skin. Christa then removed her jacket while Clem holstered her gun and removed the lantern from her belt. Clementine lifted up the back of Christa's shirt and examined the injury.

"Well?" asked an anxious Christa.

"It's... it's a bite," answered Clementine, trying not to cry.

"You're sure? You're sure it's not just a cut or something? Or—"

"I can see the teeth marks," sobbed Clem as she let go of Christa's shirt. "It's a bite." Christa reached around and felt the injury with her hand. She looked at the small bits of blood on her shaking fingertips, then fell to her knees. "Christa, I'm—"

"Goddammit..." cried Christa as she pounded her fist into the ground. "Why? Why now? Why!" Omid Jr started crying in response to the outburst. Christa stood up and moved to him while Clem picked up her tomahawk, fearful that walkers may have heard Christa.

"I'm sorry I yelled sweetie," consoled Christa as she took her son back from Sarah. "I'm sorry. I..." Christa suddenly became very quiet. "Oh God... what... what am I'm going to do?" Clementine watched as Christa slid down the wall, an absolutely devastated expression frozen on her face, and a baby softly crying in her arms. Seeing the horrible scene, Clem found herself just as lost as Christa. They both just stared at the fidgeting newborn, unable to even begin to think what they should do.

"I..." Clem and Christa turned to a tearful Sarah. "I... I'll take care of him," blurted out Sarah, sounding unsure of herself.

"What?" asked a dumbfounded Christa.

"We... we both will," insisted Clem, trying to sound confident.

"No... you couldn't."

"We could," retorted Clementine, trying to muster whatever lingering strength she had left. "We could do it."

"I... I was supposed to take care of you," sobbed Christa.

"You did. You did take care of me," reassured a choked up Clementine. "You took great care of me. You and Omid both. And now... I can take care of him, for you. For both of you."

"And I'll help," added an emotional Sarah. "I'll do everything I can. I'd watch him and feed him and burp him and put him to bed and tell him we love him and..." Sarah trailed off, finding herself breathless.

"No, you... you just can't..."

"Christa," spoke Clem, trying to compose herself. "What choice do we have?"

"Well." Christa looked down at her son. "He hasn't been alive that long." Clem felt uneasy as Christa's gaze seemed to move to the gun in her holster. "Maybe... maybe we can just... give him back to God."

"What?" exclaimed a horrified Sarah.

"Why would you even think that?" asked an equally horrified Clementine. "Why don't you want us to take care of him?"

"I can't ask that of you," professed Christa in a pitiable voice. "You're... you're just kids yourself. You've got it hard enough as it is. Especially now that I can't be there to help you anymore. I just... I just can't ask you take care of a baby on top of everything else. It's just too much."

"We want to. We want to do it," insisted Sarah.

"You have no idea how much a burden it would be," warned Christa.

"Whatever we'd have to do, we'd do it," asserted Clementine.

"Without me, you... you'd have to find baby formula for him, for months, maybe years, just to feed him," explained a despondent Christa.

"Then we'll find some," said Clem. "We'll have to find food anyway. So we'll find formula too."

"You'd have to watch him constantly," stressed Christa. "And it'd be for years."

"I'll watch him," volunteered Sarah. "For as long as it took."

"Me and Sarah both would," reasoned Clem. "We could take turns while the other one gets things he needs."

"Then there's the walkers, and everything else out there," rambled a heartbroken Christa. "You saw what happened just now, and at the church. I... I'd hate to think you died, just because you were trying to take care of me and Omid's child." Clementine became silent, then approached Christa.

"I could die anytime," noted Clem in a grim tone. "I think I'd rather die helping him, than live a little longer knowing I just left a little baby to die, without even trying," realized a weeping Clementine.

"And, if we find somewhere safe to stay, we could raise him for you," spoke a hopeful Sarah. "And, we'd do everything we could to make him happy. I'd... I'd play with him anytime he wants to. I promise."

"We both said we wouldn't give up on the world before it was over," Clementine said to Christa. "You gotta let us try. Please, just let us at least try." Christa looked at Clementine, stunned by the young girl's words.

"I can't believe what I'm hearing," spoke a shaken Christa. "Everything that's happened and... you're still such a good kid." Christa looked beyond Clementine and towards Sarah. "Both of you." Christa looked down at her son, breathing softly in her arms.

"I'm sorry Omid," apologized Christa. "I'm so sorry I won't be there. I'm so sorry... but..." Christa looked up at Clementine and Sarah, smiling ever so slightly. "I don't think you could have asked for two better big sisters." Clementine and Sarah both managed a weak smile as they watched Christa stand up.

"Since I'm sick, it's probably safer for Sarah to hold him," reasoned Clem.

"I don't mind," said Sarah. "I liked holding him." Christa moved to Sarah and carefully passed Omid Jr into her arms. Sarah and Clem both looked at the newborn, a little overwhelmed by their newfound responsibility, but also in awe of the tiny living person in front of them.

"I'll give you both a quick crash course on childcare, and then we need to get moving again," spoke a resigned Christa. "We'll get the truck, get out of town, and I'll stay with you until the bite starts slowing me down, then you two can just go on without me."

"Christa..."

"No, that's what we're doing," asserted Christa as she put her gore-stained jacket back on. "I don't wanna lose any time arguing about it."

"Okay," conceded a reluctant Clementine, not wanting to defy a dying woman's request.