CHEROKEE ROSE (D. DIXON)

9.

Daryl lies awake a few minutes after the river girl's confession, but not because he's afraid. Why would she tell me that? He wonders.

He had watched her a lot, in the last few days. At times, she was strange and dangerous, like when she had defended him at camp, a fire in her eyes and a fierce protectiveness etched on her face. But mostly, she was scared and sweet and harmless. He thinks back to when she had first offered to bring their deer back, and when she comforted the boy about her horse. Or even just a few minutes ago, when she had darted into his room in fear of her life. He knows Shane is dangerous, though, and thought it better for her to stay with him anyways.

The following morning he wakes up early to shower. She was truthful, and doesn't snore. She's so quiet, in fact, that he forgets she's there for a moment. He flips the bathroom light on carelessly, flooding the room with artificial light.

Sonora lies on her side, curled around herself like a hidden fawn in tall grass. Her raven mane hangs uncharacteristically loose, billowing around her head like a shadow. It is black, unbridled; ferocious with beauty.

Daryl mentally berates himself for staring, slamming the door shut.

When he opens the door again, in place of the the sleeping girl is a folded pile of blankets and a pillow.

Wandering down the hall, he goes in search of the others, poking his head in the cafeteria, then rec room.

He finally spots a familiar black braid in the center computer room and enters, taking in a high definition picture of a human and its brain. The others gather around, all fixated on the screen. He settles beside Sonora, crossing his arms.

"Take us in for the EIV." Jenner commands.

The camera view rotates about the diagram, highlighting the brain in a neon blue.

"Is that a brain?" Carl asks.

"An extraordinary one." Jenner replies, a small smile crossing his face. "Not that it matters in the end."

The camera zooms into the picture, displaying lights that move up and down passages.

"What are those lights?" Shane asks.

"It's a person's life." Jenner replies, barely above a whisper. "Experiences, memories. It's everything. Somewhere in all that organic wiring, all those ripples of light, is you--" he points at Sonora, and she shifts awkwardly. "The thing that makes you unique and human."

Daryl furrows his brow. What was that supposed to mean? "You gonna make sense ever?"

Jenner points at the the picture like a teacher does. "Those are synapses, electric impulses in the brain that carry all the messages. They determine everything a person says, does, or thinks from the moment of birth," He pauses solemnly. "To the moment of death."

A quiet sadness weighs heavy in the room.

"Death? Is that what this is? A visual?" Rick walks closer to Jenner.

"Yes." Jenner looks in awe at the screen. "Or rather, the playback of the visual."

Daryl watches the lights scramble throughout the brain, like a electrical storm on a hot summer night.

The screen changes, and instead of the summer electrical storm, what looks like black ink spreads through the brain, encompassing the lights in darkness.

Jenner talks on about the infection, but Daryl can't help but wonder, could this have happened to Merle?

He shakes the thought, reminding himself of how tough his brother really is.