Zedler, M.D. // Daryl Dixon

Chapter Fifty-Five: Surprise Guest

•fifty-five•

omg before you read guess who it's gonna be!!!

Beatrix

Surprisingly enough, The Governor doesn't restrain me. Instead, he holds me with a tight grip on my arm, leading me to where he wants me to be. Presumably, it's their medical facility. My face falls, however, when I see that it's a cell.

"What the hell?" I ask, pulling away from him.

"You just killed two of my guards. You didn't think you were going to get an outstanding citizen award, did you?" He smiles, keeping his cool. If nothing else, I can respect that about him: he doesn't blow up when he gets pissed off. "No, you're going to be staying here to sleep. When you wake, you will be taken to meet with our scientist, Milton. You'll teach him what you know."

I don't object, as this is a much better alternative to being beaten and restrained. Instead, I sigh, and walk into the cell willingly. The door is shut and locked behind me, a guard being left at my door. Taking a seat on the bed, I lay back, needing some rest. All I want to do is lay down and cry, but I can't do that. I don't get to do that. It'll ruin my war paint and my appearance as a badass.

If there's one thing I've learned recently, it's that you have to pretend you're okay in order to actually be okay. Because if I think about what I've done too much, it will eat me alive, and I will never be able to deal with it.

//////////

The next morning, I'm taken to their medical facility, just like The Governor promised. At first glance, it's kind of iffy. It doesn't seem like they have a lot of equipment, but who knows? Maybe they have some hidden somewhere.

"Good morning, Doctor Zedler! I've heard a lot about your work, and I am a huge fan!" A man greets me, holding out his hand for me to shake.

"What work?" I raise my eyebrow, shaking his hand anyway. "Who are you?" I question as I look around the room, "Y'all got an IV pole?"

"My bad, I completely forgot to introduce myself," he shakes his head, pulling out a binder of files. "My name is Milton Mamet, and I've been a fan of yours since before the turn. I have a copy of the works you've published here. Not to mention, you'll go down in history for being the one to create a biter vaccine. And of course we do. Do you need one?"

"How do you know about my work towards a vaccine? I don't really need an IV pole, I just like them a lot," I mutter while flipping through the file of my published work. I almost forgot how prominent I actually was in the medical community. "Did Andrea tell you?"

"Something like that," a familiar voice says from behind me, causing me to jump. When I turn to see who it is, the binder falls from my hands as my mouth gapes open.

"Shane?" I ask in disbelief. "I thought you were dead."

"Our best friend Rick left me for dead," Shane chuckles as he pulls his shirt up and over his head. My mouth physically drops open at the sight. There are massive bite marks littering his torso, scarred over.

"What the hell?" I mutter to myself as I walk up, reaching my hand out to touch his scars. I can't believe that it actually worked. My stupid experiment for a vaccine actually worked. "He said he killed you, that you came after him and he killed you."

"Well he tried," Shane tells me as I continue poking and examining his torso. This is unbelievable. "He shot me in the shoulder. I went down and they came after me."

"And what happened when they bit you? It doesn't look like they ripped the skin out," I question, standing straight up.

"They bit, and then they just stopped," he shrugged. "Left me alone."