What Really Happened: A Memoir from the Apocalypse

Chapter 12: Convalesce

"July 2014:

It's been a month since the Governor and Woodbury attacked us. And a year since the start of everything. Since the outbreak. None of us thought we'd make it this far. We remember who we've lost. We try every day to honor them, and live how they wished we would. Live because of them. We've fought to make this prison into the home we hoped it would be since the second we saw it. We've continued to train with our weapons, grow crops and raise pigs, go on runs for supplies. We wait, we prepare, for when Woodbury will attack again, when the Governor will. We won't let our guard down. We'll continue to sleep with one eye open until they're dead. But we'll win. I have to believe we will. We used to think this whole thing wouldn't have lasted as long as it did. We waited for the cure, thought somebody would figure it out and get rid of it all. But after the CDC, after the Governor tore down our gates, after who we've lost, I knew it wasn't going to end. That no one was going to come and save us. I've been scared since the start. As much as I try not to be. But other people are how we survive. We have to be the ones to be strong in it, learn how to fight, and survive in it. This is the world we're stuck with. This is the new world, and it won't change. So we'll keep fighting, keep growing, providing and finding. We'll keep holding onto hope, continue to take care of each other, and do what we have to do. This is how we create our future. Maybe we get to decide what that looks like. Maybe the world will listen."

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I rested my elbows on the railing of the guard tower. Since I hated farming, I helped Mom with watch duty instead. A faint gunshot sounded from inside the prison. I looked to Mom to make sure I heard correctly. Lizzie and the other kids ran out and yelled for help. Michonne rode her horse back to the gate, and walkers followed and surrounded her on every side. She wrestled with them, trying to push them away. Carl went to help her.

I grabbed my gun and positioned it, watching them struggle. "Carl!"

Mom and I ran through the door and down the ladder.

I helped Carl lead the horse through the gate and shoot the walkers closest to the inside. Michonne was stuck on the ground and screamed in pain after she kicked a walker off of her.

"Are you bit?" I asked her.

She grabbed her knee and grunted. "No."

A herd of half a hundred walkers surrounded the gate and moved closer. Mom and Carl helped Michonne up, and I closed the gate quickly enough for the dead not to get in.

Rick walked to us and waved his hands out. "Hey, you might want to stay back."

Carl ran to hug him. "Dad, I'm sorry. I didn't see you come out."

Rick moved his bloody hands closer to himself and shoved Carl away. "It's okay. I'm here. I'm fine. But back away."

A woman carried a dead body wrapped in a sheet towards the gravesite.

"What happened in there?" Mom asked.

Rick struggled to find the words. "Patrick got sick last night. It's some kind of flu. It moves fast. We think he died and attacked the cell block." He looked at Carl and knelt to his level, trying to reason with him. "Look, I know he was your friend and I'm sorry. He was a good kid. We lost a lot of good people. You shouldn't get too close to anyone that might have been exposed, at least for a little while."

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Cut up newspapers from the times before were stuck to the wall of Aunt Beth's cell. A purple gnome was painted on her jewelry box. I kept the turtle charm from Mimi inside of it, and I placed it in my palm. Michonne sat on the bed behind me and wrapped her wound in bandages. I could sense that her gaze was stuck to me, like she waited for me to say something.