All That's Left (The Walking Dead FanFiction)

Chapter 32

I sit beside Robbie’s bed.

Yesterday, he woke up for several minutes only to pass out again. Someone died yesterday, too. They choked on their own blood. Jonah’s daughter, Becca, was down here by herself and had to watch it. Since then Jonah hasn’t let her out of his sight.

                Robbie stirs in his sleep, sweat collecting on his tan forehead. And even though I had one conversation with him I feel like I need to take care of him. I won’t let him die. All things do now is die; and I won’t let that happen anymore.

 I told Jonah I’d find Logan today to tell him about his brother. He knows Robbie’s sick but we haven’t explained the depth of the illness. When we told him, we had to lock the door to the infirmary to keep him from barging in and seeing his brother. He rammed the door so many times his knuckles started to bleed.

We can’t risk the spread of infection.

“Did you find anything out from my blood?” I ask Jonah.

He sits at his desk, flicking a pencil between his fingers as Becca sits on his lap. “We don’t have the proper equipment here. As of right now there’s nothing I can see,” he sighs. “I’ll have Levi look at the sample later this evening.”

“It’s okay,” I say. “We have time.”

                As soon as the words leave my mouth I realize how odd they sound. I can’t remember the last time I felt like I had time—the last time I didn’t feel like death was standing right beside me. It hits me that I’m immune and that maybe if this nightmare has an end I might live to see it. Maybe I’ll be able to help reach the end.

“You’re right,” Jonah smiles, his voice pulling me from my thoughts. “We have time.”

Stealing one last glance at Robbie, I rise to my feet. “Well, I’m gonna go tell Logan what’s going on. Tell me if Robbie wakes up.”

“Of course.” Jonah nods.

                My feet echo down the dark hall as I make my way to B-Block. The air in the prison is starting to drop; I feel goose bumps form along my arms. Logan sits against the wall of his cell, his legs stretched out in front of him with a book in his hands. His black hair is long and hangs over his eyes.

“Logan,” I breathe nervously.

He looks up. “Hey. Casey, right?”

I sit down beside him, leaving a few inches between us. “Macy. I wanted to talk to you about Robbie.”

“You finally going to tell me what’s going on with him and why I can’t see him?” he snaps.

My first reaction is to snap back at him but I remember he’s twelve and probably hormonal. I can’t yell at him for being mad at me either. We basically told him nothing yesterday.

“Actually, yeah I am. Your brother has a life-threatening disease. And we can’t have you seeing him or else you might get sick, too.” When the words leave my mouth, I realize I should have tried to be more compassionate; I should’ve let Jonah handle this one.

“I’m around Robbie all the time. I’m sure I’m already sick,” he argues.

I don’t know what it is I expected, maybe crying or screaming, but Logan does neither.  His face is complacent, showing no sign of the fact that I told him his brother is most likely dying.

“We’re just trying to be cautious,” I say.

“You’re not sick and you’re not a doctor. How come you get to be down there?”