All That's Left (The Walking Dead FanFiction)

Chapter 35

The ride back to the prison is long. I tell Rick I don't know what happened. I don't know why Jeff and Charlie attacked me.

He doesn't believe me.

After everything that happened, I can't risk another person knowing I'm immune and having my life almost taken from me. I don't even know how they found out.

            Jonah didn't tell them; I know he wouldn't. Maybe it was other doctor—Levi. But I don't understand why out of all people he would tell Jeff and Charlie. Before gathering together to get the medication, I had never associated with the brothers. And I had never seen Levi talk to them either. Unless one of them overheard Daryl and I talking about my immunity. That's the only logical explanation I can think of.

            Pushing the speculation from my mind, I try to focus on how relieved I am. I have the medicine. I have the medicine that's going to save Daryl. Everything's going to be okay. He's going to live—and Robbie too.

            I stare out the window, watching the trees blur by. I look in the side mirror a few times to watch Sinclair. There's so much I owe him for saving my life. He doesn't ask me any questions about what happened. He just sits in the back seat staring out the window and says some comments to Rick on the way back.

            When we get to the prison, I don't waste any time. I run so fast to the infirmary I almost trip over my feet. I start screaming Jonah's name once I see the door. He appears in the window and smiles in relief when I show him the pill bottles.

            "Now, please let me in. Let me see him," I beg, my heart racing in my chest.

            He looks uneasy. "Macy, I appreciate you retrieving the medication. You have no idea how many people you've helped. You—"

            "He's dead," I blurt out the words. There's no other reason as to why he won't let me see Daryl. I have the medication. I did what he told me. He has to be dead. Daryl's dead and that's why Jonah's not letting me in. 

"He's not dead," Jonah says quickly. But there's still something off about him.

"Then tell me what's wrong."

He looks at the floor and then back up at me. "Just a few minutes ago, Logan passed away. The bullet wound became infected."

"Wow. I don't—I don't—" I don't know what to say. I don't know what to feel. "Robbie? Is he okay?" I ask.

Jonah nods. "Robbie should make a full recovery. Leave the medication at the door. I'll let you see Daryl tomorrow after he has a chance to respond to the amoxicillin, you have my word on that."

My first instinct is to argue. I nearly got killed twice trying to get these bottles. All I want to do is see Daryl. "Fine," I say, gently laying the bottles beside the door. "But I don't understand how Logan died so quickly. I just saw him and he was okay."

Jonah leans against the window. "His immune system became weaker as it was healing the bullet wound, making him more susceptible to contracting diseases. He got pneumonia and then the infection became worse. His death was most likely a result of both altercations."

I remain silent for a moment. "Okay, well just make sure everyone else lives okay?"

"I'll try my best. Thank you, Macy."

I give him a small smile before I leave.

The next day is pure agony. The waiting is killing me. Sam won't stop asking for his dad. All he does is cry. The minutes pass by like hours. I've debated just going down there and breaking the window. I've never been this long without Daryl. I need to see him. I need to know that he's okay.