Tomorrow Will Come

Eighteen

"Where are they taking us?" Mary asked, her voice a shudder as Magna supported the girl, the duo following the masked group.
"I don't know."
"I don't know how much further I can walk."
"I know." Magna breathed, genuinely, incredibly scared. They walked for a little longer, Magna clutching Mary to her side, helping her walk, to stay upright.
"Sit." A man barked, as they approached what seemed to be their camp, as Magna and Mary's eyes darted around the clearing, trying to gain any information of these people. "Sit! Backs to the tree!"
Magna breathed in shakily, then helped Mary sit with her back to the tree, then sat beside her, letting a masked man tie them to the tree.
"It's gonna be okay. They're gonna keep us as hostages until Hilltop give them this woman's kid back." Magna explained slowly to Mary, and the girl nodded, chewing her lip.
"They need to do it quickly."
"I know."
"Why... Why are these people wearing masks? Masks of dead Walkers?"
"I don't know, kid. They've been pretending to be Walkers, moving with the herds. I don't know if it's a survival tactic, or, or something more. I just don't know."

The next morning, Mary and Magna were tossed a tiny piece of charred meat, and a little water.
"Hey! She needs to be let go," Magna shouted to someone masked, "the girl. Let her go. Please. She was stabbed. She's still losing blood. Infection's gonna be setting in. She needs medical attention."
"She looks fine to me." Someone snapped back, ignoring Mary's incredibly pale skin tone. Her skin was almost grey, and she could barely keep her eyes open, her body exhausted and in pain.
"She isn't. She needs help," Magna insisted, "if you let her go, if you let her get back safely, then the community will respect you. They'll trust you if you let her go, let her get to safety. But if she goes back even sicker, then that's it. You won't get your leaders daughter back."
"If I die, that girl will be dead the second my mom, or any of them, any of my uncles, find out." Mary hissed suddenly, a wheeze to her voice, and a large man scoffed, walking over. "What? You don't think they're strong enough? You don't think we're strong?"
"You can't say upright," the man scoffed harshly, "and you're wheezing at every breath. You're not strong. You're a child who could die at any moment."
Mary scoffed slightly, then her eyes turned to the side as she looked at Magna. "You wanna tell him? Or should I? That I'm stronger than anyone would ever think. And when I'm done with you? After all this? You'll be left a real Walker this time, stumbling around, your guts falling out of your stomach, and that stupid fucking mask? I've not decided if I'll burn it with pride, or keep it out on my communities gates as a warning."

The next day, Mary awoke when the sun was rising, her legs cramping and painful from not moving for over a day, her chest home to several dozen stabbing pains, a cruel, ghostly replica of what she'd felt just a day and a half ago.
"Mag." Mary wheezed, hardly able to breathe, and Magna's hand reached around the tree trunk, gripping to Mary's leg.
"I'm here. You okay?"
"Chest. Think..."
"You think what?" Magna pressed, panic in her voice.
"Lung. Col-colap..."
"Okay. Okay." Magna nodded, then she screamed for help. At first, they were all unwilling to help, but eventually Mary's blue lips and ghost-like complexion feared the group into action; they knew that if Mary died, there'd never be an exchange of hostages.
All Mary could think, as a bag was opened, and a syringe eventually found, however, was of little Samuel Jackson. Beside the syringe was a few mid-matched medical items; gauze, some lidocaine, an antibiotic ointment, and, strangely, one tiny, untouched vial of insulin, that shattered in the process of gaining the needle. She figured it couldn't be for a diabetic Whisperer; there was only one, full, tiny bottle, and one long syringe - there'd be much more if someone was relying on the medication daily. So, as Mary laid there, gasping for breath, her skin now blue, she thought of how Samuel had needed that insulin. But her last thought, before the needle was plunged between her ribs, was Jennie. Next to her mental image of Samuel, a boy she'd never met, and the very real smashed vial of insulin, was his sister, with her black hair and brave, fiery eyes. And that's who she watched as she screamed, and screamed, and screamed.
Magna wouldn't ever forget the sound Mary made as a female Whisperer thrust a needle into the child's chest, the woman assuring Magna that she was a doctor in another life. There was a slight hush of wind, of the pneumothorax easing, the excess air escaping, but it was Mary's scream that followed which would haunt Magna's dreams for a long time after, a scream that was animalistic, and full of pain.
"Tie her back up!" The large man barked, whom Magna had now identified as Beta, as soon as Mary could breathe again, "It may be a ploy."
"Her lung collapsed! She can't make that happen," Magna hissed, looking to the doctor for support, "she's sick! Let her lie down! Untie next so I can help her!" Before anyone could reply, however, Beta hit her sharply with a slim strip of willow, then did the same to Mary, everyone, even Magna, stunned to silence, the only noise being Mary's pained sobs.
"Tie her up." The man shouted angrily, and within a few seconds, Mary was tied back into the tree, and Beta was gone, the doctor losing the shred of humanity she'd found when helping Mary, and going back to being a meek servant, following her owner's commands.
"Fucking cult." Magna breathed, whimpering as she nursed the deep cut on her arm.
"Cult?"
"No democracy. Not here. They'll do whatever those two say."
"No democracy." Mary breathed, echoing Magna's words, curling up in pain, letting her mind take her elsewhere, anywhere else.