Zedler, M.D. // Daryl Dixon

Chapter One Hundred and Seven: Mabel

I wake up screaming, sweat causing my hair to stick to my forehead. My breathing is quick and shallow, panting like I've just run a marathon. Enid jolts awake, and Maggie and Jesus come running into the trailer.

"Are you okay? What happened?" Maggie looks around the room frantically, probably looking for a walker or something.

"Just a nightmare. I'm sorry," I apologize, wiping the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to cause a scene."

"Hey, it's all right," Jesus gives me a soft smile, opening the door behind him. "Wanna come out and help us—"

"It's Rick!" Kal's voice travels through the air, cutting off Jesus.

The four of us all turn, running towards the gates. I grab onto Enid's hand, watching as the gates open and desperately hoping to see Carl. I do see Carl, though, and when I do, I drop to my knees on the ground, Enid falling with me.

Rick stands between Michonne and Daryl, staring off into the distance, and in Daryl's arms lays Carl's lifeless body. I can tell he isn't just sleeping. He's gone. Carl is dead. Daryl's face scrunches up once he sees me, and he starts to cry.

Enid and I hold each other on the ground, both starting to sob hysterically. Daryl steps forward, clutching Carl's body tightly against his chest, and I can tell this is going to break him. It's going to break me. It's going to break Enid and Rick and Michonne. It's going to break all of this. How could we possibly keep on going when Carl, the epitome of good and hope in this world, is dead? It seems impossible.

It feels like an eternity before Daryl moves, carrying Carl's body off, somewhere in the Hilltop, but my mind can't even focus on that right now. The only thing I can feel right now is pain and guilt. It should have worked. He should have been immune. This shouldn't have happened. Maybe if I would have given it my blood to him sooner. Maybe if I would have been with him.

"Don't," Rick shakes his head, looking down at me. "Don't blame yourself. It wasn't you."

"I'm so sorry, Rick," I let out another loud sob, crying harder than before. Enid holds onto me like we're out at sea and I'm her life vest. I'm pretty sure I'm holding onto her the same way. "I'm so sorry."

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Life isn't the same without Carl. I miss him so much that it physically hurts. Carl was my brother, and it doesn't feel right that he'll never get to meet his niece and nephew, that he'll never get to watch them or Judith grow up, that he'll never get to grow old with Enid and have babies of his own. It isn't right and it is so fucking unfair.

Enid and I got to take the rest of the day, and most of the next day, off. We wanted to help, but neither of us were in the shape to do much of anything anyway. After Daryl put his body by the graveyard, we were able to go and see him, and Daryl told us that they weren't going to bury him here, that they would take him back to Alexandria as soon as possible to bury him. When he pulled the sheet back and I saw Carl's face, I lost it again. The overwhelming feeling that this was my fault just won't go away. I can't get it to.

After we were finally able to calm down and realize that crying hysterically won't bring Carl back, nor will it help with the issues at hand, Rick sat the two of us down. Before he died, Carl had written the two of us each a letter, in case he didn't have the chance to say goodbye. I clutched it tight to my chest, unable to read it just yet, and stuffed it in my pocket. I want to read it, and I will when the time is right. The wound is still too fresh right now. I just can't do it yet.

"Hey, Bea, are you up to helping out in the infirmary today?" Maggie asks, treading very lightly. "Saddiq and the doctors from the Kingdom could use some help, especially with the ones you brought from Alexandria yesterday. The ones that got shot are developing a fever."