To put it simply; CJ felt like actual death.
After talking to Daryl, she planned on checking in with everyone to make sure they were alright, but she could barely stand herself. She couldn't even make it to her cell. She made it halfway up the stairs before settling for sitting on one of the steps and leaning over to rest her head on her knees.
Her entire body glistened with a layer of sweat, despite how cold she was. The white and dark red flannel she had on was wrapped loosely around her as she let her hands disappear into the sleeves. She was shaking and shivering. She truly believed that this is what was going to kill her.
She didn't know how long she'd been sat on the steps when she sensed someone kneeling down in front of her and felt a hand on her shoulder. She slowly moved her head to look up at who it was. Her entire body ached. Both from the sickness and the crouched position she assumed she'd passed out in.
Her vision was blurred again as she looked through her sweaty hair. She saw Hershel in front of her holding a cup in his free hand.
"Here," he held the cup out for her to take. "Drink this. It'll help."
She looked down at the cup and took it, her arm shaking as she brought it up to her mouth and took a sip of the herbal tea. She coughed quietly before drinking a little more.
"You shouldn't be in here." Her voice was so strained and quiet, she was surprised any sound came out at all.
"It's my job," Hershel replied as he took the now empty cup from her. "We've all got jobs to do. Yours is to rest and get better."
"I'm okay," she whispered. "I'm okay." She tried to pull herself up using the banister, but she was too weak to lift herself and she relaxed her body with a defeated sigh. "Th-there are people down here that need more help than I do."
"I've been to see a few people already," he told her. "I'm checking on you now."
"Daryl's group gone out?" she asked.
"A couple hours ago, yes."
"Damn," she muttered. "I've been sat on this step for hours. I must be dying," she mused.
"You aren't going to die, Clara-Jane," Hershel said firmly, shaking his head. "We all need ya here."
CJ ignored him. "This sucks ass. Everything we've been through... I get taken out by a fancy fucking flu."
"Don't talk like that. Don't even think it," Hershel responded. CJ shut her eyes and shook her head. She seemed to be the only one who thought she was done for. "Daryl is gonna be back with those meds and you're gonna get better."
"Hershel," she sighed. "It's a hundred-mile round trip. That's assuming they don't run into any trouble on the road. The place could be cleared out already."
"You gotta have faith," Hershel spoke softly. "They'll come back. I'm sure of it."
Hershel helped CJ up the stairs to her cell. She had to lean pretty much all her weight on him just to stay standing. He left her with some more of the tea he'd made and a cool rag to hold on her forehead and went to check on all the other patients. It didn't take long for her to pass out again. At least this time she was on a bed and not the stairs.
Later, with Daryl's group...
They had run into a large herd on the road, and which delayed their journey. They lost the car and had to fight their way off the road and away from the walkers. They walked for a couple of hours before coming across an abandoned van by an auto-shop. After dealing with a few walkers that had been caught up in the vines around the building, Daryl and Bob went into the store to look for a battery for the van.
As they made their way through, Daryl led the way with his flashlight up. He looked down at the ground to see trailed of dried piles of something that looked like blood at first glance.
"That's puke," Daryl grimaced when he saw the empty bottle of anti-freeze on the floor. "These douchebags in the vines. Took themselves out. Holding hands, kumbaya style."
"They wanted to go out together, same as they lived," Bob stated. "That make 'em douchebags?"
"Does if they coulda' gotten out," Daryl replied.
"Everybody makes it, 'till they don't," Bob said. "People these days are dominos. What they did, maybe it's not about having to watch 'em fall."
The two of them made their way back outside having found a battery for the van. Daryl lit a cigarette as he worked on fixing the van and securing the battery. His mind wondered to CJ as he worked. To be honest, he hadn't been able to get the image of her in the hallway when he first found her out of his head. She looked so broken and afraid when he went to see her before his group left. Yet, she still managed to smile at him.
Bob walked around the van and leaned against the wall, which caught Daryl's eye and broke him from his wondering mind. "You never told us about the group you were with before us," Daryl said.
"Which one?" Bob shrugged sadly and Daryl looked back down at the engine. "You know, when you found me out on that road, I almost kept walking."
"Why's that?" Daryl asked as he worked.
"Because I was done being a witness," Bob explained. "Two times, two different groups. I was the last one standing. Like I was supposed to see it happen over and over. Like some kind of curse. But, when it's just you out there with the quiet, used to be I'd drink a bottle of anything just to shut my eyes at night. Figured the prison, the people... thought it'd be easier. The run to the Big Spot. I did it for me."
"You gotta keep busy," Daryl said, taking a drink of water.
"Nah. I did it so I could get me a bottle," Bob shook his head. "Of anything. I picked it up. I held it in my hand. I put it down. I put it down so hard it took the whole damn shelf with it. That's what brought on the walkers. That's what got Zac killed."
"That's bullshit," Daryl muttered. "Why don't you get in there and try the engine? It's the red and the green wire. Go on, it ain't rocket science."
Bob went around to the driver's seat and switched the van on. The engine hummed to life, and he revved it a few times. Daryl clapped his hands a couple of times before whistling over to Michonne and Tyrese to get them to come over so they could leave.
"You know, Sasha and me, we picked that place," Daryl told Bob. "Ain't no way anybody coulda' known. You ain't gonna be standin' alone. Not anymore. Let's go."
The four of them piled into the car. Daryl was driving with Michonne beside him in the passenger seat. Tyrese and Bob were in the back, with Bob holding the map and occasionally giving directions.
"How was CJ when you talked to her?" Michonne asked Daryl as they drove.
"Tired," Daryl replied. "Still making jokes and asking about Rick and the others. Talking like she ain't even sick."
"I'd expect nothing less of her," Michonne chuckled.
"She kept sayin' stuff about 'if she's gone before we get back'..." Daryl thought out loud. "It's like the second she knew she was sick, she decided she was done for."
"She'll be okay," Michonne said quietly. "What was it? If we didn't get back, what was it she wanted to say?"
"I didn't let her say it," Daryl replied. "Told her not to think that way. We'll get these meds and we'll get back. She'll be alright. Whatever she was gonna say, she can say it when she's better."
"I think I know what she might have said," Michonne shrugged with a smirk.
"Knowing her, probably a knock-knock joke or some shit," Daryl quipped, making the others in the car chuckle.
"No," Michonne grinned at Daryl. "Something else."
"What?"
Michonne looked over her shoulder at Tyrese, who was in the back seat. The two shared a knowing look, deciding not to make any further comments. "You think about it, Dixon," she eventually replied.
Daryl didn't say anything in response, but his mind did wonder what Michonne was getting at. And clearly, Tyrese and Bob seemed to know what she meant too. By the looks on their faces, he could tell what they were thinking, and he felt his cheeks warm up in a blush he drove along.
The group finally made it to the college, relieved to find that it was full of meds. The four of them filled their bags and made their way back out to the van. As they walked through the darkness using their flashlights to see, they spotted a couple of walkers inside one of the classrooms. They made a run down the hall into another room, but the door wouldn't shut properly.
They pushed a few things up against the door to stop the walkers getting in. Michonne followed a sign for the staircase and came across a set of double doors at the back of the room with a chain around the handles. She looked at it for a moment before the doors were being pushed from the other side and the fingers of multiple walkers came though the gap.
"How many?" Daryl asked.
"I can't tell," Michonne replied.
Walkers started clambering through the other door, tripping over the makeshift barricade. "We could take 'em," Tyrese said loudly.
"No! They're infected, same as the prison," Bob shouted. "We fire at 'em, get their blood on us, breathe it in. We didn't come all this way to get sick."
"How do we know the ones in there are any different?" Tyrese questioned.
"We don't," Michonne said.
"Luck's gotta change some time," Daryl muttered.
He opened the door and Bob and Michonne took out the walkers that were blocking their way. They rushed up the stairs, being followed by the walkers from the hallway and they came to a dead end. Tyrese threw a fire extinguisher at the window, making the glass shatter and they all climbed out onto the small roof of the shelter.
Bob was the last one to jump out. In doing so, he tripped and fell, making him almost drop his bag over the side. The walkers below all reached up and grabbed it, but he clung to it tightly, refusing to let it go. The others all turned back to try and pull him off the floor.
"Bob, let it go," Michonne said.
"Let it go, man," Tyrese repeated. "Just let it go!"
Bob ignored them and kept pulling on the bag strap. "Let go of the bag, man!" Daryl grunted.
Bob managed to pull the bag away from the walkers and it swung over and hit the surface. The sound of glass clanking made the other three all look at it in confusion. Daryl walked over and opened the bag, pulling of a bottle of whiskey.
He turned and glared at Bob, who was avoiding eye contact and looking guilty. "You got no meds in your bag? Just this?" Bob just stared at him without speaking. "You shoulda' kept walking that day."
Daryl moved to throw the bottle away and Bob reached for the gun in his holster. "Don't."
Daryl was unfazed by the gun and stormed over to Bob, getting right up to his face. He snatched the gun from Bob and shoved him, grabbing him by his jacket.
"Just let it go, Daryl," Tyrese said. "Man's made his choice. Nothing you can do about it. Just gotta let it go."
Daryl let go of Bob, but his glare stayed firmly on him. "I didn't wanna hurt nobody," Bob shook his head and looked away. "It was just for when it gets quiet."
"You take, one sip before those meds get in our people, I will beat your ass to the ground," Daryl warned quietly, shoving the bottle into Bob's chest. "You hear me?"
He walked away, closely followed by Michonne and Tyrese. Bob hesitated before following them back to the van. All Daryl could think about at this point was CJ. She was back at the prison suffering. He promised her she'd be okay, and he meant it. He just had to hope that they weren't too late already. He was in no way ready to lose her. There was so much he wanted to tell her. Needed to tell her.
Back at the prison...
It had been over a day since Daryl and his group left, and nobody was getting any better. In fact, more and more people were coming down with the sickness. And they were getting worse. Symptoms were getting more aggressive.
CJ, Glenn and Sasha were trying their best to hold a man, Henry, down whilst Hershel put a breathing tube in for him. All three of them were struggling to steady themselves. CJ held onto one of Henry's arms and did her best to steady her own breathing. Sasha and Glenn were both coughing a lot. Hershel got the breathing tube in eventually and the other three all sat back a bit, having used the very little strength they had left.
"Some council meeting, huh?" Hershel quipped.
"We're two members short," Sasha replied, taking a drink of the herbal tea.
"I think we should make some new rules before they get back," Hershel joked, trying to lighten the mood. "I hereby declare we have spaghetti Tuesdays, every Wednesday."
CJ chuckled for a second before her laugh turned into a cough. She grimaced at the metallic taste of blood in her mouth. A feeling that had become familiar to her over the last couple of days.
Hershel made sure Sasha was okay to take over for him with the breathing bag for Henry. He, with the help of CJ and Glenn started making the rounds, checking on everyone. Which basically meant 'check to see if anyone died'.
The three of them walked through the cell block, seeing most people were either trying their best to sleep or they were sitting up. Some of them were talking.
They came across one cell where a man was lying on his back, not breathing. His face was covered in blood trails and his eyes were open, but empty.
Glenn went into the cell and started to pull out his knife, but Hershel grabbed his wrist. "No. Not here," he whispered before leaving the cell.
CJ turned away and leant her forehead against the metal wall of the cell when she felt another dizzy spell. Over the last few hours, she somehow felt worse than she already did. She really felt like she was running out of time.
"You alright?" Glenn asked in a raspy voice. He put a hand on her back and gently rubbed up and down.
"Yeah," CJ replied, barely audible. " Just need a sec."
Hershel quickly returned with a gurney to take the dead man away from the other people to deal with him before he turned. He didn't want them to see it and make them even more afraid than he already knew them to be.
"Let's get him on this."
"Okay," Glenn nodded. "But in a couple hours when Henry's dead-"
"Glenn-"
"How are we gonna get his body down the stairs, across the cell block and through those doors without anyone noticing?"
"If that happens, if... you're gonna help me," Hershel whispered, turning to CJ. "Both of you will."
Glenn and CJ looked at each other for a moment, both thinking the same thing.
"What if we're gone?" CJ asked, her voice breaking.
"Shut up," Hershel answered. "Help me get him on this."
They managed to get the man onto the trolley and cover him with a sheet. The wheeled him through the cell block to the door. As they were leaving, Lizzie came up behind them.
"Clara-Jane?" she quietly called out, making them all turn around. "What are you doing?" she asked.
CJ looked at Hershel, unsure of how to answer. He nodded understandingly and walked over to Lizzie. "We're taking Mr Jacobs to a quieter place." He felt Lizzie's forehead with the back of his hand. "Go get my copy of Tom Sawyer from my room. I want you to read it by tonight. We've all got jobs to do. That one's yours."
Lizzie coughed a little as she looked up at him. "I won't finish it."
Hershel knelt down so he was eye level with her. "Why?"
"It's gonna get too dark."
"Well," Hershel smiled, taking Lizzie's hand. "Give it your best try. And drink some tea."
Glenn started coughing and CJ put a hand on his back as he hunched over. "I think there's a flashlight in my room, Lizzie," she said quietly. "If it gets dark, you go get it. Okay?"
Lizzie nodded and slowly walked away from Hershel. He came back to the door, and they pushed Mr Jacobs out to the private room, away from the main cell block. Hershel stood across from the body with his bible, trying to give the man somewhat of a funeral.
Glenn pulled out his knife and paused. "You haven't had to do this yet, have you?" he asked Hershel.
"There was one late last night," he replied. "Clara-Jane did it." Glenn looked over at CJ, who was stood across from him and she looked down sadly. "People don't need to see it. I don't want them too," Hershel explained.
Mr Jacob's body began moving and a growl escaped him. He began to sit up and Glenn reacted quickly, putting the blade of his knife through the man's forehead.
A couple of hours later, a loud coughing and a crash made everyone look out of their cells to see one of the men had collapsed and died in the middle of the cell block. CJ had been downstairs checking on a few people when it happened.
Hershel was knelt down next to the body with his knife in his hand. He looked around to see everyone watching him.
"Everyone... get back in your cells." No one moved except a very tired-looking Sasha, who went to get the gurney. "Go on, get back in your cells," Hershel repeated as Sasha wheeled the gurney over to him.
"Let's get him on this," she whispered.
She helped Hershel lift the body onto the gurney. She moved to put a sheet over him, but Hershel stopped her. "Go rest. Can you make it to your cell?"
She slowly nodded and limped away. Hershel looked down at the body on the gurney, realising what he'd have to do. He heard the shuffle of footsteps approach him and turned to see CJ coming over to him. She grabbed the other side of the gurney.
"Come on," she grunted. "Let's get him outta here."
Hershel hesitated before nodding in agreement and they wheeled him out of the cell block to the same place they'd brought all the others when they died.
"You want me to?" CJ asked as she grabbed one of her knives form her belt.
"No," he replied, making her look up. "I've got it."
CJ nodded and took a step back. She stifled a cough as Hershel picked up his own knife and walked around so he was standing by the man's head. He raised the knife and got ready to put him down, put paused and dropped his knife.
Understanding why, CJ came over and pulled the sheet up do it covered the man's face. She did her best to smile at Hershel, hoping that what she did helped him. He gave her a small nod and raised his knife again before plunging it into the man's head through the sheet.
"Hershel," they heard Rick's voice call out.
Feeling a wave of dizziness wash over her, CJ left the two of them to talk. As she entered the cell block, she felt like she got hit in the head. She stumbled over to the now empty cell on the bottom level and leant against the doorframe. She started coughing loudly and her vision blurred and refocused with every painful breath she took.
She fell to her knees and caught herself by pushing her hands against the ground. She coughed up more blood, so much that she saw it piling up on the floor in front of her. She became light-headed and her eyes fell shut. She felt the coldness of the concrete floor on her side, indicating to her dazed self that she'd fallen. She could hear nothing but her heartbeat. Her eyes flickered between open and shut for a second before everything went black.