Edwards pulled Beth's body out and checked its pulse. Sure enough, there was a faint one. He rushed the body upstairs and had an operating room prepped. His measly team of doctors and nurses began brain surgery without any prior experience. When it was over Beth had a stable heartbeat and was going to live. Edwards wheeled Beth to a recovery room, and it was back to square one.
"Go find their group," Edwards said to a nurse, "NOW!" The nurse exited and went in search of Rick's group. Edwards would wait up the rest of the week for news on the group.
Daryl rode his chopper down the highway behind the rest of the cars. He wouldn't talk to anybody, not Rick, not Carol, not Glenn, no one. He rode in solitude. Eventually it got to him. Daryl pulled over, shut off his walkie-talkie, and sat sidesaddle. He pulled out a cigarette and began to smoke it. When the Marlboro was nice and hot, Daryl burnt himself. Smoke rose from his shaking hand. The smell of burnt flesh consumed his nostrils. There were no tears, only pain.
Nurse Heather Pompeo sped down the lonely road, in search of the group. She scanned the way for signs of life. Nothing. It was getting dark, too, and she would have to either return to the hospital or spend the night in the car. Pompeo had just decided to turn around when she saw a faint glow, so tiny she had to strain to see it. As she approached it, she made out a figure leaning against a motorcycle with a cigarette. Pompeo pulled over behind the bike figure and shut off the car. She got out with her knife and a flashlight.
Daryl didn't notice as the car pulled over behind him. He didn't notice the figure get out, or that the figure had a knife. He just stood there, took a drag, and burnt his wrist.
"Excuse me," Pompeo said.
"What d'ya want?" he mumbled.
"I'm looking for a group," Pompeo began.
"I'm looking for a friend, but she's dead," Daryl said. "She got her brains blown out by another groups leader. She'll never be back." Daryl sighed and burnt his hand, again.
"I'm sorry," Pompeo said, sheathing her knife "I'm sorry you lost your friend. I'm looking for a group, a big one. You wouldn't have happened to see one go through here while you were, uh, smoking?"
"Just mine," Daryl said.
Pompeo figured that the man's group was just himself and his deceased friend. She sighed and pointed at the bike. He nodded, scooting over, allowing her to sit. Pompeo pointed at the smoke, Daryl obliged. They smoked together. Pompeo finally spoke up.
"If you see a group, ask them if they lost a blonde girl, she's at Grady Memorial Hospital. The name is Greene."
Daryl almost inhaled his cigarette. He coughed and sat up. He grabbed Pompeo by the shoulders and looked her dead in the eyes. "Greene?"
"Yes," she said, scared.
"Take me to her."