With the help of the others, we cleared the walkers quickly.
"Look, I'm sorry about what happened," T-Dog said, offering a hand to Daryl, who sat on the ground, exhausted.
"Go wash your hands first," Daryl replied, ignoring the gesture as he pushed himself up.
T-Dog just smiled it off. Then his gaze shifted to me.
"Who are these two?" he asked.
"Oh, this boy is looking for his father, John Walker. You remember?" Carol said, gesturing toward me.
T-Dog's expression lit up. "Oh... you're his son?"
He stepped closer, studying my face.
"Your father and I used to smoke together… your uncle too. We drank a lot back then," he added with a soft laugh. "Good times. Nice to meet you, kid."
"Nice to meet you too," I replied.
He nodded, then moved on to greet the priest.
Meanwhile, I scanned the yard, searching for any sign of the Humvee or my group, but they were nowhere to be seen. Still, I wasn't too worried. They'd find their way here eventually.
As we moved deeper into the prison, after handing over my weapon, I learned that Rick Grimes was out on a supply run. The group had around thirty people and ten of them were sick.
Maggie led me toward her father. The priest followed T-Dog to store the pig, while Daryl and Carol took Glenn to the infirmary.
As we passed the cells where the sick were being isolated, I studied their condition carefully. Then I spotted Hershel lying weakly on a bed. His eyes were slightly red, his skin damp with sweat. Beth sat beside him, tending to him with quiet determination.
"Keep your distance," Hershel said gently. "I don't want you getting sick too. I'll be fine in a couple of days… just like in common cold. Now go."
Beth didn't move.
"Dad, how are you feeling?" Maggie asked as she stepped inside, catching both of them off guard.
"What are you doing here? Stay back," Hershel insisted.
Maggie ignored him, just like Beth had, and gestured toward me. "Dad, this is Max Walker."
Hershel lifted his head, studying me.
"You're John Walker's son… and Matthew Walker's nephew," he said with a faint smile. I gave a small nod. "They were looking for you. I'm glad to see you alive, Max."
"Do you know where they went?" I asked, unable to hide the hope in my voice.
"When they left to look for you, they spoke with Rick last. He might know more," Hershel replied. "You should ask him when he returns."
I nodded slowly.
As I stood there, I noticed Beth watching me. The moment our eyes met, she quickly looked away.
"Both of you, step out of the cell," I said calmly. "I need to examine him."
"What do you mean, step out?" Beth protested, suspicion creeping into her voice.
Maggie placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. He's here to help Dad. Let's give him some space."
Reluctantly, Beth allowed herself to be guided out.
Once they were gone, I turned my full attention to Hershel.
"My daughter brought you here to treat me," he said, watching me closely. "So you must know a thing or two about the human body. Tell me, what do you think?"
There was a quiet test in his voice.
"First," I said, "how long has it been since the symptoms started?"
"Two days for me. The first case showed up about five days ago... on a young boy."
I nodded.
"Has anyone died yet?" I asked.
The question surprised him. He studied me carefully before answering, "No."
That meant the infection was still in its early stage.
No deaths yet, but that wouldn't last.
From the way he spoke, it was clear Hershel believed this was nothing serious. Something that would pass.
He had no idea.
I did.
And that was the problem.
Telling him the truth, that this illness could wipe out everyone infected, would cause panic. Worse, it might make them doubt me… or dismiss me entirely.
But doing nothing wasn't an option.
Not when time was already running out.
Not when people were going to start dying.
Including him.
I exhaled slowly, my mind racing.
I needed to act.
The only question was—
How do I tell them the truth…
without sounding insane?
At that moment, Daryl and Carol arrived, standing behind the bars with the two sisters.
"Tell me...what do you think?" Hershel asked again.
I took a slow breath. "From what I've seen, it's some kind of flu, but not a normal one. The flu doesn't cause red eyes or spread this aggressively. So, as a precaution…"
I turned to face the others.
"I recommend that anyone who's infected be quarantined for at least a week. No close contact until we know exactly what we're dealing with."
Silence followed.
Even Hershel didn't respond right away.
Finally, he spoke. "I came to a similar conclusion. But we can't do that. More than half the group has already been in contact with the sick. If we quarantine all of them, we won't survive the winter."
He paused, his expression tightening.
"I'm hoping it's nothing serious."
I understood his position—but hope wasn't a strategy.
"Even so," I said, "you should minimize contact as much as possible. Burn contaminated belongings. Make sure anyone who's been exposed washes thoroughly."
"What kind of suggestion is that?" Maggie cut in. "We don't have enough water, let alone soap."
"Then at least wash your hands and face," I replied.
Maggie and the others exchanged uneasy glances.
"Do what he says," Hershel said firmly. "We should try everything to avoid getting sick, even if it costs us."
After a brief pause, Carol nodded. "Alright. We'll do what we can."
I inclined my head. "Thank you for listening."
"No," Hershel said gently. "I should be thanking you, for worrying about people you barely know."
I gave a small nod.
Soon after, everyone went their separate ways.
Beth showed me to the cell where I'd be staying until Rick returned. It had two beds, simple, but enough.
"Did you want to become a doctor?" she asked, sitting down on the bed.
"No," I said. "I never wanted to be one."
"Then how do you know so much?"
"I read," I replied. "A lot."
She smiled faintly. "I didn't expect that. You don't really seem like the 'bookish' type. You look more like… an athlete."
"Why's that?" I asked, slightly amused.
"Lean, muscular. Broad shoulders," she said, studying me. "Like the swimmers at my school… actually, better. More like a champion swimmer very handso..."
She stopped, realizing she'd said too much.
I smiled faintly. "Thanks. But I don't swim."
"You're welcome," she said quickly. Then, hesitantly, "Can I ask you something?"
"About my head?" I guessed.
She blinked, then nodded, a little embarrassed. "Yeah… did you shave it so walkers can't grab you?"
"No," I said calmly. "I lost my hair because of cancer."
Her expression softened immediately. "I'm… sorry."
"Don't be. That was a long time ago."
A brief silence settled between us.
"It was nice talking to you," I said.
She nodded. "Yeah… you too. I hope you're comfortable here."
She gave a small wave and left.
I watched her go, then shook my head slightly.
Being good-looking was both a blessing and a curse.
I just hoped she didn't get the wrong idea.
Because if she did…
Clementine would kill her.