Oblivion

Amoung the sick

(Going to be half of episode 2 and the rest of episode 3 ) (kinda bad too so just bare with me as I get back in the grove)

Bambi smiled as she woke up— despite the scratchy feeling in her throat—she felt refreshed and although the spot beside her was now empty, she had gotten used to waking up either alone or with Daryl beside her.

With a soft sigh, she fought with herself—to stay in bed all day or to get up and be productive. It was a constant battle every morning. However, she knew that it was probably best she get up and see what was going on.

So, reluctantly, she got out of her bed and walked right out into chaos.

"Bambi! Watch out!" A voice called to her. Raising her brow she didn't have time to question what was going on until her hair is being grabbed from behind her.

"What the hell!" She screeched, as she turned around. Grabbing her knife in her pocket, she had struggled with the walker for a while until an arrow came whistling by and taking it down. She breathed out heavily as Daryl hurriedly came towards her.

"You okay?" He asked, checking her for any physical injuries that told him other wise.

"I'm fine." She tells him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "What's going on? What happened?"

Daryl looked down at the walker beside their feet. The familiar face caused his stomach to churn.

"Patrick." Bambi whispers, realizing. She turned to Daryl and then Rick, who was standing further away. A look of mixed emotion plastered on his face.

—-

"No bites. No wounds. I think he just died." Rick informs Hershel as the former vet doctor walked into the room where a walker had been. Bambi stood still as she still tried to comprehend what she had woken up too. Maybe staying in bed this morning would've been the right call.

"Horribly, too. Pleurisy aspiration." A man Bambi forgot the name to.

"Choked to death in his own blood." Hershel confirmed. "Caused those trails down his face."

"I've seen them before. On a walked outside the fences." Rick said.

"I saw them on Patrick, too." Daryl says.

"They're from the internal lung pressure building up—like if you shake a soda can and pop the top. Only imagine your eyes, ears, nose, and throat are the top." The man explained.

Bambi cringed inwardly at the vary thought.

"It's a sickness from the walkers?" Bob asked

"No, these things happened before they were around." The man tells him. "Could be pneumococcal. Most likely an aggressive flu strain."

"Someone locked him in just in time." Hershel says.

"Nah, man. Charlie used to sleep walk. Locked himself in. Hell, he was just eating barbecue yesterday." Daryl said. "How can somebody die in a day just from a cold."

Bambi cleared her throat. The scratchiness never went away like she thought it would. And just at the thought of being sick her stomach churned and she suddenly felt like she was on fire. She stumbled back a bit. The others too busy trying to figure out what happened to pay any close attention to her.

She had seen Patrick yesterday. He stoppered her just before they went to bed to thank her for the deer just as he thanked Daryl the day before. She was with him. He was sick then wasn't he? Just wasn't even aware.