Chapter 8

16.8K 390 130
                                    

Chapter 8

"Miss Scarlett," says a small voice right in my ear, low and frantic and scared. "Miss Scarlett, please wake up." At first, I think I'm dreamin' 'cause I ain't quite awake yet, but then whoever's in my room starts shakin' my arm and says, "Somethin's wrong, Miss Scarlett, please."

I force myself ta' sit up and open my eyes. It's dark, but the moonlight is shinin' in through the small window on the back wall a' the cell. That little girl I patched up the other day is here in her pajamas and coat, hair a mess. She looks scared, and I snap right into my nursin' role, now wide-awake.

"What's wrong, baby?" I ask, half whisperin'. I throw the covers off me and climb outta bed, already rushin' ta' put on my jacket. There's no commotion outside my cell, so my fears of a walker attack in the cellblocks are soothed, at least fer a few minutes.

"I don't know. Mr. Rick asked for ya' though. He has Patrick gettin' Dr. S. Miss Maggie took us all outta the children's block, and now we can't go back in." Mika bites her lip nervously and her eyes are dartin' around. She's scared- real scared.

"Mika, honey, look at me." I put my hands on her shoulders and she looks up at me. "It's OK. Go find the other kids and stay with 'em, alright?" Mika nods and I guide her outta the cell gently. I tuck my gun in the waistband a' my sweatpants when she ain't lookin'.

I make sure Mika gets back with Maggie and the other kids, and then I head off ta' the children's cellblock. This is where we house our orphans. There's only about ten or twelve of 'em, so they don't take up much space, only about six or seven cells.

Nothin's in complete and utter chaos when I arrive on the scene, so I take this as a good sign that nobody's dead or anything. Caleb meets me at the doorway ta' the cellblock. He looks ruffled from sleep and he's wearin' pajamas, but he's wide-awake and he start fillin' me in immediately.

"Lena Bardem, thirty-year-old female. Someone tried to strangle her manually with their bare hands. By the size of the handprints, it looks like a woman. She said someone just attacked her. She couldn't see anything because it was dark. One of the kids woke up across the way and the person bolted. We have no idea who it could be." Caleb sucks in a deep breath and rakes a hand threw his hair. He looks kinda scared and his voice drops lower, more urgent. "This is some scary shit, Scarlett."

I nod vigorously and tug at the sleeves a' my jacket. "Yeah. Yeah It definitely is." I stay quiet fer a few seconds, but then I remember that we have a job to do. "Is she OK? How's her breathin'?"

"I already checked her out. Rick just asked for you. I don't really know why." Caleb looks at me and shrugs, and I get even more confused. If he don't need me fer somethin' medical, what does Rick need me for?

The whole scene ain't great. Daryl, Michonne, Glenn, and Maggie stand around a Hispanic lookin' woman who's sittin' in a chair and talkin'. All the cells along the walls are empty, beds unmade and curtains thrown open haphazardly. I catch a glimpse of a little pair of shoes kicked off inside one a' the doorways and I silently thank God that this didn't go a whole lot different. A baby can't fight off a grown woman, and I don't even wanna think about what that would mean in this situation. The smallest coffins are always the heaviest and the hardest ta' carry. I know from experience.

"Rick," Caleb calls. Rick turns and looks at us, and I realize fer the first time that he's in sweatpants and a white t-shirt with his coat thrown on. I wanna laugh 'cause it's odd ta' see him dressed like this with his ruffled hair and all, but the severity a' what we're facin' keeps my face straight.

"Scarlett," Rick says quietly, takin' a few steps closer to me. Caleb leaves us and goes ta' talk ta' Hershel a few feet away. Rick tries ta' comb some a' his hair back into place with his hands, but it ain't doin' much fer him. He looks tired, sleepy, stressed, and worried all at the same time. "Scarlett, I need a favor," he says, low and urgent.

Scarlett (Rick Grimes/OC)Where stories live. Discover now