The Good Life - Chapter One

They needed to stop. Judith was sick.

Rick Grimes feared very little anymore, but the idea of his little girl getting sick, with no doctor to take her to and no way to treat her, scared him more than anything. He listened to the frighteningly deep rattle in her chest and wondered if she’d manage to take her next breath. If she died…

“We’ll hole up here,” Rick said, looking at the storefront of an abandoned mattress store. “You guys clear it. I’m going to go on a run, see if I can find some medicine for Judy.”

“I’ll come with you,” Michonne said. Her tone brooked no argument. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer so he nodded.

She was pulling her sword from the scabbard and placing it back. She did that every few minutes to make sure the cold, damp weather didn’t make the blade stick. They’d gone far off track because of herds of walkers and now, rather than being in Roanoke Virginia, as they’d planned, they were somewhere in northeast West Virginia.

Late December had come in cold. While it had yet to snow the weather was wet, just barely above freezing, and windy. Rick hunkered into his coat and walked up to a pharmacy that had been looted fairly well. Still, he searched what remained, along with Michonne.

“I found some Tylenol,” Michonne said. “Liquid. We could mix it with something and give her a little. Dosage will be tricky.”

Rick nodded. That was all they could find. “It’ll help with the fever but I’m worried she’s got bronchitis. She needs antibiotics.”

“There’s nothing left,” Michonne said, sensing his worry. She put a hand on his arm. “I’m scared too.”

He nodded and looked down at the Tylenol. He wanted to throw it away in anger. It was too little. His baby needed medical care. She needed a warm, dry environment. He could give her neither. He tucked the bottle of medicine into his pocket and they returned to the mattress store where the others waited.

…

There was a new face waiting when Rick and Michonne returned. Carl had Judith in his lap and there was a man sitting on the floor by the entrance. He, too, sounded as though he was on his last legs. His eyes were on Judy. He looked wistful and sad at the same time.

“This man says he had a group in a stronghold,” Abraham told Rick, sounding like a soldier reporting to his CO. “He says he can take us there. He’s the last left.”

“What happened to you?”

“Broke my leg. Been here for three days…sick…”

“You bit? Scratched?” asked Rick.

He shook his head. “Pneumonia. I ain’t got long left and I need to show you…you’ll be safe there. Medicine. Food…”

He passed out for a moment. Rick saw how pale Judith was, sleeping in her brother’s arms, her lungs rattling as thickly as the dying man on the floor. Normally Rick would be wary of trusting so-called safe havens, especially after their ordeal with Terminus, but Judith needed someplace safe and warm or she’d die. He had to risk it.

“Let’s go.”

…

The group loaded the man into the back of one of the trucks. Rick rode with him, hunched down behind the cab to keep as much of the cold air off him as possible. It was a twenty minute ride into a wooded area before the man told Daryl where to pull over. It was at a gate with a bunch of leaves and vines covering it. Had they not had someone to show them they wouldn’t have noticed it at all.

Once through the gate it was another ten minute ride on a bumpy dirt road before they came to a wall that had been constructed with concrete, roughly finished, and a metal gate covered with planks of wood for reinforcement. He gave Michonne the keys through the little windows at the back of the truck cab. She hopped out and unlocked the padlock there before attempting to swing half the gate open. It was too heavy, the hinges freezing in the cold. Rick jumped out to help her.

He didn’t bother to check out the property until the gate was shut and locked from the inside. The other cars had pulled up into a gravel parking area in front of a large house. There was a barn to the left, as well as a chicken coop, and a massive shed to the right. A huge truck with a massive propane tank had been backed into what looked like a man-made cave in the side of a steep hill.

In fact, the whole property was surrounded by mountains. There was farmland that could yield a lot of food in good weather. There was a creek of black water, frozen along the edges, running past the back of the property. Another wall was built over the creek, closing the place in between the two mountains the property was nestled between.

“They can’t climb,” he said.

“Who?”

“The rotters. They can’t climb. They get a few feet up the side of a mountain and tumble back. It’s safe here.”

They helped him inside the house, which had been made of stone, and Rick was disappointed that it was as cold inside as out.

“Turn on the heat. The thermostat is on the wall. It’s best to set it to 72 degrees. Anything higher it gets too hot and uses too much energy.”

Daryl saw it by the entrance to the living room. He set it to 72, as the man suggested, and immediately they heard the heating system kick in.

“Take me to the shed. Don’t want everybody breathing my air. It’ll be a good place to die.”

“We can treat you. You may live,” Rick said, and nodded to Daryl for help. They each put an arm over their shoulders and started out to the shed. Rick took in the back of the house. It had a play area for kids, complete with a swing set and a jungle gym. There was earth moving equipment in the back of the property, sitting cold and quiet like yellow sentries in the gathering darkness of early evening.

In the shed the man began a coughing fit that made Daryl and Rick both cover their faces with their shirts. He waved at them to back out and remain in the fresh air.

“How many lived here?” asked Daryl.

“Twenty of us at first. A few of us died on runs in the early days, when we were building the walls and tilling the land and gathering resources. This was my best friend Mike’s house. He was one of those doomsday preppers. Good thing, too. He’s got a 30,000 gallon underground propane tank. We topped it off not a week ago before…”

“What? If this place has a weakness I need to know,” Rick insisted.

“No weaknesses we found. All the people who knew about this place are dead now. It ain’t likely strangers will find you here if you keep the gate hidden. One of us took his own life. Poisoned himself, the damn fool, and didn’t even warn anybody he’d done nothin’. He came back and attacked the house. Killed a few of us in the night. They turned and killed a few more... My wife Katy, and her brother Donnie, we survived and we fought back but they were bitten. I went looking for my father who was on a run and found he’d been attacked, died, turned. I had to put him down…”

He began to weep and cough. He looked pathetic and Rick pitied him.

“What’s your name?” asked Daryl.

“Nick Turley. Listen, the compound is set up. We got lots of resources. Well water that’s good an pure and animals and…you’ll figure the place out. Don’t worry. You’ll be fine here for a long time to come if you want it. Just do me a favor? Don’t let me turn.”

Rick nodded, thinking Nick wanted him to put him down after he died. Instead, he handed Rick the pistol strapped to his boot.

“I ain’t got the courage to do it myself.”

“You got medicine? We can treat you,” Rick said. “We can--”

“Look in the library. We’ve got all kinds of meds to treat that little girl. Don’t waste them on me. You don’t get it…”

“Rick,” he said, when he realized the man was waiting for him to supply his name. “This is Daryl.”

“Rick. You don’t get it. I don’t want to be treated. I just want it over. Burn me after. I don't need no burial. Just give me that, will ya?”

There was once a time Rick wouldn’t have had it within him to grant such a request. He no longer had any qualms about it. He nodded and took the gun from Nick.

“You’re sure about this?”

Nick nodded. “Outside.”

He weakly pulled himself up and with Daryl’s help he gave one last look around the property. Daryl looked disturbed when Nick balanced himself on his good leg and nodded to Rick. He was ready.

Rick leveled the gun point blank at Nick’s forehead. “We’ll take good care of the place. We’ll respect it.”

Nick nodded again, appreciative. Rick pulled the trigger.

…

Rick helped Daryl wrap Nick’s body. Rick said he'd help burn him later. He just wanted to get inside and find the medicines Nick had spoken of.

“I’ll take of this. You go see about Asskicker.”

Rick nodded a thank you to Daryl and hurried inside. The house was wonderfully warm. He saw that everyone had congregated in the kitchen except Carl, Michonne, and Judith.

“Where are they?”

“Michonne found some meds in the library,” Rosita said. “She’s reading up on how to dose medicines.”

“Where?”

“Second door on the left after the living room.”

He hurried that way and found a cozy room with books lining three of the walls. Carl sat on a chair while Michonne mashed up a pill with the flat side of a butter knife. She had a cup of water handy and was reading from a book. She scooped the pill in and looked up at Rick.

“You found an antibiotic?”

She nodded. “I just hope she isn’t allergic. I’m sure I’ve got the dose right. One dropper full.”

Rick blanched at that. This was Judith’s first time being really sick. The idea that the antibiotic could be poison to her scared him. They had to try, though. If she didn’t get medicine soon she would die.

“We don’t have a choice. Let’s try.”

Michonne took the dropper to Judith and squirted it into the back of her throat, leaving her no choice but to swallow. Judith cried, not from the taste but from the choking sensation and from having Carl press his hand over her nose and mouth to stop her from vomiting it back up. When she settled she reached for Michonne, her nose running and her little face pinched up in misery.

“She’s still hot. Even with the Tylenol,” Carl said worriedly.

“We just gotta give it time,” Rick soothed. “She’ll be okay. We’re warm and dry and we have medicine. She’ll be okay.”

He sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince Carl. He hoped he was right. He hoped she’d be okay.

An hour passed with Rick and Michonne watching Judith for any signs of a reaction to the medicine. She was red in the face but that was due to the fever, no doubt. Her chest rattled. She coughed, but she wasn’t in distress from an allergic reaction. He began to relax and asked for Michonne to pass her over. Every time she tried, though, Judith would open her eyes and wail.

“Mama…” she said, and coughed, wrapping her arms around Michonne’s neck.

Michonne and Rick’s eyes met then. They didn’t speak. They didn’t know what to say at first. Then Rick rubbed a hand over his heavily bearded face.

“That bother you?”

Michonne shook her head. “No.”

Rick nodded, and noticed the smell of cooking food in the air.

“That smells like beef,” he said.

Michonne breathed deep and smiled. “God, I forgot what that smelled like. We’ve been living off rabbits and squirrels and deer for so long.”

Daryl and Carl came in an hour later with trays laden with food. There was also a bottle for Judith.

“Whoever lived here had a little boy about Judith’s age,” Carl said. “They had formula and jars of baby food, too. Not a lot. Maybe a month’s supply.”

Michonne eyed the pot roast on the plate Daryl passed her. She wasn’t going to be able to finish it. There was simply too much there. She wasn’t accustomed to large servings.

“My God, this is good,” Rick said, taking a bite of the roast.

“Abraham cooked,” said Carl. “He’s good in the kitchen.”

“Damn straight,” Abraham himself said, entering with another tray. This one had fat slices of chocolate cake with creamy vanilla icing.

“I’m tempted to skip to dessert,” Carl said, smiling, but he kept casting glances at his baby sister.

“You had a chance to look the place over?” Rick asked after dinner had been eaten and he was starting on his cake. Darkness had fallen and the rain had stopped.

Abe nodded. “Lots of room here. Lot’s of food and supplies, too. We have hot and cold running water. What looks like the master bedroom has a crib in it. Figured since you’re group leader and you have the little one here, you should take that one. Everybody has rooms claimed but Michonne will have to sleep down here on the first floor if she doesn’t mind.”

“Carl, Judy and I can--”

“I picked the downstairs room for myself,” Carl said.

“Where will Michonne sleep?” asked Rick.

“Can’t she bunk with you?”

“Carl!”

Carl rolled his eyes. “The master bedroom has a half bed in it. She can sleep in there and help care for Judy. Please, Dad, Michonne? I really want my own space. I’m too old to bunk with my dad.”

Rick shifted in his seat, eating cake, trying to ignore the smirks on Daryl and Abraham’s faces as they drank from the bottles of Coke they’d had with dinner.

“I’m okay with it,” Michonne said, cradling Judith. The poor girl had her fists in Michonne’s hair, as though afraid someone would take her away from the woman she’d clearly claimed as her mother. “Judy needs me close. At least until she’s well. Then I can find somewhere else to bunk.”

He couldn’t find a good reason to balk other than his own qualms about sharing a bedroom with a woman for the first time in a couple of years.

“Okay.”



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