"GO! Cass, you have to go!" Sophie urges me desperately, but I shake my head, tears streaming down my face. Tears stream down my face as screams and gunshots reverberate through the hospital corridors, each horrific sound deepening the pit of dread in my stomach.

My heart sinks as I look down at my best friend, her hand clutched on her stomach just under her ribs, where she was just bit a minute ago. The monster that doomed her fate lies dead after I stabbed it between the eyes.

It used to be a person. A real person, that I just killed.

Oh god.

Panic begins surging through my body realizing what I've done. Sophia glances weakly up at me, slumped against the wall, blood oozing down her blue-grey scrubs. The sight of my best friend, bleeding out right in front of me, breaks my heart. I glance over at the exit, where doctors and nurses are barreling through, sunlight streaming around them as they escape. A hand grasps my forearm, and I jump, looking back down at Sophie.

"You. Need. To. Go." Sophie chokes out, a mix of pain and determination in her dark brown eyes. I sob uncontrollably, shaking my head in frantic refusal.

"I can't leave you Soph, I can't let you become one of them!" I cry, my lip trembling, the weight of realization slamming into me. She's going to die.

The dreaded sounds of shuffling feet and groaning start to fill the hall, my head whipping over to see a large group of the undead shuffling towards us from the opposite side of the hallway, drawn to the smell of Sophie's blood.

My eyes widen in panic. "Please, Cass. Go!" Sophie implores, tears staining her cheeks. I bite my lip, glancing at the swarm of undead patients and then back at Sophie.

I can't let them get her.

But there's no way I can get her out with me.

Dread washes over my body as I realize what I have to do.

I drop to my knees in front of Sophie. "Okay, I'll go. I'll get help. Everything will be just fine okay? We're going to be just fine," I reassure her softly but I can tell that the fever is already starting to take over her body. She just nods groggily to my words, barely able to open her eyes, visibly relaxing as she realizes I'm going to get to safety.

Leaning in, I embrace her tightly for the last time. "Goodbye Sophie," I whisper, swiftly driving my concealed scalpel into the back of her neck with precision, sparing her from further suffering. I let her go gently, a sob racking my body as her lifeless figure slumps to the ground, her curly black hair concealing her eyes. My closest friend. Gone.

My heart pounding against my ribcage, I turn and before I can convince myself otherwise, take off down the hall away from the wave of the dead. Shoving open the exit door, the brilliant daylight blinds me for a moment. I glance back over my shoulder only to witness the undead surrounding Sophie, devouring her flesh.

I choke on a heart-broken sob, knowing that Sophie would be glad to have kept them off me. To have given me that moment to get away.

Turning around, I sprint into the parking lot, my grief and anguish merging into a gut-wrenching sob. I make it about ten feet before my body gives way to a mix of despair and repulsion, and I vomit on the unforgiving asphalt, tears steadily streaming down my face.

___

Slowly and carefully, I release the pressure on the BP cuff, watching the needle fall down the dial, waiting to hear that first heartbeat. I finally hear it faintly at 83 and Carl's diastole heartbeat follows at 58. My heart sinks. He's getting worse.

I release the pump fully, unwrapping the cuff from his small arm. Lori, Rick, and Herschel observe me with tense anticipation as I lift my eyes to meet theirs.

"He's only getting worse. His blood pressure is dropping too quickly. We need to do this surgery. Now. Or we might lose him," I explain gingerly, disappointment eating at my heart. We were so close.

Rick hangs his head with defeat, bringing his hand up to his forehead, his silver watch glinting in the low light. Lori covers her mouth, trembling. This was always the worst part of the job. The hopelessness and despair when someone's child was hurt, or worse- dead.

I exchange a meaningful look with Herschel, and he nods in somber agreement. "Okay, we're going to need-" I start to give out orders, only to be interrupted by the blaring honk of a truck and the screeching of tires rapidly approaching the farmhouse.

Rick and Lori rush to the window and then start for the front porch. I follow, my heart pounding with relief. Thank God.

We all burst through the front door and into the night as the yellow headlights approach us quickly and the old teal truck skids to a halt before us. The others rush out, coming to greet the men.

But it's only one man covered in blood that practically falls out of the truck, alone, with two large duffle bags and a rifle strapped on his back. Herschel and I rush down the steps toward him.

I'm not sure if this is Otis or Shane as he hands over the duffel bags, panting heavily.

"Where's Otis?" Patricia asks from behind us, her voice wavering.

Shane's gaze shifts towards her, his breaths ragged and eyes wide. "He-he sacrificed himself. That school was overrun. We tried to get out together, but there were too many. He handed his bag over and said to save the boy. That he was sorry and before I knew it, the walkers had got him. I'm sorry," Shane explains gruffly as Patricia lets out a sob, holding onto a young blonde girl, Beth, as she cries too.

Turning to head inside with the medical supplies, I look at Herschel, pleading silently that he comes too, despite his loss. I can't do this alone.

Clambering into Carl's room, I begin unloading the supplies in a hurry, my heartbeat already increasing with anxiety. Herschel does the same, taking out sheets and setting up the respirator. I quickly tie my hair up and away from my face as Rick and Lori rush in, Shane following in tow.

"Get out of here, now," I order sternly, not looking up, too busy unloading supplies.

"What?" Rick snaps roughly, his voice heavy with resistance, staring at me incredulously with those fiery blue eyes. I look up at him, harsh frustration roaring up in me.

"It's the number one rule when performing surgery. Loved ones stay outside. All you guys would do is distract me. Do you want me to save Carl, or not?" My question is sharp and quick as I raise an expectant eyebrow.

"She's right Rick," Herschel adds softly, glancing between Rick and me, both of us glaring each other down.

"Well?" I snap at Rick expectantly, flames of anger lapping at me, along with the adrenaline already pumping through my veins.

Rick's nostrils flare and he presses his mouth into a fine line. "Fine," He snarls back, turning on his heel, Lori following after him, sending me an apologetic look.

Shane gives me a once-over, raising an eyebrow. "Who are you?" He drawls, only fueling my anger and frustration.

"The doctor. Now, get out." I retort sharply, my patience worn thin as I busy myself with the incredibly important supplies.

Shane backs up with a smirk, raising his hands in mock surrender, then shutting the door behind him. I shake my head to myself.

I rip open a pack of gloves as Hershel continues setting up the surgical tools. With some leftover sheets, I tie a makeshift surgery garb around my clothes and pull the pair of gloves. Pausing for a second, I silently collect myself, trying to calm my hammering heart.

Just pretend you're in an OR. Do exactly what you would do in there.

You got this. You will save him.

Opening my eyes, I look over at Herschel, who is watching me give myself the silent pep talk.

"Ready?" I ask, my voice steady, no longer laced with the former anger and frustration. Herschel seems satisfied and nods once, and we get to work.

After a couple of grueling, sweaty hours, I carefully secure the last suture in place, marking the completion of Carl's surgery. I stop for a moment, watching his breathing, a surreal sense of accomplishment washing over me.

"You did it," Herschel's voice breaks through the moment, his small smile reflecting the shared relief.

I glance up at him, my eyes wide, still feeling the echo of my racing heart. "His stats are good?" I check, and Hershel nods. "And the respirator, everything still stable?" I press further, and once again, Herschel affirms with a nod. I'm about to ask something else when Hershel stops me.

"Dr. Adams, you did an amazing job. Carl is okay." He explains slowly, his voice holding sincerity and appreciation. It sinks in slowly; we've saved him. "Let's tell his parents the good news, huh?" Hershel suggests with a faint smile, offering a comforting pat on my shoulder.

I sag slightly with relief, pulling off my bloody gloves and tossing them in the trash bin with a sigh. I really did it. My first surgery of the apocalypse.

I wasn't sure I would ever do this again.

Relief continues to spread throughout my body as I walk towards the door to meet up with everyone beyond it. The door closes behind me as I glance up to see Rick and Lori already standing, their faces contorted with worry and anticipation as they attempt to read my face.

"The surgery went well. Carl's doing great," I breathe with a hesitant smile. The weight of their concern seems to lift off them, their shoulders sagging with relief.

"Thank you. Oh god- thank you," Rick says, his voice tinged with overwhelming gratitude. I don't have a moment to respond before he abruptly pulls me into a tight hug. I'm taken aback by the unexpected embrace, a surprised sound escaping my lips. I pat his back gingerly, trying to ignore the fluttering sensation in my stomach at the touch. His hug brings an odd sense of comfort, the feeling of his touch soothing any lingering anxiety, despite barely knowing the man.

Behind us, the tension in the room dissipates. I hear a relieved laugh or two. Patricia and Hershel start to clean up Carl's room, removing the bloody towels, gauze, and tools.

The hug between me and the concerningly attractive father of my patient ends, filling me with a strange sense of relief that it's over. He and Lori then embrace each other, both of them crying with relief.

I smile warmly, feeling proud of Carl. He survived, against all odds.

Lori turns to me, her eyes full of anticipation. "When will he wake up?" She asks, her voice laced with hope, clearly eager to see her boy. I glance at my watch, calculating his dose and response time.

"In around 20 minutes or so, the drugs should start to wear off. But he may stay asleep. His body has been under severe stress and needs rest." I explain, making the couple nod as they take in the information. Rick wipes the tears from his cheeks, his regretful eyes meeting mine.

"I'm sorry- about earlier-" Rick begins, a note of remorse in his voice, but I shake my head with a reassuring smile, dismissing his apology with a wave of my hand.

"Don't worry about it. You aren't the first parent to try to get in while I was operating. I was a bit too harsh anyway- we were all under a lot of stress." I admit with a slight smile. "Just go to his bedside, so the first thing he sees when he wakes up is you two."

Rick nods gratefully, his eyes brimming with emotion as they lock onto mine. Then he and Lori walk into Carl's room, his arm settling around her waist.

I watch them walk in, a strange feeling settling in my stomach.

Heading towards the kitchen, I take off the makeshift surgery garb, rolling it up and tossing it in the kitchen trash.

"Good job saving the kid," A voice says from behind me. I turn to see Shane leaning against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed.

"Thanks. Good job getting the supplies," I reply and he smiles- a smile that doesn't seem to make it to his eyes, an unsettling edge lingering in his demeanor.

An uncomfortable feeling stirs in me as I asses the man in front of me, something familiar about him. And not in a good way.

There's something off about him.

"You shaved your head," I comment, nodding to his freshly buzzed hair.

Shane just tilts his head to the side, those dark eyes evaluating me. "I did." He replies coldly.

I narrow my eyes at him, the pit in my gut urging me to not trust him. "Do you have a problem with me, Shane?" I question, crossing my arms.

His eyes flash up and down my body again, causing a wave of disgust to wash over me. "Not at all doc, just wondering how you wriggled your way into our group," Shane shrugs, anger laced in his words. I scoff, genuinely taken aback by his audacity.

"'Wriggled my way in'? found Sophia, helped reunite her with her mother, and then saved Carl. If you guys would have me, that would be great. If I'm being honest, having a surgeon in your group isn't exactly the worst thing for you right now if you ask me," I retort firmly, causing Shane's eyes to flash with amusement at my angry response.

Shane takes a step closer to me, his predatory gaze locked on mine. I stand my ground, unflinching, even as my heart quickens its pace. He leans in, his eyes squinting with distaste. "We'll see," He murmurs in my ear, making bile rise in my throat before he stalks off.

I release an irritated growl, turning to wash my hands at the sink. Prick.

Scrubbing my hands thoroughly, I mutter under my breath in irritation at his rude comments. Hopefully, he's the only one who sees me being a part of the group as a bad thing.

"Hey, I wanted to let you know you can crash on our couch tonight. I figure you don't have a tent since you're new," A female voice says behind me as I dry my hands. I turn to Maggie with a grateful smile.

"Thank you, I really appreciate that," I reply sincerely, making her smile kindly.

Maggie lingers for a moment, a mischievous grin forming. "So I heard you held a knife to Glenn's throat?" She questions with amusement, raising an amused eyebrow. I snort, my embarrassment and regret still fresh.

"Yeah - I feel pretty bad about it now, but at the moment it seemed like the right thing to do," I confess through my grin and she chuckles, her eyes crinkling at the edges.

Maggie and I talk in the living room for a while, sharing stories of our experiences in this new world. She expresses her sadness over the Newmans' deaths, recounting her memories of them and reassuring me that the kindness they showed me was characteristic of them.

As the night wears on, Maggie heads off to bed. Changing into an oversized shirt and shorts, I settle onto the couch, tugging a stray blanket over me for comfort.

I stare at the ceiling for a while, a warm feeling starting to settle in my chest.

I found people.

I'm no longer alone.

The feeling of being surrounded by others is a stark contrast to the loneliness I've endured for weeks, bringing me extensive relief.

I adjust the blanket over me, close my eyes, and allow a smile to grace my lips as I drift off to sleep, feeling a sense of safety and belonging that I haven't experienced in far too long.

___

The next morning, after I get pull on a fitted green tank top and tug on some worn jeans, Lori encourages me to come with her to have breakfast with the group by the RV. Rick is apparently still asleep, right beside Carl. Probably still recovering from giving all that blood yesterday.

Walking alongside Lori, we arrive at the camp, where Dale is skillfully cooking scrambled eggs and spam over a campfire. The group gathered around, chatting as they wait patiently for their breakfast. As we approach, I spot Sophia, cuddled up to her mother. I grin as she notices me, her eyes lighting up.

"Cassie!" She exclaims, and Carol turns her head around to look at me. Sophia scrambles off her mother to come to hug me, laughter escaping both of us as she slams into me. Carol follows quickly.

I release Sophia from my hug as Carol reaches me. "I never got the chance to thank you, Cassandra," Carol says, looking at me with emotion-filled eyes.

"What you did for my girl- I can never put into words how much that means to me," Carol emplores, her hand to her chest, my heart filling with pride at her kind words.

"Of course. She's an amazing kid, and to be honest, she saved me too," I I confess, my voice catching slightly as I smile down at Sophia.

The rest of the group glances over. I clear my throat. "It's just- I was alone," I admit, addressing no one in particular, my cheeks flushing with the attention. "I didn't know if there were any survivors left... finding Sophia and her refusing to come back without me," I chuckle softly, "it saved my life," I finish simply, smiling through the tears.

Carol's smile is warm as she wraps me in a grateful hug. I return it, feeling a sense of connection and belonging that I hadn't expected.

"Well, I can't think of anyone better to have in our group. A surgeon!" Dale enthuses, his words eliciting a broad grin from me, a surge of happiness warming my heart

"Thanks, Dale," I express gratefully as he hands me a plate.

"Hope you like spam," Dale adds with a wink, and I nod, eagerly digging into my plate, hunger twisting in my stomach.

Lori's sudden departure catches my attention. She walks away with a hand over her mouth, and I furrow my brows in confusion.

Turning my gaze back to the group, I catch Glenn exchanging a knowing look with Dale.

Huh.

Pushing past the strangeness of that interaction, I have an enjoyable breakfast chatting with the members of the group as I get to know them better. I exchange banter with Glenn, teasing him about his past as a pizza delivery guy. He playfully retorts, mumbling under his breath that surgeons are glorified psychopaths, nearly making me spit out my instant coffee with laughter.

Excusing myself after the social breakfast, I thank Dale for the meal and make my way back to the farmhouse to check on Carl.

Opening the door to Carl's room reveals Rick, passed out, draped over the bed, Carl similarly deep asleep. A small smile tugs at my lips when I notice the oversized sheriff hat perched atop Carl's head. Adorable.

Approaching them as quietly as I can, I take Carl's blood pressure, pulse, and respirations as gently as I can, trying not to disturb either from their well-deserved rest.

Carl's readings are returning to near-normal levels, and his fever has subsided. A sense of relief washes over me, making me smile to myself.He's a strong kid. My smile falls slightly. He's gonna need to be in this new world.

Turning my attention to Rick, I notice that some color has returned to his complexion, seemingly not enough. He gave a lot of blood yesterday, his body is clearly still recovering.

As my heart rate quickens, I focus on monitoring him closely. He looks very still. Almost too still.

I chew anxiously on my bottom lip. Before I can think twice, I reach over and gently take his wrist, angling it to access his pulse.

Placing my pointer and middle fingers right underneath his palm, I apply a small amount of pressure to the warm skin of his wrist and wait to feel his pulse.

His pulse gently throbs under my fingertips, strong and steady.

Closing my eyes with relief, I let out a small exhale, about to put his wrist gently back down when his arm suddenly tenses underneath my touch.

My eyes dart up to meet his, staring right back at me, caught in the act. Shit.

I quickly release his wrist, mustering a sheepish smile, hoping my cheeks aren't as red-hot as they feel.

"Sorry about that, I was just checking your pulse," I mutter lamely, my embarrassment palpable. Rick nods with a soft chuckle, his small grin not helping my rattled nerves.

"You- uh, you thought I was dead?" Rick asks with a slight chuckle, amusement flashing over his features as his intimidating blue eyes fixate on me.

I internally groan at my stupid decision-making and try to ignore how his grin is making me feel dizzy. I try to laugh the embarrassment away, sounding more like a strangled goose, only making my embarrassment worse.

"Ahem- No, I uh, just thought you looked a little pale and wanted to make sure you were okay after donating so much blood yesterday," I explain quickly, trying to justify my stupid actions.

Rick just smiles easily. "It's alright, Lori has told me for years that I sleep like a corpse," he says with a chuckle, easing the tension in my chest. I smile, feeling the heat of embarrassment gradually ebbing away.

I was right. He does have a nice laugh.

"Right, good. Glad I'm not alone on that," I chuckle breezily, busying myself with putting away some of the medical tools. "I was just coming in here to check on Carl's vitals. Sorry to disturb you," I apologize quickly, turning back to Rick as he brushes it off.

"No need to apologize, I should've been up by now anyway," Rick dismisses with a yawn, checking his watch.

"Is he doing alright?" Rick inquires, his gaze shifting to the sleeping boy between us.

"Yep, he's doing great! His vitals are steadily climbing back to normal and his fever is gone. He's a fighter," I assure Rick, my proud smile returning as I look down at Carl.

Rick lets out a sigh of relief, gripping Carl's hand gently.

"The moment he was shot- it... it felt like I was the one dying," Rick confides, looking down, vulnerability laced in his slightly choked voice. My heart aches for him. I can't imagine the pain he must have gone through.

Before I can respond, Rick continues, looking back at me.

"Thank you. Really. You saved his life. And Sophia's too." His words resonate deeply, his piercing blue eyes locking onto mine. My heartbeat quickens, a mixture of anticipation and nervousness stirring within me.

His next words catch me off guard, his sincerity evident in his tone. "If you want to stay- be a part of this group- you are more than welcome. We could use a person like you," Rick's offer is genuine, his eyes searching mine for an answer.

The hope I had quietly nurtured within me now blossoms into a full-blown realization, and I can't contain the hopeful smile that spreads across my face.

"Nothing would make me happier," I reply with genuine enthusiasm, my heart swelling with a sense of belonging and purpose.