The priest knelt in the corner, praying. I was deep in my book when loud, urgent footsteps shattered the silence.
"Max! Max! Glenn...he needs you!"
Maggie appeared in the doorway, chest heaving, one hand gripping the frame. Her eyes were red.
"What happened?"
"There's no time...please, just come."
She grabbed my arm before I could answer, her grip tight enough to almost bruise me. We ran.
Glenn was on the cot when we arrived, one hand twisted into the sheets, the other pressed hard against his thigh. The sounds coming out of him weren't words anymore.
"Fuuuck!!!" His back arched off the cot, teeth grinding. "Please...please make it stop!"
His leg had gone pale. Not just pale—wrong. The color of something already dying.
Maggie hovered at the edge of the cot, unable to look and unable to look away. Her hands trembled. She kept touching his arm, his shoulder, his face, small, desperate gestures, as if she could hold him together through touch alone.
"Glenn. Hey." Her voice cracked. "I'm here. I'm right here."
He couldn't answer.
I gently moved her aside and examined the leg. It was badly swollen, the skin stretched tight and discolored, circulation nearly gone. The diagnosis was clear.
I got to work. No one spoke. The only sounds were Glenn's ragged breathing and Maggie's quiet, controlled effort not to fall apart.
Several minutes passed. Gradually, the worst of it eased. His breathing steadied. His grip on the sheets loosened—slowly, as if he were afraid to trust it.
Maggie exhaled. "Is he going to be all right?"
Her eyes locked onto mine with the kind of focus people have when they fear the answer—but fear not knowing even more.
"I'll be straight with you." I kept my voice level, eyes on the medicine box. "Right now, no. He doesn't have what he needs. The swelling is severe...it's cutting off circulation to the leg. Loosening the bandages buys him time, but not much." I paused. "He needs a strong painkiller...morphine, ideally. More importantly, something to reduce inflammation. Ibuprofen would help with both. Without the right medication in the next three days, he's at serious risk of losing the leg." Another pause. "Or worse."
The silence that followed carried weight.
Maggie didn't crumble—she held herself together through sheer force, but something behind her eyes gave way. She looked at Glenn.
He stared at the ceiling, jaw tight, breathing in slow, deliberate pulls through his nose.
"Three days," she repeated quietly, as if testing how much weight the words could carry.
"Woodbury must have that kind of medicine." Hope and desperation warred across her face.
"There's no use. Even if they do, they won't give it to us," Glenn said from the cot.
"We can trade...weapons, food" Her eyes landed on the medicine box in my hands, and she snatched it away. "These medicines. This is exactly what we can offer them."
"Maggie." Glenn's voice was firm despite the pain. "We need all of that. If we trade it away, what happens to everyone else here? I'm not letting them die to save me. Put the box down."
She froze. Her knuckles whitened around the box. For a moment, it looked like she might argue—then, slowly, she set it down.
"I just need rest," Glenn added, his voice softening. "I'll be fine."
But she was already gone, leaving before the last word left his mouth.
"Maggie!" he called after her. She didn't stop.
A quiet beat passed. Glenn let out a long breath and looked at me.
"Thank you. I mean it." His voice was tired but steady. "I owe you my life."
"Don't thank me. I'm returning a favor."
His brows lifted slightly. "Max… I think you've got the wrong guy. I don't remember doing you any favors."
"You didn't do one for me." I held his gaze. "Do you remember a girl named Clementine?"
Recognition crossed his face. "Clementine… the girl from the pharmacy."
"She told me what you did for her back there. I'm just settling the debt."
Glenn studied me for a moment. "And who is she to you?"
"Someone I love very much."
He laughed, a real one, tired as he was. "So she's your girlfriend. Man, I'm jealous, kid. I always wanted a girlfriend when I was a teenager. Never really worked out for me."
"I wouldn't say girlfriend."
He tilted his head.
"More like my wife."
"What?" His face froze—then he burst out laughing, wincing through it. "Okay—okay. For a second, you actually had me."
He shook his head, still grinning. Then his expression softened. "So… how is she? And Lee… and the rest of the group?"
The question hit harder than I expected. Something must have shifted in my expression, because Glenn noticed immediately. He reached over and patted my shoulder.
"Hey. If you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to."
"It's okay." I exhaled slowly. "Clementine is fine. The others…" I paused. "They're gone. All of them." A beat. "And Kenny...I don't know. He's missing."
I had searched for his body after getting Clementine out, but found nothing. No sign of him anywhere. I still held onto the quiet, stubborn hope that he was alive somewhere.
Glenn's expression softened. "That's a heavy thing to carry, Max."
I nodded.
Lee's death still sat in me like something unhealed and Clementine she had tried to bury her grief for months, but I could still see it in her quiet lingering never fully gone.
For the next hour, I checked Glenn's leg frequently.
The swelling wasn't stopping. It was getting worse.
I'd given him what painkillers I could, but they weren't helping he needed something stronger, and we both knew it. On top of that, a fever had set in. His condition was deteriorating with every passing hour. All I could do was monitor him and hope.
Don't die on me, Glenn.
"Max, how is Glenn doing?" Daryl Dixon's voice came from behind me. Maggie and Carol stood with him, all of them anxiously watching Glenn as he slept.
We stepped outside the infirmary so as not to disturb him. They looked at me, hoping for good news.
"His condition is worsening. He has a fever now and he needs medicine quickly, not just for him, but for others too," I said, watching their faces fall.
Maggie collapsed to the ground, crying, while Carol tried to steady her.
"Is there any pharmacy, hospital...anywhere around here we can get medicine?" I asked, turning to Daryl.
"Almost every place has already been looted...from hospitals to nursing homes, even ambulances and fire stations. There's nowhere left to find medicine. We used to have plenty in the prison infirmary, but we traded it to Woodbury for other supplies."
Regret clouded his eyes.
"I told you and Rick not to trade those medicines for weapons and food. Look where we are now...so many people are getting sick," Carol said, frustration sharpening her voice as she held Maggie's shoulder.
"What choice did we have? If you just had listened to me this would never have happened," Daryl snapped, dropping into a chair and taking a deep breath.
"Is there anywhere you can think of that might still have medicine?" I asked, pulling them back on track.
Silence.
"I think I know where we might find some," Maggie said, wiping her tears.
"Where?" Carol asked, doubt creeping into her voice.
"At an emergency shelter. They must have aid stations...we could find medicine there."
The idea was risky. When the outbreak began, the government set up mass emergency shelters in schools, subways, and gyms. Hundreds of thousands gathered in one place, hoping the disaster would pass, but it never did.
"Are you crazy? Those places are packed with thousands of walkers. If we go near them, they'll tear us apart," Carol said, panic rising.
Daryl looked just as uneasy. "Maggie, I know you're worried about Glenn—we all are—but what you're suggesting isn't possible."
Ignoring him, Maggie grabbed her bag, pulled out a map, and spread it across the table.
"There are three designated shelters," she said, pointing. "A school, a supermarket, and a subway."
"We know that. What are you suggesting?" Carol asked.
"I'm suggesting we go to the subway."
Carol and Daryl's eyes widened.
"Are you serious? The tunnels are packed with walkers. We'd have better luck hitting the school or supermarket," Daryl argued. I nodded in agreement. Underground, in tight spaces, avoiding walkers would be nearly impossible.
"What if we isolate them?" Maggie said. "Blow part of the tunnel...trap most of the walkers so we only deal with a few."
It was a solid idea. If we could collapse part of the tunnel and separate the horde from the shelter, we might stand a chance.
"But we don't have explosives," Carol pointed out.
"When Glenn and I were at that abandoned coal mine, we found a storage building nearby. It was locked, so we left it. There could be dynamite inside."
Carol frowned. "That mine's been abandoned for years. Are you sure there's anything left?"
"No, but it's the only place I know that might have explosives."
Carol hesitated, but Daryl spoke up. "Even if we find dynamite, how do we know the tunnel layout?"
Maggie smiled, as if expecting the question, and pulled out another map.
"I found this while scavenging...a subway map."
She spread it across the table, revealing the maze of tunnels.
"So," she said, looking at us, determination clear in her eyes, "are you coming or not? I won't force anyone."
Carol and Daryl exchanged a glance, then nodded.
"All right. We're in," Carol said.
"Good. We leave in the morning for the dynamite," Maggie replied, a faint smile returning.
"Can I come too?" I asked.
All eyes turned to me.
"No. It's too dangerous. We need you here. You've already helped us more than enough," Daryl said. Maggie and Carol nodded in agreement.
Before I could argue, a loud scream echoed from Cell Block D—where the sick were being treated.