"Maggie is allowing Max to join us."
Carol paced back and forth inside the armory, her hands clenched into tight fists.
Daryl sat quietly in a chair, cleaning his crossbow as he listened.
"If we want that armored vehicle, we have to take him," Daryl replied without looking up.
Carol stopped pacing and turned toward him.
"He's the only other doctor we have left. If something happens to him, everybody in that cell block could die. And let's not forget his age."
Daryl paused his cleaning and finally looked at her.
"He's not a normal kid. I've seen what he can do with my own eyes. I think you should worry more about yourself than him."
Carol crossed her arms and let out an annoyed sigh.
"Don't tell me you believe that crap about him killing thousands of Walkers. Max is a normal boy."
"Carol." Daryl set the crossbow down. "A normal boy can't run twenty miles an hour. Can't jump six feet from a dead stop. Can't fight better than me and treat Glenn's broken leg in the same hour." He picked the crossbow back up. "Him killing thousands of Walkers is the least suspicious thing about him."
Carol didn't answer.
As much as she wanted to deny it, she didn't truly believe Max was a normal kid. From the moment she'd met him, she could tell there was something different about him. The boy carried himself like a natural survivor, and the way he handled pressure was unsettling cold, calm, and completely composed. It was the kind of calm that made people nervous, the kind that made you wonder what emotions were hidden beneath the surface.
Still, Carol chose to ignore those thoughts. She could see the pain buried deep inside him because she recognized it. It was the same pain she carried herself. In this world, sometimes the only way to survive was to lock those feelings away and keep moving forward.
"The boy has his whole life ahead of him. I don't want him dying for no reason."
Her voice softened slightly.
"If something happens to that boy, what am I supposed to tell his father?"
For a moment, the room fell silent.
Daryl stared at her before shaking his head.
"You're worrying too much."
"Am I?"
Carol looked away, questioning herself. She was the one who had been teaching the kids how to survive, how to be strong, and now she was the one hesitating.
"I've buried enough children already. I don't want to bury another one."
That single sentence was enough to make Daryl fall silent.
Neither of them spoke for several moments.
"Then let's do our best to keep him alive," Daryl finally said, breaking the silence with a faint smile as he resumed cleaning his crossbow.
Carol, on the other hand, remained quiet, lost in thought about Max. The boy was a mystery to her. He was nothing like his father had described, nor did he match what others said about him.
The military gear worn by the people around him, along with their vehicle, only deepened the mystery. What puzzled her most was the way they all referred to Max as "Lord." It wasn't just a title they casually used every one of them genuinely seemed to believe it.
What made the situation even stranger was Max himself. When the subject came up, he avoided discussing it altogether. The more Carol learned about him, the more questions she found herself asking.
As Carol stood lost in thought, a commotion outside snapped her back to reality.
She hurried into the hallway and stopped a woman who was running past.
"What happened? Why are you running?"
The woman turned to her, breathing heavily.
"We found three more people infected with the flu. Everyone's running away from them."
Behind her, a man in his thirties cried out desperately.
"Please don't run! I need help!"
As he stumbled toward them, the woman became even more frightened and backed away.
"Don't come any closer!"
Her panic only fueled the man's fear, causing the situation to spiral out of control.
"I don't want to die! I don't want to die! Please, help me!"
The man broke into a run toward them.
"You better stop right there, or you're gonna die right now."
Daryl stepped forward, raising his crossbow and aiming it directly at the man.
The man froze in fear.
"You need to go to the quarantine cell," Carol said, keeping her voice calm. "You'll be treated there."
She was trying to keep him from panicking and running through the prison, potentially spreading the infection even further.
The man glanced nervously at Daryl's crossbow before slowly nodding.
"Okay."
"Where are the others?" Carol asked.
The woman spoke up.
"I-I... they went that way."
She pointed down the corridor.
"Okay. We'll look for them. Tell everyone not to panic. The situation is under control."
Without waiting for a response, Carol took off in the direction the woman had indicated, leaving Daryl behind with the infected man.
Her heart pounded as she ran.
The infection was spreading far too quickly.
Three more people were sick now, and she didn't like where this was heading.
Something had to be done.
If this continued, they would run out of medicine. Worse, more people would die.
Hershel and Max believed they might have found a treatment, but Carol couldn't bring herself to feel hopeful. Not only were they running out of medicine, but they were also running out of time.
And from the look of things, even if they discovered a cure, they might not have enough supplies to treat everyone.
Now the infection was spreading faster than ever, making an already dangerous situation even more dire.
If it continued much longer, Carol could only think of one solution drastic measures to contain the outbreak before it consumed the entire prison.
Pushing those grim thoughts aside, she kept running.
---
Max examined the three newly infected patients and quickly confirmed what everyone feared they had the flu.
The situation was getting worse.
They desperately needed medicine. For a moment, Carol considered going out herself to search for supplies, but she quickly dismissed the idea. It would be dark soon, and venturing out at night was too dangerous.
Inside the meeting room, Maggie looked exhausted. Her shoulders were slumped, and dark circles hung beneath her eyes. She hadn't been sleeping, and the constant stress certainly wasn't helping.
Getting the TNT had already cost them enough. They had nearly died because of the dog that had chased them, and although they had all survived, they would have to do it again tomorrow. This time, the mission would be even more dangerous.
Carol walked over to Maggie.
"You should get some rest before tomorrow's mission."
Maggie looked too tired to argue. She simply nodded and quietly left the room.
Carol's gaze shifted to Max.
As usual, he stood silently, observing everything with a blank expression. The only time she had ever seen genuine emotion from him was in the quarantine room, when he had collapsed onto the floor and broken down. The memory still unsettled her.
It was hard to reconcile that vulnerable boy with the calm, controlled person standing before her now, as if nothing had happened.
"Daryl, can you explain the route we're taking again?" Carol asked, wanting to make sure she remembered it correctly.
Daryl nodded and pointed to the map.
He was about to begin when another commotion erupted.
This time, it came from beyond the prison walls.
Max was already moving toward the window.
Following his gaze, Carol spotted a vehicle approaching the prison.
"Is that Rick's group in the SUV?" she asked.
Daryl stepped closer to the window.
"No. It can't be Rick. They wouldn't be back until tomorrow, and they left with the truck."
He reached for his weapon. "Let's go down—"
He stopped.
Max had gone completely still.
Carol turned to look at him. His eyes were wide not the focused, calculating look she was used to, but something rawer than that. Disbelief. Confusion. And beneath both of those, burning through them: fury.
She'd never seen his face move like that. It was like watching a mask slip.
Carol and Daryl exchanged a glance.
"Clementine." His voice came out low and rough, more growl than word. "What? WHY—"
He grabbed the window frame with both hands.
And ripped it out of the wall.
The crack of concrete and metal rang through the room like a gunshot. Cold air blasted through the gap. Pieces of plaster skittered across the floor.
Neither Carol nor Daryl moved.
Then Max jumped.
"MAX!"
Carol lunged to the edge, grabbing the broken wall. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she looked down.
Nothing.
Then she found him. Already running, moving at a speed that made her stomach drop. Already at the gate.
She stumbled back.
Daryl stood beside her, staring at the ruined window frame, jaw tight.
"What the hell," he said quietly, "was that?"
Neither of them had an answer.