A/N: This chapter's quite short, as things have been hectic with holiday preparations. The next couple chapters should be a little longer.

Many thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read, review, and follow.

A happiest of Thanksgivings to you all!

Chapter Twenty-One: Sick

Carol held the knife over the dead girl's stomach, the reality of just what she was about to do finally sinking in.

This woman had meant something to someone once, and now she was nothing more than Carol's guinea pig.

Best not to think along those lines.

She gripped the knife a little harder and lowered it to the sickly, mottled flesh Carol had exposed when she'd lifted the girl's dress.

Now wasn't the time for sentimentality.

. . .

Sophia had been born by C-section. It had been in the days before fancy new procedures, so Carol still bore quite the scar across her abdomen.

That mark was a testament; she loved it, even now.

Lori had said Carl had been born the same way, and Carol hadn't been able to get the thought out of her mind since Hershel had been down for the count.

Both women had birthed their children when the world was still whole. They'd had dedicated doctors, all the right tools, and a sterile, safe environment.

Now, the prison had an infirmary, but they were kidding themselves if they thought for one second that cutting Lori open was remotely safe. Any number of things could go wrong.

Carol wasn't about to make things worse by having clumsy hands.

The knife slid into the dead girl's flesh and Carol let the rest of the world fall away.