Bloodletting
Rick’s breath came in ragged gasps as he raced across the open field, Carl limp body in his arms, blood soaking through his shirt. Shane ran alongside him. “Hey, you move, shithead! Come on, get us there!” Shane barked at the man guiding them.
Rick’s eyes darted frantically ahead. “How far? How far?” he demanded.
“Another half mile, that way!” the man responded, pointing toward the farmhouse. “Hershel—talk to Hershel. He’ll help your boy. I’m sorry.”
Rick barely processed the apology, his focus locked on Carl. Shane grabbed the man’s arm. “Let’s go—come on!” he urged.
As they approached the farmhouse, a young woman spotted them. “Dad!” she shouted, running toward the porch.
An older man—Hershel—stepped forward, assessing the situation with a sharp gaze. “Was he bit?” Hershel asked.
“No,” Rick panted. “Shot, by your man.”
Nearby, an older woman gasped. “Otis?”
Rick barely spared her a glance. “He said find Hershel. Is that you? Help me—help my boy,” he pleaded.
Hershel didn’t hesitate. “Get him inside—inside!” he commanded. “Patricia, I need my full kit. Maggie—”
Maggie was already stepping forward. “Yeah?”
“Painkillers, coagulates—grab everything. Clean towels, sheets, alcohol. In here. Pillowcase,” Hershel directed.
Rick hovered anxiously. “Is—Is he alive?” he asked, his voice breaking.
“Pillowcase, quick,” Hershel snapped.
Rick repeated, his desperation growing. “Is—Is he alive?”
Hershel pressed his fingers against Carl’s neck, feeling for a pulse. “Fold it—make a pad. Put pressure on the wound,” he instructed. His face was tense but focused. “I’ve got a heartbeat—it’s faint.”
Patricia rushed in with supplies. “I got it—step back.”
Hershel nodded. “Maggie, IV.”
Maggie grabbed the necessary materials. “We need some space,” she said firmly.
Hershel turned his attention back to Rick. “Your name?”
Rick swallowed hard. “R-Rick.”
Hershel nodded. “Rick?”
“I’m—I’m—I’m Rick,” he stammered.
Hershel placed a reassuring hand on Rick’s shoulder. “Rick, we’re gonna do everything we can, okay? You need to give us some room. Now.”
Shane stepped in, guiding Rick away. “Move!” he ordered.
Otis appeared at the doorway, his face lined with guilt. “He’s alive—he’s still alive?” he asked shakily.
Shane eyed him. “Okay. It’s okay. You got blood, man. Okay. I’ll take it from you. Where is he—Is he okay?” he asked.
Hershel didn’t take his eyes off Carl. “You know his blood type?” he asked Rick.
“A-positive—s-same as mine,” Rick answered quickly.
Hershel nodded, his focus unwavering. “That’s fortunate. Don’t wander far—I’m gonna need you.”
Rick barely nodded, unable to take his eyes off his son.
Hershel finally looked up at Otis. “What happened?” he asked.
Otis exhaled, his voice hollow. “I was tracking a buck. Bullet went through it. Went clean through.”
Hershel leaned over Carl, his hands steady as he worked. “The deer slowed the bullet down, which certainly saved his life,” he explained, his voice calm but focused. “But it did not go through clean. It broke up into pieces. If I can get the bullet fragments out... And I’m countin’ six.”
Otis stood nearby, his face pale with guilt. “I never saw him,” he said quietly. “Not until he was on the ground.”
Rick’s voice trembled as he spoke, his mind racing. “Lori and Harry don’t know?” he asked, his eyes darting toward Shane.
Shane hesitated. “No, they—”
Rick cut him off, his voice rising. “My wife doesn’t know—my wife doesn’t know,” he repeated, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.
In the woods, the group moved cautiously. Andrea glanced at Lori, her expression concerned. “You still worrying about it?” she asked.
Lori’s face was tight with worry. “It was a gunshot,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.
Daryl, walking ahead, nodded. “We all heard it,” he said matter-of-factly.
Lori frowned, her tone sharp. “Why one—why just one gunshot?”
Daryl shrugged. “Maybe they took down a walker,” he suggested.
Lori stopped, her frustration bubbling over. “Please don’t patronize me,” she snapped. “You know Rick wouldn’t risk a gunshot to put down one walker, or Shane. They’d do it quietly.”
Carol’s voice broke through the tension, her worry evident. “Shouldn’t they have caught up with us by now?” she asked.
Daryl sighed, his tone resigned. “There’s nothing we can do about it, anyway. Can’t run around these woods chasing echoes.”
Lori’s voice softened slightly, though her concern remained. “So, what do we do?” she asked.
“Same as we’ve been,” Daryl replied. “Beat the bush for Travis, work our way back to the highway.”
Andrea tried to offer some reassurance. “I’m sure they’ll hook up with us back at the RV,” she said.
Daryl snorted, his tone blunt. “I’ll tell ya what it’s worth—not a damn thing. It’s a waste of time, all this hopin’ and prayin’,” he said. “We’re gonna locate that kid. He’s gonna be just fine. Am I the only sane one around here? Good lord.”
Back at the highway, Dale, Katjaa, Allan, were rummaging through a pile of spare parts near the RV. “We are gonna have quite a collection of spare parts, I tell ya,” Dale said with a faint smile.
T-Dog leaned against the RV, his face pale and drawn. “Shouldn’t they be back by now?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry.
Dale glanced at the horizon. “It’s still light. Let’s not worry, just yet,” he said. He turned to T-Dog, his expression serious. “How are you feelin’? T-Dog? I asked you how you were feeling just now. Please don’t blow that question off.”
T-Dog sighed, his voice strained. “It really, really hurts. It’s throbbing something awful,” he admitted.
Dale stepped closer, his concern evident. “Oh, let me see,” he said.
T-Dog flinched, pulling away. “Ah, don’t—don’t touch it!” he exclaimed.
Dale raised his hands in apology. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry,” he said quickly. He studied T-Dog’s arm, his expression growing more serious. “Listen, your veins are very discolored. You got a hell of an infection there. You could die from blood poisoning.”
T-Dog let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, man. Wouldn’t that be the way?” he said. “World gone to hell... The dead risen up to eat the living... And Theodore Douglas gets done in by a cut on his arm.”
Dale wiped his forehead, glancing around at the scattered cars lining the highway. His frustration was evident as he shook his head. "Yeah, that would be—that would be stupid," he muttered, rifling through another glove compartment. "I’ve been saying since yesterday, we gotta get you some antibiotics. We’ve been ransacking these cars the whole time, and I still can’t believe we haven’t found some ampicillin or something. Can you?"
T-Dog leaned against the RV, his arm cradled close to his body, sweat beading on his forehead. "Seems like there would be," he admitted, his voice thick with pain.
Dale exhaled deeply, glancing at him. "Well, that’s what I think too. We—we haven’t been thorough enough," he said, determination flashing in his eyes. "So, let’s look some more."
Rick paced anxiously outside the farmhouse, his hands running through his hair as he struggled to steady himself. His voice was tight, heavy with guilt. “Why’d I let him come with us?” he muttered. “I should’ve sent him with Lori.”
Shane stood nearby, watching him carefully. “You know,” he said, “you start that, you never get that monkey off your back.”
Rick let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Teenager goes missing, you look for him. Simple,” he said, his voice edged with frustration. “You said, ‘Call it—head back.’”
Shane crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “Doesn’t matter what I said.”
Rick turned toward him, his eyes clouded with regret. “Carl got shot because I wouldn’t cut bait,” he said. “It should be me in there.”
Shane stepped closer, his voice firm. “You’ve been there, partner, right? And you pulled through—so will he.”
Rick sat outside the farmhouse, his hands gripping the sides of his head, frustration and anguish rolling through him. “Is that why I got outta that hospital?” His voice was raw, strained. “Found my family just for it to end here like this? Some kind of sick joke?”
Shane stood beside him, arms crossed, brows furrowed. “You stop it. Just stop.” His tone was firm, demanding that Rick not spiral.
Rick shook his head. “A teenager goes missing, you look for him. It’s plain and simple.”
Before Shane could respond, Maggie rushed through the doorway, urgency etched into her face. “Rick… he needs blood,” she said quickly.
Inside, Hershel moved fast, gathering supplies. “You, hold him down,” he ordered.
Carl weakly called out. “Dad!”
Shane stepped forward, gripping Carl’s arms as gently as he could while holding him still. “I got him.”
Hershel worked fast, sweat beading on his brow. “Almost there,” he muttered under his breath.
Rick’s breath came sharp and frantic as he watched Carl struggle. “Stop—you’re killing him!” he shouted, his voice cracking.
Hershel didn’t look up. His voice was calm, but unwavering. “Rick, do you want him to live?”
Patricia, hands slick with Carl’s blood, added, “He needs more.”
Shane snapped, “Do it now! Wait—hey—” but before he could finish, Carl went still.
Hershel checked his pulse. “He just passed out. One down… five to go. Pressure’s stable.”
Rick stared at his son’s limp body, his voice barely above a whisper. “Lori needs to be here. She doesn’t even know what’s going on. I gotta go find her, bring her back.”
Hershel shook his head, standing straight. “You can’t do that.”
Rick’s gaze hardened. “She’s his mother. She needs to know. Her son’s lying here, shot.”
Hershel met Rick’s intensity with his own. “And he’s going to need more blood. He can’t go more than fifty feet from this bed.”
Shane stepped in, voice gentle but firm. “Hey, hey. Come on.”
Rick exhaled deeply, nodding as he steadied himself. “I’m all right. I’m all right—I got him.”
Shane released a slow breath. “He’s stable, for now.”
Rick clenched his jaw. “Lori and Harry have to be here, Shane. They have to know.”
Shane nodded. “Okay, I get that. I’m gonna handle it. But you’ve gotta handle your end.”
Rick looked up, his expression clouded. “My end?”
Shane held his gaze. “Your end is being here. Even if Carl didn’t need your blood to survive, there is no way I’d ever let you walk out that door. Man, I’d break your legs if you tried. I mean, you know that, right? If something happened to him and you weren’t here… If he slipped away while you were gone, you would never forgive yourself. And neither would Lori.”
Rick swallowed hard. “You’re right.”
Shane let out a short, dry chuckle. “When was I ever wrong?” His expression softened slightly. “You know, when you were in that hospital—the one you were never supposed to leave—you should’ve seen Lori. The strength of that woman… you can’t imagine it. That’s what you gotta have now. Carl needs that from you. So, you wire yourself tight, my friend. You hear? You’ve got the hard part. You just leave the rest to me, okay?”
Rick nodded, his grip tightening around Carl’s hand. “All right.”
Rick took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “All right,” he said, nodding.
Shane echoed him. “All right.”
Hershel wiped his hands on a towel, his expression serious as he stepped out of the house. “He’s out of danger for the moment, but I need to remove the remaining fragments.”
Rick looked up sharply. “How? You saw how he was,” he said, anxiety creeping into his voice.
Hershel sighed. “I know. And that was the shallowest one. I need to go deeper to get the others.”
Rick stiffened. “Tell me,” he demanded.
Hershel met his gaze. “His belly’s distended, his pressure’s dropping—which means there’s internal bleeding. A fragment must have nicked one of the blood vessels. I have to open him up, find the bleeder, and stitch it.” His voice grew graver as he explained, “And he can’t move while I’m in there. I mean, at all. If he reacts the same as before, I’ll sever an artery and he’ll be dead in minutes. To even try this, I have to put him under. But if I do, he won’t be able to breathe on his own. Same bad results.”
Rick swallowed hard. “What’ll it take?” he asked.
Otis stepped forward. “You need a respirator,” he answered. “What else?”
Hershel thought for a moment. “The tube that goes with it, extra surgical supplies, drapes, sutures.”
Rick’s eyes searched Hershel’s face. “If you had all that, you could save him?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Hershel hesitated before giving a careful answer. “If I had all that, I could try.”
Otis shook his head. “Nearest hospital went up in flames a month ago,” he said before pausing “The high school.”
Hershel nodded slowly. “That’s what I was thinking. They set up a FEMA shelter there. They would have everything we need.”
Otis adjusted the strap on his rifle. “Place was overrun last time I saw it,” he said, shaking his head. “You couldn’t get near it—maybe it’s better now.”
Shane exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on his shotgun. “I said, leave the rest to me,” he muttered. “Is it too late to take that back?”
Rick wasn’t having it. “I hate you goin’ alone,” he said firmly. “Come on. Doc, why don’t you do me a list, draw me a map?”
Otis waved a hand dismissively. “You won’t need a map—I’ll take you there. Ain’t but five miles.”
Patricia stepped forward, worry etched across her face. “Otis, no.”
Otis turned to her, his voice gentle but determined. “Honey, we don’t have time for guesswork, and I’m responsible,” he said. “I ain’t gonna sit here while this fella takes this on alone. I’ll be all right.”
Shane eyed him cautiously. “Are you sure about this?”
Otis sighed, shaking his head slightly. “Do you even know what any of the stuff he’s talking about looks like?” he asked.
Shane paused, then let out a short chuckle. “Come to think, no.”
Otis gave him a knowing nod. “I’ve been a volunteer EMT. I do. Now, we can talk about this till next Sunday, or we could just go do it real quick.”
Shane smirked, giving Otis an approving nod. “I’ll take right quick.”
Rick ran a hand through his hair, glancing between them. “I should thank you,” he said.
Otis shook his head. “Wait till that boy of yours is up and around, then we’ll talk,” he replied before heading off to gather supplies.
Maggie, standing nearby, crossed her arms. “Where are they? Your oldest son and wife?” she asked.
Meanwhile, deep in the woods, Daryl scanned the treeline, noting how the sun was beginning to slip lower. “We’ll lose the light before too long,” he said. “I think we should call it.”
Lori sighed, her voice weary. “Let’s head back.”
Ben wrung his hands, glancing between them. “We’ll pick it up again tomorrow?”
Lori nodded. “Yeah, we’ll find Travis tomorrow.”
Back at the farmhouse, Rick stood near the blue pickup truck as Shane and Otis prepared to leave. His face was tight with worry. “Just get what you need and get out of there,” he told them.
Shane gave Rick’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You stay strong, all right?”
Otis took a moment to admire Rick’s rifle before slinging it over his shoulder. “That’s a fine weapon,” he said. “I’ll bring it back in good shape. Only one I got.”
Shane shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Man, this turned into one strange day.”
Otis let out a quiet chuckle as he climbed into the truck. “Didn’t it, though?”
Rick stood back, watching them drive off before turning toward the farmhouse. Hershel met him at the door. “Let’s check on your boy,” he said.
Dale rummaged through the supplies he’d gathered, holding up a few items with a faint smile. “Found some more batteries, a bottle of very trendy pink water, an excellent new machete, and I thought Glenn might like this guitar. Maybe he plays. No drugs, though. You?”
T-Dog leaned against the RV, his face pale and drawn. “Yeah, ibuprofen and these,” he said, holding up a small bottle of pills. He paused, his voice growing heavier. “What are we doin’?”
Dale glanced at him, confused. “Pullin’ supplies together,” he replied.
“No, I mean… what are we doin’?” T-Dog repeated, his tone sharper. “People off in the woods, they’re looking for that kid, and we’re here. Why? ‘Cause they think we’re the weakest. What are you, 70?”
Dale raised an eyebrow. “64,” he corrected.
T-Dog snorted. “Uh-huh… and I’m the one black guy. Realize how precarious that makes my situation?”
Dale frowned, his confusion deepening. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about two good-old-boy cowboy sheriffs and a redneck whose brother cut off his own hand because I dropped a key,” T-Dog said, his voice rising. “Who in that scenario you think is gonna be first to get lynched?”
Dale shook his head, disbelief etched across his face. “You can’t be serious. Am I—hey, am I missing something? Those cowboys have done all right by us. And if I’m not mistaken, that redneck went out of his way to save your ass—more than once.”
T-Dog’s frustration boiled over. “The whole world’s havin’ a tough time. Damn, man—open your eyes,” he said, his voice growing louder. “Look where we are—stuck in this mess here!”
“Shh!” Dale hissed, glancing around nervously.
T-Dog’s voice dropped slightly, but his determination didn’t waver. “Let’s—let’s just go. Let’s just take the RV.”
Dale stared at him, his expression shifting from disbelief to concern. “You’ve gone off the deep end.”
“I mean it, man,” T-Dog insisted. “Why are we on the side of this road like live bait? Let’s go, you and me. Let’s go before they get back.”
Dale stepped closer, his worry evident. “Oh, my God! You’re burnin’ up,” he said, placing a hand on T-Dog’s forehead. “Give me that. Come on. Here, take these,” he added, handing him the ibuprofen. “We’ve got to knock that fever down. Where the hell are they?”
In the woods, Lori trudged along the uneven path, her voice strained. “How much farther?”
Daryl glanced over his shoulder, his crossbow slung across his back. “Not much… maybe a hundred yards as the crow flies,” he replied.
Andrea let out a dry laugh. “Too bad we’re not crows,” she muttered. Suddenly, her foot caught on something, and she stumbled forward, letting out a startled cry. “Oh… oh!”
Before anyone could react, a walker lunged at her from the underbrush, knocking her off her feet. Andrea scrambled backward, yelling for help as the creature snarled and clawed at her.
“Andrea!” Lori shouted, her voice filled with panic.
Andrea struggled to push the walker away, her hands trembling. “No—no—oh, no!” she cried.
Out of nowhere, Maggie appeared on horseback. She swung a blunt object, knocking the walker away from Andrea. “Lori? Lori and Harry Grimes?” Maggie called out, her voice urgent.
Lori stepped forward, her heart racing. “I’m Lori,” she said.
Maggie nodded quickly. “Rick sent me—you’ve got to come now.”
Lori’s face paled. “What?”
“There’s been an accident—Carl’s been shot,” Maggie explained, her voice steady but urgent. “He’s still alive, but you’ve gotta come now. Rick needs you two—just come!”
Harry stepped in, his voice firm. “Whoa—whoa—whoa! We don’t know this girl. You can’t get on that horse.”
Maggie turned to him, her tone unwavering. “Rick said you had others on the highway, that big traffic snarl?”
Glenn nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“Backtrack to Fairburn Road. Two miles down is our farm. You’ll see the mailbox—name’s Greene,” Maggie said before urging her horse forward. “Hi-yah!”
Harry turned to his mother“There’s not enough room for both of us on the horse. I’ll go with the others to the farmhouse.”
Maggie nodded in agreement before riding off into the distance. Kenny exchanged a worried glance with Mark. “Did she say ‘Greene’?” Kenny asked, his voice tinged with unease.
Mark lowered his head, muttering a curse under his breath.
Dale’s face twisted in shock as he processed Glenn’s words. “Shot? What do ya mean, shot?” he asked, his voice rising with concern.
Glenn threw up his hands, exasperated. “I don’t know, Dale. I wasn’t there. All I know is this chick rode out of nowhere like Zorro on a horse and took Lori.”
Dale’s eyes narrowed. “You let her?”
Before Glenn could respond, Daryl cut in, his tone sharp. “Let her my ass. Rick sent her. She knew Lori’s name. Harry’s and Carl’s.”
Dale hesitated, his expression softening slightly. “I heard screams—was that you?” he asked, looking at Glenn.
Glenn nodded grimly. “She got attacked by a walker. It was a close call.”
Dale turned his attention to Andrea, his voice laced with concern. “Andrea, are you all right?”
Andrea gave a small nod, her face pale but composed. “I’m fine,” she said quietly, though her hands still trembled slightly.
A little distance away, Harry paced back and forth by a group of cars. Amy approached him cautiously, her brow furrowed with worry. “Are you alright?” she asked softly.
Harry let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and raw. “Am I alright?” he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “First, my father was shot and fell into a coma. Then the dead rose and started eating the living. Travis is missing and probably dead, we’re stuck on this fucking road, and now my Goddamn brother’s been shot.”
His frustration boiled over as he kicked the nearest car. He pressed his face into his hands, his shoulders shaking as he tried to steady his breathing.
Kenny, Mark, and Katjaa huddled together near the RV, their voices low. Katjaa’s face was pale, her worry evident as she whispered, “Are you sure you heard her right? She said ‘Greene?’” Her hands fidgeted nervously, clutching the edge of her jacket.
Kenny glanced around, his expression uneasy. “Yeah, I heard it,” he muttered.
Mark lowered his head, his jaw tightening. “This is not good,” he said quietly “Not good at all.”
A little distance away, Clementine and Duck sat on the ground, playing with a few rocks they’d gathered. Katjaa glanced over at them, her worry deepening as she turned back to Kenny and Mark. “We need to be careful,” she said softly. “If this is what I think it is…”
At the farm, Rick stood on the porch, taking in the view of the rolling fields and the distant tree line. The golden light of the setting sun bathed the land in a serene glow. “This place is beautiful,” he said.
Hershel stood beside him, his hands resting on the railing. “Been in my family 160 years,” he replied, his tone tinged with pride and sorrow.
Rick shook his head slightly. “I can’t believe how serene it is. How untouched… You’re lucky,” he said.
Hershel’s expression darkened slightly. “We weren’t completely unscathed,” he said. “We lost friends, neighbors. The epidemic took my wife, my stepson, two of my sons and three daughters.”
Rick’s gaze dropped, his voice soft. “I’m sorry.”
Hershel nodded, his eyes distant. “Beth and Maggie were spared. I’m grateful to God for that. These people here, all we’ve got left is each other. Just hoping we can ride it out in peace till there’s a cure.”
Rick hesitated before speaking. “We were at the CDC… It’s—it’s gone now. There is no cure.”
Hershel’s jaw tightened, but he shook his head. “I don’t believe it,” he said firmly. “When AIDS came along, everyone panicked. One boy in town came down with it, and some parents pulled their children from school, so they didn’t have to sit in the same room.”
Rick frowned. “This is a whole other thing,” he said.
“That’s what we always say—‘This one’s different,’” Hershel replied.
“Well, this one is,” Rick said, his voice heavy.
Hershel sighed, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Mankind’s been fightin’ plagues from the start. We get our behinds kicked for a while, then we bounce back. It’s nature correcting herself, restoring some balance.”
Rick shook his head, his voice tinged with regret. “I wish I could believe that. I’m sorry.”
Inside the farmhouse, Lori sat beside Carl’s bed, her hands gently stroking his hair. Her voice was soft, trembling with emotion. “My baby boy. Baby boy. It’s okay. Mama’s here. Mama’s here. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna make you okay. Slow… slow,” she whispered.
“How many transfusions?” she asked, glancing at Rick.
“Two—only two,” Rick replied, his voice quiet.
Lori gave a faint smile, her eyes glistening with tears. “You know he wanted to do the same for you when you were in the hospital. I had to talk him out of it,” she said.
Rick’s throat tightened. “Thank you,” he murmured.
Lori straightened slightly, her tone shifting. “Okay, so I understand, when Shane gets back with this other man—”
“Otis,” Hershel interjected.
“Otis,” Lori repeated, her voice hardening. “The idiot who shot my son.”
Hershel’s expression grew serious. “Ma’am, it was an accident,” he said gently.
Lori’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll take that under advisement later,” she said coldly. “For now, he’s the idiot who shot our son.”
Rick rubbed his temple, exhaustion etched into his face as he steadied his voice. “Lori, they’re doing everything they can to make it right,” he said, glancing at Hershel. “Okay, as soon as they get back, you can perform this surgery?”
Hershel gave a small nod. “I’ll certainly do my best.”
Lori hesitated, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. “Okay… I mean, you’ve done this procedure before?” she asked, her voice edged with nervous energy.
“Well, yes, in a sense,” Hershel replied.
Lori narrowed her eyes. “In a sense?” she echoed.
Rick exhaled sharply, trying to keep her grounded. “Honey, we don’t have the luxury of shopping for a surgeon,” he reminded her.
“I know that,” Lori said quickly. “But, I mean, you’re a doctor, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Hershel affirmed. “Of course. A vet.”
Lori blinked, confusion flashing across her face. “A veteran?” she asked, hope rising in her voice. “A combat medic?”
Hershel shook his head. “A veterinarian.”
The color drained from Lori’s face as she stared at him. “And you’ve done this surgery before on what?” she asked, disbelief creeping into her tone. “Cows… pigs?”
Rick let out a slow breath, rubbing his hands over his face. “I— I have— I have to sit,” he murmured, lowering himself onto the nearest chair.
Lori clenched her jaw, her frustration clear. “You’re completely in over your head, aren’t you?” she accused.
Hershel looked at her evenly, his voice calm but pointed. “Ma’am,” he said, “aren’t we all?”
Shane crouched low behind the rusted-out police cruiser, gripping his shotgun as he scanned the area. He exhaled sharply, trying to keep his voice low. “Shh-shh-shh! Okay, let’s take a look,” he murmured.
Otis wiped sweat from his brow, peering around the edge of the vehicle. He pointed across the courtyard to a large, faded medical trailer. “You see that big mobile medical trailer across the way?” he asked.
Shane followed his gaze, nodding grimly. “That’s where we gotta get to?” he asked.
Otis swallowed hard, adjusting his rifle strap. “Yeah,” he confirmed.
Shane huffed, checking the magazine in his weapon. The parking lot was crawling with walkers, their shuffling forms blocking every clear path. The sun was dipping low, casting long shadows across the wreckage. If they were going to make a move, they had to do it soon.
Shane glanced at Otis. “All right,” he muttered. “We do this quiet, we do this fast.”
Otis nodded once. “Then let’s get to it.”
The group stood near the RV, tension thick in the air. Carol shook her head, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “We can’t just leave.”
Dale sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Carol, the group is split. We’re scattered and weak.”
Ben spoke up “What if he comes back and we’re not here? It could happen.”
Andrea nodded, her face pinched with concern. “If Travis found his way back and we were gone, that would be awful.”
Daryl adjusted the strap of his crossbow, his expression serious. “Okay. We gotta plan for this. I say tomorrow morning is soon enough to pull up stakes. Give us a chance to rig a big sign, leave him some supplies. I’ll hold here tonight, stay with the RV.”
Dale straightened up beside him. “If the RV is stayin’, I am too.”
Ben let out a breath, relief evident in his voice. “Thank you. Thank you both.”
Andrea crossed her arms. “I’m in.”
Glenn shifted his weight, glancing at the others. “Well, if you’re all staying, then I’m—”
Dale cut him off. “Not you, Glenn. You’re going. Take Carol’s Cherokee.”
Glenn huffed, shaking his head. “Me? Why is it always me?”
Dale gave him a firm look. “You have to find this farm, reconnect with our people, and see what’s going on. But most important, you have to get T-Dog and Harry there. This is not an option. That cut has gone from bad to worse. He has a very serious blood infection. Get him to that farm. See if they have any antibiotics. Because if not, T-Dog will die. No joke.”
Daryl scowled, kicking at the dirt. “Keep your oily rags off my brother’s motorcycle,” he muttered. Then he turned toward Dale, eyes narrowing. “Why’d you wait till now to say anything?”
Without waiting for a response, Daryl pulled a small bag from his belt, rummaging through it. “Got my brother’s stash. Crystal, X—don’t need that,” he muttered, tossing aside a few items before holding up a bottle. “Got some kick-a*s painkillers. Doxycycline. Not the generic stuff neither. It’s first class.”
Glenn gave him a skeptical look. “Merle got the clap on occasion?”
Daryl smirked. “More than once.”
Rick clenched his fists, his body tense as he stood beside Carl’s bed. Hershel hovered near the boy, monitoring the readings, his expression grim. “Pressure’s dropping again,” he muttered, urgency sharpening his voice. “We can’t wait much longer.”
Rick’s jaw tightened. “Take some more—whatever he needs.” His voice was thick with exhaustion, but his determination hadn’t wavered. “Then I’m gonna go.”
Lori snapped her head toward him, her eyes blazing with disbelief. “Go—go where?” she demanded.
Rick ran a hand over his face, willing himself to stay steady. “He said five miles. They should be long back by now. Something’s gone wrong.”
Lori’s expression darkened, her voice rising. “Are you insane? You’re not going after them.”
Hershel placed a firm hand on Rick’s shoulder, his voice calm but resolute. “Rick, listen to your wife.”
Rick exhaled sharply. “If they got into trouble—”
“You’re in no condition to do anything about it,” Hershel interrupted, his gaze unwavering. “You’ve given too much blood. You’re barely on your feet. You wouldn’t make it across the yard.”
Rick shook his head, his breathing uneven. “Something happened. I have to go.”
“No,” Lori said, stepping closer. “Your place is here. If Shane said he’ll be back, he’ll be back. He’s like you that way.”
Rick’s hands curled into fists. “I can’t just sit here.”
“That’s exactly what you do!” Lori shot back, her voice breaking. “If you need to pray or cry or tell God he’s cruel, you go right ahead, but you’re not leaving, Rick. Carl needs you—here. And I can’t do this by myself. Not this one. I can’t… I can’t.”
Shane’s breath was shallow, his heart hammering in his chest as he scanned the trailer’s shelves. He muttered under his breath, rifling through supplies. “Is this here?” he asked, frustration creeping into his voice.
Otis, fumbling through boxes beside him, let out a triumphant sound. “Three… Three. Oh, here! Endotracheal incubator, baby, for my new respirator,” he said, pulling the device free.
Shane turned sharply, his grip tightening around his shotgun as they ran down the halls “’Atta boy! Come on. Come on!” His voice rose in urgency. “Damn it. Come on—stay with me!”
Nearby, the distant moans of walkers grew louder, their shuffling feet dragging against concrete.
“No—no-no-no-no!” Shane cursed, scanning the exit. “Come on! No-no-no-no! Come on—come on. In here!” He gestured sharply toward a corner.
Otis barely had time to react before Shane shoved him into a small storage area, slamming the metal slider shut behind them. The weight of the door rattled as several walkers threw themselves against it, their decayed fingers clawing at the edges.
“Okay—okay!” Shane whispered harshly, gripping his weapon tighter. “Stay back—stay back!” His voice strained as the pounding against the metal intensified.
“Damn it,” Otis muttered under his breath, wiping his face with a shaky hand. They were trapped. The only thing separating them from the growing swarm was a thin metal barrier—one that wouldn’t hold forever.
Their panicked breathing filled the trailer, mingling with the groans of the undead outside.
They needed a way out, and they needed it fast.