Rick Grimes paced the narrow hallway of the farm house. He was desperately tired, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. Nearby his wife Lori was slumped in a chair, her eyes glazed and half-closed. He looked down at his bloodstained hands, which he had not washed since arriving at the farmhouse. It was Carl's blood. Somehow Rick kept expecting to wake up and find out that all of this had been just a bad dream, that his son hadn't been shot and that everything was normal, at least as normal as things could get in a Walker-infested world.
A quiet movement to his left grabbed his attention and he saw the broad-shouldered figure of the Hershel walk in, wiping his hands with a bloody rag. Lori got to her feet, hand over her mouth as she stared at the white-haired man.
'How is he?'
'He'll live.' Hershel's voice was thick with fatigue. 'I've managed to stop the bleeding.'
Lori buried her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking with relief, but Rick could see the slouch in Hershel's shoulders and he had been a cop long enough to know when someone was going to deliver some bad news.
'Tell us,' he said.
Hershel took a deep breath. 'The bleeding's stopped, but the bullet went through Carl's spine.'
Lori looked between Rick and Hershel. 'What… what does that mean?'
'It means his spinal cord was damaged. He's paralysed.'
Lori blinked. 'Paralysed? What are you talking about?'
'He's got no reflexes in his lower limbs,' said Hershel. 'I can't tell if the damage will be permanent.'
'Are you sure?' said Rick. 'No offense but aren't you just a vet?'
'I'm positive.'
Lori was still standing with a hand over her mouth, eyes staring at nothing. Rick went to her and pulled her into his arms, holding her close. He could hear her whispering into his shoulder.
'Paralysed? Oh my god Rick, our baby's paralysed!'
Rick wanted to offer some words of comfort but when he reached inside himself he couldn't find any. All he could do was hold her while she sobbed into his blood-soaked shirt and try to hold back his own tears.