I run ahead of Rick, who carries a limp and unresponsive Carl in his arms. Shane's behind him, pulling a heavy man, Otis, along. He's the idiot who shot Carl. "Hey, you move, Shithead!" Shane yells at Otis. "Come on, get us there!"
"How far? How far?" I yell, stopping to look at them. "How far is it!"
"Half a mile that way," Otis calls, pointing. "Hershel! Talk to Hershel, he'll help the boy. Tell him Otis sent you."
Rick is ahead of me by now, but I turn and sprint as fast as I can towards Hershel's farmhouse. I look at Rick as I run past. "I'll go ahead, tell Hershel what happened."
Rick nods once, and I keep running as fast ad I can. I can see a beautiful two-story white farmhouse a little ways away, with a girl about Glenn's age standing on the wrap-around porch. She picks up a pair of binoculars and looks out at Rick as I run through the gate, not bothering to close it behind me. She turns. "Dad!" she yells.
She runs inside, and follows a group of people outside as I reach the steps. "Hershel!" I cry. "Who the hell is Hershel?"
A man in his sixties with white hair steps forward, looking past me at Rick and Carl. "Was he bit?" the man asks me.
"Shot by your man," I answer. "Are you Hershel?"
"That's me," the man says, walking down the steps to Rick and Carl. A woman Hershel's age with blonde hair follows him. "Otis?"
Behind Hershel and the woman, there's two teenagers; a girl with blonde hair and blue-green eyes, and a boy with short, dark hair and blue eyes. The girl that's Glenn's age, with chestnut brown hair cut into a bob and jade-green eyes, follows them down the steps. "Help me," Rick says, crossing the lawn. "Help my boy."
"Get him inside," Hershel says, turning to hurry inside. The group follows him, and I follow Rick. "Patricia, I need my full kit. Maggie, painkillers, coagulates, grab everything. Clean towels, sheets, alcohol." Hershel leads Rick into a spare bedroom, and throws all the blankets off the bed. "In here."
Rick lays his son down on the bed. "Pillowcase," Hershel says.
"Is he alive?" Rick asks.
"Pillowcase, quick."
I push past Rick and grab one of the spare pillows. I pull the pillowcase off while Rick stands back, clearly still in shock. "Is he alive?"
Hershel looks up at me. "Fold it, make a pad."
I do, and Hershel pulls Carl's shirt up so he can see the wound. "Put pressure in the wound."
I do, firmly pressing the pillowcase on the bullet hole as Hershel pulls out a stethoscope. He presses the metal end to Carl's chest. "I've got a heartbeat," Hershel reports. "It's faint, but it's a heartbeat."
The blonde woman that's Hershel's age, Patricia, tries to push past me. "I've got it, step back."
"Maggie, IV."
"We need some space," Patricia says. I've backed up, but Rick still stands close to the bed. I take his arm and pull him back. "C'mon, Carl's in good hands. I can tell."
"Your name?" Hershel asks.
"Rick," he answers, still in shock. "Rick. I'm–I'm Rick."
"Rick, we're gonna do everything we can, okay? You need to give us some room, and take the girl with you."
"I'm Clary," I say, and take Rick out of the room. I make him sit in a chair in the living room, and stand out on the porch. "Move!" Shane yells at Otis.
I turn as Rick comes outside, taking his hat off. Otis and Shane reach the porch. "He's alive?" Otis asks. "He's still alive?"
Rick rubs his forehead, unknowingly wiping Carl's blood on his face. Shane walks up the stairs as I walk down them, glaring at Otis. "He's alive."
Rick leads Shane inside, and I follow them. They walk into the spare room, where Hershel keeps pressure on Carl's wound. "Do you know his blood type?" Hershel asks.
"A-Positive, same as mine," Rick answers.
"That's fortunate. Don't wander far. I'm gonna need you."
"I'm O-Positive," I say.
Hershel looks at me. "You're O-Positive?"
I nod. "In case you need me, I'd be more than happy to help. He's my best friend. There's no way in hell I'm lettin' him die."
Hershel looks past me and at Otis, who stands in the doorway. "What happened?"
"I was tracking a buck," Otis answers, dumbfounded. "Bullet went through it. Went clean through."
"The deer slowed the bullet down, which certainly saved his life. But it did not go through clean. It broke up into pieces. If I can get the bullet fragments out and I'm counting six."
Otis walks over to Patricia, and takes her hands. "I never saw him, not until he was on the ground."
"Lori doesn't know," Rick says. "My wife doesn't know." Rick's voice cracks as he puts his head in his hands. "My wife doesn't know."
Shane convinces Rick to sit down, so we gather in the living room. "Why'd I let him come with us?" Rick asks. "I should've sent him with Lori."
"You know, you start that, you'll never get that monkey off your back," Shane says.
"Little girl goes missing, you look for her. Simple. You said call it, head back."
"Doesn't matter what I said."
"Carl got shot because I wouldn't cut back. It should be me in there."
"This is not on you," I hiss, tired of hearing Rick beat himself up over it. "This is on me. I left Sophia, and she went missing. Carl came, and got shot because of what I did. If anyone should be in there, it's me. It's my fault that Carl got shot, and it's my fault that he's layin' in there right now. Rick Grimes, it ain't your fault that he was shot. This one's on me. I should have been the one that got shot, not Carl."
"You've been there, Rick," Shane says. "And you pulled through. So will he."
"Is that why I got out of that hospital?" Rick asks. "Found my family for it to end here like this? This some kind of sick joke?"
"You stop it," Shane says. "Both of you. Just stop."
"A little girl goes missing, you look for her. It's plain and simple," I say.
Maggie, the girl that's Glenn's age, steps through the door. "Rick. He needs blood."
She holds the door open as Rick walks through. I follow him. Hershel looks at me. "You, I forget your name, the girl, hold him down."
Carl cries for his father as I lay my arm across his chest, holding him down. Shane appears next to me. "I got him."
I move, and Shane holds Carl down. He screams as Hershel digs a bullet fragment out. "Almost there."
Carl reaches for something to hold on to, and I give him my hand. He keeps a death grip on it as Hershel continues to dig the fragment out. He continues to scream, and Rick looks over his shoulder. "Stop! You're killing him!" Rick yells.
"Rick, do you want him to live?" Hershel asks calmly.
"He needs blood," Patricia says, and Rick stares at Carl.
"Rick, do it now!" I bark. Rick gives Patricia his arm, keeping his eyes on his son. I carefully wipe Carl's face, and his cries stop as he goes still. Pulling my hand back, I freeze. "Wait, wait, wait."
"He just passed out," Hershel explains. He pulls the bullet fragment out, Carl's chest rising and falling normally. He holds the bullet fragment up. "One down, five to go."
He drops the shrapnel in a bowl, and I follow Shane out of the room. I walk back into the room as Rick starts to speak. "Lori needs to be here. She doesn't even know what's going on. I've got to go find her, bring her back."
"You can't do that," Hershel says.
"She's his mother," Rick argues. "She needs to know what's happened. Her son's lying here, shot."
"And he's going to need more blood." Hershel looks up at Shane. "He can't go more than fifty feet from this bed."
"But that's what Clary's here for," Rick argues. "She's O-Positive, she can give blood."
Rick walks out of the spare room and into the living room, where Maggie and Otis sit. Shane and I follow him out. I close the door behind me. "He's stable for now," Shane reports.
Maggie closes her eyes, sighing in relief. Otis leans back into the chair, also sighing. "Lori has to be here, Shane, she has to know," Rick says.
"Okay, I get that. I'm gonna handle it. But you've got to handle your end."
"My end?"
"Your end is being here for your son. Even if he didn't need your blood to survive, there is no way I'd ever let you walk out that door. I mean, I'd break your legs if you tried. You know that, right?"
"I'd help him," I say. "There is no way I'd let you leave Carl right now."
"If something happened to him and you weren't here..." Shane pauses. "If he slipped away while you were gone, you'd never forgive yourself for that. And neither would Lori, man."
"You're right," Rick finally says.
"When was I ever wrong?" Shane grins, then stifles a laugh upon seeing Rick's expression. "You know, when you were in that hospital, the one you were never supposed to leave, you should have seen Lori. Th strength of that woman, you can't imagine that. See, that's what you've got to have now. I mean, Carl, he needs that from you. So you wire yourself tight, my friend. You hear? You got the hard part, just leave the rest to me, okay?"
"All right."
"All right."
The door opens ad Hershel walks out. Rick stands, facing the other man. "He's out of danger for the moment," Hershel reports. "But I need to remove the remaining fragments."
"How?" Rick asks. "You saw how he was."
"I know, and that was the shallowest one. I need to go deeper to get the others. There's more."
"Tell me."
"His belly's distended, his pressures dropping, wh—"
"Internal bleeding," I say. Hershel looks at me. "I've read books on field medicine, I know this. If there's internal bleeding, that means a fragment must have nicked one of the blood vessels."
"That's right," Hershel says. "I'll have to open him up, find the bleeder, and stitch it. But he can't move while I'm in there, at all. If he reacts the same as before, I'll sever and artery, and he'll be dead in minutes. To even try this, I'd have to put him under. But if I do, he won't be able to breathe on his own. Same bad results."
"What'll it take?" Rick asks.
Before I can respond, Otis steps forward. "You need a respirator. What else?"
"The tube that goes with it," Hershel answers. "Extra surgical supplies, drapes, sutures."
"And if you had all that you could save him?" Rick inquires.
"If I had all that, I could try."
"Nearest hospital went up in flames a month ago," Otis says. Hershel looks at him. "The high school."
"That's what I was thinking," Hershel replies. "They set up a FEMA shelter there. They would have everything we need."
"The place was overrun last time I saw it. You couldn't get near it. Maybe it's better now."
"I said leave the rest to me," Shane says. "Is it too late to take that back?"
"I hate you going alone," Rick says.
"I'll go with him," I volunteer.
"No way, Clary," Rick argues.
"Doc, why don't you do me a list, draw me a map," Shane says.
"You won't need a map," Otis says. "I'll take you there. Ain't but five miles."
"Otis, no," Patricia, his wife, argues.
"Honey, we don't have time for guesswork, and I'm responsible. I ain't gonna sit here while this fella takes this one alone," Otis says, nodding at Shane. "I'll be all right."
"Are you sure about this?" Shane asks.
"Do you even know what any of the stiff he's talking about looks like? I do, I've been a volunteer EMT. We can talk about this till next Sunday or we could just go do it real quick."
"I'll take right quick."
"I should thank you," Rick says.
Otis looks at him. "Wait till that boy of yours is up and around. Then we'll talk."
Maggie steps toward. "Where is she, your wife?"
Rick tells her, and she nods. Hershel and Patricia go back into the spare room. "I'll go with you," I volunteer. "I can lead the way. There's a better chance of them trusting you if they see me, especially my brother."
Maggie nods. "I'll get the horses ready. Do you know how to ride?"
I nod, and she walks outside. I turn to Otis. "Just so you know, if anything, anything at all happens to him, I will beat your sorry ass into the ground. And then I'll kill you. So you had better run like the devil himself is chasing you, and get that damn medical supplies," I spit.
Otis takes a step back, surprised by my threat. I walk out the door and run to the stables, my crossbow thumping my back as I run. Maggie rides one horse, and leads the other. I take the reins from her and mount the horse. "You've done this before?" Maggie guesses.
"Yeah, once or twice. I know how to ride. Now, lets go. We ain't got time for chit-chat."
With that, we take off, riding the horses into the woods. I lead the way, and we come to a place that's familiar, when I hear a scream. We stop, and look around. "That's Andrea," I say. "A girl in my group."
Maggie takes off, brandishing a baseball bat, and I follow her. Letting go of the reins, I aim my crossbow and fire. The crossbow bolt hits the walker in the head, and it falls to the side. Maggie rides into the clearing, and stops her horse. "Lori? Lori Grimes?"
"I'm Lori," Lori says, walking forward.
"Rick sent me, you've gotta come now."
"What?"
"There's been an accident. Carl's been shot. He's still alive, but you've gotta come now. Rick needs you. Just come."
Lori takes off her backpack. "Whoa whoa whoa," Daryl says. "We don't know this girl."
I ride up, and stop my horse. "But you know this girl."
"Clary?"
"Lori, do you know how to ride?"
She nods. "I've ridden before."
I slide off. "Good. Take my horse, and follow Maggie."
I hand her the reins, and she climbs on. "Lori, are you crazy?" Daryl cries. "Don't get on that horse."
"Rick said you had others on the highway, that big traffic snarl," Maggie says. "Backtrack to Fairburn Road. Two miles down is our farm. You'll see the mailbox. The name is Greene. C'mon, Lori."
They take off, going back the way we came. Daryl helps Andrea up as I pull my arrow out of the walker's head. We go back to the highway, and tell Dale and T-Dog what happened. "Shot?" Dale asks. "What do you mean shot?"
"I don't know, Dale," Glenn says. "I wasn't there. All I know is Clary rode out of nowhere like Zorro on a horse and this chick with her took Lori."
"And you let her take her?"
"Rick sent us," I say, climbing over the guard rail.
Dale looks at Andrea as she climbs over the guard rail behind me. "I heard screams. Was that you?"
Andrea walks past him, ignoring his concern. "She got attacked by a walker," Glenn explains. "It was a close call."
"Andrea, are you all right?" Dale calls after her. She ignores him, and I sit down on the guard rail beside Carol. "We'll find Sophia tomorrow, don't worry."
I get up, and climb up on top the RV, taking watch. I sit on the roof, letting my legs dangle over the edge. Glenn climbs up and sits next to me. "You spend a lot of time up here."
"It's the only quiet place. The only place where I can think," I say, looking at him.
"Think about what?"
"Things. Sophia. Merle. At the moment, Carl."
"You blame yourself for what happened to Sophia. For her going missing."
"I left her. I could have stayed and kept quiet, but I left her alone. And she ran off. It is my fault that she's missing."
"You know that's not true."
"It is, though. If I had stayed quiet, not walked out into the creek, the walkers could have went past us. They could have ignored us. But I chose to do the dangerous thing, one that didn't need to be done. I left Sophia by herself, and she ran. Glenn, I promised her I'd stay with her. And I left her."
I look down, putting my head in my hands. Glenn puts his hand on my shoulder. "We've all broken promises."
I look up at him. "But I did the exact opposite if what I promised to do. I left her. Scared and alone. It's something I'll never forgive myself for, even if—and when—we find her."
"How'd you learn to shoot like that?" Glenn asks after a moment, changing the subject.
"That was a lucky shot. I've never been riding and had to shoot before. Or be that far away."
"You were, what, about fifty, fifty-five yards away?"
"Sounds 'bout right."
Glenn glances over his shoulder, then looks back at me. "You should have seen Daryl's face. Then, he looked at his crossbow like 'Did I do that?'"
I grin, and Glenn climbs down the ladder. I look around, but I don't see any walkers. I climb down the ladder and walk over to where the group is gathered in a circle, discussing the Sophia situation. T-Dog sits on the RV steps. "I won't do it," Carol says. "We can't just leave."
"Carol, the group is split. We're scattered and weak," Dale argues.
"What if she comes back, and we're not here? It could happen."
"If Sophia found her way back, and we were gone, that would be awful," Andrea says.
"It'd be more than awful," I say. "It'd be... Sophia would be devastated."
"Okay," Daryl says. "We've 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 her some supplies. I'll hold here tonight, stay with the RV."
"If the RV's staying, I'm staying," Dale says.
"I'll stay. It's my fault Sophia's in this mess," I say.
"Thank you. Thank all of you," Carol says.
"I'm in," Andrea decides.
Glenn looks around. "Well, if you're all staying, then I'm—"
Dale cuts him off. "Not you, Glenn. You're going. Take Carol's Cherokee."
"Me? Why is it always me?"
"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 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. If not, T-Dog will die, no joke."
Daryl turns and walks to his motorcycle. He moves Dale's oily rags and pulls out a bag full of pill bottles. He walks back over and throws the rags at Dale. "Keep your oily rags off my brother's motorcycle." Daryl sits the bag down on the hood of the Cherokee and digs through it. "Why'd you wait till now to say anything? Got my brother's stash. Crystal, X, don't need that. Got some kick ass painkillers." He tosses a bottle to Glenn, and another to Dale. "Oxycycline. Not the generic stuff neither. It's first class. Merle got the Clap on occasion."
He turns and walks back to the motorcycle, while Dale examines the bottle, grinning. Glenn and T-Dog leave to go to the Greene's farm, and Dale takes watch on top of the RV for the night. Carol, Andrea, Daryl and I go inside the RV for the night.
