All was quiet in the house. Scott was numb with the silence, his eyes half closed, and watched the slow rhythm of Mitch's breathing. He was feeling strangely hollow as his blood filled the bag that he had hooked on his finger, feeling the sac get heavier as it bumped his leg. Kirstie was outside the blankets, reclining alongside Mitch, her head and shoulders resting against the headboard and her arm supporting his head. She thoughtfully stroked Mitch's index finger.
"I think he's a little paler," She lifted the edge of the blanket, then put it down again as she saw the mottled, bruised skin as the internal bleeding crept upward, "It's getting worse."
"It'll be okay. Avi and Otis have been gone for an hour now, so they should be back in a while," The emptiness in his voice didn't sound very comforting, but he thought he'd try.
"What if he doesn't make it a while?"
"He will."
She turned to Hershel, who was watching over them in silent contemplation, "What can we do if they take too long?"
The older man pushed his flossy white hair back from his receding hairline, "I wouldn't recommend it. It's highly risky."
"What can we do?" She demanded, a little harsher than Scott had ever heard the sweet, gentle Kirstie from before the outbreak.
"We can do the surgery without the supplies. I have enough to do what I have to, but it's close to impossible. He could bleed out on the table or go into respiratory or cardiac arrest. And I can't get the shards out without the anesthesia. You already saw how that went." She didn't answer, so he continued, "He'd wake up and I don't think you want to see him in that much pain again. Or worse, we could wait too long to try the surgery and he won't wake up at all. In which case…"
"In which case, what?" Scott was surprised by how small his voice sounded. Well, maybe he shouldn't be surprised; he'd been on this blood drain for a while now.
"In which case, he's already too far gone. Cutting him open and taking the bullet pieces out would take away whatever time he has left. I'm sorry. It doesn't look good."
"How much time can we wait?"
Hershel gave a measuring glance up and down Mitch's body, then gave a sigh, "A couple more hours? Four at the most."
Xxx
"This it?" Avi held his loaded assault rifle close to his chest. His breath came back to him as the two leaned their empty backpacks on an overturned sedan.
Otis nodded and fixed his baseball cap over his graying prickle of hair. He was sweating so much already, and it was making his goatee dark with moisture. They both looked over the hood of the vehicle, across the twilit empty plane of the abandoned street. About thirty yards away lie the gate to the school, and he knew beyond the wrought iron, dozens of walkers were roaming. The last of the sun was dying and casting the world into gray, murky fog. This was probably the worst time for them to be attempting something this ludicrous, but they were running out of time. They both knew a broken Mitch was lying a few miles away, bleeding to death into his abdominal cavity.
"You still up for this? I can go in alone." The deep, bass tones sounded determined.
"No. This is my fault. I hurt your friend, so I have to come with you. Call it a redemption."
Avi nodded, "How many bullets?"
"Twenty two."
"Show me your knife."
In response, the overweight man drew a machete from a holster he wore through the belt loops on his overalls.
"Kay. Listen to me. We light the flare, draw them away, then get past them into the school. You know where the setup with the supplies are, so lead the way once we get inside."
Otis nodded.
"And hey. Don't fire unless you have to. The sound draws them. Use that blade of yours as much as you can." Avi thrust his beanie into his backpack. His hands were still crimson with dried blood as he reached back to tie his hair out of his eyes.
With a final nod and a preparatory deep breath, the two shouldered their weapons and held their blades close, then stepped into the open air.