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Chapter 11
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"What-" Jesus gasped in a small, breathless voice as he stared down with wide eyes at the ever-growing dark red spot spreading across his shoulder and running down his chest. The young man seemed confused as he stared down at the wound, moving his hand up and attempting to block the flow of blood with only a feeble movement of his fingers.
"He shot you, man," Daryl informed him. He was certain Jesus already knew this, but considering how out of it the younger man seemed, he felt there would be no harm in mentioning it.
Daryl looked over his shoulder to where Rick had been a moment before, to ask him to go try to find a towel or clean piece of clothing to wrap the injury until they could get Jesus back to Denise. The other man had already gone off to retrieve any supplies that might be helpful without being asked. Rick was no stranger to dealing with these types of situations.
He brought his attention back to Jesus, who was staring up at him with a look in his eyes that just barely conveyed his pain and fear. Daryl could tell the guy was generally stoic and calm, and this was no exception. Even so, the emotions were certainly there, no matter how hard Jesus was attempting to mask them.
"You're gonna be alright," Daryl promised, and he really did mean it. The wound was bleeding, but it seemed not to a degree so that Daryl was especially worried for him. The fact that he'd been shot in the shoulder rather than the chest or abdomen was fortunate as well. It could have been a lot worse. "Let's get your coat out of the way," Daryl told him, pushing the coat's sleeve down the younger man's arm and away from the bullet wound. "And your vest," Daryl added, partially unzipping the vest Jesus wrote beneath his coat and pushing it halfway down Jesus's arm, so that his shoulder was exposed.
By this point, Rick had returned with an arm-full of kitchen towels, the battery-operated lamp from the basement, and a half-full plastic bottle of water. He immediately took his place next to Daryl and pressed one of the towels against the younger man's bleeding wound.
"Can't believe you came back, Jesus," Daryl shook his head slightly. "Let's lean him forward," Daryl instructed Rick. He was looking to find an exit wound.
"You guys came back for me," Jesus offered a small smirk before closing his eyes for a moment and exhaling a shaking breath.
Rick pulled Jesus a few inches away from the wall and pushed his hair out of the way. "There's the exit wound," Rick commented. "Looks like the bullet went straight through. That's good... Hand me one of those," He gestured toward the towels.
Daryl handed him a towel and put his hand over the material covering the entry wound so Rick could concentrate on the other.
"I take it you killed the other guys," Jesus guessed in a still breathless voice.
"Yeah," Daryl answered. "We did."
"Are you guys okay?" Jesus wondered.
"We're fine," Daryl assured the younger man as he considered him with narrowed eyes. Jesus's breaths were still somewhat rapid and his blue-green eyes looked a bit unfocused. "Don't worry 'bout us."
"Paul," Rick spoke, drawing the man's attention toward him as he used his free hand to open the bottle of water he'd brought back and poured a bit of it onto one of the remaining towels. He moved the cloth up to Jesus's face and began to carefully clear away the blood that had dried there. "Do you think you're fit to travel tonight? The sooner we get you medical attention, the better, but it'll be about an hour walk back to the truck."
Jesus frowned as he looked at Rick. "I need that truck," he reminded him, ignoring the initial question and moving his hand up to the towel, taking over cleaning the blood off his lip and chin as he stared intently at Rick.
"We'll work something out," Rick promised, clearly not wanting to argue about this right now. "I don't know what situation you come from, but if you're living with a group who needs supplies, they won't go without on our account. We can work something out later. For now, we just need to get you back to our doctor."
"You don't understand," Jesus actually looked more worried than ever now and even seemed like he was practically ready to stand up and make a run for it. "I need the whole truck. I need all of it."
Daryl almost wanted to roll his eyes at Jesus's one-track mind. He'd been beaten, had a broken arm, and had been shot, and all he cared about was that same damn truck they'd fought over all those hours ago?
"Our group needs all of it too, Paul," Rick's tone was stern. "But we're willing to compromise for your sake. Any group still living could use those supplies. We can't all have all of it."
"No, you don't understand," Jesus insisted. "My community has a deal with another group. We... sort of trade supplies. They expect a certain amount of stuff from us. We need all of it."
"I'm sure the other group will understand," Rick promised.
Jesus offered a nervous laugh, "I don't think so."
Daryl looked over toward Rick. He wondered if this guy was just plain lying. A part of him didn't want to believe that Jesus legitimately needed all of the supplies, but another part of him knew the fact that the truck was just sitting there, unlocked and full of supplies was awfully strange. And why would Jesus lie just for extra supplies he didn't really need? He didn't seem like a selfish person. He seemed desperate. Maybe everything Jesus said was true.
"This other group," Daryl started. "You gotta meet a certain quota with them or what? You guys just trade supplies with each other?"
"Kind of like that," Jesus averted eye contact and then shook his head as though frustrated by the conversation. "Let's just get back to your doctor," he shrugged. "Someone else probably found the truck by now anyway."
"We locked it," Rick informed him.
"If anyone passed through that road, I'm sure they found a way to get it open," Jesus noted. "Wouldn't you guys have if you found a truck like that along the road?"
"Well, I fuckin' hope you're wrong," Daryl frowned.
"I'm gonna go look for a first aid kit so maybe we can wrap this better before we head off," Rick noted before standing and heading back off down the hallway.
Daryl took over holding the second towel in place over Jesus's wound. "You're lucky he didn't shoot you somewhere more serious."
Jesus frowned and glanced toward the house's front door. Daryl narrowed his eyes, trying to read the other man's thought process. It almost seemed like he was contemplating running off again. He was probably nervous about the idea of being taken into a community full of people he didn't know. He knew Daryl and Rick, to an extent, but not anyone else from Alexandria.
"You'll like our doctor," Daryl spoke up, trying to lighten the mood and make Jesus a little more comfortable with the thought of going back with him and Rick. "She's gentle, and good at what she does."
Jesus still looked conflicted, though he offered a small smile. "So you guys do have a camp."
"And so do you," Daryl raised an eyebrow.
"Guess we can't blame each other for lying," Jesus laughed a short chuckle before wincing and looking back down at his shoulder. It was on the opposite side than his broken arm, but he raised the broken limb anyway, moving Daryl's hand a bit out of the way so he could see under the towel.
The blood was still flowing rather freely, so Daryl pressed the towel back down, regardless of the fact that Jesus seemed to want to inspect the wound. "Leave it alone," Daryl ordered, holding the towel firmly in place.
Rick made his way back over, holding a first aid kit in his hand. "We're lucky it doesn't seem like anyone went through this house, which is strange since it's so close to the road."
Daryl held the towels in place as Rick set to work.
"I've got to move your coat and shirt down a bit more," Rick told Jesus before maneuvering the clothing so he could wrap the gauze around the younger man's chest to help keep the towels in place. "It doesn't look like the bullet hit anything important. I expect you'll heal up pretty quickly. Dr. Cloyd can fix your other arm too. She's sort of new to the world of medicine, but you wouldn't know it by watching her work."
Jesus closed his eyes and exhaled tiredly. It seemed the adrenaline was finally wearing off and he was probably feeling all of the various injuries he had been ignoring up until this point.
When Rick was through wrapping the injury, he helped Jesus pull his vest and jacket back up over his arms and he and Daryl helped the man to his feet. "We should put your broken arm in a sling," Rick suggested.
Jesus shook his head. "I need my hands free," He insisted. "It's too dangerous out there to walk around with one hand tied down."
Daryl glanced toward Rick, who stared at Jesus for a moment before nodding. "It's your choice," He agreed. "Though Daryl and I would certainly do what we can to keep you from having to deal with walkers, I can't make any promises that having your arm in a sling wouldn't put you in danger. I can make you a sling if you want, and you can walk between me and Daryl. We'll keep you safe as best as we can."
"No," Jesus shook his head. "I want my arms free."
Rick nodded. "Fair enough."
"Did you want to wait until morning to go?" Daryl wondered, looking toward Jesus. He knew Rick likely didn't mind one way or the other, but he didn't want to push Jesus to travel before he felt capable of doing so. "We can wait if you need a few hours to rest up."
"I'm fine to go now," Jesus insisted.
"If you see any walkers out there, you let us know," Rick advised. "There's no shame in asking for help."
Jesus nodded. "Let's go."
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