Chapter 12
Running. It was all Rick could do as he clutched his dying son to his chest. All he could think about was running and keeping Carl alive. But in the world that they were living in, the stakes were high, and the probability of Carl breathing in the next hour were low. Rick sobbed and panted as the Georgia sun beat down on him with great fierceness. His eyes clouded with tears, preventing him from seeing the redhead sprinting beside him.
Rick stumbled forward as he boot clicked off a sharp rock. His son slid from his arms. The father grunted as he hoisted him back into his clutch. Carl's blood stained his father's uniform. Shane caught up with the two adults with an obese hunter struggling to keep his balance as he moved.
The man was known as Otis. Otis was the foreman at the Greene farm in his youth. After he had married his wife Patricia, he had began volunteering as a Emergency Medical Technician, working with the local fire department. He was a hunter. There wasn't much to go on about with his life.
"Hey!" Shane shouted to the hunter. "You move, shithead. Come on—get us there!"
Rick looked back at him. "How far?" he demanded. "How far?"
"Another half mile that way," Otis panted as he pointed directly ahead of Rick. "Hershel—talk to Hershel. He'll help your boy."
Rick and Leah took off again.
Carl slid from Rick's grasp once more. Leah rushed forward, catching his waist. "I'll carry him, Rick," she insisted.
Either Rick didn't hear her over his gasping, or he just plainly ignored her. As they went on, a white farmhouse finally came into view. Shane and Otis were nowhere to be seen.
The stopped at the property fence. Leah pushed the gate open, allowing Rick to fit through. The gate snapped shut behind her, and they dashed across the dirt road. Several people had gathered on the porch of the house, watching them with terror.
"Was he bit?" Hershel Greene demanded.
"Shot," Rick struggled to say. "By your man."
"Otis?" the hunter's wife questioned.
"He said, 'Find Hershel'. Is that you?" Rick asked the elderly man. He nodded. "Help me. Help my boy!"
"Get him inside," Hershel said. The two adults followed the family into the farmhouse. "Patricia, I need my full kit. Maggie, get painkillers, coagulates—grab everything. Clean towels, sheets, alcohol." Hershel took them to a bedroom. He flipped the blankets of the bed over. Rick set his son down on the bed. "Pillowcase."
"Is he alive?" Rick asked. Leah gripped his shoulder, awaiting Hershel's response with sad eyes.
"Pillowcase," Hershel repeated. "Quick."
Rick yanked the casing off of a white pillow. "Is he alive?"
"Fold it," Hershel said. "Like a pad." The rest of the Greene inhabitants returned to the room, placing tools on the dresser. Patricia handed Hershel a stethoscope. "Put pressure on the wound."
Hershel searched for a heartbeat. "I've got a heartbeat," he told Rick. "It's faint."
"I got it," Patricia said. "Step back."
Rick hardly moved for the woman to step through. "Maggie, give me the I.V.," Hershel ordered.
"We need some space," Maggie told the frantic sheriff as she handed her father a bag with clear liquid in it.
"Your name?" Hershel asked.
"Rick," he stuttered. "I'm… I'm Rick."
"And you?" he asked the redhead.
"Leah."
"Well you two, we're gonna do everything to do to help your boy," Hershel said. "You need to give us some room."
Rick didn't budge. Leah tugged on his arm, pulling him from the room. The father kept looking back at his son. Once they were out of the room, Rick broke down.
"Carl…" he panted. "Carl… He's… Oh God!"
"Hey," Leah said in a soothing voice. She pressed Rick to her chest, pulling him in for a tight hug. His hands grabbed her back, wiping blood on her shirt. "He'll make it, Rick. He's got you blood. He's tough."
"Move!" Outside, Shane shoved the hunter along. Rick pulled away from Leah's grasp slowly, watching them through the window. He walked towards the door. Leah wandered back into the bedroom, watching Hershel as he cut Carl's clothing away.
"Is he gonna make it?" she whispered. Hershel looked up a her.
"He your son?" he asked. She shook her head.
"I'm his aunt."
Rick appeared beside her without his hat. Shane and Otis peered in through the door.
"You know his blood type?" Hershel asked.
"A-Positive," Rick said. "Same as mine."
"And his aunt?"
"I'm not actually related. He just calls me that."
Hershel turned towards her. "You wouldn't happen to be O or A-Positive, would you?"
"B-Positive. I'm sorry."
"I see… That's unfortunate; we may have needed more than one source, but I'll work with what I have," the elderly man sighed. "Don't wander far, Rick. I'm gonna need you." He glanced up at Otis. "What happened?"
"I was tracking a buck," he sputtered. "Bullet went through it. Went clean through."
"The deer slowed the bullet down, which certainly saved his life," Hershel said. "But it did not go clean through. It broke up into pieces. If I can get the bullet fragments out… And I'm counting six."
"I never saw him," Otis insisted. "Not until he was on the ground."
Rick hung his head. "Lori doesn't know..." he said as more tears welled in his eyes. "My wife doesn't know. My wife…"
"You three clear out," Hershel said. "Go wait in the living room."
Shane dragged Rick from the room. Leah gave Carl a long look. "I want to stay in here," she said.
"I think it's best that you leave."
She stood out in the doorway, shutting the door. She sat next to Rick and Shane on the couch in silence. Rick shook.
"Why'd I let him come with us?" he whimpered. "I should have sent him with Lori."
Shane stuck out his jaw. "You know," he began. "You start that, you'll never get that monkey off your back."
"Little girl goes missing, you look for her," Rick said. "Simple. You said to call it, head back…"
"Doesn't matter what I said."
"Carl got shot because I wouldn't cut bait," the father sighed. "It should be me in there."
Shane chuckled. "You've been there, partner," he said. "Right? And you pulled through. So will he."
"Is that why I got out of that hospital?" Rick whispered. "Found my family for it to end here like this? This some kind of sick joke?"
"You stop it. Just stop."
"A little girl goes missing…" the father repeated. "You look for her. It's plain and simple."
The door of the bedroom swung open, and Hershel's eldest daughter Maggie stepped out. "Rick," she said in her heavy southern drawl. The adults shot up, following her. "He needs blood."
On the bed, a shirtless Carl writhed in pain as he cried. Shane held down the boy for Hershel, and Patricia swabbed Rick's forearm. As the farmer pulled out the first fragment, the boy screamed, gripping the bed sheets in pain.
"Stop!" Rick screamed. "You're killing him!"
"Rick," Hershel shouted. "Do you want him to live?"
"He needs blood," Patricia stated.
"Do it now!" Shane screamed. Leah held her stomach, shielding her eyes.
"Oh God," she muttered. "I can't do this."
"Hey," Maggie said in a soft voice as she caught the fleeing woman's arm. "Let's go sit down. C'mon."
Rick grunted as Patricia poked the syringe into his vein. Suddenly, Carl's crying halted.
"Wait…" Shane stuttered. "Wait. Hey—"
"He just passed out," Hershel assured. He removed the fragment from the boy's chest, setting the bloody shard on a metal tray. "One down… Five to go. This is all I can do until he gets more blood."
"Rick's ready," Patricia said. Hershel nodded, and began the transfusion. After adjusting the boy's blood pressure as his father's blood entered his own, Hershel looked up at the father.
"His pressure is stable," he said.
"Lori needs to be here," Rick stuttered. "She doesn't even know what's going on. I've got to go find her and bring her back."
"You can't do that."
"She's his mother," Rick snapped. "She needs to know what's happened. Her son's lying here shot."
"And he's going to need more blood," Hershel said, turning to Shane. "He can't go more than fifty feet from this bed.
Shane took the wobbling Rick from the room, leading him back to the living room. Leah stood up from the couch, helping him to sit. She crouched in front of him, clutching his knee.
"He's stable for now," Shane said, informing Maggie and Otis as well.
"Lori has to be here Shane," Rick told him. "She has to know…"
"Okay. I get that," his friend said. "I'm gonna handle it. But you've got to handle your end."
"My end?"
"Your end is being here for your son," Shane told him. "Even if he didn't need your blood to survive, there is no way I'd ever let you walk out that door. I'd break your legs if you tried. 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 for that. And neither would Lori."
Rick rubbed his eyes. "You're right," he said.
"When was I ever wrong? You know, when—when you were in that hospital… The one you were never supposed to leave. Man, you should have seen Lori. She was like… The strength of that woman… You can't imagine it. That's what you've got to have now. Carl—he needs that from you. So you wire yourself tight, my friend. You hear?"
Shane grabbed the sides of Rick's face, pressing their foreheads together. "You've got the hard part. Just leave the rest to me, okay?"
"All right," Rick whispered as he pulled away. Shane gripped his shoulder.
"All right."
The bedroom door creaked open, and Hershel entered the room. All the adults rose to their feet. "He's out of danger for the moment. But I need to remove those remaining fragments."
"How?" Rick asked. "You saw how he was."
"I know, and that was the shallowest one. I need to go deeper to get the others."
"Oh man…" Shane mumbled.
"There's more."
"Tell me," Rick demanded.
"His belly's distended, his pressure is dropping," Hershel said. "It means there's internal bleeding. A fragment must have nicked once of the blood vessels. I have to open him up, find the bleeder and stitch it. 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… "
"What'll it take?"
Otis stepped forward. "You need a respirator," he said. "What else?"
"The tube that goes with it," Hershel told him. "Extra surgical supplies, drapes, sutures."
"If you had all that could you save him?" Rick asked.
"If I had all that, I could try," the farmer replied.
"Nearest hospital went up in flames a month ago," Otis said. "The high school?"
"That's what I was thinking. They set up a FEMA shelter there. They would have everything we need."
"Place was overrun last time I saw it," Otis added. "You couldn't get near it. Maybe it's better now."
"I said to leave the rest to me," Shane stated. "Is it too late to take that back?"
"I hate you going alone," Rick argued.
"I'm going with him," Leah said. Shane raised his eyebrows.
"All right…" Shane said. "Doc, why don't you do us a list and draw a map?"
"You won't need a map," Otis insisted. "I drive you. Ain't but five miles."
"Otis, no," Patricia argued as she entered the room.
"Honey, we don't have time for guesswork. And I'm responsible. Ain't gonna sit here while these two take this on alone. I'll be all right."
"Are you sure about this?" Shane asked. He nodded.
"Do you even know what any of the stuff he's talking about looks like?" he asked.
"Come to think of it, no."
"I've been a volunteer E.M.T," Otis said. "I do. We can just talk about this until next Sunday or we'll do it real quick."
"I'll take real quick," Shane said.
"I should thank you," Rick told them.
"Wait till that boy of yours is up and around, then we'll talk," Otis said. "I'll gather some things."
After ten silent minutes, the three adults gathered in front of Otis's truck, ready to head out. Patricia and Rick followed. Hershel burst through the porch doors, handing Leah the list.
"Just get what you need and get out of there," Rick told his two friends.
"Stay strong, all right," Shane said. Rick nodded, and pulled out his revolver. He handed it out to Leah.
"Take it," he said. "If you run into trouble, your axe won't be enough."
She grasped it in her hands. "Thank you, Rick. I'll make sure to bring it back," she assured. He gripped her shoulder.
"You got six rounds," Rick added.
"Okay."
"Good luck out there," he said. "Both of you."
"Will do," Shane said.
Otis approached them. "Are we ready to go?" he asked.
"Yeah," Shane nodded. They climbed into the truck, smashing Leah in the middle. Shane looked at Otis's rifle—the same one that had injured Carl. Otis noticed.
"Only one I got," he said as he started the engine.
"Man, this turned into one strange day," Shane muttered.
"Didn't it, though?"
XXX
The truck came to a halt on the side of the road. Looming above was the high school, swarming with Walkers. Nothing cleared out. If anything, it got worse.
The adults climbed up the mossy hill, hiding in behind a destroyed ambulance, and to an old police cruiser, shimmying along the back. They peaked over the top, immediately falling back down at the sight of the horde.
Shane cursed. "You see that big mobile medical trailer?" Otis panted.
"That's where we got to get to?"
"We'll never make it," Leah whispered. Shane looked at the trunk of the cruiser.
"I have an idea," he said. To avoid conflict, and certain death, Shane crawled to the driver's side door instead of walking. He slowly opened the door, biting his cheek as the handle clicked. He glanced over at the Walkers, breathing out when not a single one noticed him. He opened the door with a faint squeak.
The trunk shot open, startling Otis. Shane backed out of the car, reaching into the trunk to collect multiple flares. He smiled, and the trio waited until dark to set them off.
Leah set off the first one, which landed on the opposite side of the parking lot a few Walkers noticed, and stumbled over. The two men tossed the other two at the same time, landing by hers. The mob of Walkers murmured, creeping over to the bright red sparks. Shane chucked another one.
The horde took off towards the flares, clearly interested in the bright colors.
When the way was clear, Shane sprinted across the vehicles to the trailer. He beckoned the other's over, and they reached him in seconds. They slid inside the trailer, shutting the door quietly.
As Leah slid against the door to create a barrier, Shane and Otis scanned the shelves. Their flashlights lit up the trailer. Once Shane spotted several oxygen tanks, he placed three into his bag. Otis grabbed the tube needed for the procedure, and the respirator itself.
They continued looting the trailer, clanking tanks and tools together.
"We done?" Leah whispered. Upon hearing a hoarse yeah, the trio reopened the trailer door, stepping back out into the cold night air.
They gasped as the horde of Walkers returned to their original spots, having lost interest in the flares. Hundreds of eyes flashed to the humans, and the undead geared up towards the trio.
"Goddamn it," Shane growled. He jumped from the trailer, dashing across the parking lot to the entrance of the school.
Leah stepped on his heels as she ran. Otis barely kept up, nearly getting snagged on several occasions. The trio bounded up a flight of cement stairs, turning the corner to find another herd. A Walker snatched Shane's arm. He shoved it away as he backed up, directing his companions elsewhere.
They were chased through a tennis court, and to another wing of the school. A third herd of Walkers close lined them, forcing them through more alleys.
"In here!" Shane shouted as he yanked open the school doors. Upon finding them locked and yet another group of Walkers, Shane shot the glass panels out, allowing the group inside. The gunshot had agitated the Walkers, and they charged to the living prey. Shane yanked the safety gates shut, blocking the Walkers from them as a FEMA Walker lunged.. He secured the gate with a shoelace, and cursed as he realized he had merely trapped himself.
It was an odd feeling… Peculiar, and unwelcomed. Shane's hand felt out of place as it gripped Leah's, dragging her through the school with Otis in toe. The Walker's limped after them in the dark corridors, snarling, growling, and hissing. Shane's touch was foreign. Sweat fell from their faces as they ran, passing dented lockers, and empty classes riddled smashed chalkboards and upturned desks.
Papers scattered the waxed hallways. Shane came to a halt once he reached a set of doors leading to the outside, only to find them chained shut. He cursed under his breath, pulling Leah and Otis down the hall just left of them.
The new hallway was darker. Walkers rammed into the lockers, sending rattles and thuds down the hall echoing like thunder. It was nearly impossible to differentiate between Otis's panting, and the Walker's growls.
The trio burst through a set of unlocked doors. The looked around them, gazing at the walls of the gym before climbing up the collapsed bleachers as the Walker's grabbed at them. The undead creatures clawed at the metal seats, trying to reach their prey. However, the living beings were too far up, and out of reach.
Yet if the Walker's shook the bleachers much more than they did, the adults would tumble off, becoming chow for the creatures, and leaving Carl to die. Shane turned on his flashlight, aiming it around the room until the light stopped to a frosted set of windows.
"Those windows," he gasped. "What's on the other side?"
Otis looked at the man. "About a twenty-foot drop with noting to catch you," he retorted. "'Cept maybe some bushes, and then the athletic field."
"We just need enough time," Shane told him.
"How much?" Leah asked. "The Walker's can knock us off at any moment." The bleachers rattled, and Shane stumbled forward. Leah latched onto his shirt, pulling him back.
"Thanks," he murmured. She nodded. "We gotta get up there. We gotta get 'em open and get out."
"Not me," Otis rebuked. "Maybe you two."
"Hey," Shane said.
"Come on, man, look at me! You really think I can squeeze through one of them tiny windows? They'd be all over us. Look, we lay down some fire to get a head start. You two stay here. I'll hop down and draw them away. That gives you guys the chance to get up the bleachers and out a window."
"And where do you go?" Shane demanded.
Otis took his flashlight, pointing it towards the boy's locker room. "Looker room down those steps."
"Looks like a good way to get trapped."
"It's got windows too, and more my size," Otis argued. "I get out through one, I double back, and we meet up out on the field." He handed Shane the supplies.
"You're a crazy son of a bitch, ain't you?" Shane joked.
"Just trying to do right for that boy," Otis said.
"We appreciate it," Leah said.
Otis nodded. "Here I go."
"Wait," Shane said. "You take three shots. After that I fire. I'll lay down a cover for you. I'll get you a lead."
"All right." Otis shot the first Walker down. Shane joined in. Leah raised Rick's revolver, but Shane pressed her hand down. "Let us handle it," he said.
The hunter adjusted his green had before sliding down the bleachers, jumping off. He landed on his knees. A legless Walker latched onto Otis. The hunter screamed, and Shane shot down the Walker. Otis kicked away, gathering to his feet as several Walker's stumbled over to him. He ran to the locker room, vanishing from sight.
"Did he make it?" Leah asked Shane.
Shane strained his eyes. "I can't tell."
"We need to get moving. Now's our chance."
Shane and Leah crawled on the bleachers, leaping over to the windows. Lurkers caught sight of them, and limped over to the pair as they smacked against the windows. Shane smashed the glass with the butt of his gun. When the window was clear, he shoved Leah out through the hole as he shot the first Walker.
He heard her screaming from below, and instantly assumed a herd was below him, already feasting on the woman. Peering out, his eyes widened as he saw her crumpled on top of a bush, and blood very visibly seeping onto the ground. Rick's revolver lay on the ground beside her. Shane dropped the supplies out, and readied himself to jump out.
"Hold on," he called down to his injured companion. As he slid out, a Walker suddenly latched onto Shane's arm, holding him up. The man grunted as he tried to yank away.
His hand fished out his handgun, pulling the trigger against the Walker's head. Black blood sprayed out, and Shane fell, landing on his ankle. There was a sickening crack as he collapsed to the ground.
"Help me!" Leah begged. Shane looked at the bush, and shook his head.
He couldn't save the injured—maybe dying—woman like that. He could hardly walk as it was, and he knew he would have to carry the woman. But why should he save her? She was a threat to him. This was his chance to dénouement his conflict with the woman. All he had to do was just leave.
It was that simple.
"I'm sorry," he muttered before recollecting his possessions. There were three gunshots in the distance. Shane shot back, and took Rick's revolver, limping off.
"Get back here!" the redhead ordered. He ignored her. The woman screamed for him, but he never returned. "Shane! You son of a bitch!"
She winced in pain during her attempts to wrench away from the bush. But she couldn't move. She felt like she was on fire. She screamed until her throat felt raw, and like she was choking on blood.
"Oh God," she spat. "Not like this! Please… Not like this… Shane!"
She heard a growling behind her. She struggled to turn her head towards the Walker as it lurched for her. All the screams and the blood had attracted the creature. The woman snapped off a flimsy branch with all the strength she could muster, and swung her arm out. The wood landed in its chest, and it stumbled back. Leah's weapon lodged into his bones, sticking in place.
The woman grunted during faulted endeavors to eject the stick. Suddenly, the twigs rammed into her chest broke off, and she tumbled to the grass, landing on her back. The Walker collapsed on top of her, forcing a few twigs further into her. She screamed, her voice sounding raspier than before from the rawness.
The stick hung above her. She grasped onto the end closest to her, managing to break it off. The creature snapped at her, dropping blood onto her face. Brandishing her arm, she stabbed the Walker in the temple, over and over again until her arm felt numb. But it wasn't enough. She gauged out an eye, wincing at the blood and maggots. Without thinking, she flattened her fingers, ramming them into the hole.
She felt the brain mold around her fingers. Her nails scraped against the brain. While pushing her hand in further, the skull cracked, and the upper half of the Walker's head flung back into the dewy grass. Leah panted, chucking the creature off. She leaned up against the bloody bush, biting her lip in agony as she pulled the twigs out of her stomach.
Blood gushed out from the incisions. She closed her eyes, feeling dizzy from blood loss. She carefully unbuttoned her flannel, leaving her chest exposed, save the bra securing her breasts in place. She tied the shirt around the bleeding wounds.
"You're gonna have to try harder than that to get rid of me," she laughed at God. "You may be done with me, but I'm not."
She held her knife above the Walker, ripping its stomach open. The insides were black and lumpy. She dropped her bloody knife on the wet grass, reaching inside of the stomach. She cringed at the warm, squishy guts when they sunk in her hands. It was worse than the brain of the Walker. The odor was repulsive, and she struggled to control her vomit. As she spread the bloody organs around her body, she suddenly felt warm. It was almost comforting, if not for the smell.
She felt like a blanket had shrouded her, biting off the killing cold. If only it were truly fabric. She remembered the day in Atlanta when Rick and Glenn covered themselves in Walker guts to sneak through a horde, and get the group out of the city. She prayed it would work now.
She pulled herself back up, bending over in pain. She gasped as she stumbled along the brick wall of the school. She felt like her lungs were compressing.
Each step the woman took increased her agony. It was excruciatingly unbearable.
She collapsed in a heap on the dark ground, quivering as she coiled into a tight ball, aching as she huffed. She had hardly moved from the bush. She did know, however, how far away she was from the parking lot.
Her ears picked up on cracking gunshot, plus a low scream in the distance as it followed. The shot sounded like a bone snapping in half, and the holler was none too pleasant either. It was too low to be Shane, she knew. Her eyes lingered to the empty yard in front of her. She wouldn't die that night—she wouldn't let it happen.
She unraveled from her ball, holding her breath as two Walkers stumbled past her, oblivious to her current human status. If she didn't hurry and get help, she knew she would be among the walking creatures soon enough. But the woman couldn't think. She had no plan.
All she did was crawl from the spot, masking herself within the Walkers. They didn't realize she was still a living, breathing creature…
Leah found herself perched on a cement ramp. Holding her breath, she rolled down, biting into her scabbed lip until it bled. Never had she imagined herself in such a position as she was in now. She thought she was safe with Shane—she never pictured Shane just leaving her, as much as he hated her.
She thought he was better than that…
Once the parking lot came into her view, it all unfolded. Her breathing seemed to slow in a point leaving her gasping for air. Invisible wasps intruded her head, buzzing and driving her to insanity as her incisions bled through her shirt at a rapid rate.
"No…" she whispered as she clawed at the ground in front of her, hoisting herself forward. "No…"
A green camouflage hat rested under her shaking pale hands. Leah's eyes widened in horror as she clutched the hat, watching in utter jolting fear as Walkers jumbled together, coated in shimmering red while hunched over a human. She knew… She knew it was Otis.
Shane murdered the man, and left the woman. But for what? What good was there to achieve, she would never know.
Another jerk waved through her cuts, forcing a quiet animal like sound from her. That was all it took for a few Walkers to turn towards her, snarling as pieces of Otis fell from their mouths. They reached for the woman, collecting to their feet. The woman struggled to stand up.
She had to run.
And run she did.
All the pain in her chest screamed at her to stop—she would only be greeted with death if she did.
The Walkers stumbled after her. While passing the FEMA trailer, a jagged edge from the stairs caught on her pants, yanking her down. Her elbow scrapped off the pavement. She forced herself up the steps, and into the trailer.
But it was a mistake—Leah had merely trapped herself. The Walkers pounded against the door, rattling it in place. The woman moved boxes to the door, barricading it with what she had.
She fell to the floor in exhaustion and blood loss. She cradled her stomach before shutting her eyes, counting her remaining, and few blessings before darkness consumed her forever.
It was done.
AN: HA! YOU DIDN'T SEE THAT COMING! HAAA! Ha! Ha… Oh…
