Thank you for all the great reviews on the last chapter and I hope everyone likes this one! Hope it isn't rushed, I'm trying to get it out and shower before the next episode airs in seven minutes.
Glenn parted Rick's shirt and someone handed him another rag to press over Rick's wound.
"Move," ordered Hershel and a path was cleared for the vet so he could hobble up. He took the rag away from Glenn and moved it aside to inspect the damage for himself.
Glenn held his breath while he waited for Hershel's assessment. He noticed Michonne staring at him though it wasn't with her usual scowl. Her looked had been softened and not even a hint of blame crossed her face. Glenn appreciated it, as well as her silence in the matter, and he dipped his head to her. Michonne nodded back and then over to Daryl.
"Now would be a good time to work on him," she said softly.
The group heard her and jumped to life. They picked up where they had left off before Rick's outburst. Carol and Maggie returned to Daryl's legs and carefully cut around the nails in order to remove his pants. After they were done, Carol moved up to Daryl's head and stroked his hair. She whispered quietly to him and placed her hand firmly against his arm to let him know she was there for him.
"It's not good but it could be much worse," said Hershel from beside Rick. The others looked to Hershel for him to explain further. Hershel recovered Rick's wound and took Glenn's hand to press down on it. "The bullet went through his side much in the same way that Daryl had the arrow back on my farm: it tore through his muscle but missed anything deeper. I can get him stitched up and with any luck he'll live."
The prison seemed to breathe a heavy sigh of relief that at least Rick may be alright.
"What about Daryl?" Carol asked.
"Keep pressure on that," Hershel told Glenn and then went back to Daryl. He peeled off the soiled bandage from where he'd been stabbed and shook his head. He examined the rest of Daryl without much expression. When he came to Daryl's head, he ran his fingers though Daryl's hair and a clump of it came loose. The bloody strands and pieces of scalp clung to Hershel's fingers before he wiped them off on a towel.
"Well?" asked Maggie.
Hershel sighed and shook his head again.
"He's not going to make it," he said.
"But before—"
"He has too many injuries that have been exposed for too long. He has old nails in his leg and his back is completely torn up. He'd need a skin graft for the burn on his stomach or else it would never heal. He was stabbed and then had salt poured on it…it's a small chance. And that's not taking into consideration the blow he sustained to his head."
"But he's still alive," argued Carol. "It can't be that bad."
"But it might be that bad…We have no way of telling how bad it really is. If it's bad enough to render him unconscious, which he currently is, significant trauma has occurred. There's a lot going on with Daryl that we can't see. I don't want to give up on Daryl but between him and Rick, Rick has the better chance at living. We don't have enough supplies or medicine to treat both of them," explained Hershel. "Rick is more likely to survive and we need to focus on him, I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry too," said a man from the darkened far end of the cells.
The entire cellblock spun to face the man. Glenn and Tyreese both raised their guns to the man and Michonne rushed him with her katana at his throat. He put his hands in the air and stepped into the light while another figure followed him and then broke past him.
"Daddy," cried Beth. She cradled a small bundle in her arms as she ran forward to her father.
"Beth? Beth!" shouted Maggie while she caught her sister and embraced her deeply. Hershel joined his daughters and the family hugged as they were reunited. Within the mix, a baby began to cry and Hershel stepped back.
"Beth…Judith…how is the possible?" asked Carol.
"You," hissed Michonne, her katana hovering next to Martinez's throat.
"What the hell are you doing here?" demanded Glenn. He walked closer to Martinez and didn't stop until his gun was an inch away from the man's forehead.
Martinez didn't flinch and held his ground. He met Glenn's intense stare and then also Michonne's.
"What am I trying to do? I'm trying to help you, you assholes," he snarled. "I brought the girls back and you shove a gun and sword in my face."
"You also brought the Governor, didn't you?" accused Michonne.
"Why?" asked Glenn, both he and Martinez ignoring Michonne for the time being.
"Because I'm tired of his shit," answered Martinez. "Look, my problem was with Daryl and he and I were square. I never wanted to be part of Philip's sick shit especially when he decided to drag the girls into it, alright?"
"What do you mean?" asked Tyreese.
"What do I mean? He made Rick choose between killing his baby or killing Daryl. Do you want me to draw you a picture of what happened next?" snapped Martinez.
"I think we get the picture," said Hershel.
"Good, I'm glad someone does. Now get that shit outta my face," said Martinez. He grabbed the tip of Glenn's gun and pushed it to the side while he maneuvered around Michonne's sword. "I told you I was sorry and I'm here to help—if you'll let me," he added when Michonne's eyes narrowed.
"You brought back the girls, I'd say that's as much help as we need out of you," said Glenn.
"Fine," huffed Martinez before he reached around and dropped the bag from his back. "Guess you don't need this then."
With his foot, Martinez shoved the bag closer to Glenn before taking a step back. Glenn looked over the back skeptically at first and decided not to be the one to open it. The circumstances around Martinez's arrival were too suspicious for him to not take everything with a grain of salt.
"What's in it?" asked Glenn.
"What are you stupid or something? I said I was here to help," said Martinez.
When Glenn didn't make a move to open the bag, Martinez rolled his eyes then dumped the contents of it on the floor. There was a small gasp from the women as out of the bag poured various medical supplies ranging from bandages to medicines and antibiotics.
Carol ran forward and bridged the gap between Glenn and Martinez to scoop up the supplies. She took them back to Hershel who began to sort them and examined various bottles and packaging.
"How did you know we'd need all this?" asked Hershel. "This might be what we need to help Daryl. How did you know?"
Martinez shifted his weight and crossed his arms. "Well…the Governor had Carl kill him…"
"What?" exclaimed the entire cell block. Martinez put his hand up to silence the questions that were about to be thrown his way.
"The Governor tried to have Carl kill Daryl with a bat and we all thought he was dead and we were going to let him turn. Then the Gov, another guy, and I were outside when Daryl attacked. It looked like he was a walker except I saw him stab the guy in the throat with a knife: that's how I knew he wasn't dead. He got lucky 'cause the Governor bought it. The Gov went back to talk to Carl so I grabbed the girls and the supplies and left."
It was a strange turn of events and Glenn was again hesitant in buying it. He continued to glare at Martinez to make him feel as unwelcome as possible.
"Thank you," Glenn said tensely.
"Yeah…this shit sucks, ya know. So uh, what happened with Rick?" asked Martinez. "He was fine when I saw him last."
"He was shot," answered Tyreese.
"Shot? By who?"
"It wasn't one of your people?" asked Hershel.
"It was me," Glenn said lowly. "I was trigger happy and thought he was the Governor coming out of the woods. It was real stupid."
"Real lucky is more like it," said Hershel.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" asked Martinez.
"Yes," said Hershel, "help Carol with cleaning Daryl up as much as possible. When I'm done with Rick I come see what I can do for him…another thing Martinez: does the Governor know what you've done?"
"He'll probably figure it out pretty fast if he hasn't already," said Martinez. "He's not going to be happy."
Hershel and Glenn both nodded in understanding. Whatever window they previously had to prepare for the Governor's looming attack had shut. The prison could count on an attack occurring at any moment.
"I'm going to take the back—Tyreese is going to watch the front," said Michonne as everyone split between Rick, Daryl, Beth, and Judith. Tyreese and Michonne each took one of the Woodbury survivors with them to stand guard at the front and back entrances. The girls—Beth and Judith—were tended to by Maggie who looked them over for any bumps and bruises then found a quite place for them to rest. Rick and Daryl were not as easy to deal with.
They moved Rick to another one of the tables and placed him alongside Daryl. He didn't so much as groan until Hershel began to stitch him. Martinez and Glenn held his arms and legs down as a precautionary measure but Rick never woke during the procedure. When the last stitch was in place, Hershel used some of the bandages Martinez had brought to wrap around Rick's middle and bind the wound better. They then moved him to a bed and posted Karen by his side for when he woke up.
Hershel checked Rick one last time and then washed his hands of the man's blood and approached Daryl. Carol and Sasha had cleaned him the best they could while waiting for Hershel. Though they had washed away most of the blood and dirt on him, Daryl did not look better. If anything, the grime had helped to camouflage his wounds. Now he was pale and his injuries contrasted drastically with his light skin.
"Nails, burn, lacerations, stabbed…head trauma…you don't want to die, do you Daryl?" Hershel murmured thoughtfully. "Let's see if we can help you at all."
"His pulse is really weak," said Sasha.
"What do we do?" asked Carol.
Hershel went to Martinez's bag and retrieved an IV. He started Daryl on it and then handed a pair of pliers to Carol. "Tie his hands and legs: I don't want him coming to again, although I really don't think it's likely. If he dies then we'll be able to wait to do anything until Rick is awake…I think he'd want to be the one to do it," said Hershel.
"What about these?" asked Carol, raising the pliers.
"You need to take care of his leg while I'm working on his shoulder. We have alcohol now so clean it after you pull each nail out then bandage it good," said Hershel.
Carol nodded and waited for Glenn to finishing tying Daryl's legs to the table with strips of bed sheets.
"You going to be ok?" he whispered to Carol.
"If Daryl is, then yes," she whispered back.
Carol watched as Hershel began to flush the remaining salt out of Daryl's shoulder. The water ran bloody down his chest before it was wiped away by Sasha with a towel. Daryl gave a light moan: his head jerking before Martinez steadied it with his hand.
"Easy Daryl," whispered Hershel.
"Do we have anything to give him?" asked Carol.
"No, any sedatives would do him more harm than good at this point," said Hershel. "Trust me; a little groan here and there is a good thing: it means he's still with us."
Carol's mouth tugged upwards in a small and brief smile. The smile did not last for long and was replaced with a deep frown once she took the first nail in Daryl's foot between the points of the pliers. She closed her eyes and then pulled back, yanking the nail out and hastily dropping it on the floor. Sasha swooped in to cradle Daryl's foot in a roll of gauze. Daryl whimpered again and Carol moved to extract the nail from above his ankle. The next nails were harder to pull and each stirred a pitiful moan out of Daryl. By the time the final nail in his thigh was removed, Daryl lay completely silent. His body was too exhausted to produce any noise which had the others worried.
Hershel split his time between attempting to sew the muscles in Daryl's shoulder and watching his breathing become more labored. "That will do for now," he declared after half an hour. He folded Daryl's arm across his bare chest then bound it down tightly. Hershel moved around to where Carol had been working to inspect the work she had done. The gauze she and Sasha had placed over the holes from the nails had small circles of blood in their centers but had fortunately not bled substantially. Satisfied, Hershel then focused his attention on the burn across Daryl's stomach.
He was dreading it the most and the reason why he had saved it until last. He'd never had much experience with burns, and certainly not ones on people. Daryl's was especially bad too: his skin was blackened and peeling away from his navel to his hip.
"What kind of sick man would do this to someone?" Hershel remarked out loud. "Rick had to do this?"
Hershel looked to Martinez who adverted his gaze.
"I know I could have stopped him—or killed him—but I was afraid to. He's got another army behind him now and they're more loyal to him. If I had killed Philip, there'd be thirty more men ready to spring up and take out me, Rick, Daryl, and the girls," admitted Martinez weakly. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," said Carol. "This wasn't your fault and you're doing the right thing now."
Martinez attempted to smile at Carol but she looked away quickly. Carol however caught Hershel's eye and silently begged him to continue helping Daryl.
"There's not much I can do here," said Hershel. He took a damp cloth and laid it atop Daryl's stomach to cover the burn.
"That's all? What about any antibiotics? Morphine, painkillers?" asked Carol frantically.
"Unfortunately everything we have is in tablet form. If he was conscious we could give it to him but since he's not I don't want to risk shoving a pill down his throat and making him choke," said Hershel.
"So when will he wake up?" asked Carol.
"It's hard to say…I think his head will keep him out for a while," said Hershel, "I hope I'm wrong though. Now here: roll him on his side so I can work on his back."
Martinez, Carol, and Glenn rolled Daryl to his left side so Hershel could clean and stitch the cuts along Daryl's back. Altogether, Hershel counted forty three stitches he had to make on Daryl's head, his shoulder, and down his back. When the vet was done, the gently slid a thin layer of blankets under Daryl to cushion his back and laid him down. Sasha raised a thin sheet to cover him and provide a little warmth to his naked and broken body.
Carol hung around next to Daryl even after everything was done. When Hershel was done cleaning himself up, he returned to Carol and placed a warm hand on her shoulder. Carol turned to face him with tears falling from the corner of her eyes.
"He's not going to make it, is he?" she asked, swiping at her swollen eyes.
"He's stronger than we think: he just might," said Hershel.
Carol swallowed roughly then bent over and took Daryl's head between her trembling hands. She put her forehead to his and then kissed his split lips; the lingering taste of his blood biting into her.
Carol pulled back from Daryl and traced her finger over his mangled face. He was still beautiful to her and even more so knowing he had sacrificed himself for Rick's sake and what he had thusly endured. If there was ever a man that didn't deserve to die, it was him.
Again, Carol leaned in to kiss Daryl. Her lips grazed his but a sudden sound of thunder breaking made her stop. She looked up to the high prison windows just as another clap of thunder roared around them.
"Another storm…at least that might delay his attack," said Hershel. "Give us a day to get Rick and Daryl stabilized."
"There's no lightning," said Carol quickly, her eyes widening. "I was watching…there wasn't any lightning."
Another loud sound, like thunder, echoed throughout the cell block. It drew the survivors out of their cells and had them looking about. Carol noted the noise was too sharp and didn't roll or crackle like thunder usually did. It was a bang, a brief echo, and then it was gone.
A tense moment passed in silence but was then ruptured by an ear-splitting blast. The prison shook with the force, knocking Hershel off his crutches and to the ground. Maggie and Carol helped him back up but then all three were tripped up as a second explosion rocked the prison. Pieces of the roof crumbled and fell around them.
"HE'S HERE, HE'S HERE!" shouted the man that had gone out to guard with Tyreese. He ran into the cell block and stopped in the doorway frantically waving in the direction he had run from. "He's attacking—"
The man got two words in and then Carol watched in slow motion as a grenade shattered the window above him and it exploded. He disappeared before her eyes in a spray of pink mist and then she was thrown sideways taking Maggie and Hershel down with her.
Ok, so I hope you enjoyed that and if it isn't clear, yes, the Governor is now attacking. I don't think this story is going to go on for much longer, and in fact I hope to wrap it up in three chapters, or less. Sorry for the late warning. However...if by popular demand you guys want me to do a sequel, I will. So if you want another story, I'll happily write one, but you have to tell me so. It's also possible that I can take requests for it so if there's anything in particular you'd like to see, let me know in some form or fashion. Like if you want to see Rick and Daryl get knocked around in a car crash with walkers all about, that sort of stuff or whatever. Anyways, hope you enjoyed!
