* Disclaimer: I have no knowledge of medical practices. I am mostly going off of what the episode talked about. It's basically Layla's stubbornness against a painful situation.
Awake
"Motherfucker," I cried out as I struggled upright. With the pain burning through my body, I felt like I had no traction under my feet. As soon as I was standing, I let my shoulder fall against a tree for support.
Pressing my hand against the wound, I used my other hand to drop my bow and bring out my knife. I looked around wildly. The deer in front of me was lying lifelessly on the ground, a bullet wound in him as well.
"Oh my god," a trembling voice exclaimed. "Oh my god!" A portly man holding a rifle stumbled into the clearing to make his way over to me. "I-I shot you! I-I didn't mean..! I swear I didn't mean-"
"Jesus goddamn Christ," I muttered as I put my knife away. His face was full of regret, pure shock, and uncertainty. He even started to pace in front of me a little. I shook my head as I grabbed at one of my backpack straps. This man was no threat to me.
"Son of a bitch," I snapped as I took my hand off the strap. I remembered I had no sutures to close the wound, and I had no more matches left to cauterize. I grunted as I now pushed both of my hands against the wound to try and stop the blood flow.
"Why the fuck did you shoot me," I demanded through clenched teeth.
God, was his apologetic stammering getting on my nerves. "I'm-I'm sorry! The deer! I was-" He stopped to jostle his rifle. "The deer! Oh, god!" He buried his face in his hands, but kept one eye open to stare at my wound in horror.
I rolled my eyes. "You know what? Fuck this! Can you pull a doctor's office out of your ass? Nope! Didn't think so!" I shoved my shoulder against the tree to push off, and I had to gnash my teeth together to stop from crying out. My hands left my side for a brief second and I felt blood splash onto my foot.
I muttered a string of curses as I finally ripped my backpack from my shoulders.
"I can help," I vaguely heard him repeating. "I-I live on a f-farm-"
"Hand me my bow," I snapped at him as I fished out some rags from my pack.
Obediently, swiftly, he grabbed my bow and handed it to me. I used my knife to cut the bowstring clean through. Putting the rag over my wound, I wound the bowstring around my waist and over the rag. I tied it as tight as I could stand it.
"Listen to me, I can help!"
I ignored him, staring up at the sun and trying to use that as a compass. I needed to make it back to the highway. I hoped there were stitches in that ambulance and I had simply glossed over them.
I stopped.
Looking back at the panicking man, I said, "A farm?"
"Yes," he exclaimed. "A farm! Me and my family! There's a guy there, a doctor! He can help you!"
A smile twitched my lips for the briefest of seconds, before forcing them to be serious. "Okay," I nodded. "Just…" I glanced around. "Give me one…"
With a shaky breath, I chirped as loud as my lungs would let me. I instantly bit down on my fist to prevent from crying out, only letting a small whimper escaped.
The man walked closer to me in confusion. "Wha-"
I held my hand up to cut him off. I listened.
Nothing.
I chirped again.
Yet again, I didn't hear a whistle responding in kind.
"Fuck," I muttered. "Okay…How far is this farm?"
"Less than three miles," he said hurriedly. He kept glancing at my wound worriedly.
I blew out a puff of air. "Three miles it is, then. Point the way." I had a rough idea of where the highway was from here, but Daryl was out of whistle range. Not only was I too far away from him, but I could very well be too far from where the group was. Getting to Hershel's farm would be my best bet for survival.
As we jogged, pain jolted my body over and over again. It wasn't enough that I had a bullet lodged in my ribs, but the thin pressure of the bowstring felt like it was cutting into me with every step. The man told me his name was Otis, and he was struggling to keep pace with me.
"Come on, man," I said with a strained smirk. "Who's the one with a bullet in her side?"
Suddenly, he stopped altogether, putting his hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. His stopping made me screech to a halt. As soon as I did so, I realized the adrenaline had worn off a long time ago. The pain shooting through my body wasn't because of how fast we were moving, but was actually now constant. It was getting harder and harder to ignore it. My knees shuddered, trying to force me to the ground.
"We have to keep going," I hissed at him, almost strained to the limit. "That includes you! I have no idea where the farm is."
He shook his head and pointed beyond us. "The farm…is straight that way…About a mile now." He stared at my wound again. The blood was seeping through the rag and dripping onto the dirt. "But-but…You…"
I chuckled bitterly as I got out another rag from my pocket. "You don't think I'll make it?" I took out the old rag and replaced it with the new one. "Motherfucker," I cried out as the pressure reapplied. I gasped in pain as I looked at Otis. "Guess I'm gonna have to prove you wrong."
I started off in the direction Otis pointed to, but stopped myself. I glanced back at his rifle. "How many bullets you got left?"
He was still huffing and puffing, almost kneeling on the ground at this point. "A-a couple. Yeah, a couple."
I flexed my jaw. "You use 'em if you have to. And if I hear you firing...I'll come back and help."
That made him look up at me incredulously. "You're the one who's injured!"
"Not the first time I've been shot," I said as I turned away. "Won't be my last."
I tried to keep myself at a jog, to pace myself. It would do me no good if I passed out from exhaustion. My body protested angrily every step of the way. My abdomen burned intensely, my lungs felt like they would give out, and the bowstring was now literally cutting into me.
The woodlands gave way to vast fields of wild grass waving with the light evening breeze. The breeze felt wonderful on my skin, but that was the only thing positive. My pace was stuttering. This wasn't normal of me to go this long without tending to a wound.
My breathing was getting shallower and shallower. Dizziness clouded my vision and dampened my coordination. I couldn't tell whether all of it was from exhaustion, blood loss, or perhaps the bullet nicked a lung.
By the time the farmhouse came into view, the sky had started to darken. I sighed in relief. I wanted to stop right then and there, and my feet were already beginning to slow. With a determined growl, I ran. Full-tilt, as if I had walkers nipping at my heels. I didn't stop, not until I got beyond the fences.
I practically stumbled across the driveway. I made it halfway up the porch steps before my foot caught and I fell forward. My bow flew from my grip and landed across the porch with a harsh clatter. I let my forehead drop on a step in front of me, trying to catch my breath to at least get up and knock on the door.
I heard the creaking of the front door. There was a silent pause. Then, I heard a voice yelling, "Dad!" And the door closed loudly. I looked up at the door as I slowly climbed to my feet. Everything was so quiet I thought for a second I had imagined Maggie's voice.
I watched as the porch door swung open. Out came Hershel and Maggie, concern and fear dancing across their faces. I must've looked quite a picture. Sweat was pouring off of my pallor skin in buckets, blood was dripping down my side onto the steps, and my legs visibly shook as I stood in front of them with a huge, happy smile on my face.
"Man," I exclaimed. "It is so good to see you guys!"
"Are you bit," Maggie's eyes flashed to my wound.
"Nah," I shook my head. "Ah," I winced, putting my hand to my forehead as a head-rush swarmed me. "Shouldn't do that again. Uh, no," I continued. "Not a bite. Gunshot. Otis sent me. He said you were a doctor."
Hershel regarded me carefully for a moment.
"Daddy," Maggie said quickly. "What do you want us to do?"
He nodded at me resolutely, but the suspicion hadn't quite left his face yet. "Come inside with us. We'll see what we can do. Maggie, go get the others. We may need all hands on deck. Can you walk?"
I nodded as I carefully navigated up the steps and into the house ahead of him. "I've made it this far. Don't count me out just yet."
"No," he agreed as he walked passed me to lead me to a bedroom. "Something tells me I shouldn't. Lay down on the bed. What's your name?"
"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit," I spat as I had to curl myself a little to get situated. "Layla," I gasped out as I finally got myself to lie on the center of the bed.
As soon as I was as comfortable as I could get with a bullet lodged inside me, people swarmed the room.
"What's happening," a woman asked. "Who is this?"
Hershel gave her a quick glance as he readied the room. "Patricia, I need my full kit. Maggie, painkillers, coagulates. Grab everything. Clean towels, sheets, alcohol. I need it all in here!"
I cringed as everyone got to work. "Hold up, now," I flinched as I tried to sit up. "All I'll need is the medical supplies, and a place to rest for an hour or two." Hershel frowned at me. "And you have all that. I can take care of this myself."
Hershel looked at everyone else in the room, who had stopped to stare at me doubtfully. He shook his head stubbornly. "Move, everyone. We don't wanna lose time."
My head fell back on the pillow in exasperation. "This is unnecessary, all this fussing. I've always taken care of my own wounds."
"If you've always taken care of your own wounds," Hershel said as he got out a bag of saline. "Then, why come here?"
"'Cause I don't have the medical supplies," I shot back irritably, but, damn, did I miss his stubbornness.
"Beth, hold this," Hershel asked as he handed her the bag and readied an IV catheter.
As soon as Beth stepped into view, I almost said the words, 'God, Daryl would be so happy to see you.' But I bit my tongue. I looked up at the ceiling and chuckled lightly. Who knew I had to get eaten by walkers to have a family reunion? Mind, these weren't my blood relatives, and how I overall got here was kind of fucked up, but a family reunion nonetheless.
"Hey," I suddenly snapped as fingers touched my arm. I glared at Hershel.
"I need to get fluids in you," he said stoically. How could a person with such a neutral expression still glare back at you? "Will you let us help you?"
I looked around at everyone helping Hershel ready his medical supplies. Maggie glanced at me for a second before getting back to prepping. "You look like you came a long way," she said. "You really think you have enough energy to do this by yourself?"
I opened my mouth to protest.
"Without making mistakes or passing out halfway through," Hershel added.
I shut it, and relaxed into the bed. "Fuck it," I muttered.
Could I do it myself? Yes. Could I do it successfully? Minutes prior to arriving on the farm, sure. However, I didn't have to look in a mirror to know I was in rough shape. My hands shook with a mixture of blood loss, fatigue, and now hunger. My head was foggy and dizzy as well. It would be too easy for me to make an error right now. The only thing I wanted to do was patch myself up, take a breather, and get back to Daryl. I wouldn't accomplish that if I accidentally hit an artery or just made it worse in general.
I stuck my arm out at Hershel. I jumped again when he grabbed it to start inserting the needle. "Are you gonna let us work," he asked me.
"You're lucky I trust you," I grumbled petulantly.
"Why's that," he asked. "You don't even know us."
"Eh," I grunted ominously.
"You said you saw Otis out there," he said as he made his way over to the other side of the bed to get a better look at the wound.
"Otis," Patricia asked, dropping what she was doing. "What happened? Where is he?"
"Otis – Ah!" I flinched in pain as Hershel cut the bowstring and removed the rag from the bullet hole. "Otis was the one who shot me."
"What?!" Patricia put her hand over her mouth.
"It was an accident," I explained as everyone stopped to look at me with wide eyes. "He shot me…Er, he was shooting the deer, and he missed. Or maybe he shot the deer and the bullet passed through and hit me. The deer was on the ground." I chuckled tiredly. "Wouldn't that be cinematic?"
Hershel shook his head and put his attention on the wound. "I think she's starting to get delirious. I need a scalpel, tweezers, sutures, towels, a tray, and extra gloves."
"I'm not delirious," I chuckled again. "I'm just crazy."
"That's an understatement," I heard Maggie mutter.
"Maggie," Beth scolded.
"Y'all didn't see her standing on the front porch the way she was," was Maggie's response. "No offense," she added with a small apologetic smile.
I smiled back. "None taken."
"Where is he now," Patricia asked.
"Headed this way," I said. "He was about a mile or so behind me."
"You couldn't have come all that way," Hershel said as he used his thumbs to carefully – but no less painfully – inspect the damage. "You would've passed out by then."
"That and then some," I grumbled, trying to ignore what he was doing. "We've been running for nearly three miles."
Everyone stared at me with wide eyes and dropped jaws. Hershel was stunned enough that he let his hands fall to the bed.
I cleared my throat. "So, how's it looking, doc," I asked, trying to keep him on track because I did not want to bleed out, and I think I was very close to that.
Hershel looked at the discarded bowstring and rag. "What's your blood type," he asked as he removed his gloves.
"No clue."
Hershel's expression was neutral again, but now with a hint of worry and confusion. "If the bullet did pass through a deer, it would explain why the wound isn't so deep. The deer slowed it down. That's the good news. Bad news is it fragmented. I've counted six total pieces. Thank you," he added to Patricia as she handed him the surgical tray with everything he needed on it. He set the tray on a night stand and put clean gloves on.
"That string and that rag have been your saving grace," he continued. "Without them, you would've bled to death long before getting here. But…" He paused to stare at me worriedly. "I make no guarantees. Without knowing your blood type, we can't safely give you more blood. And without a proper ER, we can only move as fast as we're able."
He put his attention on the surgical tray. He handed a rag to Maggie. "Mop up the blood as I go," he instructed as he got out the scalpel and tweezers. "I have no general anesthesia," he continued to explain to me. He looked me square in the eyes. "I cannot make any guarantees."
I nodded once, solidly. "Do what you gotta do," I huffed tiredly. "Just…walk me through as you go. I…don't like being touched."
"You shouldn't worry yourself too much," Hershel said apologetically. "Eventually, you'll more than likely pass out from pain." He sighed as he moved the scalpel and tweezers towards my skin. "You should've passed out already."
"My god," I smirked weakly. "The optimism in this room is fantastic."
"I'm starting now."
The scalpel slid through my skin.
I shrieked, fisting my hands into the comforter.
"Jimmy," Hershel said evenly. "Hold her down."
I shook my head rapidly as a young man appeared into view. "I can keep myself still!"
Hershel was shaking his head. "No, you can't. Jimmy's gonna have to hold you down."
"Motherfucking tits," I screeched as Jimmy held my arms and chest down, worsening the pain and making me go haywire. "If I bite this dude," I snarled through clenched teeth. "I am not gonna be held accountable."
Jimmy flashed Hershel with a fearful glance. "Just hold her," he said to Jimmy. He adjusted his grip on the tweezers. "I'm gonna pull out the first fragment now."
"Gimme a rag to bite down on," I said quickly. As soon as I was given one, I nodded at Hershel.
The next few…minutes? Hours? I didn't know, but time seemed to move at top speed and at a snail's pace all at once. Between the fragment removals, scalpel slicing, exhaustion, pain, trying shove at the arms that held me down, muffled cries around the rag… Time was irrelevant through it all.
I tried and failed to hold back a scream as yet another fragment was plucked from my body.
If I were doing it myself, I'd have had more awareness. I could've done it myself. But time and supplies were not on my side, and I didn't want to fuck up. I had just found Daryl again, and the last thing I wanted to do was try and repair the wound only to make it worse and end up dead. That's what I kept justifying to myself as I let them work on the bullet wound.
That didn't mean I was no less terrified that I didn't have complete control of the situation, and I knew my face and struggling movements were speaking volumes in that regard. I knew that if someone wasn't holding me down, I would've messed up Hershel's work. I knew that if I didn't have a rag in my mouth, that I would've bitten the poor guy that was holding me down. And, man, did I feel sorry for him. Not only was sweat pouring down his face, but he kept glancing between me and Hershel with a consistent look of fear. I must've been glaring daggers at him throughout the ordeal, as if it were his fault.
I faintly heard the clatter of metal on a tray. There was a voice, too. "…you…h…me…Can…Layla," Hershel asked as his voice started to clear up. "Can…r me...? Are you with us, still?"
I nodded once, my eyes drooping heavily.
"We're gonna give you a break for just a moment. Can you speak," he asked as he removed the rag.
"How's…" I rasped. "How's th…" I paused. "Fuck me, I'm exhausted."
"Still think you could've handled this yourself," he asked.
Feebly, I curled my fist, tilted it into view, and showed him my middle finger. His lips twitched upwards slightly. My hand fell back to the mattress with a soft thud.
"You've been very lucky," he said. "Your lungs, bones, arteries, everything's intact."
"Ah, just a...pesky hole to deal with," I shrugged. "Nothing major."
He chuckled. "Just a pesky hole," he repeated. He cleared his throat to get back to seriousness. "The only thing that needs done is removing the last fragment, and then stitching you up. Are you ready," he asked as he retrieved the scalpel and tweezers.
"Bring it on," I smirked. "Hey…When all this is over…Can I…keep the bullet fragments in a jar. I'll…tell people I got my appendix removed…Show 'em the jar…and watch the confusion… on their faces."
"Maggie," I heard Beth say. "I agree with you."
Hershel shook his head incredulously as he moved the tools towards my skin again. "You know," he said. "There's no shame in passing out. I'm surprised you've made it this long without doing so. Your body needs to rest and forcing yourself to stay awake through all this is taxing."
"Bring it on," I simply repeated.
"Layla-"
"If I pass out," I interrupted as strongly as I could. "I may never wake up again...Just do it."
As soon as I said those words, he put the rag back in my mouth. I felt the tweezers and scalpel. The metal invaded my insides for a few seconds more. I snarled loudly around the rag as the fragment was yanked out.
"Do you want me to get more saline, dad," Beth asked.
"No," he replied as he readied for sutures. "You can put everything down, but keep the catheter in her arm. Just in case. See if you can fix up some food for her."
"God," I exhaled as I spat out the rag. "Yes, please!"
Hershel put the rag back up to my mouth. "I've yet to do the stitches."
I shook my head. "I won't need it for stitches…And I need to breath." I looked up at Jimmy. "You can let go of me now."
Hershel nodded at Jimmy after a second. I inhaled thankfully as Jimmy finally stepped away. Then, I exhaled harshly when I felt the needle go in and out of skin, but made no other moves or noises. "So, doctor or nurse," he asked casually as he continued to work the needle in and out of my side.
I raised a brow. "What," I asked through clenched teeth.
"Did you have a career in the medical field," he asked. "The amount of confidence you have with all this…"
I shrugged slightly. "I'm no stranger...to taking care of my own boo-boos."
He simply nodded respectfully.
I glanced around. Hershel, Maggie, and I were the only ones left in the room. My gaze fell on the window, and I noticed there was still a bit of daylight left.
"Damn, you're good," I said. "You did…this procedure within minutes."
"Hardly," Maggie said as she got out a clean rag to wipe up more blood. "It's been hours."
"What're you talking about? It's still daylight out."
"Early morning," Hershel corrected.
My brain stalled a little. "Ah," was all that I could muster in acknowledgement.
"We all had to take breaks here and there," he explained. "Sometimes I had to take my time so as not to hit an artery or other vital; the wound is extremely close to your lungs. Sometimes someone would have to leave the room to track down a medical supply. Like I said, we intended to move as fast as we could."
"All for someone…you don't know," I mused.
He shrugged. "You showed up on my doorstep. Didn't give us much of a choice."
"Suppose not," I responded.
"Done," he said as he sat back to inspect his work. "That should do it, but now we have another problem. Antibiotics. I asked Patricia to go find some. She practically turned this house upside down, but she came up with nothing."
"What about that hospital," Maggie asked.
Hershel shook his head. "Otis and I searched that hospital after Nellie had gotten scraped on some fencing, remember? It got destroyed. I was thinking of the FEMA shelter set up at the high school."
Maggie frowned. "We can't get near that place without getting eaten."
"No need to go on a run," I muttered. "My boyfriend…has a bunch of medication leftover…from his brother. Should be some…antibiotics left."
Maggie straightened up and wiped her hands on a clean rag. "Whereabouts?"
"On the highway. Not long after…the road turns into a four-lane."
"Right," Maggie nodded determinedly. "I know where that is. What's his name? What's he look like?"
"Daryl. Short hair. Has a...crossbow on him."
Maggie nodded. Before she headed out of the room, Hershel said, "Wait."
Maggie stopped in the doorway.
Hershel glanced at me, then out the window to look at his farm, and then focused on Maggie again. With a heavy sigh, he said, "Just…be careful."
Maggie nodded.
"Wait," it was my turn to say.
Maggie stopped again.
"Thank you," I said. "All of you."
"You're welcome," Maggie said, and then left.
"You're welcome," Hershel said as well as he stood up. "I'd ask if you want some company to keep an eye on you, but something tells me you'll refuse." I snorted. "Beth should be along with some food." He paused to frown disapprovingly. "You really do need to rest. We'll keep checking in on you, make sure your vitals are steady."
My eyes drifted to the ceiling. "I can't yet. Not when I'm like this."
Probably knowing he wasn't going to get anywhere with the current subject, he said, "Your boyfriend's probably worried sick. I'm sure he can't wait to see you."
I shook my head. "They're all doing fine. Me disappearing for hours or even a full day is nothing new to them."
"Them?"
I turned my head to look at him. His face and posture were tense, but, once again, still neutral.
"The group me and my boyfriend are travelling with." I paused. "I know you're not fond of people. I can tell just by how you looked at me when I arrived, and how you're looking at me now."
Hershel cautiously searched my eyes for a few seconds. "As soon as you're well and able, we can send you and your people on your way."
I sighed. "Hershel-"
He closed the bedroom door as he left, stopping any further discussion.
