Hello all!! Okay, so this is actually the first part of a two-part one-shot (weird, I know lol) This idea came from the wonderful Cooper Sterling, who was kind enough to offer me all kinds of great ideas to play around with in these one shots!! Thanks sweetie!! :D Hope you all like it!!
Columbus figured it was time to add a new rule. Rule #33: Don't let injuries go unnoticed, no matter how small. This rule seemed pretty self-explanatory, but, like most rules that fall into that category, it had been created because someone neglected to take care of themselves. That someone in question happened to be him in this case.
It was a freak accident to be honest, one that could have happened to anyone in their group, but he had been the one sitting in the back of the Hummer when they rammed through the metal fence so he was the lucky one to end up with a pair of garden shears in the leg. At the time, he'd been too worried about the pack of zombies literally hanging onto their bumper to really notice that the sharp, rusted metal had pierced his jeans and sliced into his leg, right above his knee. Sure, it hurt, but staying alive was a bit more important at the moment. He fired another round, taking out two of the zombies hanging on the back of the car, ignoring the sticky blood that was now beginning to soak his leg.
Little Rock was leaning out the back window, firing behind them, her sister on the other side doing the same thing. Tallahassee was in the front, taking corners uncomfortably fast in an attempt to shake some of the undead loose. They had swarmed the car like moths to a flame and it was damn hard to shake them off once they held on. The fence had come in handy, it ripped some of the stragglers clean off, decomposing body parts and limbs littering the road behind them. He thought he heard Columbus gasp in the back and looked in the rear-view mirror. "You okay?" He called over one shoulder, taking another sharp turn and running over one of the zombies.
"Yeah." Columbus called back, his voice tight and sharp, both from pain and from the effort of keeping any of the creatures from slipping into the back with him. He fired a few more rounds, taking out the ones Little Rock and Wichita missed. Before long, the rest had fallen behind, still screeching and making the horrible guttural noises of someone who no longer remembers how to speak. His leg was throbbing, blood saturating his jeans in long crimson streaks, and he winced. "Let's get the hell out of here."
OOOOO
That had been two days ago and now the idea of adding that rule was starting to sound better and better. He'd managed to clean the wound once they found a place to settle in for the night and the threat of being eaten wasn't quite so prominent. It wasn't a deep wound, more of a gash, just deep enough to bleed freely and hurt like a son of a bitch. He didn't have to worry about contracting the Z virus from the shears either, which was a plus; Tallahassee believed in a one-use weapon method. Anything he used for zombie carnage (except for the guns) was a one-use kind of thing: gardening tools, saws, silverware (yes, silverware) and anything else was fair game but it was only used once. The most recent pair of gardening shears had come from a house the day before so Columbus knew they were clean, er, clean enough. They were rusty, probably covered in dirt and anything else that could picked up in a garden (like pesticides), but at least he didn't have to worry about turning into a fucked up cannibal. He'd scrubbed the wound with peroxide and wrapped it as best he could and simply left it at that, figuring his body would take care of the rest. It didn't.
Two days after the initial injury, the skin around the wound had turned raw and red, swelling and throbbing with every step he took. He kept it covered, hoping that if he didn't look at it it wouldn't be so bad. To be honest, he wasn't sure why he hadn't told the others about the injury. Probably because it would have started a fight somewhere down the line about carelessness and sitting on gardening equipment. Also, it would fuel the belief that he was the weakest member of the group, the one who constantly needed protection and could barely handle himself even in the best situations; something he was sick of adding to. So he kept quiet about the wound and pretended like everything was fine. He'd gotten good at hiding the limp by this point.
Not quite good enough though. Little Rock noticed the way he favored his right leg as he was walking down the stairs that morning. "What's wrong with your leg?" She asked, nodding to the way he stepped lightly on that side whenever he had to.
"It's nothing." He lied, shrugging it off with a slight smile. "I think my foot's asleep."
She eyed him for a few more minutes, obviously not sure whether to believe him or not. Finally, she sighed and nodded, walking into the kitchen to meet the others and pack what they needed to get back on the road.
Columbus winced inwardly, clenching his teeth as he made it down the final couple of stairs. He felt hot, even though it was cold in the house, and his stomach was doing odd flips every time he took a breath. His hands were shaking on the banister and he had to grip it tightly to keep from toppling into the living room once he reached the bottom of the stairs.
Wichita passed by, her arms full of clothes and canned food. She dropped them into a backpack and looked up, frowning when she saw him. "You okay? You look kinda pale..."
Columbus nodded and gave her the same smile he'd given Little Rock. "Yeah, just not awake yet I guess."
She nodded and tossed him a backpack. "Well, see if you can find some clothes upstairs to take with us. We probably won't stop again until sometime tomorrow; we're trying to make it to New York by Thursday."
It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to whimper at the thought of going back up the stairs again. Sucking it up, he slung the backpack over his shoulder and started up the stairs once more, wondering why the hell he even decided to sleep upstairs anyway. He'd taken first watch the night before and, judging by the shooting pains in his leg, he probably would have been better sleeping downstairs instead of going up to the bedrooms.
His foot caught on the edge of one of the stairs, his knee bending suddenly and sending a wave of agony shooting through him. He could feel the barely formed scabs split, fresh blood accompanying the white hot pain that pulsed through his leg. He gasped, bracing himself against the wall to keep from falling. His head was spinning, breath coming in short, ragged pants, and he honestly felt like emptying the contents of his stomach on the staircase right then and there.
"Come on, spit-fuck!" Tallahassee called from somewhere downstairs. "We gotta get a move on!"
Columbus sucked in a sharp breath, swallowing the nausea and straightening. "Coming..." He called back down, his voice sounding weak and shaky in his ears. Forcing himself upright, he hobbled up the last couple of stairs and limped his way down the hall into one of the bedrooms. He didn't look at what he was grabbing from the closet, he was in way too much pain to care. He stuffed as many pairs of clothes as he could into the backpack and limped back out of the room. The stairs loomed in front of him once more and he once again cursed his shitty luck. Today was not starting off well.
OOOOO
After conquering the stairs for the second time that day and tossing everything in the back of the Hummer, Columbus found himself biting back a constant grimace in the backseat. He was pretty sure if he looked as bad as he felt, the others would shoot him thinking he'd somehow contracted the Z virus. The pain was making him physically sick, his whole body trembling every once in a while. If anyone else noticed, the didn't let on to it. He swallowed again, fighting back another wave of nausea, and closing his eyes. He felt awful, in every sense of the word, and the swaying of the Hummer wasn't doing much to remedy any of that.
They'd been driving for nearly three hours, taking back roads to avoid the cluttered yet abandoned highways. At first it was odd to see all of the cars just randomly stopped in the middle of the road, their doors flung open, windows shattered, but after a few weeks, it became more of common sight. Now, they barely even noticed it. However, crowded highways, while devoid of human life, presented a problem in case a quick retreat was necessary. So they stuck to the back roads, watching as the ruins of the countryside passed by out the windows.
Columbus rested his head against the window, the glass amazingly cool against his too hot skin. He blinked slowly, one hand tangling in his jacket as another stab of pain shot through his leg. He grit his teeth, holding his breath tight for a second and waiting for the pain to pass. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a road side displaying the next town was only 15 miles away. "Can we stop in the next town?" He asked, forcing his voice to sound even and controlled.
"Why?" Tallahassee asked, glancing into the backseat from the rear view mirror. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah." Columbus lied, sitting up a bit straighter. "Just need to stretch my legs." Honestly, that was the last thing he wanted to do but if he didn't do something the gnawing pain was going to drive him insane.
Wichita frowned and looked at him. "Jeez...you look like shit..." She muttered, taking in the paleness of his features and the light sheen of sweat that covered his face. "Are you sure you're alright?"
Columbus nodded a little, smiling at her. "Just getting a little car sick." He lied again, hoping it would settle the question. Wichita didn't appear convinced but she let it slide. Little Rock gave him the same look she'd given him that morning, once that nearly matched her sister's but she didn't say anything either. Columbus was thankful for that; he really didn't feel like a lecture right now. All he was focused on at the time being was making it to the next town.
After a few more minutes, they pulled into an empty grocery store parking lot. The windows had been broken, groceries strewn out into the sidewalks, and a few shopping carts were overturned in the parking lot. Tallahassee was still one his Twinkie hunt so there was no better place to look than a grocery store.
They all piled out of the Hummer, weapons loaded and walked inside. It was quiet and dark, a few emergency lights flickering half-heartedly as they walked in. They split into two groups, the girls on one side, guys on the other, searching the store for usable supplies and simply to get out of the car for a while.
Columbus struggled to hide the limp as he followed Tallahassee down the snack aisle. The girls may not have said anything but he was pretty sure the older hunter wouldn't let it go so easily.
"Fuck me!" The man in question growled upon not seeing the box he was looking for. "We've checked every fucking store from Tulsa to Tuscon and we still can't find a Goddamn box of Twinkies?!"
Columbus was about to say something when the shelves exploded behind him, a half-rotted arm grabbing for him. There was a terrible screech as the zombie announced its presence to the rest of the store. Columbus staggered back into Tallahassee's arms, the older man jerking him behind him and firing at the flailing arm. The limb exploded from the buckshot and another screech erupted in the store. A split second later, another one appeared at the end of the aisle, running at them like a charging bull. Columbus fired, catching it in the chest and then following it with a round to the head. Before he could really process what was happening, Tallahassee grabbed him by the arm and took off down the aisles.
Each step caused a fresh wave of agony to shoot through his leg and he nearly fell several times; had it not been for Tallahassee's grip on his wrist he was sure he would have. He could see Wichita and Little Rock bolt out the front door, diving into the Hummer and yelling for them to hurry. They were nearly to the door when another zombie appeared out of nowhere, halting them in their tracks.
Without a second thought, Tallahassee shoved Columbus over one of the checkout counters and fired at the zombie. Columbus landed heavily, right on his knees, and the wound broke open again. Searing pain, like he's been stabbed with a burning knife, scorched through his leg, knocking him off balance and against the wall. Blood coated his jeans, hot and wet against his fevered skin. He felt sick again, dizzy and weak, and figured this was going to be a really shitty way to die if it came down to it.
The zombie landed with a thud a few feet away from him and Tallahassee appeared beside him. "Come kid, we gotta go." He leaned down to grab Columbus' arm but stopped when he noticed the blood on his knee. "Ah fuck...you didn't get bit did you?!" He demanded, dropping down to one knee and pulling out a pocket knife, slicing through the thick denim like it was paper.
"No..." Columbus gasped, unable to keep his voice from trembling. "It happened a few days ago...the wound just reopened..."
Tallahassee made quick work of the rest of the denim, splitting up to the kid's knee and taking in the damage. "Jesus fucking Christ kid..." He breathed. The bandage was completely soaked by this point, the wound angry and raw. Columbus' knee was swollen, the surrounding skin red and hot, clearly infected. He touched the jagged edges of the wound gently and Columbus gasped. "Where the hell did this come from?!" He demanded, looking him in the eye.
"Garden shears..." Columbus mumbled, struggling to control his breathing. He was dizzy again, the room spinning fitfully around him. He was trembling, he was sure of it, and everything hurt like he'd been run over by the Hummer a couple of times.
"Fuck! Why didn't you say something, you idiot?!" Tallahassee growled, grabbing Columbus by the shoulders and shaking him roughly. The kid was shaking, he could feel the heat radiating off of him like a furnace. "Why did you let it get this bad?!"
"Didn't want you guys...to worry..." The words sounded strange and far away, almost like he wasn't saying them and he felt himself sway a bit to the side. Something caught him, and iron-like bar around his shoulders and he was being shaken again.
"Shit! Hey! Come on, kid! No sleeping!" Tallahassee snapped, shaking the barely conscious young man in his arms. He slapped him, hard, across the face, hoping to gain some kind of reaction but was disappointed to see the kid only blink wearily up at him. He was hot, too hot, the fever burning through his skin like a living flame. This was not good. He shook him again. "Come on, spit-fuck! Wake up!"
"S-sorry..." Columbus mumbled before his eyes slipped closed and final time and stayed closed. He was too tired to answer as Tallahassee continued to call his name. Voices faded, lights dimmed, and he fell into darkness.
"Columbus!"
There's another part!! I swear!! I could never kill Columbus, I would cry for weeks!! I'll update as soon as I can!! :D