AN: I feel I should mention that my medical knowledge is somewhat lacking so I'm not going to get too detailed in that respect, but in a story like this it's impossible to avoid it entirely, so if I totally fuck something up I apologize. Let's just chalk it up to creative license and pretend I'm right, feel free to drop me a line and correct me though. ;) As always, thanks for reading and for those who have reviewed, if I've failed to reply I'm sorry, I do appreciate each review!
Four days passed heralding no change in Daryl's condition. Not for the better anyway. He was getting steadily getting worse each day, trapped somewhere deep inside himself where his friends couldn't reach him, even on the rare occasion he was semi-conscious. Any attempts to were rewarded merely with a dry, painful sounding cough or pitiful moans the hunter would never allow to escape his lips in a conscious state. He went back and forth between shivering like he was on the verge of hypothermia and sweating as though he was baking under a desert sun, the fever in his body never ceasing and taking a visible toll. Already he'd lost a good deal of weight, his eyes taking on an unhealthy bruised look, his complexion an ashen grey. The group was nearly beside themselves in their worry.
Hershel didn't know what to do. He'd concluded early on that Daryl had the flu; he should be miserably sick, sure, but it seemed the resident Dixon had come down with an extreme case. Daryl wasn't getting better, and any medicine they had couldn't be administered seeing as it was all oral. Rick had told him what a struggle it'd been to get Tylenol into him that first day, and any attempts made after that had proved futile, even with Carol's patient prodding. The man was already dehydrated, and without receiving any fluids he certainly wouldn't be getting re-hydrated anytime soon. Not a good recovery plan. And that fever. Hershel wasn't sure how high it was, but if he had to venture a guess he'd say it probably averaged steadily above 101 degrees, and he felt that was more than likely a generous assessment. Not that he'd divulged that particular bit of dismal news to the others.
Several of the others had joined him in the sickroom, their concern for Daryl evident on their faces, a need for action fairly radiating off them. Hershel turned from his examination to face them, delivering unsurprising news. "Still no change."
No one spoke, their eyes downcast, despair in their gazes. Glenn raised his head, looking desperate. "How is he so sick? Are you sure it's the flu? Maybe it's something else; I mean he hasn't been throwing up or anything."
"He doesn't have to if it's not the stomach flu." Hershel answered.
"He's been like this so long now. And his fever still hasn't broken. He needs medicine; he's not going to get any better without it." Rick stated fervently, nearly at the end of his rope. Four days now, he'd watched Daryl wasting away before his eyes. He couldn't take much more of this.
Glenn took a half step forward, "Shouldn't we look for antibiotics? Maggie and I could go on a run." He looked to his girlfriend who nodded enthusiastically.
"Won't do any good. Influenza is a virus, antibiotics won't help him." Hershel stated gravely. He didn't get any further before Carol frantically interrupted him.
"Well, we have to do something!" Her voice lowered to a whisper "He's dying."
Hershel raised a placating hand, trying to calm the distraught woman. "I know. I know. As I said, antibiotics won't work, but there are antiviral drugs to combat the flu. Tamiflu and Relenza, for instance. But what he really needs are fluids. He's too weak and disoriented right now, and trying to get water into him orally isn't working. He needs a saline IV." He turned back to Glenn. "That's what you and Maggie need to find. Short of that, I'm afraid there's nothing more we can do."
Glenn and Maggie ventured into one of the nearby towns in search of medical supplies. It was a smaller town without a hospital, but Glenn had no problem with that. He had no desire to mosey on into a hospital anyway. What a death trap that would be. Hospitals tended to be located in the midst of highly populated areas, the building itself a labyrinth of long, narrow corridors lined with rooms. A recipe to find yourself in an area crawling with walkers.
Instead, they found the urgent care center the town had to offer. A building he was much more comfortable contending with and one he hoped would provide them with what they needed. They stood outside it, quickly scanning the area for threats.
"I hope it's not looted already." Maggie whispered, echoing Glenn's own thoughts, and headed toward the glass double doors. Reaching for the handle, she found them unlocked. She spared a quick glance for Glenn, conveying in a look that this place was undoubtedly unsecure. The lobby was in shambles, chairs overturned, papers littering the floor. Blood stains here and there. But no walkers. Quietly, Maggie reached for the handle of the door leading to the back rooms, Glenn poised to take down any possible threats beyond the door when she swung it open. Aside from more debris littering the floor and blood splatters, it was all clear. The nurse's station just to the right was empty as well. They continued clearing the building, grabbing medicine, bandages and anything else that looked worthwhile as they went along. They found two walkers in the employee lounge, which they made quick work of. It appeared to be a nurse and a patient.
Maggie looked over at Glenn standing above the dead nurse. "We still haven't found any IV bags, there's got to be a storeroom around here somewhere. And I haven't seen any Tamiflu or Relenza; I have no idea if any of this other stuff we got are antiviral meds."
She came off matter-of-fact, but Glenn new better. She was getting nervous. Hell, he was too. They'd cleared most of the building already and gathered a good haul, but not a single thing they actually came for to begin with. Nothing that could help Daryl.
"Don't worry." Glenn reassured, trying to sound more positive than he felt, as he pulled Maggie into a hug. "Daryl's a fighter. We'll find what he needs, and he'll be okay. If we don't find it here, we keep looking."
Maggie nodded, unshed tears pooling in her eyes. "Okay." She said confidently, albeit with a slightly shaky voice. "Let's finish clearing this place out."
Carol was sitting on the edge of Daryl's bed again, damp rag in hand mopping too warm skin. Glenn and Maggie had been gone for several hours; she hoped they'd get back soon. She just wanted Daryl to get better, and was terrified that he wouldn't. She'd watched as his condition deteriorated for days now, and he seemed to be circling the drain. The first couple days, she kept telling herself 'It's just the flu. He'll be fine.' But she'd forgotten how dangerous the flu can actually be. How fatal it can be. With modern medicine, people tend to take their health for granted, and illnesses are treated with an air of carelessness. This was a lesson to them all that their health was not a matter to be taken lightly anymore.
She finished bathing Daryl's chest and arms, dipping the cloth in the Tupperware bowl once more she laid it across his forehead. Biting back tears, she took his limp hand in her own lightly running her fingertip across his palm and up and down his fingers. It broke her heart to see him this way. Sighing, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Please Daryl, get better. Fight this."
There was a knock at the door then, Hershel opening it without waiting for an answer, Maggie and Glenn following close behind. Carol wondered why he even bothered with the formality. She looked to Glenn and Maggie as they dug through the bags they brought in.
"We found an urgent care center. I thought it was going to be a bust after a while, but we finally found a whole shitload of saline bags in one of the last rooms." Glenn informed Carol, handing an alcohol wipe to Hershel as Maggie readied the IV, hanging it on the bedpost.
"Yeah, but we didn't find any antiviral medications." Maggie chimed in, she gestured to the saline, "This will have to do I guess."
Once he was satisfied with the drip rate, Hershel patted Carol's shoulder. "Hopefully getting him hydrated will give his the body the strength it needs to fend off this illness. After this, we may be able to rouse him enough to get some fever reducers in him."
Carol nodded, hoping Hershel was right. For now, all they could do was wait.