AN: REVISED

11: Southern Hostility

It was nightfall when Daryl started noticing footprints in the soil. Then we knew we were on the right track. We kept moving silently, but then again I was silent the whole day. Finally in the distance we heard a ruckus. Rick peered through the binoculars.

"Think this is it?" He handed them over to Daryl.

"It's definitely a main camp." He handed the binoculars to me. In the distance there were seven men around a fire. There were tents set up a distance away and a pile of supplies lying out. I handed them back to Rick.

Rick and Daryl started discussing something, but I was focused on the woods. They would have a guard or someone keeping watch wouldn't they? I can't imagine a group could last this long in the open without a guard or I saw him. The man was fifty or so yards away, pistol pointed at my current companions. "Get down," I whispered loudly while moving over to shield them. A short rang out.

My shoulder burnt so bad. I raised my pistol and took a few shots at him. Dead, or at least he fell like he was dead. The camp began to scatter for their weapons. We shot at the various scrambling men as they began to shoot back. I yelled at Daryl and Rick, remembering the strange unprompted promise I made to the women while cleaning dishes the night before. "Just go back to the house and keep running. I'll catch up to you."

We kept shooting, and I felt a new pain, this time in my thigh. Just focus. Just keep shooting and it will all be okay. Rick and Daryl had stopped shooting for some reason, so I took a brief second to look to them, and make sure they were leaving, but there they were just standing there. Rick had the strangest look on his face now, and Daryl was pulling at him. I turned back to the fray and pulled out my blade before running in.

It was over in a matter of moments. They were all dead. I double-checked each of them, plunging my knife into each of their skulls, trying not to think about how human they all looked. "They won't be coming back," my voice was more worn than I thought it would be. It surprised me when someone answered.

"Why did you do that?" Rick was standing feet away. How had I not heard him approach?

"I had no choice. They would have killed me." I stood up and went to wipe the sweat off my face. "Shit." My shoulder was killing me. I touched it, and winced. I looked down and all I could see was the blood.

"You've been shot pretty bad." I felt Rick's hand on my back starting to guide me, or was he holding my shoulder?

I turned to the supply cache, and spoke, "We need… we need to take their stuff before someone else finds it."

"Hershel can fix her, right?"

I felt more hands leading me, but I shrugged them off, moving towards the bounty of goods sitting before us. "Hurry, the gunshots will draw the dead things."

"He can try. Let's just get her back."

I hated it when people talked like I wasn't even there. I hated when people didn't listen to me. Rick grabbed the compass from my neck and pointed us quickly towards home. When we got into the town I had recently pillaged Rick found a car while Daryl propped me up, trying to stop the blood from pouring out of the new hole in my shoulder. They shoved me into the back seat as they started it up.

"Cars are the best," I said in an airy voice. As much pressure as I applied to the wound, the blood was still flowing causing me to become more and more light headed as the trees whizzed by outside. "I remember my car," I trailed off for a moment before focusing again. "It was so shitty. I was my mom's old Ultima. Ugliest thing ever."

"We're almost there."

I thought I saw Daryl look back at me, but I couldn't really string the thought together. All I could do is stare at the vacant seat beside me. It felt like someone was there, but I just couldn't see them. I heard this low whisper. It said my name. The words were sweet, but no one was saying them.

I shook myself out of it. "I'm gonna need..." I took a breath. "A bottle of vodka when we get there."

"I think we all could use a drink after that," laughed Rick. I coughed out a few laughs as well.

"No, no." I shook my head to focus. "It'll kill the bacteria." I sat up straight. "Carl will know what else to get me... I told him where I keep… where I keep the supplies." I felt another pain in my leg. There was a graze on my leg and another on my side. "I just need to not pass out." They were saying stuff, but I couldn't make anything out anymore. I just focused on putting the pressure on the place where it hurt the most and started running through the procedure in my head. Then there was honking.

I opened my eyes.

"We're here."

I started readying myself to exit the car. Once the gate was open we sped up towards the house. I flopped out, not hearing anything anyone was saying. I just staggered to the porch, someone's hands helping me get there. "Vodka, a mirror, and something to kill the pain." They stared at me for a second. Their eyes were all so wide. They had no idea what was happening. I couldn't understand their words. I went past them inside to the kitchen and grabbed the bottle, then a mirror. Other hands worked with mine, grabbing each thing. I looked at the stairs. "Shit." There was no way I was getting up those things to my room. I walked to the garage door. It was locked. "God damn it." I sighed before making my way onto the porch again. I began taking off the weapons, and backpack, and clothes so I could work. I heard yelling so I looked toward it. There was Carl, Rick, and Daryl having words with the others except one of them was missing. Hershel. Where was he at? Oh, he was right beside me.

"We have to help her." Was all I could make out before I saw Carl run into the house, Hershel following after him. I opened the bottle and began to pour it onto my wounds, wincing all the way. I was going to pass out if I didn't find a way to numb the pain. When I looked up Rick was there.

"What do you need?"

"Carl knows, but it won't do much good if I pass out." I was trying to focus. "The pain is only gonna get worse." I took another deep breath and poured more on. "My stash."

"Where is it?"

"My room." I gasped again before continuing, "Carl's got the keys." He was off, and I took a moment to calm myself. The group was staring at me from a small distance. Not moving to help, just standing there while Daryl was saying something. Then Carl showed up with the stuff, Hershel behind him. I looked down. A bloody mess in my next-to-nothings, I couldn't help but let out a laugh at my own expense.

"What's so funny?"

"Everything." I looked at the stuff they'd brought. "Good job getting the right stuff."

I felt hands on me again. It was Hershel. He was putting pressure on my leg, trying to slow the blood loss.

"What do you want me to do?" Carl asked. I motioned him over and grabbed a towel he brought down.

"Is this a through and through? Did it come out the other side?" I pointed to my shoulder.

He shook his head. "No."

"Alright, now if you can just hold this here and apply pressure so I can work on my leg." I grabbed a suture kit and went to work, Hershel's hands working with mine. Was he a doctor? They didn't tell me they had a doctor in their group. Rick showed up with my drug paraphernalia. "Is there any way you could pack me a bowl while I do this? It will help me." He nodded and went to work. "Carl, you better get out of here while I do this, okay?"

Rick took over putting pressure on my shoulder. The wounds weren't that bad, but it had been… How long had it taken to get back here? How long was I bleeding? How much blood did I lose? We got through both my leg and my side before the smoke really started to kick in. Then it was time for the bullet wound. I grabbed to tongs and steadied myself. "You don't have to stick around for this." I said softly to Hershel, since my lungs were too tired to work all the way.

"I can do it, you don't have to."

"It's fine. It's easier now. Just start bandaging the other wounds." I looked down at myself, covered in red except where the vodka-soaked towel had burnt it away. I was in my underwear. When did I do that? Hershel didn't seem to even notice. He must have been a doctor or something, because he was so calm, so unaffected by the blood. The rest of the group had gone inside thankfully. I smiled at him as best as I could, and then I turned to Rick who was taking small instructions from Hershel every few seconds. "I'm glad you're here. Carl didn't need to see this."

Readying the tong in front of the wound, I kept an eye on the mirror. Then I went in, trying to kept calm was almost impossible. "Desmond has a barrow in the market place, Molly is a singer in a band. Desmond says to Molly, 'Girl I like your face," and Molly sings this as she takes him by the hand." I found it and began to slowly pull it out, "Ob-la-di... Ob-la-da... life... goes... on... brahh. La la how the life goes on." It was all the way out and I just looked at it for a second.

Hershel had began humming with my tune.

"Almost done." I sewed the hole a few times. And Carl appeared next to us. Rick spoke up, "Could you get me some clean water, buddy?"

Without hesitation he ran back into the house and came back moments later with water and an armful of clothes. "My mom said to give these to you."

There was someone with him. Who was it? No, no one. This isn't good. I just need to finish this.

Rick poured the rest of the vodka onto the gunshot wound when I told him to. It stung, but by now I was so groggy it didn't even matter. Nothing mattered. I didn't feel my head hit the ground when I slumped over, passed out. I think I heard something though, something I wasn't entirely sure was real.

"Thank you for taking that bullet for us."