John
I can only stare, stupefied, as Rick closes the distance between himself and the house.
What happened? What's wrong with Carl? How did Rick even make it here?
Any further mental questions are held off as he slows down, approaching the porch with a look of desperation on his face.
"Was he bit?" Hershel asks almost immediately, but Rick shakes his head.
"Shot. By your man."
What?! What the hell happened?!
"Otis?" Patricia can't help but to ask in disbelief as we all make our way down the steps to survey the damage.
Now, I can see it a little more clearly. Carl's got a bullet hole in his shirt, and his shirt is extremely bloody at that, and the poor kid's pale and sweating like a pig.
When Otis volunteered to help me and Sophia get back to the group, I don't think this is what he meant.
Rick completely ignores Patricia, his panicked eyes focused solely on Hershel. I don't think he's even paying enough attention to notice I'm here, and I pray to god Sophia is still inside the house. The last thing she needs is to see this.
"He said find Hershel, is that you?" Rick asks desperately. "Help me, help my boy!"
"Get him inside!" Hershel instructs sternly as he turns back towards the house, and I turn around and rush back inside before anyone else can, finding Sophia waiting by the door in confusion, worry on her face.
"What's wrong?" She asks, looking up at me.
"Come on." I say, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her around, before gently but firmly pushing her into the kitchen, making sure to keep her from seeing anything.
"John, what's going on?" Sophia asks me, looking up at me even as I push her into the kitchen.
"Carl's hurt." I answer, before looking down at her. "Stay here."
I don't give her time to answer or even process anything, really, before I turn around as Hershel comes marching into the house, calling out instructions as he rolls up his sleeves.
"Patricia, I need my full kit!" He calls out as he leads Rick through the house, looking like he's going to the guest room that he let me and Sophia use last night. I don't know how I can help, but you better be damn sure I'm gonna. "Maggie, painkillers, coagulates- grab everything! Clean towels, sheets, alcohol!"
I come up behind Rick as I follow him and Hershel into the guest room, and true to my guess, Hershel throws the cover to the side, before turning to Rick. "In here."
Rick gets the gist and wastes no time, setting his son down quickly on the bed before he sits up.
"Pillowcase." Hershel orders, but Rick's so distracted by Carl's limp form that I'm not even sure he heard the man. I move to do as the man says, snagging one of the pillows and ripping the pillowcase off it quickly.
"Is he alive?" Rick can't help but ask slowly, his face one of pure shock and horror, his eyes wide as he focuses solely on his son.
"What do you need me to do, Hershel?" I ask the man, putting Rick on the backburner for a moment as I focus solely on helping Hershel help Carl.
"Fold the case, make a pad." Hershel instructs me as he moves to remove Carl's shirts, as Patricia, Maggie, and Beth return with the supplies Hershel instructed them to get. "Put pressure on the wound."
I waste no time in obeying, folding the thing up quickly before pressing the makeshift pad against the now exposed bullet wound in Carl's stomach.
Jesus, now that I can see it… it's a nasty looking wound, even on a kid.
"Is he alive?" Rick asks once more, standing and staring at the site before him. I can only imagine how this is killing him inside. He just found his family only a few days ago, and now his son, his little boy, is sitting on a bed with a bullet in his stomach.
Hershel grabs a stethoscope and moves to check for a pulse, leaving us all to wait for an answer.
Please, god, please… don't let Carl be the first one I lose.
"I got a heartbeat. It's faint." Hershel says, causing both relief and fear to shoot through me all at once, somehow, as Patricia steps to the other side and looks at me.
"I got it." She says, gesturing towards the makeshift pad being pushed against Carl's wound. "Step back."
"Maggie, I.V." Hershel instructs as Maggie turns to Rick, who's still staring at Carl's limp form in shock.
"We need some space." Maggie tells him, but I don't think Rick is listening much.
"Your name?" Hershel asks as he turns to look at the cop.
"R-Rick." Rick manages to stutter out, his gaze shifting between Hershel and Carl. "I-I'm Rick."
"Rick, we're gonna do everything we can, okay?" Hershel assures him as he turns to glance at him. "But you need to give him some room."
Rick looks more than hesitant to leave Carl's side, but if the confidence Hershel showed is any indication, he knows what he's doing.
"You still need me?" I ask as I look at Hershel, causing him to turn his gaze towards me.
"Not at the moment." He says. "Get him out of here, give us some space while we work."
I nod my head. "No problem." I stand up and turn my eyes towards Rick, quickly stepping around the bed to give them some room to work as I gently grip Rick's shoulders. "Rick, come on, we need to give them some space."
Finally, Rick turns his eyes to me, and it's like he finally acknowledges my presence, as if he's just realized I'm even here. "J-John?"
I give him a small smile as I gently nudge him towards the door out of the guest room. "Yeah, it's me, now come on." I say, soft but urgent as I guide him out of the room, leaving them to do what they can to save Carl's life.
"I'm sorry."
"Move!"
Two voices suddenly enter my ears, both familiar, and I glance out the window to see Shane and Otis running to the house as fast as they can. They seem to be keeping relative pace with each other, so either Otis is faster than I thought, or Shane is moving slow enough to keep him close.
In the same moment, Sophia comes running up to us, her eyes wide, terror in her little eyes. "Is Carl gonna be okay?"
"He's in good hands." I assure her as I turn to look at Rick. "Sit down." I say, leading him to one of the nearby chairs. He practically falls into the seat, clearly still in shock over the whole situation as he turns to look at us.
"W-We were-"
"Not important right now." I interrupt before he can say anything else. I have a pretty good idea of what they were doing, and I crouch down in front of him as he keeps his eyes trained on me to the best of his shock-addled ability. "Look, Hershel's a good man. If Carl can be saved, he'll do it."
I hope.
I turn towards Sophia and instruct her to stay with Rick, before moving towards the front door and opening it as Shane and Otis come up to the steps.
Shane's eyes go wide in surprise when he spots me, and Otis turns to look at me, worry evident on his features as he does so.
"He's alive?" Otis asks, hope and worry in his tone as he does so. "He's still alive?"
I nod my head, and only just now realize I'm panting as the entire situation has me in a frenzy of sorts. I try to bring myself to calm down as I answer Otis. "Hershel's working on him now, checking the damage."
"Where's Rick?" Shane asks, and I jerk my thumb towards the door.
"Inside." I answer. "Sophia's in there with him, but… God, just get in there, Shane. He needs his best friend right now."
Shane nods his head and doesn't hesitate to move past me, and I turn my attention to Otis as I move down the steps.
"What the hell happened?" I ask him, my features growing firm as I fix the man a look.
"I was tracking a buck." Otis answers, guilt clear in his tone as he says it. "Bullet went through… I-I didn't see him."
The way he's stuttering, the way he looks right now…
I might've only known Otis for a day so far, but I know him well enough to know he's a good man, and the guilt and shock evident all over him are enough assurances for me. He didn't intend this.
I let out a weary sigh as I bring my thumb and index fingers to my head, shaking it slightly. The whole situation is so insane. I oversleep, wake up, things seem to be going normal, and now Rick, Shane, and Carl are here at Hershel's farm, and Carl's got a bullet in his stomach.
"Look, it's… I know you didn't mean it." I say as I turn my attention to him. "It was just a bad accident."
"Is he okay?" Otis asks in the same worried tone he had when he asked if Carl was alive earlier. "Please tell me I didn't kill him."
"He's alive." I nod, hoping to at least reassure the man, clear his conscience a small bit. "Hershel and the others are in there working on him, but for now, he's still alive."
Otis lets out a small sigh of relief, and I turn around and make my way back into the house.
Rather than where I left them, Sophia stands over by the door to the guest room, peeking inside while Rick and Shane stand inside, looking at the others operating on Carl, out of view of the doorway.
"Sophia!" I shout, my voice more stern than I intend as she nearly jumps out of her skin and spins to face me as Otis makes his way into the room. "Get over here!"
"Carl was shot…" Sophia mutters, tears budding in her eyes as the situation really hits her.
"I know, and Hershel's doing what he can." I say as I approach her, putting a hand on her back and gently guiding her back into the living room. "Stay over here, you don't need to see that."
"Were they looking for us?" Sophia asks quietly, her voice almost breathless as she turns her gaze up to me.
"Probably." I admit with a sigh as I gesture for her to take a seat, before plopping down in the one opposite of her with a grunt.
Sophia's lip starts to quiver, and the waterworks begin as she starts stuttering. "I-If I hadn't run-"
"You didn't do anything wrong." I tell her with a sigh as I turn to look at her, giving her a soft gaze. "If anything, I was the one that got us lost." I say with a hint of regret in my voice, the guilt building on me as I realize that it's true.
If I'd have just waited for Rick or someone instead of taking off, we wouldn't have gotten lost, and Carl wouldn't have been out in the woods. He wouldn't have been in any sort of danger.
If it weren't for me… Carl wouldn't have been shot.
Otis wouldn't have Carl on his conscience.
Rick wouldn't have his son fighting for his life.
I find myself gripping the armrest of the chair as the thoughts begin piling up. It's my fault Carl's in there, it's my fault that this happened. My grip begins to tighten as the thoughts begin to overwhelm me, circling in my brain as I grit my teeth, guilt eating at me, anger at myself radiating through me.
If I'd have just waited, if I wouldn't have taken off, if I'd have had the smallest bit of fucking patience-!
I'm jerked from my self-hatred by the sound of a loud crack echoing through the room, and I turn my gaze towards the source, where I find my hand squeezed into a fist, the end of the armrest completely crushed, bits of fabric and wood pellets hanging from my grip.
"John?"
At Sophia's voice, I turn to look at her, finding her looking at me in concern, eyeing the now destroyed armrest as she does so.
"Sorry." I can't help but to apologize with a sigh as I turn my gaze towards the room where Carl's operation is happening. I can see Shane holding Rick as the man cries into his hand, and behind them, Patricia's trying to provide some sort of comfort to Otis as she hugs him close.
It's not any of their fault.
It's mine.
Shane
Fuck, Fuck, FUCK!
How'd this day turn into such a shitshow so quick?!
We were only looking for John and Sophia! It wasn't supposed to be anything insane! Now Carl's lying on a bed in this farmhouse, fighting for his life with a man we don't even know trying to save him.
Granted, from what I gather, John and Sophia spent the night here, and Sophia seems to trust them. John… honestly, I'm not entirely sure in his case. He might trust them, he might not, but he does at least have faith in these people that they'll help Carl.
It's been about an hour or so now. The big guy, Otis, is sitting out here, and John kind of just stands at the window, staring outside. Sophia's got that little doll Eliza gave her tucked in her hands, sitting on a chair nearby.
So far, it's just been silence as we wait out the results of Carl's makeshift surgery, and the silence is all that surrounds us, broken only by the steady sound of a still working clock.
Otis looks like a trainwreck right now, what happened with Carl weighing on his mind.
I know I was rough on the guy, but can you blame me? My best friend's son, the boy I took care of through this while he was in a coma, is fighting for his life because the big man didn't see him on the other side of a deer.
Not to say I don't feel bad. Otis is clearly beating himself up over this, foot bouncing nervously as he awaits the results along with us.
Rick… well, I don't think I really need to explain anything on his behalf.
He's a complete wreck. Lori don't know, and I got a pretty good idea of what he's feeling.
I know Carl's not my son, but instincts you don't know you have tend to kick in when you're taking care of a kid you've known all their life. I can't say anything for certain, but I imagine he feels lost, helpless… terrified.
He's only had Lori and Carl back for five days, and already, his son is in the position he was in before.
His son is in his position…
God, I didn't even think of that. Rick was shot, ends up in a coma, and now Carl's been shot, and without the same benefits Rick had, ignoring whatever miracle the big man in the sky worked, Carl's chances of surviving if he goes into a coma are slim to none.
I… I don't know what either of us would do then.
Look, I know I can't be with them anymore. Lori is Rick's wife, and no matter how much I love her, because make no mistake, I do, I can't keep her to myself. That wouldn't be right to any of them, Carl, Rick, or Lori.
I get the feeling Lori's mad at me about something. Every once in a while since Rick came back, I've seen her shooting me dirty looks every once in a while.
Maybe she blames me or something, I don't know. What I do know is that regardless of whether she's mad at me or not, I ain't gonna stop looking out for them as my own.
Even if I can't be that man in their life anymore, I can still be Rick Grimes' best friend, Shane Walsh.
Another thing that I've been thinking over in my head is Rachel and Shiela.
John's got one of his best friends and his little sister back with the rest of the group, and he doesn't even know. And sure, it might lighten his mood, but… I don't know, as bad as it sounds, this just feels like a bad time to say anything.
Of course Rick ain't gonna say nothing. He's not in any position to think about anything but his son's condition and his wife's current ignorance to the situation.
And… after all the kid's done for us, he deserves it. I kind of want it to be a surprise, even if that sounds a little twisted. I want him to see his family again.
He got Rick back to his family, and I just want to see that relief crash on him in the same moment he finally sees them again.
Like I said, after all the kid's done for us, he deserves it. States away from his home, his own sense of direction acting as a liability more than an asset…
No one's questioning the broken armrest on the chair that Patricia currently occupies, but I got a pretty good idea of what, or rather who, did it.
His mind isn't in the best place right now. And another reason it's probably a bad idea, well, a few reasons actually…
Rick's in a rut, Carl's been shot, and having John whooping in joy doesn't really seem appropriate right now. Not to mention that, as bad as it sounds, I got a feeling we're really gonna need him focused right now.
Me and Rick… we got our differences, for sure. I was always more outgoing, adventurous, while Rick was a little more reserved. Inversely, Rick was always better at making friends than me. I was better at making drinking buddies than I was actual friends.
But leading this group… we're agreeing a whole lot more on things than we probably would've before this. Maybe it's because we have to think smart, not emotionally.
Hell, our only disagreements so far is the whole thing at the CDC before Jenner let us in, and… well, Jenner himself.
I'm not exactly comfortable sleeping next to a guy who was willing to blow us all to hell against our will, simply because he was trying to give us 'mercy'.
He's nuttier than a goddamn fruitcake.
And I know I'm not the only one uncomfortable around the doctor.
Rick acts civil with him, but only John and Dale so far are the only people who actually treat the Doc as a human. Everyone else kind of avoids him, myself included admittedly. I have seen a few people give him the evil eye here and there, but one thing I can agree with John and Rick on…
As wacked out as the guy is, Jenner is a scientist, a disease one. He's definitely our best, and so far only, chance at some kind of cure for all of this.
You know, I haven't really had much time to think on it the last few days, but now that I do, it astounds me just how lucky the whole group really has been.
When John showed up, he was just some kid. Maybe a crazy one, considering his whole 'run through a herd' idea, but a brave one. He was the one that saved Rick's life in Atlanta, and when camp was attacked, he was the first one to notice and step up, firing immediately.
Sure we lost a few people, as heartless as that might sound… Davy, Arianna, Becky, Ron… but with the panic that flooded the camp, Dale's words spring to mind. Some of them probably did run themselves right into the walkers in a panic, and even if John had cut loose, exposed himself then and there…
Well, walkers would've been flying, and considering what the dead bastards can survive, I wouldn't be surprised if a few of them somehow survive the impact and surprise someone else. Not to mention that even with a vantage point atop the RV, surveying the whole camp, John still wasn't able to see and save everyone.
But back on track.
Before the CDC, we had no reason to believe John was any different than us. Strong, especially for his age, maybe, but the guy's built like a powerlifter. Even without his powers, someone that big would definitely be strong.
I mean, the kid's stands at a solid six five, and even without his powers, we probably couldn't handcuff him without a second set considering how broad his shoulders are.
Yes, we have had to do that before.
Sidetracked again.
Point is, we ended up with some kid who had a hero complex of sorts, and then it turns out that this seventeen year old kid is the goddamn Juggernaut, one of the strongest superhumans on the planet. And not just that, but he's special among all humans, super or not, because whatever this virus is, he's completely immune to it.
I know that's enough for Jenner to make a vaccine at least, although a full on cure… well, a hopeful possibility, but still only a possibility.
Get us all inoculated. If we're lucky, a bite won't be fatal anymore as long as it's not in a vital spot. Still hurt like a bitch, but survivable.
That's not something I ever thought I'd say… or even be able to believe.
Any further thinking on my part is interrupted when Rick suddenly speaks up, catching everyone's attention, though I'm not sure if he's talking to anyone or to himself.
"Why'd I let him come with us?" He suddenly asks, causing me to glance over at him. "I should've sent him with Lori.
I can't help but to shake my head, though my voice has a quiver of its own when I speak, worrying flinching out in my tone without my control.
"You know, you start that, you'll never get that monkey off your back." I know from personal experience. If I'd have reacted faster, had paid attention, Rick wouldn't have gotten shot.
I still blame myself for it to this day.
"Couple of kids go missing, you look for them, simple." Rick says, turning to look at me, clear anguish on his face as he says it. He shakes his head as he continues. "You said call it, head back-"
"Doesn't matter what I said." I interrupt him gently, but I make sure my voice is a little more firm as I say it. Besides… well, at least the search wasn't completely a lost cause, we did find Sophia and John… just not with a method I'd ever like to repeat.
"Carl got shot because I wouldn't cut bait, it should be me in there." Rick's voice quivers as he says it. I can't help the mirthless chuckle that escapes me, because he's already been in that position. However, I don't get to ride that train of thought.
"Carl got shot because I couldn't stay still for five fucking seconds." John suddenly says, causing everyone to turn to look at him. He never even looks away from the window, but we can hear it in his voice, the guilt, anger at himself.
"Not you too…" I can't help but to say as I look at him. "John, it wasn't your fault either. Just a… bad accident." I try to reassure him.
"Bad accident that could have been avoided with a little bit of patience."
Doesn't look like it worked.
"Longest it would've taken any of you to find us would've been about two minutes." John says in frustration as he brings a hand to his forehead. "Instead, I can't be bothered to wait, and I just get us even more lost than we already were."
"Kid, you can't be seriously blaming yourself for that." Otis speaks up, turning in his seat to face John better, craning his neck a little. "You had nothing to do with that. I was the idiot who shot him."
"Otis, you didn't even see him." John retorts as he finally spares a glance towards someone out the corner of his eye, just barely turning his head to look at the big man. "And he wouldn't even have been out there if I just-"
"What could've been don't matter right now." I cut in, since Rick is in no shape to step up right now. "You didn't know any of this would happen, and regardless of the circumstance, you found Sophia before any of us." I say as I fix him a stern look as he finally turns to face me, even if his feet are still planted in the same spot. "Kid, Carl getting shot ain't your fault. Thinking like that is only gonna add weight you don't need."
John stares at me for a moment, before he lets out a sigh.
"It's not something I can help, especially when the entire circumstance is my fault." He says despondently.
I let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through my hair, before I turn to look up at him. "If the circumstance is anyone's fault, it's the herd of walkers that passed by yesterday." I tell him sternly. "Not yours."
John doesn't say anything in response, but I can at least see that he's thinking over my words somewhat as he turns to look back out the window.
For all of five seconds.
Suddenly, the door jerks open, and the older daughter, Maggie, is fixing Rick an urgent look.
"Rick…" Nobody wastes any time with the urgency in her tone, and we're all on our feet, Rick leading us into the room as the sounds of a now awake Carl crying out in pain. "He needs blood." She explains as we all file into the room behind her.
I can see Carl, struggling, in pain as the old man, Hershel, looks up at me.
"You, hold him down!" He orders, quick but urgent, and I can't waste any time.
I move to the side of the bed, and as much as it kills me inside, I gotta ignore Carl's little hands struggling at me, trying to push me away as I put arms over his chest and hold him down, even as he begins reaching out towards Rick.
"DA-A-AD!" His little voice quivers as he tries to reach desperately for his father, but as I look down towards his wound, I realize that if he moves at all, he's in big trouble. Hershel's in the middle of taking one of the bullet fragments out.
Hershel begins tugging on the fragment he's got clenched between a pair of forceps, causing Carl's screams to pick up in volume as he starts screaming instead of just crying.
Rick clearly can't take the sight of his little boy in pain, quite frankly I can't either, but I can't help the frustration that picks up when he lashes out in response to his boy's pain.
"Stop, you're killing him!" Rick yells at the top his lungs at Hershel, but the old man isn't deterred
"Rick, do you want him to live?!" Hershel responds just as loudly, his expression one of controlled worry and frustration even as he does his job.
Carl's thrashing in my grip, but even though he can't do anything to get me off, not in his condition or at his age, it's taking everything I got not to climb up off him right now.
"He needs blood!" Patricia says urgently as she tries to get Rick's attention back on the task at hand.
Rick hesitates to take his gaze away from Carl for a single second, and that's one second too long for me.
"DO IT NOW!" I shout at the top of my lungs as I fix him one of the meanest looks I can muster, jarring Rick back into action as he moves towards Patricia, holding his arm out so she can put the needle in his arm and take some blood.
Vaguely, the sounds of crying outside the door enter my ears, and it suddenly occurs to me that John ain't in here with Sophia, and the door's open.
Shit… poor girl can hear all of this.
After his crying picks up for a brief second, Carl goes quiet, and almost immediately, I can feel his whole body go lax under my I bring a hand to rub his little head, and horror flows through me.
"Wha- Wha- Wait- wait…" I can't even get words out as shock consumes me as well, and I turn to look at Hershel for some sort of explanation.
"He just passed out." Hershel assures us, and I can't help but to glance up at Rick.
He's as horrified as I am.
With Carl now unconscious once more, Hershel's able to finish removing the first bullet fragment to go, and he brings it up into his view, his lips tense as he eyes it in frustration.
"One down…" He says, causing my stomach to drop. "Five to go…"
… SHIT!
John
I've pretty much zoned everything out. I don't know how much time has passed since Carl's sudden awakening. I don't know how long it's been since I had to let Sophia drench my shirt in tears. I don't know how long it's been since Rick had to have blood drawn.
Every second, the sun sinks lower and lower over the horizon, the sky a bright orange by now. And yet… it doesn't feel like any time has passed at all.
The seconds tick by like hours, silence holding the household, except for some sort of conversation between Rick and Shane that I'm honestly not paying any attention to.
The only thing I'm paying attention to is that door, waiting for it to open, for Hershel to step out with some kind of news. The entire mood is about as dead as it gets. Everyone's just sitting, or in my case, standing. Not a word to be spoken except for the mutterings between Rick and Shane that are incoherent to me right now. Sophia's sitting on a chair, head buried into her knees, scared to death.
I don't blame her.
We could hear Carl screaming his lungs out from here in the living room, and I can only imagine what will happen if he wakes up like that again. I didn't get anything from Rick or Shane, didn't ask really, but the looks on their faces were enough indication that it wasn't good.
Shane's words resonate through my head, but they're conflicting with my own self-hatred.
He's right. It was just an unfortunate accident.
But still… it's an unfortunate accident that wouldn't have happened if I'd stayed still.
Even more, it wouldn't have happened if I'd have just worked on my sense of direction. I only know east and west, and that lack of knowledge is why Carl's now fighting for his life.
I can't help but to blame myself. What else am I supposed to do? I got all this power, and I'm absolutely helpless right now. I can't do a damn thing but wait, so what the hell am I supposed to do?
Every muscle inside me is screaming at me to find something, vent this rage I have towards myself, just start breaking shit. But what good will that do? Draw walkers no doubt, which would piss me off even more, guarantee Carl an early grave, and scare everyone here.
Out of the question.
So that's what I'm stick with. Thinking about the same shit over and over again.
It's… funny, in horrible kind of way. Rick found his family only days ago, I got this power, grew to care for them, promised to protect them. I save Sophia from walkers, and the first possible death we're looking at isn't Sophia. It's not an adult. It's not even because of the walkers.
It's a kid. A child.
It's because of my own stupidity.
Ever since calming Sophia down as best as I could, I've been standing here, staring out this window, for however long it's gonna take.
How's Hershel even gonna help Carl? I had confidence, but after what just happened, however long ago it was, I can't help that my confidence has wavered.
In the old world, because that's about the best way to put it, Carl'd be sitting at a hospital for some sort of accident like this. Otis would be in cuffs, admittedly, for involuntary manslaughter. I think anyway. Carl wouldn't have to run the risk of waking up, he'd be out like a light, wouldn't feel a thing until after.
And even then, there wouldn't be a risk of an infection.
I just… I can't help it.
Without nothing to do, all I can think about is how this happen. And it all leads back to me and Sophia in the forest.
Sure, we can blame the herd that passed us, but what good would that do?
Then again… what good is me blaming myself doing?
Not jack shit.
And yet I can't help but to do it anyway.
Finally, I'm jolted from my thoughts by the sound of the door opening, and all heads jerk in the direction of the guest room as Hershel steps out, wiping his hands. The older man turned to look at Rick, a… foreboding look on his face, let's go with that.
"He's out of danger, for the moment." Hershel begins, letting out a sigh as he says it. I sense a 'but' coming. "But I need to remove those remaining fragments."
Of course.
"How?" Rick asks, any answer completely lost upon him. "You saw how he was."
"I know." Hershel nodded with a shake of his head, but he kept his eyes on Rick. "And that was the shallowest one. I need to go deeper to get the others."
I can hear Shane cursing, and Rick's shaking his head, hatred for the entire situation clear on his face mixed with the concern and worry he no doubt holds.
But Hershel isn't finished.
"There's more." He says, his tone grave. Rick takes a moment, before looking at Hershel.
"Tell me." He says in as even of a voice as he can manage.
"His belly's distended, his pressures dropping, which means there's internal bleeding." Hershel continues with an unfortunate sigh. He's trying to keep himself clinical, but the kind soul within him clearly reaches out to Rick, letting snippets of emotion come through. "A fragment must have nicked one of his blood vessels."
A silent snort escapes me at his words. Of course, it's not enough for the poor kid to be shot, he's got internal bleeding to boot, so taking out the damn fragments ain't gonna be enough.
Why? Why can't things just go right, for once? The quarry, the CDC, the herd on the road, and now this.
"I have to open him up, find the bleeder, and stitch it. And he can't move while I'm in there, and I mean, at all." Hershel has to keep putting the facts on us, which I don't know how I feel about that at the moment, and because it's just one bad thing after another. "If he reacts the same as before, I'll sever an artery and he'll be dead in minutes."
"You need to put him out, don't you." I speak after god knows how long, catching all eyes on me. "You're gonna need the stuff to put him under, perform surgery."
"Precisely." Hershel nods his head. "But the thing is, he won't be able to breath on his own if I do that."
"Respirator, what else?" I say, adding that to a mental checklist as I urge Hershel to continue. I'm assuming he doesn't have what he needs at the moment, and I'll be damn sure he'll have it soon.
I get odd looks from Otis and Maggie, the latter of which I'm just now noticing, but I'm not paying any attention to them as Hershel speaks up.
"The tube that goes with it." Hershel answers, continuing to list off what he needs so that everyone knows. "Extra surgical supplies, drapes, sutures…"
"If you had all that, you could save him?" Rick piped up hopefully, causing Hershel to turn towards them.
"If I had all that, I could try." He says, making it clear that there's still a chance we could lose Carl.
But that kid's chances are better with this shit than without.
"Nearest hospital went up in flames a month ago." Otis pipes up in visible confusion, before a look of realization hit's his face as he looks at Hershel. "The high school."
"That's what I was thinking." Hershel says with a nod at Otis before turning to Rick. "They set up a FEMA shelter there. They would have everything we need."
"Place was overrun last time I saw it, couldn't get near it. Maybe it's better now." Otis adds hopefully.
Whether it's overrun don't matter, not to me. We're getting that stuff, and we are getting it now.
Shane shakes his head at the whole situation, before speaking up. "I said leave the rest to me-"
"Out of the question." I interject firmly, catching all eyes on me as I look Shane in the eye. I know where's he's going with this, and it's not where he's needed. "You need to be here for Rick and Carl. You want to help, go find Lori or stay here with Rick." I instruct him, before turning to Hershel. "You got a map?"
"You can't seriously think we're gonna allow the teenager to do this, do you?" Hershel asks in disbelief, evading my question for a moment, but I am not in the mood.
"I don't think you have a fucking choice." It's the first time I've cursed in front of Hershel, but that's the last thing on my mind. "I'm going, and there ain't a person here that can stop me. All I need is a map."
Hopefully. That's assuming I can figure out how to read the damn thing, but I've never bothered learning. Maybe a crash course would help this.
"Kid, we can't let you do this." Otis says, concern evident in his tone as he turns to me, but I raise a hand to stop him.
"Ask either of them." I say as I turn to look at Otis, pointing a finger quickly to both Shane and Rick. "Of everyone here, I have the best chance of success for this. And you couldn't stop if you tried."
"He's not wrong." Shane pipes up, catching everyone's attention, though he still looks hesitant to really go along with what I'm saying. "Kid's a superhuman. The Juggernaut nonetheless. We ain't stopping him, no matter what we do."
The looks on Hershel, Otis, and Maggie's face would've been amusing or heart-wrenching, or both, during any other situation, but not this one.
However, Shane ain't finished.
"Still, someone's gotta go with you, John." Shane adds on, giving me a look just as stern as my own. "Do you even know how to read a map?"
I stare at Shane, lips tightening in frustration. He's got a point… as much as I hate to admit it.
"I'll be your map." Otis suddenly pipes up, getting over his shock quickly as he gives me a look of determination. "I don't care who you are, or what you can do."
"Otis, no." Admittedly, Patricia scared the hell out of me, like she just appeared out of nowhere behind Hershel, but Otis doesn't take no for an answer.
"Honey, we don't have time for guesswork, and I'm responsible." He says firmly, shooting down her objections immediately. "I don't care who he is, I'm not gonna sit here while a teenager takes this on alone."
"Are you sure?" I turn to ask Otis, wanting him to be absolutely sure he wants to do this.
With me there, there shouldn't be much to worry about, but still, there's always that small risk. Something goes wrong, he runs off, we get separated… you never know.
My time in the militia instilled that in me long before the dead began to rise.
But Otis seems set in his decision, and he actually gives me an amused smile.
"Do you even know what any of the stuff he's talking about looks like?" He asks me, and I honestly can't help the embarrassed smile on my face when he says that.
"Uh… no, really." I honestly didn't even think about that. That would've been a trainwreck and a half.
"I've been a volunteer EMT, I do." Otis assures me as his expression turns serious. "No we can talk about this till next Sunday or we can do this real quick."
"I'll take real quick." I respond as my own face turns to one of determination.
Rick gives us both grateful looks, looking between us. "I should thank you." He says, mainly to Otis as he eyes him.
"Wait till that boy of yours is up and around." Otis says, guilt etching its way onto his features. "Then we'll talk." He turns to look at me. "I'll gather a few things."
As Otis turns to walk away so he can gather whatever he's bringing, Maggie finally brings her eyes off of me as she looks at Rick, closing the distance some.
"Where is she? You're wife?"
It doesn't take long for Otis to pack, right quick and in a hurry, and I find myself carrying a spare backpack to the little blue truck in the driveway, sitting it in the bed as Otis does the same with his, while I can hear footsteps behind us as well, following us.
"Just get what you need and get out of there." Rick says, placing a hand on my shoulder as I let the empty bag drop into the truck bed. "No sense in taking unnecessary risks, no matter who you are."
"Rick, I just want to get this shit and get back." I say as I let my eyes drift towards the house. "I don't want Carl waiting any longer than he has too."
"I can't thank you enough." Rick says with a grateful smile. "You've done so much for us."
I can't help but to smile in return as I lay a hand on Rick's shoulder. "I care for all of you. I'll be damned if I lose any of you."
I let my hand fall from his shoulder as a smaller pair of footsteps approach, and I find myself looking down at Sophia, who's looking up at me in concern.
"Be careful, please." She's practically begging me, and I can't help but to smile. I crouch down to one knee, bringing myself to her level as I do so.
"I'm the Juggernaut." I reply, before my smile turns into an amused grin as I raise an eyebrow. "It's the walkers you gotta worry about."
Sophia let's a small smile grace her lips in response. She stares at me for a moment, before suddenly closing the distance and wrapping her little arms around my neck.
"Please come back."
"Always." I promise as I return the hug, before separating as I give Sophia another smile, before standing to my feet as I look at Shane. "Take care of her, alright?"
Shane nods his head. "I'll take care of her." He assures as he places a hand on Sophia's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.
I turn to look towards Otis, who's hugging his wife as Rick approaches them. As they separate, Rick draws his Colt Python, holding it by the cylinder as he wordlessly offers it to Otis.
Otis eyes it for a moment, taking it from his hands. He gives Hershel a look, and as if asking his permission, but Hershel doesn't say a word, his expression unreadable. Otis turns to eye the weapon for a moment, before looking at Rick.
"This is a fine weapon, Rick. I'll bring it back in good shape." He says, before beginning to move towards the truck's driver seat. I take that as my cue to go ahead and enter.
Once the doors are closed, I can't help but to look down between us, eyeing the rifle Otis has placed down. It's a bolt action hunting rifle, not exactly the best at firing quickly, even I know that.
Otis notices my look, and looks a little nervous, as if I'm judging him.
"It's only one I got. Not much compared to you." He remarks with a small smile.
I can't help but to chuckle. "A gun's a gun, Otis." I assure him with a smile that I have no judgment to give. "Besides, this goes to plan, you shouldn't have to fire a weapon at all."
"I hope not." Otis says as he starts up the truck. "So… ever plan on telling us you're the Juggernaut?"
I can't help the snort of amusement that escaped me. "Considering I didn't think we'd be here longer than a day… no, not really." I admit, causing Otis to let out a laugh.
"So, how'd you get all the way down here in Georgia?" Otis asked, giving me a glance, but keeping his eyes on the road. "I thought you were over in Ohio."
I let out a laugh of my own as I settle into the seat. "Well, that's one hell of a story."
"Better than silence." Otis retorts with a good-natured grin, which I can't help but to return.
"Alright, so it all started when they set up the shelters…"