𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇 | carl grimes

010.

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010.
ENOUGH OF
RED'S BULLSHIT.

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   "I was in the graveyard. Somebody knocked me out. I woke up outside this place. It looked like a school. It was that guy, Gareth— and five other ones. They were eating my leg right in front of me. Like it was nothing. All proud, like they had it all figured out," through rushed and ragged breaths, Bob explained in detail. Natalia's face soured towards the end of it; how the hell could anyone live with the fact that they were no better than the things that turned the world to shit in the first place?

   "Did they have Daryl and Carol?" Rick lowly inquired.

   Bob contemplated the question, attempting to organize his thoughts while still undergoing shock, "Gareth said they drove off."

   The Williams woman took note of the way he painfully groaned, turning back to Eugene, Abraham, Rosita, and Talia, "He's in pain— do we have anything?"

   "I think there are pill packets in the first aid kit," the older Espinosa countered, one hand resting on her knee and the other on the small of her sister's back. They were lucky that the four rarely used the medical supplies; they all had the mindset of saving it for something that was worthwhile. As far as they were concerned, somebody's leg being chopped off seemed fitting.

   Natalia stood up from her spot on the pew, "I'll go get 'em."

   "Save 'em," Bob choked out, his voice getting raspy with the more he talked each time. He needed water.

   "No." 

   "Really," the man sniffed and persisted, using all of his energy to sit up and pull down the collar of his t-shirt. Sure enough, on his right shoulder, there was a tear in his flesh; it was blatantly a bite mark tainting his skin. A gift from the un-dead. Sasha only straightened her posture, tears lining her waterline as she attempted to come to terms with the sight displayed right in front of her. "It happened at the food bank."

   Her lip quivered at the clarification, getting him back down on his back. "It's okay."

   Talia momentarily closed her eyes— this part was the worst, regardless of the situation or how well she knew the person. People dying was shitty enough as it was, but the process of getting bitten overruled any other demise, without a doubt. Essentially, it was just a matter of time until the virus won and took over, and the grueling hours of watching people slowly decline was indescribable.

   Someone getting shot and dying on the spot was something that the young girl could allow herself to handle. It was quick, and suffering was kept to a minimum. But a bite, blatantly speaking, was really just a fuckin' countdown, saying 'Hey! You have about— twelve hours left to live, spend it wisely!'

   Natalia feared that if that happened to someone else (besides her brother) she depended on to remain sane, she believed she'd crumble under the pressure.

   No, she'd definitely crumble if it came down to that.

   "There's a sofa in my office," Gabriel cut in, resulting in the teenager's eyes shooting open following the mutual silence amongst the survivors. "I know it's not much, but—"

   "Thank you."

   Coming to his feet, Tyreese wedged in between people, assuring his sister that he'd carry Bob there. Truth be told, it would certainly beat the man dying on the wood floor, splinters furiously spiking through his clothing and pricking his back. How considerate, Gabriel!