Zedler, M.D. // Daryl Dixon

Chapter Eight: Carl Grimes

•eight•

Beatrix

"Oh God, Beatrix!" Rick yells from the porch of the large, white farmhouse we'd found.

"Rick, where's Carl? How is he?" I frantically ask, running onto the porch and into the house.

"In here," Rick leads me to a room where Carl is laying unconscious on a bed and Lori is crying beside of it. There's a old man taking his blood pressure and a woman messing with an IV beside of him.

"Are you a doctor too?" I ask the man.

"No, I'm a vet," he says and I sigh. "I'm Hershel. I take it you can do surgery?"

"Beatrix. It's my chosen profession," I smile, but it instantly fades as I look a Carl. "How many fragments?"

"Six, but I managed to get one out," he takes his stethescope out of his ears and hands it to me. "He woke up during it, and he has internal bleeding. You'll need to cut him open to get everything fixed I'm afraid. And he'll need to be put under or you could sever an artery."

"Do you have the supplies to do surgery and put him under?" I ask before dropping to my knees beside Carl and listening to his heart and lungs.

"I have the medicine to put him under and a suergical kit, but no way to keep him breathing," he explains, then looks to a rather large man in the corner of the room that I hadn't noticed. "I was thinking you could get the stuff from one of the FEMA trailers at the high school. They're stocked with medical supplies."

"Trailers stocked with medical supplies?" I smile up at him, but then shake my head. Task at hand, Beatrix, concentrate on the task at hand. "Nevermind that. I have a tracheal intubation kit in the RV on the highway. And an oxygen mask, which will be annoying to do, but it would work."

"I'm sure we could make do with that," Hershel says. "How far away is it?"

"I could be there and back in five minutes," I get up, but Daryl keeps me from leaving the room.

"You need to stay here," he puts his hands on my shoulders. "Carl needs you."

"I'll go," Rick starts toward the door, but Lori stops him.

"No, Rick, I can't do this alone. You need to be here," Lori grabs his arm and he sits back down beside of her.

"I'll go. Which bags to you want me to bring?" Daryl asks me, looking straight into my eyes. I was slightly intimidated, but I didn't let it faze me. This is my area of expertise and I need to be in control.

"All of them. I don't know what's in each seperate bag. We can sort it out when you get back," I say. He nods and turns to leave.

"Take Shane with you if you want," Rick chimes in.

"All of that won't fit on my bike," Daryl shakes his head, probably thinking about how much medical supplies I actually have.

"Take my truck," the large man in the corner volunteers. "It's the blue one, I'll show you."

"I'm goin' too, man," Shane says from the doorway. I hadn't noticed him here before.

"Hurry up!" I yell at them. "I need to operate on Carl soon or he's going to die."

Not entirely true because Carl could survive a few more hours like this, but they need to get going. They all run out of the room after I yell and I look back at Lori and Rick. I probably shouldn't have said that in front of them.

"Is he really-" Lori cries, not able to finish her sentence.

"No, no. He'll be fine as long as they get the bags to me soon. I'll operate as soon as I can and he'll be just fine," I smile at her.