Changing To Adapt ➵ TWD

➵ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜɪʀᴛʏ ᴏɴᴇ

The group is outside in two seconds flat when they see their car pull past the gates and onto the farm. They were a lot longer than they should have been, leaving the farm in disarray.

Rick slides out of his seat first, immediately swarming to his wife and child. Hershel's next, then Glenn. And Maggie comes running. She swerves around an expecting Hershel, who looks stunned only for a moment, and wraps her arms instead around a stiff Glenn.

Lucas pulls himself sluggishly out of the back, circles the car because he doesn't have anyone to go check on. He does, though, have this injured kid named Randall.

He opens the door and leans on it, squinting into the car, shoulders rising and falling in a sigh.

"Lucas?" Dale asks, his voice pitched in concern.

"Hm?" He turns.

Daryl frowns, narrowing his eyes, "The hell happened?" He gestures to Lucas's face, caked from the middle of his forehead down to his nose in dried blood.

"Uh," Lucas dumbly replies, reaching up to scrub some of the stuff away.

Then he side-steps, revealing Randall, as a half-baked answer.

"Who the hell is that?" T-Dog exclaims, eyes blown.

Hair blowing mindlessly in the wind, Glenn looks at the boy, casually, "Oh, that's Randall."

With the heat on his back, head pounding away and a close-call towards death still sitting on his shoulders, Lucas just wants this guy in the shed where Hershel wants him and then he wants a nice cold glass of water.

"Gimme a hand?" He looks at Daryl, jerking his head towards Randall.

Worrying his lip between his teeth, Daryl nods. He leans his crossbow against the car and shoves past the others to join him.

Lucas grabs at Randall's ankles, Daryl heaves him up from under the arms. Carrying him like any other dead body they'd tossed into a fire to burn. Fortunately - or unfortunately - he was alive.

"He did that?" Daryl jerks his chin towards Lucas's head.

"Nah. His friends."

Lucas chances a glance to determine Daryl's mood, and decides to explain further.

"We found Hershel at the bar and these guys walked in- jesus, this sounds like the start of a bad joke. We had a drink, talked a bit. But they started asking about camp and wouldn't let it go. They attacked. Rick shot first. The rest of them left this kid behind." Lucas sighs, the tension dropping from his shoulders.

"Sounded like a helluva day."

"Yeah," Lucas huffed a laugh. He almost died. "Could've used someone like you there."

"I'm done findin' people."

"Not what I meant." Lucas shuffles up the steps of the shed, seeing Hershel waiting. He glances at Daryl, "You would've found her."

Daryl jerks his head up, eyes narrowed, "What?"

There's a heaviness in Lucas's chest. He avoids Daryl's eyes this time, "Sophia." He swallows, "If she wasn't in that barn, you would've found her."

They get to Hershel before Daryl can snap out the reply he can see coming, heaving Randall onto the table for the doctor - the veterinarian - to work on. 

"Thanks, Hershel."

Hershel tries for a smile, "No more Mr. Greene?"

Lucas hesitates, "Figured you preferred Hershel."