ethreal | the walking dead

XV

     He never let his feet stop. In no way he would. Not right now. Not when Carl was in this condition. 

     [Y/n] kept close to Rick. If the man struggled with Carl in his arms, he’d be by the sheriff’s side in no time to help. Blood was all over his hands, shirt, even his face. The tall grass of the field they ran through brushed against his legs, sweat dripped from his forehead and his legs burned.

     “Hey, you move shithead! Come on, get us there!” Shane shouted at the chubby man who shot Carl. Shane grabbed the man’s arm and tugged him forward, seeing him slow down. 

     “How far? How far?!” Rick stopped and turned. His eyes were red and fear was present on his face. 

     “Another half mile that way.”, The man pointed. “Hershel. Talk to Hershel. He’ll help your boy.”

     [Y/n] didn’t know he had any energy left in him but he bolted it. His legs ran across that field like it wasn’t there, hopping a few times so he wouldn’t trip in the tall grass. The [H/c](-nette) looked back every few seconds to make sure Rick was still moving. 

     After a little bit of sprinting, a white house came into view. Rick had slowed down a bit so [Y/n] jogged beside him in case the sheriff needed anything. 

     The door slammed open when [Y/n] and Rick came closer to the house. Two men, three women. The man in the middle was older and the woman in the back on the left looked middle-aged, the rest looked fairly young.

     “Was he bit?” the older man in the middle asked.

     “Shot.”, Rick corrected. “By your man.”

     “Otis?” the older woman questioned.

     “He said ‘find Hershel’. Is that you?”

     The group walked down the stairs and approached [Y/n] and Rick.

     “Help me. Help my boy.”, Rick pleaded, walking towards the older man.

     “Get him inside.”, the man said.

     “Patricia, I need my full kit. Maggie, painkillers, coagulates-- grab everything.”, the man, Hershel, ordered as he walked inside. “Clean towels, sheets, alcohol. In here.

     Hershel lifted the sheets off of a bed in a room to the left. Guest room maybe. Rick laid Carl on the bed. He was extremely pale, most likely from blood loss.

     “Pillowcase.”, Hershel said.

     “Is he alive?” Rick asked, looking down at his son. 

     “Pillowcase, quick.”, Hershel rushed. Rick grabbed a pillow and did what Hershel said.

     “Is he alive?”

     “Fold it. Make a pad.”, Hershel said. Rick folded the pillowcase and placed it on the bullet wound in Carl’s stomach.

     “Put pressure on the wound.”

     Hershel grabbed one of those doctor tools that notified if there was a heartbeat or not. 

     “I’ve got a heartbeat.”, Hershel said after a few seconds. [Y/n] let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and slouched against the wall.

     “It’s faint.”

     “I got it, step back.”, the woman known as Patricia spoke, taking Rick’s place. 

     “Maggie, I.V.”

     “We need some space.” Maggie told Rick, gently tugging him back. [Y/n] came around the bed and placed his hands on Rick’s shoulders.