𝐇𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐑𝐃 │ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍 ¹ [✔]

[30]: this creature

The bedroom door opened once again. Shane stepped away from Rick's embrace.

They just had a long talk about Rick not leaving, for both Carl and Lori's sake. How he would never forgive himself if something bad happened to his son while he was gone. How Shane would break his legs if he tried to leave.

Everything Shane had said held uttermost sincerity. I didn't for one time think that Shane wouldn't hesitate to hurt his partner if it was for Carl's benefit right now.

I stepped away from the wall by the door to look at Hershel better. He was wiping his hands clean.

I wished that I could wipe my hands clean. They still held a red colour to them. The blood had dried and stained my palms and fingers.

I didn't have time to find water. I was too busy trying to calm my heart that was aching for Carl's sake.

"He's out of danger for the moment," Hershel directed at the father.

I dropped my tense shoulders, breathing out quickly.

"But I need to remove those remaining fragments," he then said, making me worried just a fraction more.

"How? You saw how he was," I said.

"I know, that was the shallowest one. I need to go deeper to get the others."

I scrunched my eyebrows in frustration. This was just getting harder by the second.

"There's more," Hershel added. "His belly's distended, his pressure's dropping, which means there's internal bleeding. A fragment must have nicked one of the blood vessels. I have to open him up, find the bleeder and stitch."

I ran a hand through my hair, realising how sweaty it had gotten. I left my hand on my forehead. Poor Carl was going through a war, much less a battle in the space of a day.

"And he can't move while I'm in there - I mean, at all," Hershel instructed. "If he reacts the same as before, I'll sever an artery and he'll be dead in minutes."

"To even try this, I have to put him under. But if I do, he won't be able to breathe on his own. Same bad results."

There was a long pause as I racked my brain. I dug through my memories of visiting the hospital frequently. From just being ill, a fractured wrist, dislocated a shoulder, or just simply appendicitis.

"You have a respirator, right?" I asked the doctor.

"Unfortunately, no."

Otis stepped up from the back of the room. I was still angry with him for shooting Carl. "Okay, respirator. What else do you need?"

"The tube that goes with it, extra surgical supplies, drapes, sutures," Hershel looked between Otis and I.

"If you had all that you could save him, or at least try?" I asked desperately, slowly gaining more hope by the minute.

"Nearest hospital went up in flames a month ago," Otis looked at me, then back to his friend. "The high school."

"That's what I was thinking. They set up a FEMA shelter there. They would have everything we need."

For a moment, it felt like this situation would become a walk in the park. Then I actually thought about the world we lived in. Otis only confirmed my worries.

"The place was overrun, last time we saw it. Maybe it's better now."

I saw Shane shift from my left. I looked over to his face and saw that he was contemplating... possibly going.