VITRIOL | Shane Walsh

𝐈𝐈𝐈

We were a month into the outbreak. I hated having to tell Caleb that his grandma was dead and that the woman in the barn wasn't her anymore. Just because his grandpa couldn't let go, it didn't mean my son had to follow in his path and cling onto ghosts. The world was changing fast and he needed to know the truth about Walkers instead of blindly stumbling into life-threatening situations. He took my words as gospel, understood and pushed his emotions aside to comfort Beth who was less adjusted.

The town centre was a complete shadow of what it once was. It was not filled by joyful people on their morning errands anymore, it was owned and dominated by the reanimated empty souls. After dodging in and out of it's abandoned stores, me and Maggie returned from our ride, tying up our horses in the stable and perking our heads up at a singular gunshot in the distance.

"Sounds like we're eating good tonight. Think I'd kill for something not canned," I drooled at the idea of venison or even a squirrel. Mags agreed - there were only so many cans of re-fried beans you could have before getting sick of them.

We stepped out the doors into the daylight, slowed our conversation and squinted at the unfamiliar figure running across the field with a limp child in his arms. We'd initially thought he was being tailed by two walkers, but quickly realised it was Otis and another taller, broader man dragging him from behind.

Maggie snatched the binoculars from inside the house, looked down them and immediately reacted.

"DAD!"

As they drew closer, we heard his sobs cry out. His boy had been shot and as soon as it dawned on me who the desperate father was, I rushed over.

"Rick? My god, come on get inside now" I demanded, forcing open the front door and leading him to the downstairs bedroom. He was frozen, not only from meeting an old friend but from the bullet which had torn through his child. I'd have comforted the man but someone's life was in my hands.

Hershel took one glance at Carl before rolling his sleeves up and making demands of his own.

"Patricia I need my full kit, Maggie painkillers, coagulants grab everything, clean towels, sheets alcohol," he ordered.

"Beth- can you get Caleb out of here. I don't want to him to see this," I backhand commented, rolling my sleeves up and running a bowl of water to carry to the other room. I charged into the unfolding scene and took over from Rick, pressing a pillowcase to the wound.

Leaning my head to gently rest on Carl's chest, I was able to hear a faint heartbeat, spurring us into action straight away with dad tearing open his shirt and attaching a drip to his arm.

"Rick we need some space. Me and my dad are gonna do everything we can to save him. Don't panic." He slowly retreated out of the room, leaving us to stabilise his son's condition.

"We've got to get that bullet out." Dad sighed as the boy's completion continued to drain its colour.

"It hasn't gone straight through though, god knows where it is or even how many bits it's in" I felt the pressure settle in as Rick mechanically paced around. He looked like a father willing to do to anything to let the boy survive and I couldn't imagine the pain of being in his situation.

There was a faint mumble of voices coming from outside the house which grew louder as they neared the room. I continued to apply force as daddy started the questioning. Luckily Rick was the same blood type as his son and could donate if and when we needed to operate.

"I-I was tracking the buck and bullet went through it. Clean through," Poor Otis was stuttering in disbelief at his own actions and I truly felt sorry for the guy.