High Hopes ~Daryl Dixon~

Chapter Four

I was grateful with the task I'd been handed. It was simple and something that I could do no wrong with...Except maybe bringing back the wrong woman.

When I had asked if there was anything they needed my help with, daddy had considered having me assist him -but that would have been silly. Patricia and Maggie were equipped for that certain situation, I, myself was not. Instead I was asked to fetch things that was needed to perform the surgery. Things that could be found in the house, that was...And that didn't seem to be much.

For the surgery to sail through smoothly a lot of medical devices were necessary, devices we didn't have on us.

I wasn't quite sure what they were going to do about that slight glitch. It wasn't like the hospital was still up and running -in fact that had been overrun since beginning. I think it was the first thing to go.

But it was then that Rick approached me. He was completely unstable, his skin was ashen and he could barely remain on his feet. Over the last hour he'd been seated beside his son's bedside donating pint after pint of his blood – but it wasn't doing much. Carl, Rick's son, was loosing blood faster than we get it in him. His chances were looking awfully slim but I restrained myself from commenting out loud.

At this point, Daddy, Patricia and Maggie were in the kitchen gathering supplies that could be used as alternatives to the medical equipment they lacking.

I was on watch, to make sure the boy continued breathing and his blood pressure didn't drop too low. I was seated on the wooden stool beside the bed, the boy's small pale hand in both of mine. I used my thumb to trace patterns over the skin.

I knew it wasn't my place to be doing something like this, but a part of me felt that he should know that someone was here with him at all times...That he wasn't alone, even when he felt like it.

Rick stumbled into the room and collapsed into the seat on the opposite side of the bed, his eyes never left the boys.

“He's gonna be a'right.” I assured, although I wasn't quite sure who I was trying to help. I didn't know this boy but he was still a child and I knew how it felt to be in Rick's place -praying and hoping that our little one would survive. I wanted him to know that he was being supported, that we were going to do all we could to make everything okay in the end.

“I hope so.” He mumbled. He reached across and gently swiped from stray hair out of the boy's face and looked at him. “He's been so strong recently.” He said, almost to himself. “It's my fault. He was there because of me,” He voice was thick we un-shed tears. “I let this happen to him.” The self hatred and blame that coated every word he said was enough to make want to recoil away from him. He was so convinced that this was his doing, but this was just some freak accident. This couldn't have been prevented. If it wasn't Carl, then what was to say it wouldn't have been Rick or his friend. Either way, I can feel it in my gut, someone would have been shot and they would have ended up here all the same.

“Ya can't blame this on ya self, Rick.” I said. “It's not healthy. Daddy's doin' all he can to help y'all, and you jus' 'ave to let it happen.” His hand stilled from drawing patterns on Carl's face and he looked over at me. His eyes were red and bloodshot, and I could see clearly that he was processing my words. I let go of Carl's hand and reached over placing mine carefully on top of Rick's lying limply on the bed. “What do you need me to do?”

And that's how I ended up with this job. Although I'm not complaining, this was better than some of the other things I could have been asked to do.

I leant over the wooden fence, looking out across the wide open field at at the several horse's grazing in the summer sun.

I bought my hand up to my mouth and stuck my thumb and fore-finger into my mouth and blew hard. A sharp whistle pierced the air and the horse's head's snapped up in my direction. I blew again and they began galloping towards me.