» Time Is Dancing « | » Carl Grimes «

» SICK «

Criminal Behavior

"Open the door! It's Hershel!"

I scrambled to my feet and leapt down the stairs, taking in the scene in from of me. Maggie led the way as the others pushed a trolley into the room, Hershel passed out on top of it. Most of him, anyway. My eyes widened in horror when I saw half his leg missing, bleeding out all over the sheets.

Carl unlocked the gate and they hurried in, wheeling him into the nearest empty cell. Rick, Glenn and Carol lifted him onto the bed.

"He got bit."

My brain felt like it was swimming. A light headed feeling overtook and black spots surrounded my vision. This couldn't happen to Hershel. Not him, of all people.

"Maybe you got it in time." Carol replied. That must've been why his leg was missing. We had never done it before, but the journey here gave us a lot of time to think. If the bite gave you an infection, it had to be through the bloodstream. So what happened if you didn't let the infection spread? We were about to find out.

I blinked hard, trying to bring myself out of this state. Hershel needed me. I strode over to the cell and watched as Carol unravelled the wound, blood spurting out.

"I need bandages." She panicked.

There wasn't enough supplies. We were hoping they had already found the infirmary, but no such luck. We had to improvise.

"Do we have any towels, blankets, anything to slow the bleeding?" I asked urgently.

Lori nodded in realisation. "Carl, go get the towels from my back pack next to my bed."

I leaned over the bed, using the already soaked sheets to mop up the blood around the wound. I shoved a pillow underneath the leg, reminding myself of what Hershel taught me. Keeping it elevated would slow the bleeding.

"Is he going to die?" Beth asked tearfully. Her voice became distant, the noises around me starting to feel dull and echoed. The black spots returned as I stood up. Carol was pressing sheets and bandages against the wound but there was nothing more we could do. I took in the scene before me. Hershel's drained, pale face, the once white sheets now deep red. My hands felt slimy and sticky and I held them in front of my face. Blood. Everywhere. It belonged to Hershel. This blood should be inside him, it should be pumping around his body and through his heart, keeping him alive. Now it was all over me. I shut my eyes, leaving the cell. The metallic smell was becoming overwhelming, I needed to step out. I needed to think of something else, anything. I was no use to Hershel if I was passed out in the floor.

I left the cell block, almost stepping out the building completely until I saw Daryl. I didn't realise he was still in here. I wondered what he was doing, seeing his bow loaded and raised towards the door, and trailed my eyes to its target.

Five men emerged from where the group just came. Seeing their prison uniforms, I raised my gun. They were criminals after all, who knows what they did to get here.

"That's far enough." Daryl commanded them, narrowing his eyes as they took in the room. One of them, apparently the leader, wasn't fazed by our unwelcome stares.

"Cell block C. Cell four, that's mine, gringo. Let me in." His hair was long and messy, tied to the back of his head. I bet they hadn't showered the whole time they were in here.

"No chance." I scoffed. We had already claimed it, this was our new home. My mind drifted slightly, considering if that was the cell I was now living in.

"Today's your lucky day, fellas. You've been pardoned by the state of Georgia. You're free to go." His hold on the weapon was unwavering. He wouldn't let them within ten feet of this place, not with Hershel injured, Lori pregnant and some of us being kids.