Zedler, M.D. // Daryl Dixon

Chapter Four: Grady

•four•

Beatrix

Daryl stomps around a minute longer and I go to examine Merel's unattached hand. There's not much blood, so I'm assuming that he used a tourniquet of some sort.

"I will not hesitate. I don't care if every walker in the city hears it," I hear Rick say. Once I turn around to see what's going on, Daryl is lowering his crossbow from T-Dog's face and Rick is lowering his gun from the side of Daryl's head.

"You gotta do-rag or somethin'?" Daryl asks T-Dog, who hesitantly hands him one. He then moves over to crouch down beside of me and picks up the hand, examining it, "Ain't that a bitch. The blade musta' been too dull for the cuffs."

"He had to have used a tourniquet to keep the bleeding down," I tell Daryl as he wraps the hand up in the rag from T-Dog and places it in Glenn's bag.

"No shit," he scoffs. I understand that he's in a bad situation right now, but he doesn't have to be unnecessarily rude.

We all silently follow Daryl to the other side of the roof and down another set of stairs while he screams Merle's name, hoping he'll just hop out of somewhere. I keep my knife held tightly in my left hand as we enter an office of some sort. Daryl takes out another lone walker before we make our way to another section.

"Had enough in him to take out these two sum' bitches one handed," Daryl mutters, jesturing to the two dead walkers lying on the floor. "Toughest asshole I've ever met, my brother. Feed him a hammer, he'd crap out nails."

"Any man could pass out from blood loss, no matter how tough he is," Rick countered. We continue following his trail to another room that looks like a kitchen.

"Aye, Merle!" Daryl shouts and Rick shushes him.

"We're not alone here, remember?"

"Yeah, but we gotta find Merle. He could be bleedin' out. Ya said so yourself," Daryl starts arguing with Rick when I notice something in the corner of the room.

"Oh god," I mutter, walking over to a lit stove. There's a metal iron with pieces of burnt skin sticking to it laid on the counter beside of it.

"What's that burnt stuff?" Glenn questions.

"Skin," I sigh. "He cauterized his stump."

"I told ya he was tough," Daryl looks at Rick. "Ain't nothin can kill Merle but Merle."

"I wouldn't take that on faith," I mutter, holding back a laugh at how terrible his word choice is.

"Didn't stop him from bustin' outta this death trap," Daryl ignores me, walking over to a shattered window. "He's alone as far as he knows. Went out there, survivin'."

"You call that survivin'? He could be out there passed out on the street for all we know," T-Dog scoffs.

"Better than bein' handcuffed to a roof and left to rot by you sorry pricks," Daryl starts getting angry again and I sigh in frustration. He turns to me, "What's wrong with you, huh? You're the doctor here. Tell me what kinda' chances he has out there with that wound of his."

"Well, he cauterized it do it shouldn't be bleeding so bad," I start, but then realize Daryl is giving me a 'come on, idiot, we already know that' type of look. "If he didn't lose too much blood before getting here, which it looks like he didn't, he shouldn't be passing out anytime soon. The heat probably killed any type of bacteria that got in, unless it was already in his bloodstream, then we'd have a problem. But that's not likely. If we could find him, I could give him antibiotics and try to monitor it to make sure he's fine."