Skeletons - 𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑙 𝐷𝑖𝑥𝑜𝑛

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 9 - 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑭𝒂𝒓𝒎

Iris could not get the sick sight of Carl's limp body out of her mind. He flopped around in Rick's arms as they raced through the field. Iris was close behind, Shane leading the hunter, Otis, at the end of his shotgun. He'd given them thorough instructions on how to get to the farm, and Rick didn't spare a second. He grunted at the weight, Carl's blood already covering his arms.

"Hey! You move, shithead! Get us there!" Shane yelled as Otis slowed. He was a big guy, and did not run fast.

"How far? How far?!" Rick cried.

"Another half mile, that way!" Otis yelled, pointing as he gasped for breath. "Hershel! Talk to Hershel! He'll help your boy!" Iris kept up with Rick as he ran, Shane staying behind to manage Otis' profuse apologies. Rick was grunting in pain, in fear, for breath. They could see the farm house in the distance.

"Come on, we're almost there." Iris encouraged, running forward as she overtook him. "Help! Please! A little boy was shot!" She called. A silhouette on the porch quickly vanished into the house.

"Dad!" The woman yelled. Iris made it to the edge of the porch as a young woman with brown hair, an older woman, an old man, and a teenage boy with a baseball bat burst through the door.

"Was he bit?" The old man asked.

"Please, Otis shot him. He's dying." Iris pleaded. Rick staggered with Carl in his grip as he got close. "He said to find Hershel."

"Is that you?" Rick asked, panting through a sob. "Help me. Help my boy."

"Get him inside." Hershel instructed. He started rolling up his sleeves as they followed him inside the farm house. It was gorgeous, but none of them could register anything except for helping Carl. "Patricia, I need my full kit. Maggie, painkillers, coagulates— grab everything. Clean towels, sheets, alcohol." He led them to a bedroom and ripped the bedspread off. Rick laid Carl down gently. He was so pale. "Pillowcase."

"Is... is he alive?" Rick asked, his voice so quiet.

"Pillowcase, quick." Hershel repeated. "Fold it, make a pad."

"Is he alive?" Rick repeated, grabbing a pillow and practically ripping the case off. Another young girl appeared, helping the older one gather supplies. The older woman joined them and they worked quickly and quietly at the end of the bed.

"Put pressure on the wound." Hershel instructed as Rick held the pillowcase to the shot. Hershel accepted the stethoscope from Patricia, pressing it to Carl's chest. "I've got a heartbeat. It's faint." Rick practically collapsed in relief.

"I've got it, step back." Patricia said in a clear voice, taking over for Rick. Iris helped move him out of the way but close enough for comfort.

"Maggie, IV." Hershel stated. "Your name?"

"Rick." He mumbled. "I'm-I'm, um, I'm Rick."

"Rick, we're gonna do everything we can. You need to give us some room. You are?" He looked up at Iris.

"I'm Iris. This is Carl." Iris offered. Hershel nodded. Rick looked out the window, seeing Shane and Otis running toward the house. He staggered out of the room to meet them. Iris stayed, breathing deeply as she watched over Carl. They all came back in a few minutes later.

"You know his blood type?" Hershel asked, looking up to Rick.

"I... I don't know. God..." Rick curled inward, being practically held up by Shane.

"I'm a universal donor." Iris offered. "I can do a transfusion."

"Are you sure?" Hershel asked, looking up at her. She nodded firmly, glancing to Rick.