Safe and Sound | TWD

Chapter 6

Is that...blood?

Blood? Why is there blood?

Carl?

I didn't even realize i was running until I slid in the ground next to him. There is blood everywhere. Pouring out of him like a faucet. My hands cover the wound before Dad slams down on the ground opposite of me.

"Carl! Carl can you hear me!" He's screaming. His voice sounds broken and harsh. My vision is blurred with tears. The blood...his blood is pooling over my hands, running down his side and somehow, all over me.

Shane has someone. Dragging him by the collar of his shirt. I can't hear anything. Have I gone deaf?

No, I can hear my heart pounding in my ears. Dad is frantic, Shane is screaming at the guy, and i'm frozen. With Carls blood covering me. No matter how hard I put pressure on the wound, more blood spills.

I think i'm going to be sick.

If i could see my face right now, Im sure i would be whiter than a ghost.

Carl.

Is he breathing? I can't tell. There is so much blood. All I see is red.

Red.

"Bella!"

I slowly peel my eyes from the river of crimson and face my Dad. His eyes are bloodshot, tears mixed with sweat and he looks just as pale as I feel. How long was he calling my name?

"We have to go,"

Go? Go where?

Before I can speak, he hoists Carl into his arms, and starts sprinting. Shane is half dragging, half running with the random guy, who's holding a hunting rifle.

"Bella, cmon!" He shouts to me over his shoulder.

——————

My legs are burning, my lungs on fire. I pump my arms faster and faster along side my father who holds an unconscious Carl in his arms. He's struggling to hold him.

My feet hit the dirt and grass at a thundering pace. I can't hear anything other than my pounding heart and ragged breaths.

Carl. My brother. My baby brother.

Carl, who loved it when I tucked him into fresh sheets. Who always begged me to have sleepovers in my room. Who liked to eat cheerios and watch the cartoon channel. Who made mud pies, who shaded me around with his dirty, mud-caked hands.

Who laughed at my stupid jokes and held my hand when Dad was in the hospital.

Carl, who is now bleeding out in my dad's arms. Carl, whose blood is on my hands, my legs. His blood.

A farm house is in the distance.

My legs push further. My body protesting but I fight it.

The faster I run, it seems the house gets further and further away.

Carl, limp in my dad's arms. Dad is covered in his blood too. Panting and crying and regaining his grip with every pump of his legs.

This isn't happening right now.

—————

"Please, my boy!" Dad cries.

An old man, three women, two of them who look younger, and two boys are standing on the porch.

"Was he bit?" The older man speaks.

"He was shot, by your man," He pants,

"Otis?" One of the girls asks.