The Age of Despair

Chapter III - That Remains

          Shane had done so much yelling during the walk to the house that Rick agreed to tie my hands once again. Still, the barrel of his pistol laid against my back as he gestured for me to walk into the farmhouse. Rolling my eyes, I reluctantly stumbled into the crowded living room. Everyone on the farm was gathered either on the couch or leaned against the wall. Some of them even physically flinched backwards as I entered the room, scared of a threat that didn't even exist. My eyes wandered around, taking in the variety of survivors. 

          The group ranged from bright-eyed teenagers to mumbling old men, and only a few of them looked like they could really make it out in the wild. My bet was on Daryl, and he huffed as we locked eyes. All eyes fell on Rick as he remained behind me, his iron grip on the pistol never faltering.

          "She's a doctor, and she has the medicine that was stolen. We sent Shane out to get it, just an hour or two out." Realization started to set in the group, and an emotional woman jumped up. 

         "You want...her....to touch Carl?" 

         Rick sighed, finally lowering his pistol. "Well, tell 'em," he said as he waved to me expectantly. Turning back to face the group, I began to tell them what Rick and Hershel had already heard in the barn. 

        "I worked as a researcher before this, but I've done hundreds of surgeries, even more just on children." They weren't convinced. "Trust me. If I wanted you dead, you already would be. I'll help the kid, pack my shit, and leave. That's all I want."

         The door creaked as Shane stepped in, untouched, holding the cooler of medicine from my camp. My bag, holding a few cans of food and my tin sculptures, was slumped over his shoulder and they all came crashing to the ground as he dropped the bag. "The hell is this?" he asked, gesturing to the sculptures as he grumbled and rubbed his head. 

       "You were supposed to just take the medicine, not ransack my entire place," I complained. Shane shrugged in annoyance, waiting for me to explain. "They're...just decorations. When I'm bored, I melt the cans and shape them."

          "Into body parts? Sounds like some serial killer shit," Shane grumbles, earning a stern look from Hershel. "They're models! Y'know, for doctor shit," I hissed back. The room became heated quickly and before a fight could break out, Rick grabbed my tied hands and pushed me into a broom closet nearby, closing the door after telling me to stay put. I sighed in irritation and slumped against the wall as the group argued in the other room. Only a few profane words were audible, but when the fighting stopped after some time, the door opened again. Rick gestured for me to get up, an odd expression on his face. We filed back into the room, the people clearly tense. Shane spoke up first, clearly angry. "You'll help Carl and if you try anything you are dead."

          "We'll give you some food and then you're gone," Rick added, his pistol safe in his belt now. I nodded, nobody else willing to say anything. "So, do I start now...or?" Hershel spoke first before anyone else could object, already sensing what they would say. "Yes. He needs immediate assistance," looking around the room to calm their nerves, "that can't be postponed any longer."

          "Please, be careful," a woman faltered. That must be his mom. "I will be. Got no reason to hurt the kid," I said. "We need room. Everyone leave. Rick, Lori, you stay," Hershel commanded. Quickly, the room was empty and Hershel started to walk down the hallway to a room at the end. Lori, the mom, followed him and Rick stayed. "Go. I stay behind," he demanded. Rolling my eyes, the room got closer as I slowly approached. Inside was a little boy with milky skin dotted by freckles. His brown hair was matted to his face with sweat, and his chubby cheeks pulled his small mouth into a grimace. He was in discomfort. Lori kneeled down and grabbed his hands in hers, smiling. "Mommy, who is that?"

         "Carl, this is..." Lori looked to me for reassurance as I reminded her of my name, "...this is Lena. She's gonna help make you feel better." Carl nodded, looking up at me with innocent eyes. My heart caught in my throat. His small body and little grin reminded me of all the kids treated by me in operating rooms and urgent cares. All the young lives lost. Hershel's voice snapped me out of my trance as he explained what operations were needed – he had a possible infection, a bullet casing still inside him, and a blood transfusion needed. With all the issues, it would be best to just double-check everything. "I can't help the kid if my hands are stuck behind my back." Looking almost embarrassed, Rick cut my ties and whispered just low enough, so Carl couldn't hear. "If you try anything..."

          "I know, I know. You'll kill me," I replied, matching his low tone. They had already gone over this. I stepped towards the bed and heard Rick's pistol load as another reminder of the stakes here. Does he really think I'd hurt a child? Wiping my hands, I leaned down next to the boy and ran through the usual protocol from before. "So, Carl, right?" He nodded, fear present in his blue eyes. "You don't need to worry, Carl, ok? This isn't gonna hurt and it'll be quick," I assured him. Only half of that was true. Hershel carried over a tray of different surgical materials, a few vials placed on it. The ones I had stolen, yet there was no guilt present in my mind. No regret. Nothing but indifference. "Ok, Carl. I'm gonna start with giving you some blood. I assume that you've already done that, right?" He nodded, squeezing Lori's hand. "Yeah, with Dad." I looked over at Rick. He was already staring back at me, watching my every movement like a hawk. He picked up the hidden message and walked over, touching Lori's shoulder to move her aside, and pulled up his sleeve. "Hershel, could you...?" The old man immediately got on the job, wiping Rick's skin and inserting the tube. After years of experience, injections and IVs became simple muscle memory for all doctors. The wound would need to be examined first before the final bullet casing was removed, but Carl would be given sedatives during the surgery to ensure he didn't move. "Can you lift your shirt for me, Carl?" The boy, now squeezing Rick's hand, shakily pulled the thin fabric up and revealed a swollen cut across his abdomen.

          My face made a visible grimace, earning a concerned look from Rick. "Hershel....do you have any ointments?"

          "A few. What type?" The cut was infected, for sure, but not deadly. "Antibiotic. Strong, but keep it light." 

         Hershel walked out of the room, taking Lori with him for help, leaving just me and Rick to look after the boy. "Is it bad, Dr. Lena?" Carl asked, sending a chill up my spine. It had been a long time since I had been called that. Since I had been called anything; so long that my name almost felt foreign coming from someone else's mouth. "It'll be okay after a few days, if you use the medicine I tell you to." Putting on the gloves from the tray of instruments, I grabbed a needle and vial of propofol, a sedative, to inject Carl with. He saw the large needle and whimpered, leaning into his dad's embrace. Rick rubbed his arm, worry flashing across his otherwise stoic face. "It'll be quick," he said. That calmed Carl down enough for me to grab his small arm and squeeze a small portion of skin for the injection. "What's your favorite color, Carl?" The young boy became confused, and his face contorted in focus, going through each color individually. As he declared that blue was his favorite, I sunk the needle into his skin. Pulling it out, he jumped back and rubbed his arm. "Hey, that wasn't that bad!" He exclaimed, smiling. "It's called the art of distraction. One day you'll master it," I replied. That earned another smile out of him, and even a hint of a smirk in Rick. The sedative worked quickly, as Carl's eyes already began to droop. Directing my attention to Rick, I warned him. "You sure you want to see this?"

          "I'm staying," he replied without an ounce of hesitation. Nodding, I grabbed the scalpel off the tray and took a deep breath before plunging the blade into Carl's abdomen, the boy now dead asleep.