Lost | Daryl Dixon

13 - Carl...

I entered the house holding my breath, barely paying attention to anyone else as I did. Maybe I was getting worse as a nurse by ignoring T-Dog for a moment, but all I could think of was that little boy.

The house was clearly loved - photos of relatives and friends adorned the walls and surfaces, hints of past generations hidden in different nooks and crannies. The floor had seen some wear of years of use, but nothing extreme. It reminded me of our own ranch inside - remnants of the past amongst our current artefacts.

I entered the living room - where Rick and Lori were; Lori had mascara stains down her cheeks, and Rick looked half dead - his skin made it look like he'd been shot. Lori leapt up when she saw me, and I grabbed her hard, pulling her into a hug. I could scarcely let go, breathing heavily into her. "I'm here, I'm here. Where is he?" I breathed out. I finally released her as Rick struggled to stand up. I grabbed him, pulling him in as well, hugging him tightly, for once feeling like the protector with how weak he felt in my arms. "What's the matter with you?"

"He's stable, for now," A man I didn't recognise entered the room - with white hair and a white beard. I guessed from the house he was the patriarch, I released Rick carefully as I faced him. "Rick's just tired from giving blood."

I nodded. "Does he need more - we're the same blood type, you can take from me," I stated, a frail, blonde woman nodded - waving me towards a room. I followed, hearing Rick and Lori join as I entered a side room. I gasped audibly when I saw him - the bright little boy I'd been talking to hours ago now laid out, pale, sweating on a bed. I rushed to his side, removing the bedding to look for the bullet, covering my mouth when I saw how swollen his stomach was. I looked at the man. "You been the doctor for him? How long has his stomach been distended? How much of the bullet is left in there-"

I started to list my questions as Rick grabbed my arm. I looked up at him. "Lizzie, we know. Shane and their man, Otis, are getting what they need now." He answered. I nodded, quietly, sitting as the woman prepped my arm to give him blood.

"Shane left?" I asked, my chest tightening.

"They don't get back soon, we're gonna have a decision to make," Hershel mentioned. I looked at him, blinking away my panic momentarily.

"And that is?" Rick asked as we all stared at the older man. I winced as the needle went into my arm.

"Whether to operate on your boy without the respirator."

My skin went cold when he said that. "You said that wouldn't work," Lori whispered. I grabbed her hand from the chair.

"I know," He looked at her gravely. "It's extremely unlikely. But we can't wait much longer."

======

I stood outside of the room, looking out onto the farmland with Rick, adjusting to the lightheadedness of donating blood. It had been a while.

I glanced at Rick, who was clearly struggling with how much he donated. "I was thinkin'," I started, turning to face him. "About our farm. Compared to this one, I mean. All I remember is mom's vegetable garden out back and the chickens, nothin' like this. 'Specially with dad." I mused. "I wonder... I wonder if Evie and mom are still alright. No clue how we'd even get across the country nevermind find them. Good dad ain't here for this, though."

He nodded, looking out. "I suppose we remember dad differently." I don't think he wanted to think of the rest of our family. Evie moved mom up with her out West when she was getting on. I wonder how they did when this started.

I stared at my hands. There were new bumps and cuts across my fingers. "I think that's likely - I remember dad just focusing on my studies. Every day I'd come home, he'd be ready to do homework with me - 'course you know how the skin on his hands was 'cause of the fire. He mainly watched rather than wrote with me."