Unbreakable threads

Chapter Twenty-four: The Sacrifice

The farmhouse was filled with a tense quiet as the group waited, huddled together in worry and exhaustion. Hours had passed since they arrived, and the uncertainty hung heavy in the air. Every glance, every whisper, was laced with the shared hope that Carl would make it through.

Finally, Hershel reappeared in the doorway, his face lined with worry and resolve. The group stood, their expressions desperate as they waited for his update. Alyssa, Daryl, Glenn, and Shane gathered around, their eyes fixed on the doctor.

"I need more supplies if I'm going to operate," Hershel announced, his voice calm but firm. "There's a local high school not far from here. It had a FEMA setup before everything fell apart. It's risky, but they might have the medical supplies I need."

Otis, the man who had accidentally shot Carl, took a step forward, guilt etched into every line of his face. "I used to work there. I can get us in, get us out with what we need."

Hershel nodded, his eyes softening. "Thank you, Otis."

Before Otis could move, Shane spoke up, loosening his grip on Alyssa's shoulder and standing tall. "I'll go with him," he said, his voice steady, almost too calm. He looked back at Alyssa for a moment, then turned toward Otis and gave him a nod. "We'll get what you need."

Alyssa looked up at him, sensing something unsettling in his expression, a darkness she couldn't quite place. Shane met her gaze with a faint smile, but something about it seemed hollow. She wanted to ask him to stay, but before she could say anything, he'd already turned, motioning for Otis to lead the way.

The two men disappeared into the night, moving quickly toward the high school as the group watched them go. Alyssa wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a strange chill despite the warmth of the room. Daryl noticed, giving her a slight nod of reassurance as he stayed close, watching the night settle over the farm.

The journey to the high school was silent and tense, Shane and Otis moving cautiously through the dark, their footsteps muffled against the broken asphalt and overgrown grass. They reached the school, its familiar yet eerie silhouette looming before them, and quietly slipped inside. The hallways were dark, littered with debris, the echoes of a once-busy place hauntingly empty now.

They found the storage room quickly, gathering the supplies Hershel had listed—gauze, antiseptic, blood bags, sutures—filling their bags until they had everything they needed.

As they made their way back out, however, the sound of groaning drifted through the hallways. The walkers had found them, their shuffling footsteps drawing closer as they stumbled through the dark.

Panic flickered in Otis's eyes, but Shane's face remained calm, calculating. He looked around, assessing their chances, his gaze finally settling on Otis with a dark clarity. Without a word, he made his decision.

"Otis," Shane said quietly, his voice low but hard. "I'm sorry."

Otis's eyes widened in confusion, but before he could react, Shane stepped back, firing a single shot at Otis's leg. Otis cried out, collapsing to the ground, pain and betrayal etched into his face as he looked up at Shane, realizing too late what was happening.

The walkers closed in, drawn to the sound, their groans growing louder, more desperate. Shane didn't look back. He grabbed the supplies, turning and sprinting away, leaving Otis behind, his cries drowned out by the advancing horde.

Back at the farm, the group waited anxiously, every passing minute stretching their nerves thin. Alyssa's gaze flickered between the door and the window, worry gnawing at her as she wondered what was taking so long.

Hours later, the front door creaked open, and Shane stumbled in, his face streaked with dirt and sweat, a bag full of medical supplies clutched tightly in his hands. He looked exhausted, a haunted look in his eyes as he surveyed the room.