Regression to the Mean 3: Apocalypse

Bloodletting

No P.O.V

In that moment, his world felt like it had suddenly been frozen over by a deadly storm, destroying all the good in life. As Rick and Shane hover around the fallen boy, unconscious and bleeding from the bullet hole in his abdomen. Rick pressing down on his son's stomach as Shane holds his gun out to on guard from any attack mad by human life.

Human life, that stumbles out of a bush pale faced and sweating, a large man maybe a decade older than him clad in camouflage clothing, stuttering apologies that are lost in Ricks ears, until he hears something that might be of use. Lifting his son in his arms, Rick begins to run in the direction pointed by the shooter and Shane, Help. Help is that way that is all he knows.

As Rick runs with his son in his arms, he thinks about the teen in camp. Grace could surly help Carl. No matter what is going on with her emotionally right now. Grace can save his son, but the only problem right now, besides his son bleeding out all over the woods, is that Grace is miles away. But this man is giving him information that is better than dragging himself to s teenager with supernatural abilities. Hershel.

Now sprinting through a field, Rick struggles to hold onto his son's limp body as he makes his way to 'Hershel'.

"Hey! You move shithead, come on!" Shane exclaims as he runs behind Rick, turning back to grab onto the man that shot Carl.

"How far? HOW FAR?!" Rock repeats impatient

"Another half mile! That way" The man points as he pants "Hershel, talk to Hershel! He'll help your boy!"

"Let's go, Come on!"

***

Standing on the front porch of the old Greene farm house, the eldest daughter of Hershel Greene notices movement in the distance. Reaching down to the side she pick up the pair of binoculars, left there to use for this very reason although every other time they have had to be used, it is not the living that are spotted. But this time he notices a man running along with a child in his arms. Turning to the direction of the door, with a horrified expression haunting her face she calls,

"Dad!" the word drawing her father and several others out as the man draws nearer.

"Was he bit?" Hershel Greene asks the unknown man in the sheriff's uniform

"Shot, by your man" Rick replies, his voice full of worry and pain

"Otis" A woman questions with a thick Georgian accent. Finally putting a name to the shooters face as she and the others make their way down the small set of stairs.

"He said find Hershel, is that you?" Rick asks and continues to speak without letting time for an answer "Help me, help my boy"

"Get him inside, inside" Hershel commands all of them and leads the man in with the boy. Patricia, I need my full kit. Maggie Painkillers, coagulate, grab everything. Clean towels, sheets, alcohol. In here." He directs the man as he pulls the sheets back for Rick to lay his son down "Pillowcase." Hershel commands but is ignored by the father.

"Is he alive?"

"Pillowcase, quick!" Hershel repeats more forcefully. This time Rick does as instructed.

"Is he alive?" Rick asks again as he takes the pillowcase

"Fold it, make a pad" Hershel instructs as he holds the wound until his hands are replaced with the case. "Put pressure on the wound" Hershel says as he turn to Patricia and takes his stethoscope from her and turns back to the job at hand. Putting the drum to the boys' chest, Hershel waits patiently for any sign of life. "I've got a heartbeat, its faint"