Daughter of a Dixon ✔️

104: Two Steps Back

The next morning was more peaceful, with the aura of our momentary win from the previous night still lingering in the air. People were occupying menial jobs, whether it be blacksmithing, farming, or even digging graves for the people we'd lost during the battle. I helped out as best I could with anything; the more I stayed busy, the less my thoughts could wander. A lot of people seemed to be doing that, and, although I knew it wasn't healthy, it did help me in a way.

For most of the day, I assisted Siddiq in the infirmary. I needed the practice, and even though I doubted I would ever get to fulfill my dream of being an actual nurse, having medical experience was still a good skill to learn. I dressed a few wounds, refilled some IV bags, and even helped stitch up a stab wound. It was getting easier each time, and I was improving with each time as well.

They day came and gone, and soon enough night was upon us. I decided to camp out in the infirmary for the night, due to the fact that there were many, very sick, patients there, and I wanted someone to be close by in case they needed anything. Siddiq was adamant to change my mind, but I was more adamant not to let him, so eventually, he caved in. 

I slept on one of the infirmary cots, which was exactly as uncomfortable as it looked, but I didn't mind. I would be there if anyone needed me, and that's what mattered. 

The night was quiet for awhile, and I was able to get some sleep, but at one point, possibly around three in the morning, I was scared awake by a loud cry. From my experience, it sounded like a scream of pain, and that sent me shooting up from my bed in an instant. In a groggy state, I stood up from my bed and rushed around the corner towards the sound, heart hammering against my ribs. 

I latched onto the corner of the wall with both my hands and peered around, just looking to see if everything was okay. 

It wasn't. Not by any means. 

I couldn't believe what I was seeing, and it even took me a split second to tell myself I wasn't hallucinating. In some one-in-a-million circumstance, Tobin had died and turned, and was attacking all the other patients in the ward. Most had already turned, and the rest were just waiting, but either way, I had been too late. Their deaths were inevitable, and there wasn't anything I could do to stop it. 

Slightly panicked, I ran back around to the nightstand beside my cot, and grabbed my gun, hands shaking as I aimed it. I raced back around the corner towards the walkers, and, without hesitation, began firing, rendering them dead before they hit the ground. Tobin was the last one I fired at, and it sent a crack through my heart to see his lifeless body collapse to the ground. He had always been a good man.

I then turned my attention to the three men lying dead in their beds, with various bite marks covering their bodies. Without that final detail, it was almost as if they could've been asleep; even in their final moments, they seemed so peaceful. 

With a trembling hand, I aimed my gun directly for the first man's head, and hesitated with the trigger. I had never been squeamish before, but something about seeing the body, knowing the person had died just mere minutes ago, sent an awful feeling into the pit of my stomach. It almost felt morally wrong to shoot him, and the thought of it almost brought tears to my eyes. 

Another shrill scream scared me half to death, and all the color drained from my face when I realized it was coming from the mansion, where everyone in Hilltop was sleeping for the night. 

I gasped out loud and, without a second thought, spun on my heel, and raced towards the scene. 

I ran through the Hilltop community and straight into the mansion, and upon seeing the madhouse it had become, I involuntarily took a step back. People were screaming, yelling, crying, running, all over the place, and it was so dark I could hardly tell a difference between the walkers and the people. People were already inside trying to handle the situation, but Hilltop civilians were still packed like sardines on the inside, making it hard to maneuver.

"Everybody out, now!" I yelled over the screaming, motioning with my hands for people to come. "Get outside as fast as you can!"

Most people seemed to hear my command, and instead of focusing on panicking, began crowding their way to the door. I stepped off to the side, ushering everyone out as quickly and calmly as I could. They were all piling out, crowding each other and sometimes pushing others forward, but if it got everyone out, I didn't really care how they did it. 

Once mostly everyone had evacuated, I ran inside, and helped with finishing off the remaining walkers. There weren't many left, but there were several people who were bitten lying on the ground, trying to conserve their bleeding. One man, who was lying closer to the door, had a fresh wound to his lower arm; a wound that wasn't fatal, and a wound that I had been taught to treat.

Without a second thought, I dropped to my knees beside him, and began ripping a piece off the bottom of my shirt to use as a tourniquet. With my peripheral vision, I saw Rick to my left, his ax hanging loosely on his belt. 

"Rick!" I yelled, and as he looked over, I extended my hand for the weapon. He tossed it to me without hesitation, and I caught it gingerly in my palm.

I tied off the tourniquet directly above the man's elbow, as tightly as I could manage it. The limb was already beginning to turn color due to the lack of blood flow, but maybe that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

I took a breath for myself, almost wincing, before bringing down the ax for the first time below the tourniquet line. The man, who I recognized as Robert, hollered in pain, beginning to thrash about and screw his eyes shut against his reality. Ignoring his obvious pain, I brought the ax down again, and again, and again until the limb was completely severed off. By that point, Robert had passed unconscious, and his arm was leaking blood like water from a faucet. The tourniquet helped slightly, but it wasn't nearly enough; the wound needed to be cauterized, and fast. 

"Hey, I'll take it from here," I heard a voice say, and I looked over to find that Siddiq had fallen to sit beside me. "I'll take him back, get the bleeding to stop... You did good."

Not really having the energy to argue with him, I gave a weak nod, and rose into a standing position. I had just cut someone's arm off, without even thinking, like it was just a natural instinct I had. I didn't really know how it made me feel, but I definitely didn't feel like I'd saved Robert's life. I didn't like it. 

We succeeded in killing off the rest of the walkers, and then everyone moved onto the question of how it occurred. I told them about how it most likely started in the infirmary, with the sick people dying, turning, and then starting the attack. Then, Rick told us about how, when he had went after Negan, there was walker blood, an abnormal amount of it, on his bat.

Dad was the one to point out that everyone who had been shot or stabbed had gotten sick, and then all the pieces of the puzzle finally connected.

I didn't want to watch as Tara, who had been shot by one of the Saviors, was told she would most likely die within the next few days, so I stayed downstairs, sitting quietly with my head in my hands, thinking.

Why did it seem like, when we took even one step forward, we somehow managed to always take two steps back?