Red ~ TWD (Daryl Dixon)

The Last Full Measure

We were like a carrot on a stick, the herd dutifully following the meal that stayed just beyond their reach.  All-in-all it was kind of anti-climactic. 

"They still back there?"

I glared at the back of Rick's head.  "Where else would they be?"

Our walk morphed into a trot and I swallowed a yelp, squeezing his waist harder.  I should have gotten off the horse and let the walkers eat me.  Horses hated me and I hated them.  It was an arrangement that worked for both parties.  Now I was probably going to die on a horse like a total asshole. 

When we got back to the main road the horse squealed, spinning around in a circle in obvious distress.  Another massive herd was lumbering down the main road, cutting us off since it was set to connect with the one we were trying to redirect. 

"Damn it!" Rick cursed, struggling to calm the nervous animal. 

The horse became agitated, darting left only to cut back right then spin in circles repeatedly.  It was impossible to keep my balance though I tried by squeezing my thighs together, as well as hugging Rick like a deranged primate.  He continued to try to steer the horse to safety, but it ventured into a batch of soft sand making the horse's movements sloppy and unpredictable.  I wasn't at all surprised when he reared up onto his hind legs, kicking his powerful front legs and ejecting his two passengers.

I hit the hard-packed ground on my side, the gravel and rocks from the road cutting my shoulder, hips, and elbow.  The sand on the road coated my tongue and I groaned, attempting to push onto my hands and knees.  Rick was a few feet away groaning in pain, and I felt my heart sink into my boots when I saw he was impaled by a piece of rebar sticking out of a concrete block.

"Rick!"  I scampered to my feet, ignoring my own pain and blood as I ran to him.  My hands hovered over his chest, inspecting the gruesome injury.  "You're gonna be OK," I promised, trying to keep my voice even.

"You gotta go," he mumbled, pain making it hard for him to focus.  He was on the verge of passing out.

"And you leave you here like a walker shish kabob?  I don't think so."  His laugh quickly turned into a groan of agony, and I winced.  "Sorry."

"Do...what you...have to."

The herds were closing in so I didn't have much time or many options.  "Put your arms around my neck."  I leaned down and he did as I asked with a pale, sweaty face and wide, terrified eyes.  "On the count of three I'm gonna pull."  He nodded jerkily, blinking rapidly to clear the tears building in the corner of his eyes.  "One."  The moans of the dead made my spin tingle.  "Two."  He pressed his lips together, stealing himself for the pain that was imminent.  "Take a deep breath and hold it."  When he did as I asked I continued, "Three."

I didn't hesitate, didn't think about how much this would hurt, didn't think about the fact I might end up killing him.  I locked my hands together underneath his body and pulled like our lives depended on it because they did. 

The wet, sloshing sound of the rebar being pried from his body made me lightheaded.  There was no way to block out his gut-wrenching cries.  Closing my eyes I tried to ignore the herds, my friends pain, and focused only on freeing him. 

Once he was free of the metal bar his weight was too much for me to bear, and we tumbled to the ground.  I couldn't tear my eyes away from the red soaking his lower left side, sticky, viscous blood pumping out of his body at an alarming rate.  If I didn't get the bleeding under control he'd die, but if I didn't get us the fuck away from the walkers he wouldn't get a chance to bleed to death.