—Outside the Church
Shane stood with his arms crossed, jaw tight. Daryl glanced toward the trees, squinting into the light. Glenn stood off to the side, scanning the edge of the treeline, boots shifting uneasily in the dirt.
Andrea leaned against the church wall, arms folded, her gaze drifting to Shane and Lori. She watched them with silent scrutiny. Not suspicion, or judgment, just watchfulness. Like someone trying to piece together a puzzle they'd already solved once, but couldn't believe the picture.
Lori noticed it.
A weird ripple through her, a knot of unease tightening under her ribs. A fear mixed with unease, of who knows what.
"Where's Rick?" Daryl finally asked, breaking the tension.
—Inside the Church
Rick stood at the altar, hands on his hips, staring up at the crucifix. The stained glass threw specks of colored light across his chest. Christ's wooden figure hung limp before him.
Carl sat alone at the back pew, head down, fingers folded in his lap.
"I don't know if you're looking at me with what," Rick muttered, voice rough with exhaustion setting in. "Sadness? Scorn? Pity? Love? Maybe it's just indifference."
He sighed and stepped forward slightly. "I guess you already know I'm not much of a believer. Never really was. I put my faith in other things, my family, my friends, my work." Rick glanced down at his shirt. "This badge."
His fingers trailed the cold metal of the star, and his head stayed down, perhaps in shame.
"The thing is, we-I could use a little something. Something to tell me I'm not just fumbling around in the dark here. Some kind of… acknowledgment. Some indication I'm doing the right thing."
He stood there a beat longer, eyes locked on the unmoving figure.
"I don't need all the answers. Just one."
He stayed there a moment longer before he finally turned and walked back slowly to Carl and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Come on."
They walked out together with, quiet and heavy steps, walking into the sun.
Rick looked at the group and slowly approached, joining the loose half-circle, forming near the steps.
"I say we move out of here," Shane said, as Carol turned to him, watching both Rick and Shane with a scowl, "There's only so many hours of daylight left and a long way back to camp."
"What?" Carol cried as everyone turned to her.
"We can't stop yet," Rick turned to Shane.
Shane sighed rubbing his jaw. "We got a lot of ground to cover, the whole other side of the creek bed. So we do that on the way back."
Before Carol could interrupt, Rick added quietly, "She would've heard the bells."
"She might come here. Or could be close."
Shane hesitated and glanced at the group, his finger tightened into a fist, before he exhaled, "Alright, ya'll. You're gonna follow the creek bed back to the highway. Daryl's in charge."
Daryl tilted his head. "You sure about that? You wanna split us up?"
"We'll catch up," Shane said. His eyes briefly met Rick's. "We'll sweep the area for another hour."
Then Carl's voice cut through.
"I wanna stay too," he said. "She's my friend."
Lori blinked, as Rick and Shane shared a look, Lori knelt in front of him, cupping his cheek. "Just… be careful okay?"
Carl nodded solemnly. "I will. And I'll find her."
Lori kissed his cheek. "When did you start growing up?" she whispered.
She stood and turned to Rick, embracing him with a soft kiss.
Shane's eyes averted, jaw clenching, as he took a small step back. Andrea watched him, scoffing slightly.
Rick pulled out his magnum and extended it to Lori. "Here, take this, remember how to use it?"
She looked at it, and then at Rick, shaking her head. "I'm not taking your gun and leaving you unarmed."
Daryl stepped forward and handed her a silver Colt Cobra. "Got a spare."
Lori looked at him. He nodded once. "Take it."
And she did, they picked up their packs, heading off first, leaving Shane, Rick, and Carl near the Church.
—In the Woods
The forest was thick with moisture. The sun filtered through the leaves in pale shafts. Daryl and Glenn led, stepping along the damp ground. Behind them came Andra, Carol, and Lori.
Carol's breath grew shallow, quickening with every few steps. After a while, stopped and sat heavily on a fallen tree.
"So this is it?" she said suddenly, bitterly. "This is the whole plan?"
Everyone paused.
"I guess the plan is to whittle us down into smaller and smaller groups," Daryl said, standing near a tree.
"Carrying knives and pointy sticks?" Andrea said. The tone wasn't mocking, but more numb, and tired.
The others turned to her, quiet. No one said it aloud, but everyone thought the same thing. You have a gun.
Lori came and sat beside Carol, setting her bag down.
"Honey, I can't imagine what you're going through," She said softly, "And I would do anything to fix it, But you have to stop blaming Rick."
Carol looked up as if found out.
"It's in your face every time you look at him. When Sophia ran, he didn't hesitate, did he? Not for one second."
Lori glanced at the others.
"I don't know if any of us would've done that. Or made the hard decisions he did, or that anybody could've done it better."
She looked at Daryl, "Anybody?"
Daryl just stared at her.
Lori pulled out a water bottle, almost empty. And finished it.
"You all look to him and then blame him when he's not perfect. But if you think you can do this better without him? Go ahead. Nobody's stopping you."
Silence followed.
Carol didn't say anything, she just looked away, thinking.
Andrea adjusted her bag. "We should keep moving," she said, glancing at Lori with a slight distaste in her mouth.
The group quietly reassembled and pressed on, the woods swallowing their footsteps once more.
***
The leaves crunched softly under their boots as Maggie and Shawn moved carefully through the thinning trees. The sun dipped low, casting gold light across the underbush, and shadows stretched long over the uneven forest floor.
Shawn crouched beside a muddy patch of earth, eyes narrowing as he scanned the ground. "We've been here for too long," he murmured, sighing in exhaustion, "I still say you don't need a live target to practice."
Maggie didn't respond; her eyes stayed forward, focused, lips pressed, in truth, she didn't want to practice, not without Wesker.
Shawn sighed and straightened. "We only got a few hours of sun."
Before he could say more, Maggie tapped his shoulder and pointed ahead.
"Look," she whispered.
They both crouched low again. In the moist soil just past the bend in the trail, clean, delicate hoof prints were pressed into the mud, fresh.
A deer. Both of them thought.
Shawn's face lit up with cautious hope. "Well, would you look at that."
They followed the trail quietly, weaving through the trees until they reached a slow-moving section of the creek. The water glinted in the sunlight, and the wind carried a crisp, earthy scent.
They settled near a fallen log, right where the footprints disappeared. Maggie lay flat, propping the rifle on a low branch. She peered through the scope, breath even, eyes scanning the treeline across the bank, her shoulders tense. Shawn sat beside her, one knee drawn up, arms resting lazily across it, but his gaze was alert.
"You ready to lose your virginity?" Shawn suddenly whispered from the side.
Maggie frowned, "Ew, don't say it like that."
Shawn shrugs his shoulder, "What? Otis took mine."
Maggie turns to him, a disgusted look on her face, "Shawn, shut the hell up. That's disgusting."
He chuckled low, trying to keep it quiet. Maggie turned back to the scope and caught something moving, "Shh!" she hissed, silencing his giggles.
She inhaled and held her breath… then froze.
Shawn caught the tremble in her fingers, and her jaw, the very thing he'd tried to avoid with his ever-so-great humor. He exhaled, "Give me that," he said quietly, holding out a hand.
Maggie passed the rifle without an argument.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I can't see," she admitted, her voice low, uncertain, "Maybe a walker," she murmured.
Shawn crept forward a few inches, the rifle raised, the barrel steady on his stump. His fingers rested lightly on the trigger as he focused on the flickering movement behind the bush.
Maggie scanned their flank, eyes darting between trees, her instincts on edge.
A soft snap.
Her head whipped around.
From the left, something emerged.
A small figure.
Disheveled. Dirty. With a foot missing, a shoe stepped clumsily through the leaves. Matted hair clung to a small, mud-covered face.
A little girl.
"There are people!" Shawn muttered from behind Maggie
But she couldn't hear him, her eyes stuck on the girl, and as she inched forward, Maggie shrieked, stumbling back instinctively, heart hammering against her ribs.
Aaargh!
Shawn flinched at the sound, jerked by the suddenness of it.
Something slammed into him from behind, and he staggered, losing his balance. His finger clenched.
BANG!
The gunshot echoed through the forest like a thunderclap. Birds scattered from the trees in a frenzy, bursting into the sky.
Shane and Rick both jerked, instinctively lowering into a crouch, weapons half-raised until Carl collapsed.
"Carl?" Rick's voice came out hoarse, the single word barely formed.
A blot of crimson bloomed across the fabric of Carl's shirt, just below the ribs. He wasn't moving.
"No. No—no—no—" Rick staggered forward on hands and knees, grabbing Carl's small shoulders, and lifting him into his arms. The boy's head lolled limply. "Carl! Carl, look at me. Look at me!"
Behind them, boots sloshed through water.
A man emerged from the treeline, soaked to the knees from the creek, a rifle hanging from his shoulder. His left sleeve ended in a ragged stump just below the wrist. His eyes widened when he saw the boy in Rick's arms.
Shane spun around, his shotgun already halfway up.
"Wait. Wait!" the man barked, raising his hands in surrender. "It was an accident, a little—"
Shawn couldn't complete his words as Rick surged from the ground, and charged at him.
Shane barely had time to react.
Rick tackled him with his full weight, slamming him into the damp ground. Fists flew, elbows jammed, and Shawn was on the ground, trying to block them.
Shane rushed in, grabbing Rick from behind. "Rick! Rick, stop! We don't have time for this, man! You gotta look at Carl! Rick!"
Then—
"Stop it!"
A voice cut through the chaos.
Maggie came running, her face flushed, her hair plastered to her temple with sweat. Behind her, the dirt-covered little girl trailed, barely able to keep up.
Maggie slammed into Rick, getting him off of her brother, eyes wild. "Get off of him! It wasn't his fault!"
Rick stumbled back, panting. His eyes flicked to the girl behind Maggie and stopped.
The girl stared up at them with wide, frightened eyes. Her cheeks were streaked with mud. Her knees were scrapped. Her hair was matted and clung to her face.
"Sophia!" Shane's voice broke the silence.
Rick's mouth moved but no sound came, and he quickly turned back to Carl, cradling him in his arms.
"He needs help. My dad can help him," Maggie quickly said getting Shawn off the ground.
Rick blinked, snapped back to the present, and without hesitation scooped Carl up, holding him tight in his chest.
Shawn, still wincing from blows, pushed himself forward, "Come on, this way!"
They moved fast, branches slapping against them, feet pounding through the bushes.
Shane lifted Sophia into his arms and followed, his heart hammering in his chest. The girl clung to him tightly, whispering something he couldn't make out.
Soon they reached the clearing where the two horses waited, tethered beneath a bent oak. Maggie leaped onto one, Rick mounted behind her, and Carl in his arms.
Shawn climbed the other one, with Shane behind him, Sophia still clinging to his neck.
"Hang on!" Maggie shouted.
The horses kicked into motion, hooves thundering across the forest floor.
The trees blurred past them as they moved into the late afternoon sun, and they raced toward the farmhouse, still miles away.
***
The hooves slammed into the dirt road. The sound stirred the quiet of the farm like a bell.
Beth stood near the porch, waiting for her brother and sister to return, when something came into her field of view. She brought the binoculars to her eyes, catching the rushing horses coming through the field.
She saw Maggie, and then the man sitting behind her, clutching something in his hands.
Her eyes widened. "Dad!" she yelled.
Hershel pushed through the screen door just as the horses came to a stop in front. His boots hit the dirt, his eyes scanning the scene.
Shane quickly dismounted, grabbing Carl from Rick's hands and letting him get off the horse. Rick quickly grabbed Carl back, not letting him slip away.
Hershel's heart dropped for a second, but his face remained still like stone. "Was he bitten?" he asked, already moving forward.
"Shot." Rick gasped, "by your son."
Maggie slid off her horse, eyes wide. "Dad, we need to get him inside—now!"
Rick's voice cracked, "Help my boy! Please."
Hershel turned on instinct. "Inside! Inside!"
Everyone headed inside, as Shane and Shawn remained out, looking after Sophia.
—Inside the farmhouse
Hershel led Rick to a room with Beth and Maggie following behind, "Beth, I need my full kit!"
Beth bolted toward toward the hallway.
"Maggie," Hershel barked without looking, his sleeves already rolled to the elbow. "Painkillers, coagulants, clean towels, sheets, alcohol."
Maggie nodded and sprinted toward the bathroom.
Hershel entered the room, removing the blanket from the bed, letting Rick lay Carl gently on the mattress.
"Is he alive?" Rick whispered as Hershel tore the boy's shirt.
"Pillowcase," Hershel said urgently, pressing down on Carl's stomach with his bare hands, blood leaking through the gaps of his fingers. "Quick."
Rick moved like a half-conscious man behind. He grabbed the pillow and yanked off the case, holding it in front of him uselessly for a second, "Is-is he alive?" he asked again.
"Fold it, make a pad," Hershel said ignoring his question.
Rick blinked, then obeyed, folded the fabric, and placed it where Hershel's hands had been, pressing down on the wound.
Carl twitched, barely.
Hershel scrubbed his hands on another pillowcase just as Beth rushed in with a large plastic box nearly the size of a suitcase. Hershel popped it open in seconds.
Out came a stethoscope. He slid it into his ears and pressed it against Carl's chest.
"I got a heartbeat," he muttered. "It's faint, but it's there."
Rick exhaled as he'd just surfaced from drowning. His shoulders sagged in momentary relief.
Maggie returned, a basket clutched to her chest with bottle and gauze, "I've got it."
"Step back," she told Rick, but he didn't budge. He just stared at Carl, fingers still pressing the wound.
"IV," Hershel said, eyes first on Rick and then on Maggie.
She nodded, moving to the other side of the bed, applying the tube to Carl's arm.
Beth moved, "We need some space," she muttered, voice low, her eyes darting to the blood, hands trembling at her side.
Hershel exhaled, eyes still focused on the wound, hands working, "What's your name?" he asked.
"R-Rick," he mumbled.
"Rick?" Hershel repeated.
"I'm-I'm Rick,"
"Okay, Rick," Hershel said, his voice steady, calming. "We're going to do everything we can, okay? You need to give us some room. Now."
Still, Rick didn't move.
Then Shane appeared stepping into the room. He looked at Carl, then at Rick's blood-stained hands. Gently, he reached out and tugged Rick away from the bed.
"Come on, man. Let them work," he said quietly, handing Rick a damp cloth. "It's okay. Just breathe."
Rick stared at the cloth for a long moment before wiping his face, his whole body shaking.
From the side of the bed, Hershel asked. "You know his blood type?"
"A-positive," Rick said automatically, blinking as he came back to himself. "Same as mine."
"Good. Don't go too far, we're gonna need you."
Then Shawn stepped inside the room, dirt still on his clothes, and a long, light bruise on his arm. Sophia stood behind him, quiet as a shadow.
Hershel's eyes flickered to him. "What happened?"
Before Shawn could answer, Maggie spoke up, guilt painted across her face. "It was me," she said. "I got scared… and bumped into him,"
Hershel frowned. "Scared?"
Shawn glanced back, and Maggie turned toward Shawn, and her eyes landed on Sophia behind him. "She came out of the trees. I-I thought she was a walker."
Sophia lowered her head.
Hershel's attention back to the boy on the bed, "Bullet slowed down," he said as he carefully inserted forceps into the wound. "Must've hit something before it reached him—a tree? It slowed it down, and certainly saved his life."
"But it didn't go clean through. It broke into pieces, if I can get the fragments out..."
"And I'm counting six," Hershel muttered, guessing.
Sophia crept closer to Shane, her fingers gripping his sleeve. He placed a hand on her back, his face unreadable.
"Lori doesn't know." Rick suddenly said.
Shane turned to him, "No sh-"
"My wife doesn't know," Rick cried, "My wife doesn't know."
—The forest
Daryl led the group through the dense woods, his eyes scanning the ground for any signs of tracks when the sound of footsteps behind him changed. Lori had stopped, she turned slightly, her gaze drifting back in the direction they'd come from, a shadow of doubt and unease growing across her face. It wasn't just concern, it was fear, growing tighter every step.
Andrea, who had been just a few paces ahead of her, came to a halt and turned to her. She watched Lori for a moment before speaking, her voice low, knowing. "You still worrying about it?"
Lori didn't answer right away. She stared through the trees as if hoping to see through them. "It was a gunshot," she said finally, the certainty in her voice leaving no room for debate.
"We all heard it," Daryl said from up ahead, not turning around just yet, his voice casual.
"Why one?" Lori pressed, her arms folding tight across her chest. "Why just one gunshot?"
That made Daryl stop slashing at the branches with his machete, he turned to the group, exhaling through his nose as if tired. "Maybe they put down a walker," he said.
Lori's eyes narrowed, her voice sharp, "Please don't patronize me." she said, the worry bubbling into frustration. "You know Rick wouldn't take that kind of risk, or Shane, they would deal with it quietly."
Daryl didn't respond.
Carol, trailing quietly behind him turned to Lori, listed her voice just enough to be heard. "Shouldn't they have caught up to us by now?" she asked, her brows drawn tight with anxious hope, "It's been a while."
"There's nothing we can do about right now," Daryl said after a moment, his tone a little gruff, a little more tired. "Can't be running around out here chasing echoes."
Lori shook her head slowly, looking down, arms still wrapped around herself. "So what then?" she asked. "What do we then?"
"Same as we've been?" Daryl answered, more firmly now. "Beat the bushes for Sophia. Follow the creek bed back toward the highway."
Carol's frown deepened, her hands twisting around each other. Andrea moved closer to her, trying to offer something, that might help, even if just words. "I'm sorry for what you're going through," she said gently, her tone sincere, despite the cold knowing in her own stomach, had it been Amy in her place, she didn't know how long she could've held together.
"We're all hoping and praying with you, for what it's worth."
Carol gave a faint nod, slow and quiet, her eyes still distant.
Daryl turned back toward them, having enough of the quiet pity and empty hope. He walked up to them, a sharpness in his step. "I'll tell you what it's worth," he said, voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "Not a damn thing."
They looked at him.
"All this hopin' and prayin'. It's a waste of time. We're gonna locate that little girl. She's gonna be fine."
There was a pause, the weight of his conviction failing like a stone between them. Then he muttered under his breath, "Am I the only one Zen here?" he gave them one last look, analyzing their faces, "Good lord."
And with that, he turned, shaking his head, and marched ahead, boots sinking into the forest floor as the rest of the group followed in silence.
—Greene's Farmhouse
The air outside the room felt heavy with dread. Rick and Shane sat close together on a long bench just outside the bedroom door, the tension thick enough to choke on. Neither one of them spoke at first. Inside, muffled voices rose and fell—Maggie and Beth working alongside their father, doing everything they could for the boy fighting for his life. Had Patricia been here, the name rung in all four Greene's heads.
Shawn sat on the far side of the hall, leaning against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him, a haunted look clouding his face. Sophia sat beside him, clinging to her knees, eyes hollow, processing what was happening.
Rick's hands gripped the sides of his head, elbow on his knees, his fingers clutching at his temples like he could squeeze the pain out. "Why'd I let him come with us?" he asked, whispering. His voice cracked, "I should've told him to stay with Lori–"
"You know," Shane said, cutting in quietly but firmly, sliding an arm around Rick's shoulder to steady him, "You start that, you'll never get that monkey off your back."
Rick head head dropped lower. "Little girl goes missing, you look for her. Simple," he muttered and then turned his head slowly to look at Shane, "You said it. 'Call it. Head back.'"
Shane nodded, "And we found her, didn't we?" His voice was calm, but his throat worked hard. "Only because you called it. Didn't give up, that's what saved her."
"And Carl got shot because of that," Rick rasped, his hand clenched. "Because of me. He's in there because I wouldn't cut bait."
Shane shook his head, his jaw tight. "You've been there, partner. You walked away from it, and so will he."
Rick scoffed bitterly, voice hoarse with grief. "What, is that why I woke up in that hospital? I found my family for it to end here, like this? This is some, sick, sick joke."
"You stop that," Shane said, his hand ruffling Rick's hair, "Just stop it."
Then—
An abrupt crash of noise from the other side of the door. A short scream came out of Beth, sharp and small, and the room exploded with motion. Rick and Shane bolted upright, rushing inside.
Carl was seizing.
The boy's small frame convulsed on the bed, limbs jerking uncontrollably. Beth backed away from the bed in shock, her hands over her mouth. Maggie stood frozen, her eyes wide with helpless panic.
Rick was the first to reach his son, pressing down on Carl's shoulder to try to stop the spasms.
"Rick, he needs blood!" Maggie shouted from the opposite side, already digging into the kit.
Shane stepped in fast, grabbing Rick and pulling him away with a firm yank. "I got him," he said, replacing Rick at the bedside, holding Carl's twitching frame down as best as her could with Hershel focused on the wound, his hands moving with practiced urgency.
Maggie reached behind Hershel, clutching Rick's arm. Her voice trembled along with her hands. "I need a vein. Hold still, You have to hold still."
Rick tried not to look, but his eyes flicked toward Carl, to the blood spilling out, to the sweat beading on his son's face, his brows twitching in pain, limbs flailing violently. "Stop–Stop, you're killing him!" he shouted at Hershel from behind, panicking.
Hershel didn't even flinch. "Rick," he said calmly, voice like granite. "Do you want him to live?"
That question hit Rick like a slap. Stopped thrashing. Carl's groans had weakened. His body was burning up.
"He needs blood" Maggie repeated from the side,, her fingers trembling on the needle, having never down this before. She tried to find the vein as Shane gritted his teeth, still holding Carl down. "Do it. Do it now," he barked, sweat running down his temple.
She pushed the needle in—and Carl suddenly went sill.
"Hey!" Shane called out. "Carl?"
"He just passed out," Hershel said quickly. He leaned in with tweezers and pulled out a jagged piece of metal. "One down… five to go."
Rick sagged, as though someone had pulled the strength out of his spine. He slid down beside the bed, arms limp, watching Carl breathe, shallow but even.
Shawn stood at the door, his hand covering Sophia's terrified eyes.
***
Rick sat close to Carl, a cotton ball taped to his arm, and a needle removed, his other hand rested on Carl's damp forehead. "Lori needs to be here," he murmured, eyes not leaving his son. "She doesn't even know what's happening. I have to go get her—bring her here."
He moved to stand, swaying slightly on his feet, but then—
"You can't do that," Hershel's voice cracked from the side, firm but not unkind.
Rick turned. "She's his mother," he said desperately. "She should know—her son's been shot, for God's sake!" He moved again, toward the door.
"And he's going to need more blood," Hershel replied. He glanced at Shane, standing in the corner of the room. "You can't go more than more than fifty feet from the bed."
Rick stumbles out as Shane moves toward him, grabbing him by the elbow, "Hey. Come on, man."
Rick moved to the bench outside, "I'm alright. I'm alright," Rick said, sitting down.
Shane squatted near him, "He's stable for now," he said, "That's all that matters."
"She has to be here," Rick said again, his gaze flicking toward the front of the hall, where Sophia now stood beside Shawn, her small frame looking more fragile than ever. "Carol too. All of them need to know."
"I get it," Shane nodded. "I'll handle it. I'll go. But you—you've got to handle your end."
Rick looked confused. "M-my end?"
"Your end is being here," Shane said, voice hard now. "Right here, for your son. Even if he didn't need your blood, there is no way in hell I'd let you walk out of this house. You understand me?" He chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it. "I'd break your damn legs if I had to. You know that, right?"
Rick looked away, a bitter smirk on his lips, defeated. "Yeah," he muttered. "I know."
"If something happened while you were gone, if slipped away while you were out there, you'd never forgive yourself. And neither would Lori."
Rick finally exhaled. The tension eased from his shoulders, if only a little.
Shawn who had been listening to the two from the side, inched closer, "I'll go with you," He muttered.
Shane and Rick turned to look at him. They stared at him for a moment before Shane stood up and patted him on the back, "Alright, you're on."
"He's out of danger," a voice came from the side, as all three turned to the source, "For the moment." Hershel stood at the door, and Rick stood up, as if the words put strength back in his spine.
"But the bullet shattered inside him. I've removed one fragment. I still need to get the others."
Rick blinked, his throat dry. "How? You saw how he was."
"I know," Hershel said quietly, "That was the shallowest one. I need to go deeper to get the others. There's more," he whispered the last bit.
"Tell me," Rick asked.
Hershel nodded, "His belly's distended, his pressure's dropping, which means there's internal bleeding. A fragment must have nicked one of the blood vessels. I have to open him up, find the bleeder, and stitch it."
He paused letting them absorb the information, "But he can't move while I'm in there. I mean, at all. If he reacts the same as before, I'll sever an artery and he'll be dead in minutes."
Hershel sighed, "To even try this, I'll need to put him under. But if I do, he won't be able to breathe on his own. Same bad results."
"What'll it take?" Rick asked.
"A respirator," Maggie said standing next to Hershel.
Hershel continued, "The tube that goes with it, more surgical supplies, drapes, sutures."
Rick looked him dead in the eyes, "If you had all that, you could save him?"
"If I had all that, I could try," Hershel replied, quiet but honest.
"The nearest hospital went up in flames a month ago." Shawn chimed in from the back.
"The High school," Hershel said, and at the same time Maggie blurted out, "Wesker,"
Hershel turned to her, confused, "What?"
Maggie went silent, "H-He said he was going to go there," she muttered, "The last time he came around."
"He might've already looted it" Shawn added, stepping closer. "He probably has all the things you need."
Shane exchanged a glance with Rick. For a split second, confusion turned to hope, because if any could save Carl, it would be Wesker.
****
Read +3 or +7 chapters ahead on my Pat*eon
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