𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 || 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘍𝘈𝘙𝘔
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[ ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴᴇ, ᴀʏᴇ
ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰɪɢʜᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴘʀɪᴅᴇ ᴏʀ ɢʟᴏʀʏ?
ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴄᴀʀꜱ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ? ]

    ROLAND'S MUSCLES PULSED in pain as he ran through the large open field. The sun beating down on him and causing sweat to drip from his hairline. Sliding down and hitting his cheeks as he pushed his body to the farthest limit he ever has as he ran behind his father who held Carl's pale and limp figure in his arms. Causing only the panic within Roland build with each second and step they took closer to where Otis was directing them. The man who was hunting a deer and how small of a chance it had been that Carl was hit in the process. All of this was just a fluke of chances that shouldn't have happened in the first place.

Pants left both Grimes lips as they pushed themselves to try and run as fast as they could to the farm that the hunter had pointed them in the direction to. It was rather convenient that the one time that Carl can feel happy is when he has to be at the worst timing. Especially when staring at a deer unknown of their presence.

Seeing his father start to slow down, Roland stopped in front of him. "Let me take him." He rushed out and Rick didn't question it and handed his son to his much more athletic son. Turning and beginning to sprint, not giving his body a chance to rest. He couldn't. His younger brother's life was on the line and Carl wasn't allowed to die before Roland. No way in hell would that happen in a million years.

Behind the three grimes was Shane Walsh, an old friend of Rick's that were partners when being cops mattered in the world and Otis. The man who was so conveniently hunting the deer that the bullet went straight through the animal and pierced the young Grimes stomach. Creating a larger problem none of them needed to deal with at this point in time.

"Hey, you move, shithead. Come on, get us there." Shane ordered, grabbing the large man and pulling him to quicken his pace. Ignoring how Otis was wheezing from the loss of breath and exhaustion of his body being pushed farther than the other three.

Roland didn't stop running, he had to make sure Carl was alive. "How far?" Rick yelled. "How far?!" He repeated impatiently as Roland slowed his pace, trying to ease his muscles for a moment as he panted. His face scrunched up in pain from the ragged breaths leaving his lips in attempts to keep himself awake when he wouldn't mind just passing out right at this moments. A stitch in his abs very much there as he wanted nothing more then to just lay down and sleep this pain off, but knew he couldn't. "Another half-mile that way," Otis told them, pointing them in the direction of the supposed farm was located. A heavy pant leaving Roland's lips as he nodded to nobody but himself.

With the information, Roland kicked his ass into gear and continued sprinting again. "Hershel. Talk to Hershel. He'll help your boy." Otis called out to the pair as they ran. Looking down at Carl's pale face, Roland felt even more panic from the amount of blood that covered his body. Only enabling him to try and push his legs faster and pull his little brother closer to him. Willing to have a heart attack instead of Carl dying from such a freak set of convenience.

When Sam felt his legs start to get weak, the counselling from his father pushed him to continue. "Don't stop, Roland. Just keep going!" Doing as told, Roland was soon close to the farm with a woman standing on the deck watching them in utter confusion as to what she was seeing.

"Help us!" Roland yelled, desperation in his tone as he tried to keep his emotions from flooding his body. "Please, help us!" He yelled while his dad was helping him direct them into the property and around the barbed fencing.

At the entrance of the large house, maybe a total of 5 people stood at the door. All holding weapons and watching the pair cautiously. "Was he bit?" An older man yelled in front of the group. Roland was guessing it was Hershel, guessing by how he seemed to be in charge. "Shot. By your man." Rick replied for his son who felt like his heart was going to burst through his chest.

Slowing their pace, Roland was trying to control his breathing as best as he could. Just trying not to pass out when his little brother needed him the most. But, there was so little Roland could do from his position except getting his brother in hands that could do something. Even if it hurt his pride in someway.

"Otis?" A woman questioned and Roland nodded. "He said find Hershel? Is that you?" Rick asked, directing it to the man in overalls and a white button-up. The man nodded and Roland stopped in front of the man, tears building in his eyes. "Please, save him. He's my little brother and I can't lose him." He begged and Hershel took a quick once over on the boy before nodding. "Get him inside."

Following the man inside, Hershel was giving out orders to each person in the house. Not wasting a second to help the helpless boy clinging onto life as they spoke. Walking into a bedroom, Hershel flipped the blankets and waved Roland over. "In here." He ordered and Roland didn't waste a second to place his brother down. "Pillowcase," Hershel ordered Rick who stared at his son with a distant look.

"Is he alive?" Rick asked, not doing as he was told. "Pillowcase, quick," Hershel ordered again, this time knocking Rick from his stare and grabbing the comforter. "Is he alive?" Roland repeated a bit sharper, looking at the older man who continued to care for his brother. "Fold it. Make a pad." Hershel told Rick, avoiding the question from the two Grimes.

Roland backed up, wiping his forehead, smearing blood across his forehead that belonged to his brother. He felt his chest tighten as tears escaped his eyes with a burning sensation erupting through them. Glancing around as he sniffled lightly with his bloody hangs wringing together.

It wasn't a normal thing for Roland to cry. He usually just kept a smile on his face to hide his true emotions. But with the state of his brother's life, he felt like if Carl didn't make it, it would be his fault. Like he was responsible for Carl not making it when it was really no one's fault. It just was a freak accident that never happened unless by some crazy amount of luck.

"I've got a heartbeat."

Hershel's words caused a quiet sob to escape Roland's lips as he quickly exited the room. Heading outside where he held onto the railing as he used all his upper body strength to keep his body up. A cry escaping his lips in somewhat relief as he crouched down in exhaustion.

His body was weak, emotionally and physically. He felt like his world had brightened, just a bit, but his body was taking the consequences of it. Not like he cared, his brother cou- would make it. Carl had to. Roland wasn't sure how he'd live with himself if Carl died. For so long, Roland had helped his parents with raising Carl that he felt like he had a big responsibility for keeping him safe. Despite him being his brother, Carl was Roland's best friend.

When Carl was born, Roland had adored his baby brother throughout all the years of him growing up. They used to read comics that Roland may have or may have not stolen from stores just to make his brother's day. Just seeing that smile on Carl's face was enough for Roland to realize it was all worth the trouble he had gone through with their dad after the fact.

And now living in this world of survival or death, Roland didn't have many people left. Sure, he had his family, but all his friends were dead. He'd watched them be ripped apart by the monsters that craved off the taste of flesh. Most of the deaths still burned into his skull and played on repeat at night or when he was too much in his head.

Hearing a distant yell, Roland lifted his head seeing Shane and Otis. Then hearing the front door behind him open and knowing it was his dad. Roland let his legs rest and he sat down on the steps. His mind focusing on the memories of his brother as Shane and Otis came over to them.

"He's alive? He's still alive?" Otis asked the two Grimes who were in complete shock. "Yeah...Hershel- Hershel found a heartbeat." Roland muttered, his voice just above a whisper as he clasped his hands together. Not caring that his brother's blood-covered them like war paint. It was their last worry at the moment and the two men standing in front of them should know that.

Shane began fishing through his backpack he had hauled the entire way through the forest and way here. Grabbing a rag and taking it to Rick's face that was covered in blood when he wiped away at the sweat. "You got blood, man," Shane whispered to Rick before placing it in his friend's hands. Noticing the trembling, Shane looked at Roland and then back to Rick. "I'll take it from you." He told Rick before stepping back and kneeling in front of Roland.

Finding the 17-year-old with tears sliding down his cheeks and his eyes distant. "Here." He whispered as he wiped at the blood on the boy's forehead. "Where is he? Where is he?" Shane asked and Roland took a second to respond, but when he did he stood up and motioned with his head inside.

Entering the house Rick led the four to the bedroom where Carl was located. Rick looked back at his oldest that stared at his younger brother. Placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze for comfort.

"You know his blood type?" Hershel asked Rick who stood by the older man. "A-positive. Same as me and Roland." He replied and Hershel glanced at the three. "That's fortunate. Don't wander far. I'm gonna need you."

After seeing the two Grimes nod, he looked at Otis who stood at the doorway. "What happened?" He questioned and Otis tried to find the words to speak. Clearly still in shock of the events that had unfolded. "I was tracking a buck." He began. "Bullet went through it. Went clean through." Otis told them in disbelief. "The deer slowed the bullet down, which certainly saved his life." By his tone, Roland could tell there was more to it and was right when Hershel continued. "But it did not go through clean. It broke up into pieces. If I can get the bullet fragments out...and I'm counting six."

"I never saw him, not until he was on the ground," Otis muttered to Roland was guessing was his wife who was behind Roland and Rick. Just Otis's words brought the flash of memories not even an hour ago back to him. Remembering how his brother's body flew back from the impact of the bullet and how much blood came from the wound. It was haunting for Roland to remember because his mind liked to trick him into thinking it's a lot worse. Roland knew it was bad, but he also knew it wasn't as bad as his mind was displaying it.

"Lori doesn't know?" Rick asked and Shane shook his head. "No..." His voice trailed off and Rick pursed his lips. "My wife doesn't know. My wife doesn't know." He repeated before breaking down into tears. Shane whispered comforting words into his ear as Roland exited the bedroom.

Needing to find something, anything to clean the blood off his hands. Going to the kitchen, Thomas rapidly turned on the cold water and began scrubbing at his hands. Feeling the pain at how hard he was rubbing at the skin. Scratching away at the dry flakes of blood, doing everything in his ability to rid the images of his brother from his mind.

A knock cutting his train of thought and finding it was a young blonde. Staring at him with concern which was hard to see with the look in her eyes. Roland removed his eyes and shut the tap off, not sparing a word to the girl and exiting the room and heading outside. Not finding it in himself to speak at the moment with anybody.