WHITE FLAG ━ glenn rhee ¹ ✓

𝟏𝟓. the farmhouse

Glenn scavenged through his backpack, gripping onto something that made a noise, "We have some painkillers and antibiotics," he pulled the two orange pill tubs that Daryl gave him and his best friend earlier that day, "I already gave him some. If Carl needs any."

The girl instantly took them out of his grasp, "Come on inside. I'll make you something to eat," she pulled open the door, stepping out of the way to let them enter.

As Kloe stepped in, her eyes examined the room. It was cozy and felt homely. It had been a while since she had been in a place as homely as that was. Even the CDC wasn't like a home, but a laboratory.

She turned around to the woman frantically, wanting directions to the room where Carl and his family were. Noticing the look the Schmidt girl was giving her, she pointed to a door that was at the end of the room.

In an instant, the four of them made their way through the silent house. As she walked through the door, Glenn on her heels, she saw the young boy on the bed, unconscious. On the bed next to him was an old man, testing his blood pressure. On the other side was Lori and Rick, who both had looks of panic written across their faces.

The all too familiar lump formed in Kloe's throat and she tried her best to swallow it down, but nothing worked. Beside her, Glenn relinquished his cap from his head, revealing his flicked back hair, "Hey."

Lori and Rick both looked up in unison, meeting their gazes. "Hey," Rick replied, his face pale as a ghost. Kloe glanced back down at the young boy, noticing a white bandaid plastered across his stomach with a red circle on it.

It felt like someone had just shot her chest. The two children in their group didn't deserve what they were receiving. The elderly man stood up from the bed and set his attention on the small group. He had a stethoscope over his shoulders.

"Um, we're here, okay," Glenn assured, noticing his best friend's speechless expression. Glenn knew that if she spoke once, she would just fall down and cry.

"Thank you," Lori nodded, tears stained her cheeks.

"Whatever you need," T-Dog sympathetically added, despite his own pain he was suffering, he would do anything to save the people he saw as family.

The four of them left the room, wanting to leave the Grimes' some privacy with their son. Kloe followed the girl into the living room, along with the two other men who were in front of her.

...

Kloe grimaced as T-Dog grunted with pain. Once they had finished the food the girl, Maggie, made for them, a woman named Patricia began to stitch up T-Dog's wound on his forearm. "You got here right in time," Patricia stated as she pulled the thread through his arm, "this couldn't go untreated much longer." T-Dog, who was sweating even more than before, continued to groan with pain. Patricia eyed the orange pill tubs. "Merle Dixon. Is that your friend with the antibiotics?"

"No, ma'am," Glenn responded, who was standing in the dark doorway beside Kloe. "Merle's no longer with us. Daryl gave us those. His brother."

"Not sure I'd call him a friend," T-Dog added, his voice shaking with pain.

"He is today. This doxycycline might have just saved your life," Patricia's eyes averted from T-Dog's arm and up at Glenn and Kloe, "You know what Merle was taking it for?"

"The clap," Glenn blurted out instantly. Kloe's hand quickly raised to the bridge of her nose with embarrassment as she pinched it.

She shook her head, releasing the pinch as she opened her eyes, "Venereal disease," she corrected, realizing the look Maggie was giving Glenn, "That's what Daryl said."