Because of You | Maggie Greene ¹

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐯.

"Are you any of you Hershel?!" Greyson Hunt demanded breathlessly, stopping just in front of the porch steps.

The eldest of the group, an elderly man with suspenders and bright white hair, lifted his hand. "I am," He informed.

Greyson sighed in relief, though his exhale of breath sounded more like a gasp. "We need help."

Just then, Rick Grimes crashed harshly through the gates sprinted to Greyson's side, his hands soaked with his son's blood. The man, Hershel, frowned at the sight. "Was he bit?" He asked.

"Shot," Rick answered. "By your man."

The eldest woman lifted a hand to her chest. "Otis?" She demanded.

Neither Greyson nor Rick showed the questioning woman any regard as complete concern for Carl retook them both. "Help me," Rick pleaded to the many strangers. "Help my boy!"

"Get him inside," Hershel ordered, quickly turning on his heel as he led the bloody duo into the farmhouse. "Patricia, I need my full kit. Maggie, grab painkillers, coagulates—everything. Beth, Jimmy, get clean towels, sheets, and alcohol." He then pointed at Rick as the father and Greyson were led into a back bedroom. "Put him here."

Hershel removed the bed's comforter and Rick laid his bleeding son across the mattress. "Is he alive?" The father demanded shakily.

Instead of answering, Hershel looked to Greyson. "Son, grab a pillowcase." Grabbing a pillow from the bed, the twenty-two-year-old sprinter practically ripped the pillowcase off and folded it into a pad as Hershel had ordered. "Put pressure on the wound."

Biting his lip, Greyson hesitantly placed the sheet against Carl's exposed abdomen and flinched at the feeling of the boy's warm blood soaking through the sheet and onto his hands. All around Greyson, members of Hershel's family moved back and forth with medical supplies, speaking in such a hasty dialect that he hardly understood them. The noise was becoming too much for Greyson's panicking system and he hurriedly clenched his eyes shut to prevent himself from collapsing next.

"Is he alive?" Rick asked again, pulling Greyson back down to earth.

Hershel grabbed his stethoscope and placed the metal against Carl's bare chest, listening intently. Finally after a moment, the elder doctor sighed in relief. "I've got a heartbeat," He announced. "It's faint, but it's there."

Both men exhaled tiny sighs of relief, but they were only just. Suddenly, Greyson felt soft hands on his arms and he immediately jumped back in fright. He quickly glanced over his shoulder with widened eyes to see the one of the younger girls—Maggie—looking back at him. Her green eyes were as wide with alarm as Greyson's were, but nevertheless she reached out to grab him again. "You have to step back now," She informed. "We've got it."

It took a lot for Maggie to finally pull Greyson back from Carl and when she finally did so, all that he could do was look at his hands. They were covered in red, sticky, and hot blood. Grimacing, Greyson tried wiping his hands clean on his jeans, but it only made the fresh blood smear farther across his body.

Meanwhile, as Patrica began setting up an IV, Maggie soon guided Rick over to Greyson's side, as well. When both men were a safe distance away from the bed, Hershel glanced over to them. "What're your names?" He questioned.

The younger of the pair was the first to answer, swallowing back bile. "G-Greyson," He answered timidly.

"And yours?" Hershel prodded, looking to the man beside Greyson.

Greyson hesitantly nudged at Rick's side, watching as the father seemingly zoned in and out of his own head, unable to accept the harsh reality of what was currently happening to his only child. Finally, after a long, tragic moment, Rick looked up and his once-clear eyes were glassy with tears. "I'm . . . I'm Rick," He announced.