Refuge at the Greene Family Farm.

Chapter 11

Although it seemed close, the sharp pain I was feeling made the time seem longer. The journey seemed to take much longer than it should have. As soon as we were through the estate fence, Maggie guided me to her house.

As we approached, the door opened abruptly. An elderly man with gray hair and blue eyes looked seriously at his daughter. It was none other than Hershel Greene.

Accompanying him was a blonde girl about my age, whom I recognized as Beth. Next to her, with a stick, was a boy about my age. I don't really remember his name. I think he's Beth's boyfriend.

Further back, there was a fat man with a shotgun and a woman. I think it was Patricia and Otis. They both die very early in the series and barely appear.

"Who is he? Was he bitten?" The old man asked his daughter.

"No, he wasn't bitten. He's Dean. He's hurt. He's losing blood. I said you could help." Maggie explained. Hershel didn't seem to like this at all, but his expression relaxed in agreement.

"All right, take him inside." Hershel spoke firmly.

"Sorry to bother you." I finally managed to say something, and the old man looked at me for a second, analyzing me. He nodded towards the house and I started to enter.

"What kind of injury is it?" Hershel asked me as soon as we entered. As soon as I walked through the door, I saw that there was another person inside the house.

A woman of about 50, whom I honestly don't recognize. Was she in the show? I'm ignoring that for the moment, as I've only had a quick look around.

"Bullet. I don't think it went through." I reply to the old man and see him stop for a second, but then he starts walking again.

"Patricia, I need my kit. Maggie, painkillers, coagulants... Take everything. I need clean towels and cloths. And alcohol too." Hershel says, as he folds up his sleeves. He guides me to a part of the house where there's a bed.

"No painkillers. It won't do any good. I have high resistance." Before Maggie can go out to get her things. I see Hershel raise an eyebrow, but he reluctantly agrees when he sees that I'm convinced of my decision. My excuse was somewhat true. But there were two real reasons.

First: although I trust that they won't do anything to harm me, I prefer not to be numb at all. Even if my system quickly eliminates the painkiller, I'm too weak to eliminate everything.

Secondly, the pain will serve as a reminder not to let my guard down. Every time I get cocky and think that an enemy will only be defeated by a strong blow from me, I'll remember this pain and kill him the next moment.

"All right. I need to see the wound." He says this, and I start to take off my jacket. I see Hershel looking at the guns. I take off the two holsters, the shirt and the vest, finally running out of the top of my clothes.

"Just a scratch, isn't it?" Maggie says, and I involuntarily smile.

"Lie down." As they say: the doctor calls the shots. After lying down, Hershel starts wiping his hands with the alcohol that Patricia brought in the kit. "Put that in your mouth. It's going to hurt." He hands me a belt. After biting into the belt, I nod, saying I'm ready. He pours alcohol on the wound and I bite the belt, but I don't scream, I just grunt.

"Are you sure you don't want the painkiller?" Maggie asks. I nod. Without meaning to, my hand goes to the headboard and I start to squeeze it.

"You're lucky. The bullet didn't hit any vital points. But it shattered. I need to remove them. I counted about three fragments." Hershel informs me of the situation. I nod, and he picks up a pair of tweezers.

He sticks the surgical instrument into the bullet hole and starts poking around inside. Grunting, I endure the pain with my eyes closed. My grip on the headboard increases significantly, cracking the wood beneath my fingers.

I take a deep breath through my nose when Hershel manages to remove the first piece.

"Are you all right?" Maggie asks me, putting her hand on my arm in comfort. As best I can, I nod. She takes a clean cloth and wipes away the sweat that was beginning to collect on my forehead.

"Two more. Can you handle it, son?" Hershel asked, and I raised an eyebrow at him. "Right. Silly question. I'll keep going." After half an hour of torture, Hershel finally managed to remove the other two pieces of the bullet and sew it up. I was extremely tired. Perhaps it was because of the loss of blood or the effort to endure the pain.

I finally took the belt out of my mouth, managing to let out a sigh and relax my jaw.

"Thank you." I thank the old man, who gives me a kind smile in return.

"It was nothing. Now, I know you must be tired, but can you tell me what happened?" He asks me as he finishes cleaning his tools and his hand.

"Some assholes. Nothing more." I reply as I try to get up, but a hand on my shoulder stops me from getting out of bed. I look up and see Maggie looking at me sternly. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

"You need to rest. You've lost a lot of blood." She tries to push me down, but even though I'm tired and weak, I'm stronger than her and manage to force my way up.

Rising from the bed, I stand in front of Maggie, easily towering over her. I see her breathing stop for a second as her eyes slide from my face to my abdomen.

Before I can say anything, Hershel clears his throat, drawing Maggie's attention to him.

"Maggie's right. You need to rest." The old man says, after giving Maggie and me a hard look.

"I don't intend to cause any trouble. If I leave now, I can get to a safe place and rest." I reply. I don't feel like staying here for long.

"If you leave now, you could end up opening your stitches again. Not to mention that you've lost a bit of blood. Enough to make you weak. You need to rest to recover the lost blood. It's already a miracle that you're awake and on your feet." He tells me, while pointing at the blood-stained towels.

"Three days. What do you think? You stay for three days and then you can go if you want." Maggie speaks next, trying to convince me on the subject. That's perfect. I think that's enough time to heal, but not to stay that long.

"Done." I say and offer a handshake to seal the deal. She looks at my hand and shakes it.

With that settled, I walk over to the bag I left on the floor next to the bed, but before I could lift it, Maggie, sensing my intention, came forward and lifted it, with a little difficulty. Like it or not, the bag weighed about 10 kg.

"No heavy lifting either." She says with a bossy tone. I rolled my eyes and opened the bag after she had put it on the bed. I grab a shirt and start to get dressed.

"You'd better shower before you put on new clothes." Hershel says, and I look down at my abdomen, still a little bloody. I nod and see him smile slightly.

"Maggie, can you take him to the bathroom?" Hershel asks, and Maggie nods. Maggie takes my bag and points to the bathroom, asking me to follow her. I leave all my things in the bedroom, hoping that none of them will approach. We pass through the living room again, where I see the other people who weren't in the room, so as not to disturb the operation.

The woman I didn't know got up and walked over to us.

"Are you okay to walk now?" asked the mysterious woman.

"Um... we had this little chat a few minutes ago." I say awkwardly. Before the woman could say anything, Maggie, still carrying her bag, stepped forward.

"How about we do the introductions later? He needs to shower and get dressed." Maggie suggested, and the woman nodded. Looking around the room, I see that all the women, involuntarily or not, have glanced at my physique. I feel like laughing or smiling, but I stop myself. I start to follow Maggie again, and she stops in front of a door.

"Can you do it yourself?" she asks me innocently.

"Why? Will you help me if I can't?" I ask with a flirtatious tone in my voice. I see her turn a little red, which makes me smile. "I'll turn around." I tell her. Maggie nods, a little distracted.

"Good. There's a towel in the cupboard. You should be able to reach it. Your bag will stay here." She puts her bag on the sink and starts back to the living room.

"Maggie." I call out to her. She turns around, but with doubt. "Thanks." She smiles and nods before heading into the living room. I go into the bathroom for a well-deserved shower.

......…

POV Maggie

When I left the house to walk around and see if anything was wrong around the property, I didn't expect to find a person shot. And I didn't expect that person to be a teenager. A very handsome teenager. Someone who looked about my age. I think the way he looks is a matter of perspective.

Now, after he's thanked me and embarrassed me a little, I go back into the living room where all my family were waiting. Well, almost all of them.

"So, what happened?" my stepmother, Annette, asks. I see that everyone in the family, Beth, Otis, Patricia, Jimmy and Hershel, were also curious.

"I was riding my horse near the property, just to make sure nothing was wrong. I saw him coming out of the woods, I thought he was infected, so I went to check it out. When I got close, he started to notice me and pointed his gun at me. I saw that he was wounded and offered to help." I explained briefly how I had found the boy.

"But how was he shot?" Jimmy asked, bringing up an important point.

"That's a good question," Beth commented. Argh. Teenagers and their boyfriends. I think she'll get tired of him in three months. Which is ironic, since Dean is their age, but very mature. Maybe it's because he's lost loved ones.

"He said someone shot him." Hershel replies.

"To be more precise, some idiots." I completed my father's answer.

"He carries a lot of guns. Is he alone?" Patricia asked, clearly in doubt.

"I asked him that question. According to him, his parents are dead." I answered her. I can see everyone making a face of pity or sadness.

"I wonder what happened to them?" Beth, my dear little sister, asks.

"It's none of our business," says Dad. - "The most important thing is that he's hurt and needs to rest." We all agree, some more emphatically, others just nodding.

"By the way, how old is he? He looks young." Annette asks, and I bite my lower lip. I already know how they reacted.

"He's 17." Everyone turned their heads towards me very quickly. For a second, I wondered if they had hurt their necks.

"Seventeen?!". Dad, Otis, Annette and Patricia asked, surprised. Beth and Jimmy also seemed taken aback, but didn't say anything.

Things are changing.