A New Beginning: The Walking Dead

"Hah!"

Paul continued to run, forcing himself to ignore the fiery pain burning throughout his body and the dizziness that was clouding his head. 

Sweat dripped into his eyes, burning them, and after not getting any sleep for twenty-four hours, he was feeling about ready to fall over.

At this point, his entire mouth was as dry as sandpaper from dehydration, and his head was pounding.

But looking down at the pale white Sophia and feeling her cold, limp body in his arms, he continued to push his body and mind.

He didn't know her well, but he knew no matter what, he was going to save this girl. He had to do one good thing in his life.

"Just one." Paul gritted his teeth while trying not to let Sophia slip out of his bloody, slicked hands. 

He had already left the fat man way behind in the dust after he pointed the way for him. He wanted to shoot the fat man right there, but knew he wasn't exactly in the best of moods, so he decided against it.

Running over a hill, he finally spotted the house the fat man had been talking about in the distance, making him take a sigh of relief. He didn't know how much further he could go.

"Come on!" Paul forced his legs to work and readjusted Sophia in his sore arms before running faster and faster toward the house, before finally he found himself in front of the house.

Looking through his blurry eyes that had been burnt from sweat, he saw a few people along with an old man.

"Was she bit?" The old man asked in a country tone.

"Shot, by your man," Paul said while studying the man

"Otis?!" The older woman yelled out worridly while the older man got closer to take a look at Sophia.

"Get her inside," Hershel said before walking into the house, Paul following behind.

"Patricia, get my full kit." 

Paul heard the words getting distant before a hand on his shoulder snapped him out of it.

"Lay her on the bed!" Hershel said while looking at him. 

"You don't look too good yourself, you should take a seat." 

"I'm fine, but if you don't save her, you're gonna have a problem," Paul said while watching Hershel check for Sophia's heartbeat, and the older woman, Patricia, put pressure on the wound.

"I got a heartbeat. It's faint." Hershel nodded while taking notice of the slight threat.

"We need to do an I.V., Patricia," Hershel said 

"Step back. Give us some room." Paul felt another younger woman push him out of the way a little while she brought a bag of saline over. 

"What's her blood type?" Hershel asked while looking over at Paul

"I don't know, but her mother should be back on the highway." Paul shook his head while feeling his vision get fuzzy.

Even his head was getting lightheaded. It was a familiar feeling to him, one he usually felt right before he was about to pass out.

"Oh shi-"

Thump!

Paul's body fell over, making everyone look over as he slumped to the ground.

"Maggie, get him on the couch and make sure he is okay. This is a mess!" Hershel shook his head.

—-----------------------------

Psst!

Psst!

Carl took aim and fired two more suppressed shots with his pistol, though it was harder to keep a steadier aim with the blood of Sophia making his hands slick.

Looking at the two walkers drop to the ground, he assessed the area before taking back off into a jog toward the highway. 

His lungs were burning, and he was feeling nauseous from seeing Sophia get shot, but he forced himself to move on.

He had to get help for Paul and Sophia.

Brush! 

Hearing a noise in the trees, he stopped and looked around before seeing a walker with its intestines hanging out like rope stumbling toward him through the brush.

Raising his pistol, he aimed at its head and squeezed the trigger. 

Psst!

Crack!

Hearing a twig snap behind him, Carl spun around, ready for another walker, but what he saw moving through the trees was fast, too fast. It had to be a person.

"Stop!" Carl shouted, catching a glimpse of a tanned figure darting through the woods.

He raised his gun, heart pounding, finger hovering over the trigger.

'Great. The day's already been crap, why not make it worse?' he thought.

"Move again and you're dead," Carl warned, his voice firm.

The figure froze.

That's when Carl saw it, the flash of silver. A Colt Python aimed right at him.

He was about to pull the trigger when he paused, his eyes locking on the man holding the gun. The face was older, worn with time, a beard and worry lines where there hadn't been before.

"Carl?"

That voice. Carl hadn't heard it in so long, but he'd never forget it.

"Dad…" he whispered, lowering his gun.

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Then, as if pulled by something bigger than both of them, they ran forward and embraced.

"Dad!" Carl cried, tears falling as his dad wrapped him up, one hand resting on the back of his head like he used to when Carl was little.

"Carl… you're alive… my son," his dad said, voice breaking.

Carl looked up into his father's red, teary eyes, and for the first time in a long time, things felt right again.

Two people who were supposed to be dead…finally reunited.