my tears ricochet

Chapter Twenty Six

Daryl had felt little fingers at his hip and yanked back, awkwardly leaning over Ivy as he laid her out on the metal table. She had been deadweight in the woods and the blood loss had kept her out of it on the ride back the prison but the noise of Rick shouting had drawn her back to the living.

Their luck had been so strong that the car had been uncomfortably crowded. Oscar and Michonne had been lumped together in the backseat with Glenn in the very front, Maggie directly behind him holding his hand through the gap. Daryl had kept holding Ivy while Rick drove like he always had- reckless, foot a cement block on the gas pedal, not even glancing down at the speedometer.

He wondered how many speeding tickets Rick had talked his way out by flashing the badge before the world ended.

Ivy's eyes were slitted open and he turned slightly, preventing her hand from pulling the knife free from the leather sheathe at his belt. "Hold on," he said, catching at her fingers and squeezing. Hershel was tugging a box of supplies over with a crutch from the little rolling seat he had found, pretending that Rick wasn't driving away four strangers from the prison.

He sounded insane.

But Daryl didn't need four more strange faces looking at them and he was already missing their blessed isolation on the farm, where it had felt like they straddled the very edge of the world. More people kept popping out of the bushes and it rankled at it.

"What did she cut herself on?" Hershel asked, picking through the options in their rough looking first aid kit.

"Bit of razor wire, looks like. Must have caught it jumping the wall."

Ivy turned her head and took in the hard grey walls, the windows meshed over so they couldn't break. A shrill noise caught in her throat before she could smother it but he heard it, carding his fingers through her hair as he tried to fix the panic. "No, we have to go back," she murmured, reaching one hand up to her face to look at the fingers. "Can't stay here."

It had been easier handling her when she was limp and unconscious. He could tell anxiety was rallying, adrenaline chewing away at the haze of pain and blood. He grabbed her hand and pulled it back down, coming around the table so he could lean over her and look at Hershel. "Ivy, do you remember ever getting a tetanus shot before all this?"

She squinted at the man as if she were physically piecing together the words inside her head. They would have to hope their luck held out a little longer and she wouldn't die of something they couldn't treat. Stitches were manageable. They had a handful of antibiotics left to stave off infection and bruises could be survived. But somethings couldn't be helped.

Lori had died because she hadn't any better option than Maggie cutting her open to save Judith's life. A year ago, that could have been prevented. She could have walked out of a hospital with a new baby and not been left for the dead to take. This would have been easier with Lori here, he thought as he pulled at the hem of her shirt, trying to survey the damage done.

The shift in material drew a bigger response. She shoved his arm with her hands, fear pulling back the remains of anger. "Don't fucking touch me."

This was a ghost of the girl who had jumped out of a closet with a knife in her hand. "Hey, I know," he shushed, keeping his hands frozen so she could see them. "I know. You don't want to be touched right now."

Ivy gave a hesitant nod, searching for the trick. He didn't pull away. He couldn't, because he knew that she would run ragged to get away and that would mean she would bleed out somewhere until she died.

"I'll let you go after, but you gotta let him look now."

She shoved herself so she was sitting up, groaning at the feel of new pain sweeping over her. One of her hands caught the edge of her shirt and yanked it up to reveal her side and part of her back. Daryl recoiled at the sight of bruises on her back and sucked back a curse, gingerly tracing at an old scar. "I need you to move your toes," he said, shaking her shoulder slightly until he saw her legs kick. "I don't know how you're walking around. Whoever did this got you good."