Karen saw Bobby's swing as it started; she turned to her left to soften the blow. The plastic rod struck her solidly on her right side, just below her armpit. The rod snapped in half from the force of the blow. He spared a quick look at the plastic fragment in his hand. I'm so screwed now.
He got ready to dodge behind cover. But Karen's momentum kept her feet moving. She ran away off through the forest and out of sight. Bobby stared after her for a few seconds trying to figure out why she didn't just shoot him. But she didn't. I'm alive, but so is she.
His adrenaline started to drain away, leaving him shaking and exhausted. He fell to his knees and finally felt the spot on his right leg where she'd kicked him. A bruise; probably a bad one.
Then he gingerly touched his right side. The pain there was much more intense and widespread. I'm still alive, so I guess she missed my lung.
Bobby unbuttoned his shirt and gently removed it. He could feel a stab of pain whenever he moved his right arm too vigorously. Eventually, he got the shirt off and looked at his bullet wound. It was almost a miss. The bullet had pierced his skin about three inches away from his nipple and exited again about two inches behind that, just above the kidney. It had missed just about everything including his ribs. But there were a pair of holes in his skin and it hurt more than any injury he could remember.
He was about to open up his backpack, but decided that he needed to be ready to run if Karen came back. He looked over to where Anthony still lay. He was still. The girl who taken his life had also taken his bandanna and his sword. Suddenly, Bobby choked up. Tears came to his eyes and he brought his left hand up to wipe his nose. He blinked the tears away before any could roll down his cheek.
Still sniffling, Bobby crawled over to Anthony and opened the boy's backpack. "I'm sorry, mate, I really am sorry." He took out the first aid kit. "I'll do my best to end the bitch who put you down, but I need a few patches first." He opened the kit, then looked at the back of Anthony's head. "And frankly, I could use a better weapon, too."
He wrapped an ace bandage around his injured leg first, then he moved on to the bullet wound. He cleaned both the entrance and exit wounds with alcohol wipes (Shit, that burns)
, then he taped sterile dressings to them both. When he could think of nothing else to do with them, he put his shirt back on, then his backpack, wincing a few times in the process.
Bobby reluctantly went back to Anthony's backpack and started looking through it. "I'll need your food a bit more than you will now, I think." He collected the two remaining Clif energy bars and the packet of beef jerky, adding them to his own backpack. "I'll do my best to avenge you." He placed his hand on Anthony's shoulder in a gesture of comfort, but he withdrew it quickly. How do you comfort someone who's already dead? You can't. You can only try to make it right for those who are still alive.
He stood up and retrieved the only rod which had survived the combat: the one he'd thrown like a javelin and missed. He began walking and found himself using the rod as a walking stick. He frowned, unsure exactly where to go, but he kept walking, limping slightly, through the darkness.
((Bobby Goldman continued in The Walking Dead