[Walker Count: 3] ☣ So This Is How It Ends
[Day 3 | Streets of Mayfield | Open to all]
It was getting harder to do anything. The air felt heavier, his head was pounding, and no matter how much he drank there was a continuous thirst like his body was missing something. Everyone on staff had been trained to know the affects of radiation poisoning, being a first responder he, Shane, and the other staff at the Sheriff's Department had to know. Rick just never figured that would be what got him in the end.
Back home, it was the threat of Walkers and the secret that Jenner had told him. That he was going to take to his early grave or so it seemed.
Coughing he stopped in the middle of the street thankful the Walkers (what he had taken to calling the cannibals) had been easy enough to avoid. There was only so much more he could keep going though before he knew he was going to have to stop. Hefting the pack on his back he felt what little bit he had been able to find shift about. Since he had lost Eridan in the chaos that had ensued after everyone had woken up it had mostly been himself he was looking to care for. Inwardly he kicked himself for allowing the kid out of his sight, but just like Carl, he was off before he could stop him.
It was a stumbling step forward that brought him quickly to his knees. Carl. Lori. Shane. Andrea. Glenn. Amy. Dale... He hoped they were fairing better than he was and that Shane had gotten them some place safe when they realized something had happened to him. Looking up at the horizon he swore he could have seen them standing there waiting for him to go to them. Rick would hear his wife's voice in his ear telling him to get up, but every time he tried he fall further towards the ground. Resting on his elbows he allowed his head to touch the pavement he had fallen on breathing a cloud of dust with each shaking exhale he made.
"Lori... Carl... I- I'm sorry. I tried. Jus- just can't... I'm sorry."
[ooc: If anyone wants to find Rick they can, he's somewhere between the houses and downtown. People are more than welcome to pick his pockets or take his pack of supplies.]
It was getting harder to do anything. The air felt heavier, his head was pounding, and no matter how much he drank there was a continuous thirst like his body was missing something. Everyone on staff had been trained to know the affects of radiation poisoning, being a first responder he, Shane, and the other staff at the Sheriff's Department had to know. Rick just never figured that would be what got him in the end.
Back home, it was the threat of Walkers and the secret that Jenner had told him. That he was going to take to his early grave or so it seemed.
Coughing he stopped in the middle of the street thankful the Walkers (what he had taken to calling the cannibals) had been easy enough to avoid. There was only so much more he could keep going though before he knew he was going to have to stop. Hefting the pack on his back he felt what little bit he had been able to find shift about. Since he had lost Eridan in the chaos that had ensued after everyone had woken up it had mostly been himself he was looking to care for. Inwardly he kicked himself for allowing the kid out of his sight, but just like Carl, he was off before he could stop him.
It was a stumbling step forward that brought him quickly to his knees. Carl. Lori. Shane. Andrea. Glenn. Amy. Dale... He hoped they were fairing better than he was and that Shane had gotten them some place safe when they realized something had happened to him. Looking up at the horizon he swore he could have seen them standing there waiting for him to go to them. Rick would hear his wife's voice in his ear telling him to get up, but every time he tried he fall further towards the ground. Resting on his elbows he allowed his head to touch the pavement he had fallen on breathing a cloud of dust with each shaking exhale he made.
"Lori... Carl... I- I'm sorry. I tried. Jus- just can't... I'm sorry."
[ooc: If anyone wants to find Rick they can, he's somewhere between the houses and downtown. People are more than welcome to pick his pockets or take his pack of supplies.]