Author's note: So, this is my first venture into "The Walking Dead" fandom, so be gentle. I've had an idea for story bouncing around for a while, and the episode Sunday gave me a good starting place. So, if you haven't seen 2.03, this contains spoilers. You have been warned.
Shane Walsh quietly pushed open the door to the FEMA trailer and prayed that he wouldn't find any nasty surprises waiting for him inside. As soon as the heavy, lumbering Otis was inside, they closed the door quietly behind them, casting complete darkness over the inside of the trailer. If a walker was waiting in the darkness, they were both up shit creek without a paddle, and they damn well knew it. Shane quickly flipped his shotgun around, fully prepared to use it as a bludgeon before turning on his flashlight. He breathed a small sigh of relief when nothing groaned and started to shamble his way. He gagged a bit at the smell, though.
He quickly scoured the shelves, looking of the oxygen and respirator tubes that Carl needed. He shined the light through the trailer, reading labels as he went and trying to remember what it all meant. Betadine, Doxyclyclin, and various other drugs and bottles sat on the shelves, all with unfamiliar and frighteningly complicated names. As he moved the flashlight across the room, he caught a glimpse of movement out the corner of his eye. Slowly, he drew back the shotgun, ready to swing at a moment's notice, as he moved toward the movement. He tried to ignore his sweating palms or the way that his heard was thundering against his chest. With the way it was pounding, he was surprised that every walker within a ten mile radius couldn't hear it.
"I know you're…not a walker," a low, scratchy voice said. "Too coordinated for that…that means that you've either got a death wish…or you're a damn moron. Which is it?"
Shane turned towards the sound of the voice, ignoring Otis's swearing and trying not to wince as he heard something hit the floor. Turning around the corner of a shelf, he saw two bodies leaning against the side of a cabinet—and older man and a young woman, though they were so emaciated, it was hard to tell how old they had been. The bodies were too thin and stinking, which told him that they hadn't died too long ago—they weren't decaying yet, after all. It was only when the female corpse moved that he realized that she was the one who had been speaking.
Shane swore violently as she grinned at him, her lips pulled back from her teeth in a grimace that was meant to be a weak smile. Her cheeks were sunken in, as were the sockets of her eyes—though now that he looked closer, they weren't as sunken as some of the walkers he had seen. Her clothes were hanging loosely on her emaciated frame, her hair thin and greasy as if it had fallen out in clumps.
"Jesus Christ," Otis whispered, clutching some plastic tubing to his chest.
"Yeah, I don't know…that he's listening much these days," the talking corpse answered, struggling to force the words out. "Put the damn…gun down. Walkers don't talk…and you know it."
Shane just stared at her for a minute, completely stunned. He had been prepared to deal with walkers, but running into another human being—and one in this shape—had not been something that he had planned for. It was hard to find the right words to ask what he wanted to know, so he just blurted out whatever came to mind.
"Are you…what happened?" Shane asked, almost afraid of the answer.
"Got overrun. Jonathan and I were the only ones left…and he decided to check out on me a while back," she said quietly. He could see her chest heaving as she tried to get enough air to speak. It was obvious that she hadn't spoken in some time, as she tried to force the muscles of her face to move.
"How long?"
"I don't know…lost track of time. We managed to…hide in the school for a bit, and…then we moved in here when the school wasn't safe anymore."
"How…" Shane trailed off when he saw the needle in her arm. It was attached to an IV line and a saline bag hung from the shelf. A stack of empty bags sat in the corner of the trailer.
"Holy shit," he whispered, the pieces falling into place for him. "You've been…Jesus."
"Yeah…it's not great, but I don't…think you're here to talk about…me. What are you looking for?"
"Looking for?" Otis asked dumbly, still too shocked to form a coherent sentence.
"Well, judging by your fish-on-dry-land expression…I'm betting you didn't come to rescue me…so what the hell are you dumb enough to risk your ass for?"
Shane recovered and answered first. "A respirator. Sutures."
She pushed herself up off the floor and tried to stand. After several slips, she finally got to her feet and moved slowly across the trailer, leaning heavily on the shelves. With trembling hands, she pulled plastic tubing from the shelves.
"You'll need and intubation tube…it's on that shelf."
Otis kept staring at the woman in front of him, her appearance shocking him into silence and immobility. Shane nudged him with his hip, spurring the heavier man into action. He quickly started having objects into the bag, trying not to look at the woman in front of him.
She pointed to another shelf where they found the respirator. Shane carefully put it into the bag and then double checked to make sure they had everything they needed.
"That's everything you need for a respirator…unless…what do you need it for?" the woman asked.
"A boy got shot. We need the respirator to breathe for him while we get the bullet fragments out."
She nodded and moved towards another shelf, a little more steady on her feet. Her voice was getting stronger too, though it still sounded akin to nails on a chalk board. She grabbed several bags of saline off the shelf and pushed them into Shane's hands.
"If you've got to do surgery, you'll need this."
"Saline? But you've got it—"
"It's surgical saline. Can't use it in my IV anyway," she said before he could finish. "This is betadine…you'll use it to clean the skin before you open him up. And sutures…did you get the sutures?"
"I've got them," Otis said quietly.
"Then that should be everything you'll need."
"How do you know this?" Shane asked as he made sure everything was packed into the bags as well as it could possibly be. He wasn't going to take a chance on anything getting broken in there as they made a run for it.
"I'm a nurse."
"A nurse?"
"Did I stutter? I was a surgical nurse…before the shit hit the fan. Now if you're torn up bad enough, the hospitals just going ahead…and shoot you."
Shane's mind was whirling a thousand miles a minute, imagining the possibilities. Carl needed help, and they already had a doctor, but an extra pair of hands wouldn't be a bad thing, especially when it was serious. It was Carl damnit, and he was going to do everything he could to improve that kid's chance of survival.
"Can you run?" he asked quietly. Otis's eyes widened as he realized where this was going.
"I can't outrun a walker, if that's what you mean."
"Can you shoot?"
"That shotgun would have knocked me on my ass before…I went on an involuntary diet. Now it'd probably snap me in half," she replied.
"What about a handgun?"
"I'm not bad."
"Come with us. You're a nurse, you can help save my little boy," he begged.
"Your little boy?"
The words had been out of his mouth before he even had time to think about it, and truthfully, he didn't want to take the time to think about it now. He didn't want to think about dinners around the campfire with Lori and Carl, or trying to teach Carl how to catch frogs. He definitely didn't want to think about Rick and Lori sitting at their son's bedside. It wasn't something he wanted to deal with right now.
"Come with us," he said again, not bothering to clarify for her.
She thought about it for a minute before speaking. "Make me a promise first."
"Anything." He meant it, too.
"If we get out there and I fall behind…shoot me, club me with your gun…do something, just don't let me be awake when they start…" she trailed off, unable to finish her thought. She didn't want to finish her thought.
"Done."
"Alright, then. Let's do this."
Shane quietly pushed the door open, fully ready to sneak around the edges of the parking lot back to the truck. All of his stealth was for naught, though, because a walker turned and saw them just as the door was opening. The three rushed down the stairs, trying to run in any direction that was away from the walkers. Behind him, Shane could hear someone gasping for breath, but he couldn't be sure who it was, and he didn't stop to look back. He swung his shotgun at the closest walker, hitting it in the head and dropping it.
"They've cut us off!" he called back to Otis.
"Hang a right!" the nurse gasped behind him. He did as she ordered, and turned the corner of the school and ran down a handicapped ramp, only to find more walkers waiting for them there. He swore violently, and heard her doing the same.
"Any other ideas?"
The nurse glanced back over her shoulder and saw the crowd of walkers following them, and then noticed the one in front of them as well. He could see the fear written on her face, but she didn't panic. Instead, she grabbed his sleeve and pulled him towards the front of the school.
Shane swung his gun, banging at the glass doors. The noise would attract every walker in the place, but he figured that most of them were already there anyway. When the glass shattered, they quickly ran inside, only to find more doors locked as the walkers closed in on them.
"Gate. Get the gate," she gasped. Tugging at the metal grating that closed in front of the now-vulnerable doors. They slammed it closed and slid the pin into place before they had to do any head-bashing, though they probably should have. They stood pressed against the wall, watching as the walkers reached through the gate for them.
"Any ideas?" Otis asked quietly. The nurse just stood there for a moment, trying to catch her breath. Shane could stared at her, waiting for some kind of feedback from her. He could still see fear in her eyes, but he also saw the determined set of her jaw and knew that she was not going to give up on him.
"Cafeteria!" she gasped, motioning for Shane to bang away at the second set of glass doors. They shattered and the trio were running down the hall; well, Shane was running, Otis was trying, and the nurse was gasping, hobbling as quickly as she could. They stopped when they reached the cafeteria to find the doors chained shut. Before waiting for her to give an order, Shane took the only route available to them and started down the hallway to the left, pushing open the doors to the gym. Immediately, he headed for higher ground and climbed the folded-up bleachers. Behind him, Otis pushed the nurse up the bleachers ahead of him as the walkers gathered underneath them.
"We can't stay up…here forever," she gasped, clutching her chest.
"Those windows," Shane answered, gesturing towards the windows on the other side of the gym above another set of bleachers. "What's out those windows?"
"About a twenty foot drop, and maybe some bushes. But I'm not gonna fit out that window," Otis answered.
"We don't have a whole hell of a lot other choices," the nurse answered.
"I do. I'll draw them off towards the locker room, and you two can take it out the windows. We'll meet back up on the sports fields," Otis said, pointing towards the locker room.
"You take three shots," Shane said. "Then I'll cover you."
Otis took his three shots and then headed towards locker room, Shane shooting after him. The shots reverberated off the walls of the gym, and even though Shane was used to shooting, his ears would be ringing for a week.
"Go!" the nurse said, pushing him towards the bleachers. They headed up the other bleachers towards the window, two walkers following them. He turned to shoot them, hitting one in the stomach and pushing the other off the top of the bleachers.
"You have to go first," she told him after looking out the window. "I need you to catch me at the bottom or I'm going to break both my legs falling from up here."
He didn't really like the plan, but he went with it and dropped the bags out the window before carefully taking hold of the windowsill and lowering himself down. Then the nurse did the same, only to have a walker grab her arms as she tried to lower herself down. She quickly grabbed the pistol Shane had given her from the waistband of her pants and shot the walker through the head, splattering blood and brain matter across the side of the building. It went limp and released her wrists, sending her tumbling down to the bushes below. Shane's arms were waiting for her at the bottom, but it wasn't the most planned or gracefully of falls. Her left foot still hit the ground, taking some of her weight, and she felt her ankle give out. She swore violently and creatively, and if they hadn't been running for their lives, ,Shane probably would have been impressed.
"How bad is it?" Shane asked quietly.
"I'll be fine. Let's go."
They made their way to the fields, the nurse hobbling as quickly as she could as Shane carried the bags behind her. As they approached the fence of the sports area, more walkers were waiting for them, growling and grabbing through the fence as they were surrounded. They started pushing through the fence and running towards them. Shane raised the shotgun and took several shots, taking out most of them. As the closest one grabbed at the nurse, he turned the gun around the hit the walker, but it dropped before he could do so as Otis shot it through the head as he came around the corner from the locker room, a horde of walkers following him.
"We're not gonna make it," the nurse gasped as they struggled across the blacktop.
"Yeah we will. Keep going," Shane said, pushing her ahead of him.
"You remember that promise you made me?" she asked as Otis caught up with them and took one of the bags from Shane.
"You're not gonna need it. We're getting the hell outta here so you can help Carl."
"Carl? That's his name?"
"Yeah, and he's gonna be fine," Shane said, grabbing her by the wrist and dragging her faster. She kept walking, ignoring the shooting pain in her ankle and trying to bite back tears.
"Never said he wouldn't be. Where are we headed?"
"We'll have to double back around to where the trailer is. Truck's over there," Otis answered, walking alongside them.
"There's no way I'm going to make it that far on this ankle. And y'all won't either if you hang back with me," she said, looking back at the mass of walkers following them. Shane stopped for a minute and took the opportunity to fire into the crowd, dropping one that was formerly someone's grandma. The others just walked over it and kept coming.
"Yes we will," Shane spat determinedly. "I don't care if I have to carry you back to that goddamn farm house. We're gonna make it. Not shut your mouth and quit wasting breath."
She realized that he was more than likely right about wasting her breath. She handed him her pistol—he was a better shot than she—and kept going. Behind her, she could hear them firing off shots, heard them counting down as they used their bullets. Otis was gasping, she was limping, and Shane was stubbornly staying with them. As they approached the school bus, Shane pulled her arm harder, forcing her ahead of him. She kept limping on, not realizing until a moment later that they weren't still with her.
"I'm sorry," she heard Shane whisper before a gunshot tore through the night. Instinctively, she flinched as Otis dropped to the ground, screaming in pain and clutching at his leg. She watched as Shane clawed at the pack on his back and tried to pull it off of him as Otis fought back. The larger man held onto Shane, pulling at him until the former police officer was on the ground next to him. Shane kicked at him, desperately trying to get the larger man to let go of him. He was still kicking and pulling at the pack when Otis took a handful of his hair and began pulling, refusing to let go.
She stood there for a moment, horrified, before she realized what she had to do. As quickly as she was able, she made her way to where the two men were wrestling—walkers still approaching—snatched up Shane's shotgun from where it had fallen, and brought it down on Otis's temple. He immediately let go of the other man and lay there limply on the pavement, eyes closed. Without him struggling, it was easy to snatch the pack off of his back. Shane grabbed her hand and pulled him after her as the crowd of walkers fell upon Otis. She was a surgical nurse, so she could honestly say that blood and gore didn't bother her. What bothered her was the sound of the wet smacking as they gnawed on him, and the sounds of the flesh tearing. What bothered her most, though, was when she heard him scream.
"No," she whispered, glancing over her shoulder. "No, I hit him…"
"There's nothing you can do for him now. Let's go," Shane said. She nodded and continued after him, fighting to keep herself from retching. They made it around the bus and back to the side of the school to where the truck was parked without running into any more walkers. Apparently, they heard about the buffet on the blacktop. Even when they reached the truck, she could still hear Otis's screaming. She wondered how it was still possible.
"Where are we going?" she asked as she slipped into the truck. It didn't matter that the man in the truck with her had just sacrificed someone else to save them. Well, it did matter, but it didn't make her fear for her safety; she was of potential use to him, and that meant she was safe for the moment.
"There's a farm a little ways up the road," he answered tersely. Silence fell over the truck until she finally spoke again thirty minutes later.
"That was a dick move you pulled back there."
"You'd be dead if I hadn't. I've got people relying on me—"
"I'm not saying that it wasn't necessary, and I'm not saying that I wouldn't have done the same thing…don't really know if I like what that says about me…but that's life nowadays."
"You gonna rat me out?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the road. She could see the tension in his body—his neck and shoulders tight, his fingers with a white-knuckled grip on the wheel—and wondered just what type of man she'd run off with.
"No," she said quietly. "Because whether I like it or not, I helped you. I bashed him in the head with a shotgun, which makes me just as guilty. So it looks like we're in this together."
He breathed a sigh of relief, and she started to wonder what he would have done if she'd said anything different. Did his loyalty to the kid—Carl—outweigh his fear of reprisal for what he did to the other man? She decided not to probe that question too far, because she might not like the answer that she found.
"Well then, I oughta know your name, don't you think?" Shane asked, his voice oddly quiet and to intense for the relief that he should be feeling.
"Quinn," she answered, extending her hand. "Quinn Donoghue."
"Shane Walsh."
His larger, calloused hand closed around her petite, bony hand. It felt so fragile against his work-roughed hands, and yet, he remembered the strength in those hands as she'd brought the shotgun down on Otis's skull. There was nothing fragile about this woman; not when she'd managed to survive for God only knows how long in that FEMA trailer hooked up to an IV line. No, not very fragile at all, he figured.
And he couldn't but wonder what the hell he had just gotten himself into.