SECRETS
Shane sat at the table with the new people; Otis, the other field hand whose name he didn't recall, and Maggie sat with him while Patricia served them an honest-to-goodness hot meal. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a real meal around a dining room table. Under other circumstances, he would have been happy.
Right now, he felt a little guilty. His best friend sat in the next room in anguish over his critically-injured son, and here he sat beside the man who'd shot him. Shane tried to remain cordial – he knew that technically it was an accident,- but Carl was like his own son.
From where he sat, he could see into the hallway and part of the way up the stairs. It was one of those huge old farmhouses he loved, like the one his grandparents had lived in when he was growing up. He wished they'd been able to leave all the doors and windows open to the fall breeze, the way his grandma always had. It wasn't safe enough now at night, even this far out from the city.
His eyes registered something he'd not noticed before. Two small bare feet sticking out of blue-jeaned legs were visible on the highest step he could comfortably see. He squinted and leaned over to get a better look. They'd introduced all the members of their group earlier, he thought. They hadn't mentioned this one.
Patricia saw his puzzled look and leaned down to follow his gaze.
"Whatcha see, young man?" she asked.
"There's someone else in the house?" he asked.
Nodding, she straightened up and said in a hushed tone. "That's Annie. She doesn't come down much."
That intrigued him and he leaned over a little further. He would have thought he was seeing a teenage girl but when he saw her face, he knew she was closer to his own age. It was a troubled face, eyes dull and dark, mouth thin because the muscles were drawn so tight. She might have been pretty, but she was so gaunt and wounded.
He smiled slightly and nodded a greeting, and although he was quite certain she was looking straight at him, her expression never changed.
Feeling a little insulted, he turned his attention back to the others. "Not very friendly, is she?"
A frown formed on each face around him and he realized he'd made a mistake.
"Don't go making judgments about situations you don't know anything about," Patricia said, turning back to her stove.
"I'm sorry," he apologized quickly. "You're right."
Otis clapped him gently on the arm. "It's okay, you couldn't know. Annie lost her husband and daughter last week. Maggie found her, half dead herself. She has hardly spoken two words since she got here. She just stays in her room and doesn't seem to want to have anything to do with anyone."
"She doesn't want to eat," Maggie added. "A few bites a couple of times a day if we push it on her."
Shane turned to look again but the girl was gone. He could feel the requisite pity for her, but he'd not met anyone during the last month who hadn't lost someone. Still, as he went through the motions of the meal, her haunted face haunted him.
Evening faded into night. Hershel dozed in an armchair next to his patient. Rick draped across the end of his son's bed. Shane was offered the couch in the living room and though he was bone-tired, he couldn't fall asleep. Something about the girl…he just couldn't get her off his mind. What surprised him was that he wasn't even thinking about her in a sexual way.
Granted, the pressure was building up. It had been over three weeks since he'd been with Laurie, and that should've never happened in the first place. Carol was too much like his mother and Andrea was just a whiny bitch. He'd pretty much taken thoughts of sex off the table right now in any case.
A creak across the room brought him to full alertness. From the way they'd had to live lately, his first impulse was to leap to his feet, aiming his pistol. But he resisted the urge and waited. No doors or windows had opened so no walkers could have gotten inside.
The sound was faint but he recognized it as someone coming down the stairs. The room was mostly dark, the only light coming from a dim lamp near Carl's bed. It silhouetted the girl crossing the room from the stairs to the kitchen. She wore a long white gown, barefoot, tiptoeing over the hardwood floor. She didn't look in his direction.
A small light flipped on in the kitchen and he heard the sink turn on, again thanking God for well pumps and generators. The sound of a chair sliding out, then squeaking as she sat in it.
Shane sat up and could see her at the table. He knew he was in complete darkness to her at this angle but at his first movement, she froze and stared straight in his direction.
He stood up as quick as he could without seeming to hurry – he didn't want to scare her off again.
As he approached the table, he could see that he hadn't had to worry about that. She followed him with her eyes as he reached for a glass and got himself something to drink too. He sat across from her.
"Hi," he said quietly, not wanting to disturb any of the others. "I'm Shane."
She nodded, her hair very straight, long and as luminous as her eyes in the pale light. "I know."
This was proving more difficult than he'd imagined.
"You're Annie."
She nodded again, the barest hint of a smile that only touched her lips. "I know."
Shane couldn't help but laugh softly. In another life, Annie would be beautiful, witty, and playful. She was so emaciated now that she could almost pass for a walker.
"'Ya hungry?" he asked. "I know you missed supper."
She shook her head.
"I could make you a sandwich?" he offered.
She glared at him, telling him in no uncertain terms she knew what he was attempting. She was not going to play his game.
"Okay, okay," he held up his hands in surrender. "I'll quit, but I'm such a talker, it'll just seem like I'm talking to myself."
With the same whisper of a smile, she said, "I know."
"Okay, I get it already. I'll just sit here and stare at you till you get tired of it."
She shrugged mildly as if to say, "Suit yourself."
So they sat for nearly half an hour, separated physically only by the width of the breakfast table, and they stared at each other.
She was so petite that she could've passed for a high school student. The gown was an old-fashioned flannel granny gown that came up high on her neck and all the way down to her wrists – like a kid in a Christmas commercial sneaking down to try to catch Santa. She appeared to be in her late 20's or early 30's. The reason it was impossible to tell was the way she looked out of her eyes. He remembered Vietnam vets who'd looked like that – they called it the "thousand yard stare". Small as she was, there was nothing weak or fearful about her. Whatever she'd seen, it must've been bad indeed.
Annie had started off mostly annoyed with this stranger. She'd been watching when they arrived with the cop's kid. She had ached for the father – too much was happening to the innocent kids. She'd watched out of sight as this man comforted his friend, how he'd cleaned the boy's blood off his face while he cried. That had touched her, but left her bitterly jealous. No one had held her while she had cried. She had simply vowed never to do that again – alone or with someone else. She would never attach to someone else so she would never have to hurt that way. Besides, her heart could live another hundred years and never be rid of the hurt it held now.
She shoved those thoughts deep inside – if she didn't, they would take her somewhere she had no business going.
He was nice-looking, a little hint of Italian that lifted him up from the typical "good 'ol boy" status most of them had. She really couldn't believe he was just sitting there silently, pacing her. If she sat there all night, would he sit there too or get tired and give up? Had this turned into a contest?
It surprised her when she realized she was the one to cave first. But as she stared and evaluated, she found herself being pulled into those black eyes. She could see compassion there without pity, curiosity without judgment, and appeal without lust.
Annie spoke before she thought.
"You make people feel safe."
It startled him in the silence and he jumped, nearly speechless, but then found his voice. "I make you feel safe?"
She passed over his question. "You weren't embarrassed to take care of your friend. Some guys would be."
He was surprised that she'd spoken two whole sentences in a row. She had a soft, clear voice.
"He's been my best friend since we were kids. And now we work…worked…together. He would have done the same for me."
Annie shook her head slightly and took a sip. "He would have wanted to but he's not as strong."
Shane almost decided to write this chick off as a nut case but when he gave it some deeper thought, he had to admit she was right.
At least she was talking.
They weren't aware of anything beyond their conversation until the sun began to rise. A rooster crowed somewhere off in the distance and they heard stirring in the other parts of the house.
"I should go get changed," she told him. It was almost as if a shade had been pulled back down over her face.
From all their interaction, Shane felt as if he'd been allowed into her confidence. Maybe she just wasn't ready to let the others in.
He stood when she did.
"Will you come back down?"
She didn't answer at first, only staring at him like she'd done when they'd first met.
"Later."
"Okay," he nodded.
Shane went to check on Carl before going back to his couch. The boy was stable, Hershel said, but still critical. All they could do was wait and see. Rick was insistent on finding Laurie but too weak from giving blood to go look for her. As Shane lay down, he realized it would fall to him to go get her. And she didn't want anything to do with him.
He was asleep almost immediately from having no rest all night. Less than an hour later, Patricia woke him and the smell of sausage frying made his stomach growl. While they were eating, Annie came down the stairs, dressed in jeans and a sweater. The others at the table looked up at her in surprise.
Patricia, always the grandmotherly one, recovered first.
"Good morning, Annie. Are you hungry?"
There were warring emotions clearly visible on her face. Shane found himself mentally cheering for her.
"At least a biscuit?" Patricia suggested, it was the staple of any good Southern breakfast.
Annie consented. Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. This was the first time since she'd been there that she would be dining with them. Their concern wasn't that they had known her and cared for her as a friend before. It was simply the fact that she was a living human being, and that being in such short supply, was too precious a commodity to let go to waste.
There was an empty seat between Otis and Maggie and she slipped in there silently. Shane sat across the table and she looked intently at him as if to tell him she was only doing this because of him. He smiled at her and nodded.
Patricia passed her a plate with a single biscuit on it. She asked Annie if she wanted anything else, Annie shook her head.
"Coffee or juice?"
"Juice," she answered and that was the only word she uttered during the whole meal. She ate the biscuit plain, taking tiny bites.
Lack of sleep had made the dark lines on her face even darker. Her eyes were brighter though, as if life was threatening to return.
After the meal, she quietly said thank you and slipped away, going out the front door. Shane complimented Patricia's culinary skills and followed Annie out. He found her on her way towards a gazebo in the middle of the front yard.
His cautious eyes checked out the situation as he crossed the yard. There was no close tree line, no bushes where walkers could sneak up from, and he had his back-up weapon in his holster.
There was an old porch swing hanging in the gazebo and Annie had taken one end. He took the other.
"You came down and ate with us," he noted. "I'm glad."
She turned sideways and sat cross-legged facing him. "I was hungry," she answered.
"I imagine so."
She ran her fingers through her long blonde hair, then wiggled them over the back of the swing. "My hair is starting to fall out. I guess I have to eat or go bald."
"And you'll live longer," he pointed out.
"Why in hell would I want to do that?"
That wasn't a concept that Shane could even begin to wrap his mind around. His survival instincts were far too strong to contemplate that.
"Because you are alive," he said. "There's a reason for that. You may not see it now but if there wasn't, you wouldn't be here."
"That doesn't mean it's a good reason," she said flatly. There was silence for a long time.
After cleaning the breakfast dishes, Otis and Michael went off to tend the farm. Maggie and Patricia came out quietly and sat in the old rockers on the porch.
"Would you look at that!" Patricia commented, nodding towards the gazebo. "Didn't see that coming."
"They sat in the kitchen and talked all night, Dad said," Maggie informed her. She was a little envious. She'd not seen any other live men since the world had gone to hell. Shane was good-looking.
"I'm glad," Patricia said sincerely. "She wasn't going to last long. I did notice that she didn't wake up screaming for once.
"Did she ever tell any of ya'll what happened to her?" Maggie asked. She was the one who found Annie, but she had been full-on catatonic by then. All she had said was, "They're dead." Maggie had guessed she meant her family and Annie had nodded, then passed out. Hershel had given her two of his last IV's when she'd first been brought there.
"No," Patricia answered, "I wonder if she will tell him."
"I'm sorry," Annie finally told him. "I didn't use to be this way. I was actually a very happy, cheerful mom."
Shane nodded. "I understand. I was lucky and didn't have anyone close, but most of the other members of our group did. Carol, she's one of the ladies, her daughter disappeared two days ago. That's what we were doing in the woods, looking for Sophia."
"I wonder which is worse," Annie mused aloud. "Not knowing or seeing them die?" She shuttered.
Even Shane was speechless. He'd seen people lose their loved ones but really couldn't say he understood it. He knew she carried a huge black chunk in her heart because of what she'd seen and they said she'd not spoken of it. He'd always been told if you let it out, shared it with someone, it was easier to bear.
"Which did you have?" he asked bluntly.
Annie – who'd been looking out over the field of yellowing grass wheat – jerked her head back to face him. She glared at him with a look of bitter hate.
He almost apologized and changed the subject, but now it had been breeched. The scab was off, the blood flowing freely. Time to dress the wound properly, by having someone else help. Besides, that look of hatred didn't scare him – he had an ex-wife.
"Tell me," he said very softly, putting his larger calloused hand over her smaller, cold one.
She screamed at him. "Who do you think you are, asking me that? You don't know me! You don't care about me! You're like a rubber-necker at a bloody car wreck, just wanting to see the corpse!" She wanted to get up and run, but it was suddenly very clear that she had nowhere to run to.
Under normal circumstances, Shane wouldn't have accepted that tone (that's why there was an ex-wife) but things would never be normal again.
"You're only partially right," he said quietly. "I don't know you. But the rest, you're wrong about. I care because you're a human being who hurts. I was a cop. It was often my job to care about strangers who were hurting. And honey, I've seen enough corpses lately that sometimes I'd rather poke my eyes out than see another."
If he'd said any other thing in the world, she would have walked away, but she didn't move at all.
"Let it out, Annie. Don't keep it all bottled up."
After several deep breaths, she whispered, "I don't know if I can." She drew her knees up and hugged them, burying her face in them.
Shane scooted just a bit closer, placing his hand on her head.
"Get it out," he repeated.
Two weeks had passed since the first walkers had showed up. She and Mike had managed to stay in their house safely with their seven year-old daughter Lucy. Every once in a while, one of the creatures would shamble up and she and Mike even made a game out of who'd killed the most. But after two weeks, the food began to run low.
They debated moving on or all going out to forage together but Mike finally settled things, saying he would just run up the road to the Food Depot. Three miles at the most – he'd take his truck, fill it with whatever he could find, and be right back.
From the moment he left, Annie had bad feelings. She sat on her porch, waiting. And sat. And sat. He'd left around noon and was not back at midnight. She was certain something had happened. Lucy was old enough to sense it too, she couldn't sleep so she was out on the porch with Annie.
Just when she thought she would explode with anxiety, a figured appeared at the corner of the yard. It was too dark to tell, but her heart leaped, feeling that it surely must be Mike, returning home. She called out his name, but got no answer. Lucy was excitedly calling her daddy.
Only a couple of seconds cost her everything. She turned her back and reached inside the front door to flip on the big security lights on the house. When she turned back, Lucy was already off the porch, running with arms outstretched to meet him.
It was Mike. But it wasn't Mike. In the brighter light, Annie could see the uncoordinated way he walked, then the dark blood splotches on his clothing and the rictus on his face.
"No, Lucy, no!" Annie screamed, but it was too late. Lucy stopped but the thing that had been her husband took two steps and grabbed the little girl.
Screaming all the while, Annie grabbed her gun and flew off the porch and across the yard.
"Mike, no!" she shouted at it, but it had no recollection of who Mike was. Lucy struggled to get loose but he bit her, on the forearm she used to try to shield herself.
The only way to save her daughter was to shoot her husband. Annie barely hesitated, running on the adrenaline that surged through her veins. Mike's face exploded, splattering black gore all over the three of them. He fell and dropped Lucy. Annie snatched her up and ran for the house.
"No, no, no, no," she said over and over again as if she said it enough, it would change what had happened. Lucy was crying hysterically but Annie didn't think she knew the gravity of what had just happened to her. Lucy was crying over her daddy, not over her wound.
Annie sat her on the counter in the bathroom and cleaned her arm thoroughly. It wasn't a very bad bite, maybe the antibiotic cream would heal it. Maybe it was not deep enough to…
She shook that thought from her head. She would not give power to that possibility in any form.
They went to her bed and she curled up next to Lucy, trying hard to tell her everything would be okay. She was thankful it was so late and the child fell fitfully asleep. Annie didn't think she herself would ever sleep again. She couldn't stop the tears that flowed over her cheeks and fell into her daughter's hair. She called Mike's name again and again but of course he never answered. She tried to convince herself she was only having a nightmare and eventually she would wake up and he'd hold her and rock her safely back to sleep. She would not admit to herself that it was her husband's corpse lying in the middle of her yard.
Just before dawn, Lucy whined in her sleep. In the faint light, Annie could see that her skin was flushed. Streaks of red appeared from under the bandage on the girl's arm.
"No," Annie begged quietly, "Please, God, no. Not this. Anything but this!"
It happened quicker than she'd imagined. Lucy's fever soared until her skin was almost too hot to touch. She woke up briefly calling, "Mommy! Save me!" She was no longer aware that Annie was holding her.
She'd been dead for nearly half an hour before her body cooled enough for Annie to realize.
Shock replaced sorrow as Annie laid her daughter gently back on the bed. She brushed the long, fine hair and arranged it like a waterfall on Mike's pillow. She continued to sit and hold her hand, tracing the lines of her beautiful, innocent face with her fingers. She remembered the day Lucy was born, how tiny and wonderful she'd been. She loved to hug Lucy. How could she live and never be able to hold her again?
It became clear to her that she didn't have to live without her. Her gun was within arm's reach on the bedside table. She stared it for a long time, right up until she felt her daughter move.
Annie knew in theory what was going to happen, but when it did, she was startled. Lucy was alive! Not dead! The fever had broken, she would survive! But one look at her face told her the truth.
Lucy opened her eyes and Annie saw they had gone milky. The little girl bared her teeth in a snarl. She was dead, but her tiny body was moving on its own.
Annie had watched enough of them to know what Lucy's fate would be. She would roam as far as she could, her body hungry and driving her but not knowing the why. She would eventually rot and fall down. She was so small though that she would never be able to get food for herself.
Annie cried again at the thought of her child – even this incarnation – suffering. There was only one clear and merciful answer.
In slow motion, she reached for the gun. Lucy was beginning to try to get up now, even reaching hungrily for Annie. She froze for a moment when her mother pressed the cold metal barrel to her forehead.
"I can't…" Annie moaned, anguish twisting every fiber of her body. This was the opposite of every minute of her life for the past seven years. She'd spent each moment trying to protect her child. How could she do this?
Lucy gurgled and growled again and Annie knew she had to decide immediately. She cocked the hammer but chickened out again.
Her daughter grabbed her arm with both hands suddenly and tried to pull it to her mouth. Her strength surprised Annie, it was much more than a seven year-old usually possessed.
Jerking her arm and the gun away, Annie grabbed a pillow and pressed her child back on the bed. She could feel her trying to bite through it.
Blanking her mind totally, she put the gun to the pillow and pulled the trigger. With a final jerk of dead muscles, Lucy lay still.
Back in the swing, Annie said, "I don't remember anything after that until I woke up here. Maggie said she found me in the living room, sitting in a chair. I remember that it was light sometimes and dark sometimes, that's all. Hershel estimated that I'd been there maybe three days."
Shane stared at her wide-eyed. What could he possibly say?
She continued. "They tell me I'm still trying to die, by starving myself."
"You said you were going to … do it… before Lucy… turned," he asked. "What stopped you?"
"I didn't want to die and forget them, but I didn't want to live and remember them either. So I just didn't do either one.
"I'm sorry," he said simply. "I know that doesn't help in the slightest."
Annie dug the palms of her hands into her eyes. "You're the only one who knows," she told him. "I'd really rather not have them know that I murdered my own family."
"Oh, Annie!" he exclaimed, "No one would think you did that! But I won't say anything."
"Thanks." She seemed to collapse into herself, like it had exhausted her to recount it. He wished he knew her well enough to put his arms around her – if only to offer comfort, nothing else. He felt her wall and had to respect it.
Later they walked, first through the wheat, then down an overgrown path in the woods. Shane had been antsy about getting too far away from shelter at first, but she assured him they'd seen very few walkers out this far and she showed him the gun she carried hidden in her waistband. He laughed off his worries. She was so much stronger than she let on.
They ate some canned soup at an abandoned farmhouse they came upon. Annie actually did seem to lighten up after she told him and found that he did not judge her. He wished he'd known her before all this.
She got tired in the afternoon, her body had not been properly nourished in some time and she just wore out. Shane appreciated that his mind had been kept off the serious things and he was almost reluctant to go back.
It was almost full dark when they returned. Patricia, Otis, Hershel, and even Rick reprimanded them for being out so long alone. Patricia reheated dinner and was pleased to see that Annie ate everything on her plate. Annie was able to thank them all for taking care of her during her worst hours. There were more words than any of them had heard from her before.
Carl took a turn for the worst in the evening. Hershel said that he was losing more blood than Rick could provide and he needed surgery to get the other bullet fragments or he would die. Hershel needed more equipment than he had.
Otis – formerly an EMT – knew that FEMA had set up a mobile hospital at the high school five miles down the road. They would have what Hershel needed.
Rick staggered to his feet, asking if there was a vehicle he could borrow to go get the stuff.
"You're in no shape to do that, buddy," Shane pushed him back down. "Make me a list, Doc, I'll go."
"I'll go with you," Otis stepped up. "I know what to look for. And you shouldn't go alone anyhow. The place was overrun."
Shane had doubts about the big man. How could he sneak in and out from anywhere? He was at least 6'3 and had to weigh 400 pounds.
At least he wouldn't have to go alone.
"Carl will be okay till morning. You two can get a fresh start then."
Annie had stayed out of the room. Not knowing Rick or Carl, she felt like she would only be intruding. She sat alone on the front porch rail but could hear them through the open window. It disturbed her to think of Shane going on such a risky mission. It disturbed her even more that it disturbed her in the first place. She refused to get close to another person unless and until this nightmare was over.
Shane wandered through the downstairs searching for Annie. He wasn't looking forward to what he had to do, he couldn't deny that. He just wanted to talk to her, get her thoughts on it. He came from the kitchen and approached the couch that served as his bed and he saw her though the window.
"Hey," he said as he gently closed the screen door behind him. He tried to seem nonchalant.
"Hey," she echoed, flicking a paint chip from the rail.
He leaned on his elbows on the rail on the other side of the post she was propped against, lacing his fingers together and studying his ragged, dirty nails.
"So, do you know where the high school is?" he asked, trying to keep the nervousness he felt out of his voice.
"Yeah," she answered, "'Bout five miles that way." She pointed left. "Not far."
"I have to go there tomorrow."
"Yeah, I heard," she said. "I'll go with you."
For some reason that sent a mild shiver through him.
"I'd let you, if you were stronger. I think you need to recuperate a bit more before undertaking that kind of job."
Annie knew he was probably right, if he meant physical strength. Maybe she wanted to go to satisfy her deathwish. Maybe she wanted another chance to save a child.
"See? I told you that you make people feel safe. You're going to risk your life for someone else."
Shane frowned, knowing that he didn't feel like the kind of person she believed him to be.
As if she was reading his mind, she said, "You'll do fine. Goodnight."
Annie slipped off the rail and went inside, hurrying up the stairs. He jumped when the screen door slammed behind him. Man, he really hoped she was right.
The only reason he was able to sleep was because he had not the night before. He dreamed that he was running, trying desperately to find someone who was screaming for help. No matter where he looked, he couldn't find the source of the cries.
Then he realized he was awake, still hearing the screaming. He shook his head to clear out the sleep and realized it was Annie. The sound cut off suddenly. There was mumbling coming from up the stairs.
Should he go check on her? The others were up there, in their rooms. It had seemed that area was automatically off limits, their private quarters. He'd not been invited up there. But then he heard her sobbing and decided.
At the top of the stairs, the glow of a lamp came from the open door of the first room on the left. Maggie sat on the edge of the bed, patting Annie's shoulder. Annie was curled in a ball facing away from the doorway. Maggie didn't seem troubled at Shane's appearance.
He took a few steps into the room.
"She okay?"
Maggie shrugged. "It happens every night. We just try to get her quiet before she attracts any visitors."
He nodded. "I'll sit with her."
Another shrug. "Okay, if she doesn't mind."
"I don't think she'll mind."
Maggie left and pulled the door closed behind her.
Shane sat on the edge of the bed and put his hand on Annie's back. She took a deep breath and then forced herself to be quiet.
"Is it okay that I sit here with you?"
She only nodded.
"None of them know what you're dreaming about," he said. "They don't know how to help you."
Her voice was strained. She hated for him to see her like this.
"No one can help this," she said.
"You've said twice now that I make people feel safe. Now I'm thinking you may have meant that as a challenge."
Annie wanted to scream at him to go away. She didn't want anyone to see this weakness. She didn't want pity and she didn't want to be saved. But at the same time, she didn't want him to leave her alone. She couldn't say it though.
"I'll stay awhile," he told her, "Just while you go to sleep, alright?"
She shrugged, feeling torn in half.
"Light off?" he asked, reaching for the lamp.
Quickly, Annie cried, "No!" Two many things became visible in the dark; too many faces.
"Okay, light stays on," he said reassuringly. He did what seemed very natural. He stretched out behind her, making sure he stayed discreetly on top of the covers, and he put his arm over her.
Annie tensed immediately and Shane was afraid he'd overstepped his boundaries.
"Nothing else, Annie," he whispered. "Just let me make you feel safe for a little while. I'm not asking anything else."
A moment paused, then a couple more, then she relaxed.
Externally, anyhow. Inside, she was screaming in protest. How dare he try to make her feel better? How dare he make her remember what this felt like? How could he dare make her want to feel it again?
She suddenly pulled away from him and sat up, backing into the corner.
Shane propped up on his elbow and watched her.
Annie shook her head. "You can't do that," she repeated, shaking violently. "You can't hold me like that."
"I'm sorry," he said, sitting up, confused. "I only wanted to help."
Her eyes were wide, whether with fright or anger, he wasn't sure.
"No!" she exclaimed, "I don't need to be okay, don't you understand? I've done nothing to deserve being okay when everyone else is dead, dying, or suffering! You can't make me want this and then be gone too!"
"I'm not going anywhere I won't come back from," he assured, reaching for her again.
She jerked away, frantic.
"Everybody's going to be gone," she said, looking him straight in the eye now as if she was presenting a perfectly reasonable argument. "Everybody will be gone!"
Shane finally reached her and roughly pulled her into his arms, crushing her against his chest.
"Ah, don't think like that! You don't deserve to hurt anymore. You've been through enough of that for ten lifetimes. If there's comfort in front of you – even for a moment, grab it! Any is better than none!"
She fought him at first, but that quickly changed to burying her face in his shoulder and moaning. The anguish was too much for mere tears. He knew she was crying for her family and that she never believed she would be okay again.
For a long time, he held her like that. Maybe she'd never grieved for them – the others said she'd hardly spoke the whole time she was here. Maybe she tried to grieve in her dreams and that's why she woke up screaming.
When she became quiet, he felt her cuddle in closer. Had she accepted what he said?
Not pulling away, she whispered just below his ear, "I'm afraid of you."
"Why?" he was surprised. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"I'm afraid of… of…" she struggled but couldn't put her feelings into words. "I'm just afraid of everything right now."
Shane found it ironic that she thought he was so brave and safe when he felt so weak and scared inside. At the same time, he'd seen her as so strong and courageous and here she was collapsing in his arms, professing fear of everything.
He couldn't help but laugh quietly and then quickly explain so as not to offend her. The wonderful thing was that she laughed a little too.
"I'm not asking anything of you and I'm not making any promises to you," he said, "But putting my arms around you isn't just for you. It makes me feel a less alone too. Let's just leave it at that and go to sleep, okay?"
She nodded and crawled back under the covers. Shane spooned up behind her, this time under the covers too. She pushed everything else out of her mind and fell asleep, concentrating on his arm around her waist.
Annie surprised everyone by helping cook breakfast the next morning, and by actually seeming chatty. She didn't explain her change in demeanor.
After the meal, Shane and Otis loaded for bear. Rick embraced Shane, urging him to be careful and to hurry. Patricia cried as she told Otis to come back.
Shane turned to Annie just as he opened the door to the old truck. She wasn't sure what he expected her to do.
She nodded and smiled, hugging herself tightly and whispered, "You'll do fine."
He smiled and nodded his agreement. "And I will come back, I promise."
She accepted that and turned away.
Maggie left shortly afterwards on her horse. Rick had grown so worried about his wife not knowing where they were or that her son was possibly dying. From his description of the traffic jam, she was pretty certain she could find the rest of his group. She would bring Laurie back with her and give the others directions.
Annie spent the day in the gazebo alone. She didn't have lunch with the others and tried to convince herself that she wasn't worried.
But when the sun started to go down, she couldn't deny it any longer. It was too much like what happened to Mike and she couldn't do that again. She could have crawled to the school and back by now – unless something had gone wrong.
She went into the house to find out what the others were thinking – if maybe someone should try to go after them. Rick and Laurie stood close together just off the side of the porch and she heard Rick say, "If Shane said he'd be back, he'll be back." Annie envied Laurie fiercely at that moment. She could reach out to her husband to hold her and not be afraid of that. She missed Mike so much!
Patricia was not thinking about dinner tonight. Everyone was on their own until she had her Otis back. The whole house was under a blanket of heaviness. When people spoke, it was only in a whisper.
That made the crunch of gravel seem even louder in the dark. To a person, they rushed outside to see.
As it approached, Annie could see only one person in the cab of the truck. The person was not over large. Shane was driving and unless Otis was in the bed of the truck, Shane was alone. How could she be happy to see him when it would mean devastating news for Patricia?
Shane stopped as close to the house as he could. He seemed to half fall out of the truck and then limped heavily to the back. He lifted the two heavy packs of equipment and passed them to Hershel and Maggie. They took the packs and hurried inside, anxious to get to work on Carl. Michael led Patricia back into the house – it was clear from the look on Shane's face that Otis would not be coming back.
Annie stood back in the shadows as Rick approached Shane. He could see more than anyone how disturbed Shane was.
Rick clapped him on the shoulder and thanked him. He asked, "Otis?"
Shane's eyes darted from side to side, he was breathing hard, his clothes covered in blood. He seemed to be in his own private hell.
He shook his head at Rick's question. "We were down to one shot each. He told me to go on," Shane said grimly, "He said he would take the rear. When I looked back… I couldn't help him…"
Rick swallowed hard, feeling his friend's pain. He embraced him tightly and then turned and ran towards the house.
Shane dragged his hand through his hair, turning in a circle as if he didn't know what to do with himself. Or didn't know how to shut off images in his mind.
Annie stepped out of the shadows towards him. "You're hurt," she observed.
The intrusion startled him and he jumped. "I fell out of a window."
"I'm sorry," she said. "C'mon, I'll help you."
She pulled his arm around her shoulder and he leaned heavily on her. With a gasp, she saw a raw spot on the side of his head.
"Did you get bit?" she whispered fearfully.
He put his hand over the spot, wincing. "No, one of them just grabbed me. That's why I fell out the window."
She sighed, not sure why he felt he had to cover it up. But from what she saw, it didn't look like a bite, just like a handful of hair had been ripped out.
"You came back," she pointed out.
"Yeah," he said, "I promised." She thought she detected a very slight tone of disgust in his voice and it confused her even more.
Maggie met them inside the foyer. She held out a stack of clean clothes.
"Shower's upstairs. These are clean but may be big. They were his." Her eyes were red-rimmed, clearly she'd been crying.
"Thank you," he said solemnly. He pulled out from under Annie's arms and without another word, hobbled up the stairs alone.
Annie watched him until he turned the corner. Something he'd seen had gutted him to the core – that was very apparent to someone who was familiar with that feeling. Could she reach him the way he'd reached her? She had to check her feelings to see how much of her motivations were selfish. She'd opened up to him, she looked forward to more, but the way he was now, it was clear that wasn't about to happen. But she honestly didn't want him to lose himself this way.
She waited in the living room for what seemed like a very long time. While the others worried over Carl's surgery or Patricia's grief, she was the only one worried over Shane.
When an hour and a half had passed, Hershel finished up with Carl. She heard him say he'd gotten all the bullet fragments and it seemed the bleeding had finally stopped. His blood pressure was normal and color was beginning to return to his skin. It was time to go upstairs and at least let Shane know that no matter what, he'd saved the child's life.
The bathroom door was open and the light was off. Annie frowned, but as she passed her own dark room, she saw a silhouette sitting unmoving on her bed.
Without turning on the light, she went in and closed the door behind her. Moonlight streamed through the gauzy curtains and as she sat beside him, she could see that he'd cut all his hair off. The spot that had been ripped out wouldn't be obvious this way.
"What really happened, Shane?" she asked quietly.
"I told you what happened," he said without conviction.
"I know what you said, but I know what hiding a secret looks like."
He should have reacted angrily, should have pulled away from her, but instead, his voice grew even quieter.
"Are you calling me a liar?"
"No," she said, resting her hand on his back, "I'm calling you a bad liar. At least when I had a secret, I kept my mouth closed."
For a long time, he didn't respond. He'd come in here in the dark to wait on her for a reason. He wanted to tell someone something very badly and he didn't think he could trust his friends.
"If I tell you, I'm afraid you'll never speak to me again. I'm afraid you'll tell the others and they'll…well…they'll know what kind of person I really am. Once I thought I wanted to go off on my own, but I don't – really I don't want to be alone like that. If I tell you, you won't ever feel safe around me again." He laughed bitterly. "You'll take back that part about me making people feel safe."
"You didn't tell anyone my secret," she pointed out. "Why would I do any different?"
He shook his head and dropped it low into his hands. "Because mine's a lot worse."
"Than killing your own child?"
In an angry tone, he turned to her, "I told you that wasn't what you did! No one would ever see it like that!"
"Then maybe you're not looking at what you did objectively either."
Shane stood up and began to pace back and forth, wrestling with himself. Eventually, he stopped and squatted in front of her.
"I slept with my best friend's wife," he said. "Did you expect I would say that?"
It was a rhetoric question, and he continued immediately. "I was at the hospital with Rick when things went to hell. He'd been shot while we were on duty – weird that it was almost in the exact same spot as Carl but on the other side, where his heart is. He was in a coma, on a respirator. The hospital was overrun, the army was in there shooting people left and right. Then the power went out, even the generator."
His words were frantic, as if he were trying to convince himself even more than her.
"I checked, I couldn't find a pulse or hear any breath. He was dead, I know he was dead! I left. I tried to wedge his door shut so they wouldn't get to his body. And I just left him. I got Laurie and Carl and we got the hell out of the city. Laurie was scared, damn, I was scared! We had been friends for so long that it just seemed to happen naturally. We turned to each other for comfort. We didn't let anyone know though, not even Carl."
"I took care of them like they were my own. I missed Rick so bad, we'd been partners for so long, I would have taken care of them for him, but here I was screwing his wife. Three weeks later, he walked into our camp. Laurie acted like I'd lied to her. I didn't tell Rick, I just fell in line with the rest of them. I swear, I thought he was dead."
The light shone on his face and she could see his eyes were wet. There was nothing but sincerity and pain in them.
"You saved his life," she told him.
"Huh?" he seemed angry as if she'd missed the whole point. He stood and turned away.
"When you blocked his door so they couldn't get to him. They would have killed him in his sleep, but that one caring gesture gave him the chance to heal and wake up."
Shane turned back slowly. "I never looked at it that way."
"That's what I was talking about. Would you have slept with her if he'd been alive?"
"Hell no, I wouldn't have done that behind his back! I was the best man at his wedding. I've been around them for years and the thought to do that never crossed my mind! I mean, I loved her and Carl, but because they were like family to me."
"Then who could blame you?"
Another bitter laugh. "Laurie did."
"She did that because she felt guilty. If she could shift all the blame to you, it would ease her conscience."
Shane was quiet, mulling this over. It made perfect sense. What a fucking hypocrite! But what he'd done later brought him back to his guilt.
"I got drunk two weeks ago and tried to get her to be with me again."
That made it a bit more difficult to rationalize.
"Did she?"
"She stopped me. I tried to apologize the next day when I sobered up, but she told me to stay away from her and her family."
Annie sighed. That he was troubled about having tried was at least redeeming. Laurie had used him for comfort and then tossed him away like a dirty tissue. When he needed it, there was no one there for him. It would be hard to see this woman in a good light.
"Did you feel that if you saved her son at any cost, it would make it right between you all again?" she asked.
How could she see this deeply into him when she hardly knew him.
"Don't hate me," he pleaded. "If I tell you everything, don't hate me. Our group will be leaving as soon as Carl can travel, so if you have to, just avoid me quietly until then, just don't hate me."
"Just tell me."
"We were pinned down in the gym, high up on the bleachers. There was a window that I could go through but Otis was too big. I covered him while he escaped to the locker room where he could get out a larger window. I went out the small one and found a two-story drop. I was trying to lower myself down when one of them grabbed me through the window."
Just rechecking the possibility of a bite, she asked, "That's when it grabbed your hair?"
Shane shook his head. "No. I lied about that. I shot it and lost my grip. I fell and sprained my ankle. I couldn't get away fast enough and Otis came out of the blue and shot one just before it got me in my blind spot. I told him then to take both packs and get back to the truck, that I couldn't run fast enough to get away from them, but he wouldn't leave me."
He slammed his fist against the wall then pressed his head against it. "If only he'd left me then…"
Annie swallowed hard, hoping she was strong enough to hear this. He'd been willing to die then.
"He wouldn't leave me, so he put his arm around me and helped me run. There were so many of them. We fired and fired until we were both down to one shot. I was running on my own then, but moving too slow. Otis was barely able to run anymore, you know how big he was. He was carrying one of the packs and helping me. He was panting like a freight train. I kept worrying he was going to have a heart attack right then."
She began to see it clearly now. "So you both were about to be caught?"
Shane turned quickly and knelt before her again, putting his hands on her forearms. He was hopeful, suddenly glad that someone saw the situation as he had.
"Right! And if we both were killed, Carl would've died too. Rick and Laurie would have been devastated. And no matter what I wanted to do for Laurie, I didn't want Rick to have to go through that. And hell! I love that kid too!"
Annie reached out and gently brushed his cheek. "You don't have to convince me," she said softly.
"If I had a little more time, I could make it to the truck, even carrying both packs. Even if Otis had that same amount of time, he would never have made it. He was about to drop anyhow and taking on the weight of my pack would have brought him down."
Then Shane stopped speaking. It seemed that he was reliving those few minutes in his head, trying to figure out how to say it out loud. Finally, Annie prompted him. "Go on, finish."
He looked at her, wishing he could see her eyes, but what little light there was came from behind her. What would she do if he went on and told her?
"Don't stop here," she told him. "Don't bury it."
He grimaced and threw his head back. "I told him I was sorry," he said, his voice strained with emotion. "He kinda nodded, thinking I meant that I was sorry we were in that situation, but that wasn't it." Shane gritted his teeth and covered his eyes with one hand. "I used my last bullet and shot him in the leg."
"Oh… oh, Shane…" she cried out, having suspected something like this but praying she was wrong. She clapped her hand over her own mouth in shock, trying to pull her emotions in. She understood perfectly why he felt he had to do that but hearing it didn't make it any more palatable.
"Oh, Shane," tears ran down her cheeks for both the men.
"I'm not sure that's even the worst of it," he told her, falling back heavily to sit cross-legged on the floor.
"I had to get his pack quickly because the horde was coming right up on us. He fought me. He tried to hold on to the pack for some reason, tried to hold my ankle, then he grabbed me by the hair. I fell down, trying to crawl away because they were just a couple of feet away. I kicked him – in the hand, in the head. I punched him to get away. Then they got him." He sighed and she was glad she couldn't see the pictures in his head.
"You know when they catch a live one, how they all fall on it? They forgot all about me while they ripped him to pieces. I got up, got both packs and started running again. I could hear him screaming even as I got in the truck but by then I couldn't save him."
"If you'd shot him in the head, they would have passed his dead body and kept coming after you," she added.
He nodded, looking down at the floor. "And I could have never outrun them."
"Then what other choice did you have?" she asked slowly, hardly believing she could say that herself. But she meant it. She only wondered if she would have had enough guts to make that same decision.
"That's why you make people feel safe. You can make the kind of decisions that others can't, or won't make."
"Please don't tell them," he looked up with such fear and self-loathing in his eyes. "They would not see it that way."
"Some of them might, some of them might not, but I'm not going to tell anyone."
Shane nodded. "Thank you."
She smiled a very sad smile. "Thank you for trusting me. And you did save Carl's life. I heard them talking before I came up here. The surgery went fine, he's already showing signs of improvement."
Shane leaned over and put his head on the floor – she could barely hear him crying softly. With relief? Annie slid off the bed and sat before him, her hand on his head. The fresh crew cut was prickly beneath her fingers.
"How many lives is that now, Shane? Rick, Carl, possibly Laurie because you didn't leave her behind. And me. And you. You're five to one to the good."
He surprised her by rushing forward and putting his arms around her waist, burying his face in her lap. Just like she'd done, he let it out and cried until his chest hurt.
Long minutes later, there was a quiet tapping at her door. She didn't think he'd appreciate visitors, so she didn't speak for him. But the door opened anyhow.
Rick and Laurie stood there, illuminated by the hallway light, their faces worn, weary, tear-stained, but peaceful.
Before they realized Shane's state, Rick began, "We just wanted to thank…" he paused and looked questioning and concerned.
Annie patted Shane's head softly.
"Survivor's guilt," she explained.
THE END
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