Uncanny (A Very Undead Birthday)
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to The Walking Dead.
Other Stuff: Most characters in the show get the chance to shine at some point in this fic. More Daryl to come in Chapter 5!
Chapter 3: The Chase
Rick Grimes was having a transcendental experience.
It wasn't that the forest was full of walkers, ghosts, and werewolves. It wasn't that the earth beneath him was slowly giving way to clay and sand. It wasn't even that he could feel his spirit breaking and evaporating with every exhausting step.
It was the fact that Shane was back, and he was chasing him.
Rick couldn't understand how it could possibly be true. One moment, he had been running frantically through the woods, walkers in pursuit and Daryl close behind him. The next moment, he and Daryl had been separated.
The dark forest slowly morphed into swampland and Rick stopped briefly to survey the terrain up ahead. He could hear the growl of walkers a short distance behind him. Rick wasn't sure if he'd be able to make it around the swamp and back into the woods. Besides, the swamp might be the perfect spot to lose the walkers if he didn't get stuck in quicksand or bitten by a snake first.
That's when a hand gripped his shoulder and he spun around to look into the eyes of his former partner.
Shane looked good for a dead man. His face was smooth and devoid of stubble, his hair medium-length and lustrous, as if he had never shaved it off. He was sporting his officer's uniform, which Rick couldn't believe was spotless. There was a particular glow about him that didn't belong to cheap moonlight, and Rick was tempted for a split-second to reach out and grab his old friend's hand. The moment did not last for long, however. Although his face was unblemished as a whole, Shane's eyes were troubling—black pupils, like dots of ink, with red irises. They spoke his intention and symbolized it before the words ever came out of his mouth
"Hey, Rick. Will you join me?"
It seemed to take an eternity to turn around and run, but Grimes eventually scrambled off, zig-zagging haphazardly through the swamp, no clue as to where he was headed, but quite sure he had to get as far away from Shane as possible.
"Daryl!" he called out, more angry than scared. Since when did the dead rise and die and rise again? Grimes picked up the pace of his run, his lungs burning.
"Come on, Rick," came Shane's voice from right behind him. "We'll have some fun."
How the hell can he talk?
Rick shouted, "I think I'm good! Pretty busy being Walker Texas Ranger and Fox Mulder tonight."
His shoes suddenly slipped in the mud and Grimes slid for about eight feet before coming to a crashing stop against a tree stump. Stunned temporarily, Rick felt warmth running down his right temple, and he saw bright lights. Through the lights, his stomach churned at the sight of shiny black boots steadily approaching towards him.
"You're nothing, Rick, but you always thought you were something. You and your high moral standards—your ethics. Made me sick."
Rick shook his head slightly, trying to clear it. He slowly and carefully felt for the gun in his holster as Shane continued his rant.
"You were jealous of Lori and me. Just admit it. You couldn't stand the fact that she loved me more than you."
Rick could feel Shane's bitter breath on his face, bent over and sneering.
"Lori wanted me, Rick. And I gave her what she wanted. You are nothing but a fool."
Grimes raised his gun to Shane. "And you are dead."
He pulled the trigger and staggered away as quickly as he could, his ears ringing and the right side of his head throbbing angrily. Cobwebs still clouded his vision, but he held his weapon tightly and chanced a quick look back at Shane.
Rick felt his face flush and his hands get cold as Shane slowly got up from what had been a fatal shot. He stood stiffly and then smiled at Rick, white teeth glinting sharply in the moonlight.
Grimes didn't wait around to hear Shane's rebuttal, but he heard the cries echoing through the swamp:
"I'm Lon Cheney! I'm the Wolfman, and I'm coming to get you!"
Rick ran for what seemed like hours. He ran until he was gasping for breath and the side of his head pulsed painfully with each heartbeat. As the swamp became impassable, Rick was forced to slow down, just a few paces behind Shane, always feeling his hot maniacal breath on his heels.
Just when Rick felt that he had carved a good distance between him and Shane, his feet stuck in mud and quicksand, causing him to thrash about instinctively. Of course, the movement made his predicament worse, and Rick found himself slowing sinking into the ground with absolutely nothing he could do about it.
He frantically searched the two-foot radius around himself for any branches he could grab hold of, and forced himself to calm down. Rick's stillness slowed his downward progression, but he still had no hope of getting out before Shane caught up to him.
"That little girl is mine," came a soft voice through the swamp, and Rick's head throbbed, causing him to thrash around more in the sand.
"Once you're dead, I'm going to raise Judith and Carl as my own. The group will be mine. Daryl's gone and there'll be no one to stop me."
Have you met Michonne and her sword? Rick thought grimly.
Through the mist and faded moonlight, Shane's figure approached. Rick was now buried up to his waist, and he held his gun above the sand, his arms growing more and more tired.
As Shane drew closer, he began to laugh. "Stuck in the mud, Rick? How ironic. I'd always thought you'd get bitten by a walker, or betrayed by a friend, like ME."
Rick uttered a silent scream as he took in the gruesome details of Shane's face. Hollow cheekbones bled into half a nose, which drooped over his lips. The flesh had either rotted or been torn away from the right side near his jaw, revealing a fiercesome set of chompers. Shane's eyes were pure pupil now, black and emitting a red light that Rick could almost feel burning his skin. Curled bits of brain and dried blood crusted the side of his head where Carl had fired the shot—the shot that ultimately saved Rick's life and ended Shane's permanently.
Grimes remembered briefly the delirious first few days he had spent in Hershel's home, donating pint after pint of blood to Carl after his son had been accidentally shot. Hershel kept saying the blood was going to save his life. When the veterinarian left the room, Lori made the joke that Hershel was actually a vampire. Rick remembered the blood flowing out of him and envisioned that same blood leaking out of Carl's hands and oozing out of the gun the boy carried.
Shane spat, "I will break your body!"
"You're too late," Rick said, smiling grimly, feeling the sand tugging at his ankles. Only his head was above the surface now. "I'm already broken."
As Shane lunged forward with claw-like hands, the quicksand pulled Rick down. He took in a deep breath and felt the cool wash of white light cover him. In that moment, Rick felt at peace. It was all going to be over soon.
And then Grimes woke up to find himself in complete darkness.
