Detonate Chapter 4: Shades of Grey, a walking dead fanfic

Chapter 4: Shades of Grey

Through the darker shades of grey
I see beauty in the rain
Heart stopped on the ground where I'm lying,
Called out to a stranger and die

The flames crackled in the rust-bitten fire pit, igniting the kindle with a blended vortex of monochrome colors that reminded Lee of a sunset. In the background he recognized the familiar echo of boney claws scratching the barrier walls outside the lot; the faint stench of decay and black mold underlined the thick musk of smoke. Although it was still the middle of the summer the evening had been gradually getting frigid since the last drops of sunlight scattered over the horizon.

"That damn walker's going to attract more of 'em if we don't get rid of it." Lee glanced over his shoulder as Kenny passed into the circle, squeezing between Lee's and Carley's chairs. He perched on Lee's other side.

They had set up a ring of lawn chairs around the bonfire after the group decided that sleep wasn't an option. It started with the newcomer Mark and his inauguration into the group with Carley, and then Lee decided he wanted a drink after checking to make sure Clementine was fast asleep, a few minutes later Larry brought out the drinks, and it ended with Kenny who had seen the flickering fire through his window.

"We'll get it later," Lee remarked assuredly, "but for now just ignore it."

Carley glanced at Kenny expectantly. "How's Duck doing?"

"Better now that he had his medicine." Kenny passed his stare over to Larry on his left. "Got a drink?"

"Plenty," Larry replied, rifling through the content of the cooler at his feet. He popped the cap of a cheap, bitter beer with his bare hands – a talent that always reminded Lee of his unruly strength – and handed it over.

Silence once again settled across the group like a thin sheet. It had only been three weeks and already things were awkward for them. Lee noticed that the tension tended to veer towards himself, especially when he had to choose between Lilly's valid side of the argument or his loyalty to Kenny. Speaking of Lilly… "Carley," he addressed and she met his calculated gaze out of the corner of her eye, "have you checked on Lilly?"

"I did about an hour ago to change her bandages."

"Something about me now?" As if on cue Lilly appeared from the darkness behind Larry. She was slouched to shift a majority of her weight to one leg.

Larry chuckled. "Ha, knew you'd be up and about in less than a day! Take a seat."

She limped over to the vacant chair next to Carley and plopped down with a hiss of pain. Her fingers massaged her injury beneath the bandages encasing her upper thigh. "Shit that hurts. Nothing alcohol can't solve though, right?"

"Finish mine," Lee offered, reaching across Carley with a polite 'excuse me' to hand off the bottle of whiskey. "I ain't gonna drink it."

Lilly accepted it carefully. "Huh, thanks. Good year, too."

And, as anticipated, the group fell back into quiet. Lee leant back in his seat and allowed his head to press against the rest.

Scritch scritch.

Carley drummed her fingers against the sturdy glass of the unlabeled bottle. She had never been one for drinking, but it wasn't like society could frown upon her developing bad habits any longer.

Scritch scritch.

"I wish it would stop scratching," she uttered, helping herself to a swig. The bitter, dark beer encased inside burned her throat as it passed into her stomach. The overwhelming sensation assisted her mind to stray away from thinking of Doug.

Scritch scritch.

Scritch scritch scritch scritch.

Scritchscritchscritchscritch –

Kenny chucked his empty bottle at the barrier wall and it exploded in every direction like a shrapnel grenade, littering the pavement with shards of transparent glass that glinted in the moonlight. "Shut the hell up!"

Carley passed her bottle to Larry to finish. "I'm out. See you guys in the morning." Everything was silent after they recited their respective good-nights in return (although, Larry's form of "good night" was nothing more than a mere grunt).

When she reached her room the Walker started scratching again.

Carley sat rigidly in her chair, her legs crossed one over the other. She wasn't quite in the mood to talk to Doug; the events of the day had been stressful, and that smug expression plastered on his face only made her rage swell in the cavity of her chest. A single slap would knock the grin off like a loose Halloween mask. Even though she and Doug had only known each other for a short while – a couple of days – she knew him well enough: he took pleasure in irking her on when she was angry. He was aware that she was incapable of remaining mad for long.

At least, in here, her nose wasn't broken. That had to count for something…

"What?"

Doug sipped his coffee – caramel, as labeled on the creamer bottle beside him – and placidly replaced the ceramic mug on the table top. "Nothing."

"Then stop grinning."

His eyebrow peaked with the adjacent corner of his lips, forming an even more smug expression. "Why? Don't I have a right to be as happy as I want, when I want?" Carley didn't answer so he droned on, "Just because you're upset doesn't mean I have to be. I'm a projection of your mind and your emptiness, not your emotions."

"Isn't emptiness an emotion?"

"No, it's actually a feeling."

"There's a difference?"

"Yes. It can't really be expressed that same way happiness and sadness can be." He took another swig of his drink. "Emptiness is commonly mistaken for despair. You can feel sad and smile, but you'll cry eventually. You can be happy and frown, but eventually you'll laugh. It's one of those universal laws people tend to commonly overlook."

Carley barked a harsh laugh. "You should have been a psychologist."

Doug shrugged impassively, adjusting his position in his seat. "Then I wouldn't have been an IT guy… and you wouldn't be alive right now."

"But you would be."

"Hmph. I doubt that." He sipped his drink again, allowing an awkward silence to settle uncomfortably between them. The clock suspended on the wall above the sink ticked ominously. With every passing minute the hands remained firmly in place on the 7 and 3; the gears kept clicking, however. "I don't regret saving you, if that's what you're implying."

"I'm not implying anything," she responded bitterly.

He wasn't convinced. "Let me guess: you also don't feel guilty about my death? I mean, Lee did choose to save you over me. And I was torn apart right in front of your eyes. Had you been smarter you would have realized that your clip was low on bullets."

"Shut up!" She seethed and the clock on the wall dropped, smashing into pieces on the marble floor. "Stop prying into my mind!"

"Carley, I am your mind, remember? A projection in the form of dearly beloved, parents'-basement-cute, nerdy Doug." A twinge of amusement sparkled in his eyes when she contemplated chucking something at his head. "Don't even think about it. I may be fake but I'm not a hologram. You mug will knock me right out."

Carley grunted. "Great, you can read my thoughts, too?"

A bemused smirk replaced his standard grin, stitching its way across his features. Carley almost strangled him right then and there. "Yes. What do I keep telling you? Figment of your imagination means that I know you better than you know yourself."

Carley tensed at her lips pressed into a thin line. "Fine. What am I thinking now?"

"You're wondering why the calendar always says that it's Monday, but is missing the rest of the date."

"How about now?"

"You're imagining that my chair is breaking so I can fall and you can laugh your gorgeous ass off."

Carley allowed a small quirk of her lips to upturn into a smile. "Now?"

"You want to kiss me. And yes, I'll let you."

With that Carley shot up from her seat and flitted over to him. She retained her agitated glare though, determined to wipe the smirk right off of his face. "I don't need your permission to do whatever I want inside my own mind!" He stood but she waltzed right past him into the kitchen. Her attention fixed itself on the assortment of items in the cabinets. "Do we have any sugar in here?"

Doug leaned his lips to her ear. "It's already on the table."

She shuddered as his heated breath tickled the sensitive spots of her neck. He smelled like… melons. More specifically honey dew and coconut, a strange combination despite its attractive scent. "A-Are you sure?"

"Yes. …No. Yes?" He glanced over and located the uncapped jar beside the napkin holder. "Er, yes. Now I'm sure." Carley stiffened like a flag pole when his hands grasped her waist. He clearly noticed her freeze and his smirk returned. "What, having second thoughts?"

"I was just-!"

He forced her to face him and pinned her hips to the edge of the counter. His grip didn't hurt nor was he intimidating, though, almost like he knew she didn't like anything rough. Of course he knows that Car, he's a stupid figment of your stupid imagination. Despite the realization her spine tingled; her heart slammed against the cage of her chest. Her fingers found his forearms and she gripped them – hard – but didn't make an attempt to pry herself free.

"You," he muttered, "were just… what?"

"You're not real," she said, averting the subject. "It'll be like kissing myself."

"No it won't." He leaned closer to her so their lips barely brushed. "In a sense, perhaps. But I'm not you. I'm Doug."

"Projection Doug."

"Precisely." His palms slid up her waist and along her sides, moving carefully to her back. He pressed her closer to him. "I don't know anything about Doug. I don't have his memories, or his skill set. I am only compromised of what you have come to know."

Carley slipped her hands up his arms, indulging herself in the texture of his jacket. "So are you going to kiss me or do I have to beg?" He answered her by closing the gap between them, igniting a flare the spanned across her body from her chest to her finger tips. She gladly accepted him when he deepened the contact, sliding his tongue along her lower lip. Her brain tingled in places left forgotten. Her knees trembled. Her nails dug harmlessly into his shoulder blades.

Doug receded from the kiss. "Happy?"

She sighed, content. "It makes me wonder what it would have been like if you were still alive." He didn't reply to that. "You're not that fat."

His eyebrow quirked. "Excuse me?"

"You're not really fat. In fact, you're muscular. I never mentioned that before." She slid her fingers across his chest and stomach in a single, fluid motion, pressing gently against his shirt. "It's like you're literally made of rock."

"I'm sure real Doug was a wrestler in high school or something. It probably ran in the family."

Carley observed him through slotted eye lids, her chocolate orbs disconnected from the world around her. "Doug… kiss me again." Her fingers completely unzipped the rest of his jacket and it pooled to the floor. "Please." He wordlessly leaned into her, feverishly crushing his lips against hers. This time he didn't hold back – the passion of the heated exchange was numbing their judgment anyway – and his hands slipped the lavender vest from her shoulders, discarding it without a single care for where it wound up.

A gunshot echoed in the distance, startling Carley into reality.

Instinct took over and she snapped up the pistol from her nightstand, sweeping her aim around the room. When the immediate danger didn't present itself she tossed off her sheets. Outside of her room dawn was peaking over the treetops, mingling bashful streaks of orange into the night bound clouds. She shivered when a bitter wind swept across the motor inn; she silently cursed to herself for still wearing shorts during this time of year.

Her first thought was to visit Lee and see if he had heard the gun shot. It had been so abrupt she wasn't able to judge how far away it came from, but she prayed it hadn't been close to the lot. That would be yet another reason to worry.

I don't want to wake Clementine, she told herself, pacing by Lee's door. To her immediate surprise she noticed Lilly measuring the width of her window with planks of wood. "What the hell are you doing up at this time?"

Lilly spat a nail from between her teeth and it clanked against the cement walkway. "Renovating. What's your excuse?"

"I heard a gun go off."

The other woman wasn't wearing her jacket, almost like the frigid air wasn't bothering her in the slightest. Her bionic arm still kind of freaked Carley out, especially with the way it moved so perfectly like an actual human limb. Well, that was its initial purpose but… it was still creepy none-the-less…

Lilly set the plank against the wall. "I didn't hear anything. Maybe you were imagining things."

Carley bit her lip when she heard the resonating of another gun shot. This time it was much further away; she knew Lilly hadn't heard that one. It meant that there were still survivors… were being the appropriate term.

"You should go back to bed," Lilly said blatantly, marking the edge of the wood with a sharpie. "I need you on watch first thing tomorrow morning."

Carley rolled her eyes sarcastically. "For the last time Lilly, you're not in charge! I don't take orders from you." She braced herself for a sudden barrage of brash remarks and point-taken statements, but to her surprise Lilly merely picked up the next plank and started measuring it against the window. Carley wondered if giving someone the silent treatment was really more effective than fighting it out. "Are you listening to me? I'm not taking watch tomorrow! I've done it too many damn times this week! You know my vision is impaired and-!"

"Lee, Kenny, and I were going to scout the forest for bandit camps," Lilly interjected, marking the wood again. "We need someone to watch the base with so many of us gone at one time."

Carley's jaw hung slack. Lilly should have been blowing a gasket by now. What is this wizardry? "You shouldn't go. You're leaving us vulnerable!"

"Mark's going to stick around. He has a level head." Her lips twisted into a frown. "Although he did almost take off my hand that one time…"

"Ugh, why aren't you fighting with me?!" Carley took a sharp turn on her heel. "Everything with you is an argument and then suddenly it's not! If you're not bipolar I don't know what's wrong with you! Take some damn pills or something!" She stormed into her room and slammed the door shut, leaving Lilly to merely shrug and continue her work.

Carley slipped back under her covers and fumed silently to herself. Stupid Lilly and her stupid rules and those stupid zombies and stupid Doug… She shuddered as her memories of the dream hit her with all the gracefulness of a careening landslide.

Damn you, Doug.

This time, when she finally fell back asleep, Doug decided against saying anything at all. He also wasn't smirking.

"Romeo and Juliet. Yeah, I don't think so…"

There was a distant ticking resonating in the background of the library. The antique grandfather clock went ignored.

"Macbeth? Eh, pass…"

Anxious blue eyes skimmed the contents of the shelves before him. "A Midsummer Night's Dream," he read aloud, moving to the next row of books, "No. Beowulf. Nope. No, no, no, read it, read it and hated it, no, no, I liked that one, no, maybe?" Slender fingers lapped off the thin layer of dust that had settled on the bindings of the novelized plays arranged, quite haphazardly, along the book case.

"Find anything?" A voice echoed out from several rows down.

"Not yet," he replied, shuffling across to the next section. Fiction offered him more choices… but he still wasn't coming up with anything worthwhile. He cursed himself for being a picky reader. "Ugh, this is pointless! You know I'm awful at making decisions."

A pair of dual colored orbs – one brown, the other an unusual shade of blue-gray – peered at him from around the corner of the shelves. "What do you expect me to do about it? Just get an armful and figure it out later."

"But Travis…"

"Not buts!" Travis Miller moved fully into view, his own arms locked around various books of sizes and colors. "See, I'm set for the week. And I didn't even read the backs! I liked the cover titles… and the authors are well-known. So it can't be awful if it's famous, right?"

"What about that series about the sparkling vampire? That was awful and famous."

"I think the word you're looking for is infamous, Ben."

Ben Paul chucked lightly and finally picked a leather-bound book from the shelf. He and Travis became inseparable back in fifth grade when the older boy protected Ben from the bullies of the upperclassmen. It was one of those moments you would typically see in a cartoon or a family movie: kid gets beat up by other kids, hero kid saves the day. They become best pals for life. So on and so forth. It had been different for them though. Travis was one of those bullies, a constant bother since kindergarten, and had it not been for their encounter the day before Ben was certain he still wouldn't have any friends.

Back then Ben was typically shoved around until he handed over his lunch money to the pack leader of the three bullies: a boy named Jason Roberts who was now head of the school's Football team and, to be blunt, still a jerk. Travis and some other boy who had moved to Ohio named Ryan Thornback were his lackeys to say the least. Travis was also Ben's neighbor across the street, and one dull Sunday morning their mothers decided to leave them together while they went out.

"Ow!" Travis barked when a line of books tumbled from the shelf above and impacting his skull one at a time. "Dammit!"

Ben glanced over at him briefly before returning to his flashback. He had learned a lot about Travis that day: musically gifted, talented with the saxophone, didn't enjoy pop, rap, or metal, allergic to dogs but loved cats, and had a guilty pleasure for soap operas. They got along well, too, after Ben forgave him for his years of torment. The following day, when Jason and Ryan approached Ben with their eyes steely like sharks', Travis gave Jason his first bloody nose of the year, and received a black eye in return.

"Yo, Ben!" Travis knocked his knuckles against his friend's brow. "Come on, we've been gone too long. Everyone's gonna wonder where we went."

"Sorry," Ben apologized quietly, grabbing a random assortment of books from the rack in front of him.

Travis furrowed his brow, giving his best friend a quizzical look. "What's the matter? You seem flushed."

"I was remembering how we met and all." They had been inseparable, and Ben silently hoped that the zombie apocalypse didn't change any of that. He knew that his parents and sister were probably undead themselves by now, but until that was confirmed Travis was all he had left.

Travis brushed off Ben's usual quirkiness and loaded the books – their only real form of entertainment at this point – into his navy striped backpack and zipped it up. He slung it over his shoulders. "Come on, let's go."

They dodged around the librarian Ms. Stein who was pinned beneath a toppled book case. She had once been an intelligent, beautiful women who appeared younger than she probably was. Now her eyes was glazed over with chalky whiteness, holding no signs of pain or remorse – only the want to kill, to feed, to keep killing, to keep feeding. Her hair was a haphazard mess of dried blood and brain matter from feeding on one of the teenagers prior to Travis tipping the shelving unit on her. She grasped the air with her three remaining fingers. A desperate plea, perhaps, but there was nothing they could do for her.

Travis slipped out the window first, planting his feet on the roof tiles. Ben crept out backwards and had to search for his footing before he trusted the two-foot drop enough to release his death grip on the window sill. Travis has always been the braver of the two, which led to antics of every mischievous kind. Ben preferred to shut his eyes and wait for it to be over.

They padded out to the rope fastened securely around the pipes for the school's sprinkler system. It had been left there when someone – they weren't sure who – tried to scale down the wall to avoid the chaos in the school halls.

Travis slid down first, hovering fearlessly over a three-story drop that separated him from Ben above and the dead wandering about below. He recognized a select handful of them as faculty and student body members, some former classmates; he paid them no mind and found his footing on the open window sill of the school's gym. He dropped into the opening and landed on the bleachers. Moments later Ben joined him.

The first person to greet them was a very agitated David Parker. "What do I keep telling you boys about going off by yourselves?"

"Sorry Mr. Parker," they recited in chorus, Travis hinting his sarcasm with a melodramatic roll of his eyes and Ben letting his head drop in shame.

The band director muttered something incoherent under his breath before speaking up. "It's my job to protect you kids from the dangers outside. We don't need any more casualties. Your blood will be on my hands for letting you out of my sight."

Travis shrugged off his backpack and unzipped it. "We just got some books because we've all been really bored lately. There's nothing to do here. And it's not like we can just waltz outside and go on a spontaneous field trip."

Mr. Parker wagged his head. "I don't care. Next time tell me you're leaving."

"Yes, sir," the boys said in sync again, still retaining their respective irritated and distraught tones.

When their band director shuffled back down the bleacher steps Ben huddled closer to Travis and focused his attention on the several girls four rows beneath them. They were muttering amongst each other about the family members they hadn't talked to since the world went to hell.

Ben whimpered. "Travis, I want to wake up now… I want to wake up in my room and know that this was all just a terrible nightmare! I want to go home."

The other boy reached around and pat Ben's farthest shoulder. "I know buddy. I want to go home too. I want to go home too…"

Travis knew, however, in the darkest corner of his mind, that going home wasn't option.

Next chapter: Travis clamped his hands over Ben's ears so he wouldn't have to hear the screams resonating from down below.

Another Fantabulous Author's Note :3

Thanks for reading! And thanks for the all the reviews so far! You guys are awesome! ^_^ (huh, I get a lot of guest reviews... that's ok, every review is appreciated :D) OK, so... Carley is clearly missing Doug 0.0... How many of you didn't expect that from last chapter's preview? I surprised myself. It's going to affect Carley from now on, so it's not a 100% positive thing... Time skip next chapter.