Beth slams Maggie's door open, not caring about the lecture she's going to get from her father and Patricia both. Her sister is actually startled, jumping from where she was reading in bed. Noelle yelps at the noise, the merle Australian Shepherd hiding under the bed as if Beth's angry at her, like she would ever be angry at Maggie's poor dog for simply being Maggie's dog.
"I guess you're happy with yourself," she shouts at Maggie.
"I'm not sure what you mean." The genuinely puzzled expression on her sister's face just makes Beth angrier.
"Shane asked Daddy what the risks are for him to leave in a few days. They're doing another x-ray to check for bone fragments, right now."
Maggie shuts her book and gets out of bed, wearing those stupid college logo pajamas. "We don't need strangers here, Beth. It's too risky." She glances toward the open door, keeping her voice soft and calm, like Beth is six and not sixteen.
"Risky how? It's not like they came looking for us. They're regular people, just survivors like us."
"They aren't like us, Bethie. Not like you."
Beth crosses her arms and glares. "How do you know? Daddy thinks it's in my blood, and he got a lot of it."
"Blood transfusions don't work like that. His body will recycle it all away within a few months. Only a bone marrow transplant would change anything. Word gets out, Beth, there are people who might try that."
"Scientists, maybe. But there's not many of those left around here, Maggie. You've been too stuck up to ask, but I did. Even the CDC is gone."
Maggie's angry now. She never likes Beth accusing her of being stuck up, but since she went off to college, that's exactly what her older sister became. Shawn never went, not after his troubles, and being older means Maggie does everything before Beth. It wouldn't have mattered if Beth went to college, because Maggie did it first.
"It was his idea to ask Jimmy to leave when they do. I just encouraged the idea."
"Well, however you did it, it's convinced him we're bad people. He told Daddy as much, that he doesn't consider this a safe place for the people he's responsible for when we can't even be dedicated to our own responsibilities."
"I didn't mean for them to leave right away."
Beth huffs at her. "Would you stay if you didn't feel safe?" Not that she feels safe here most days anymore. What if Otis gets bitten capturing those walkers? Shawn died trying to restrain Beth's mama, and Annette was a tiny woman. She can't imagine them trying to restrain Otis. They would all die, and if Beth's the only one immune, she's either alone or eaten. "We're safer with them here, not the other way around."
Maggie doesn't seem convinced, so Beth just leaves, making her way downstairs and outside. No one tries to stop her, so she makes it all the way to the barn, Julliard on her heels. The dog guards the ladder as she scrambles up, and it is the work of moments to retrieve her notebook for Shawn. She isn't ready to share the one of her mother.
"Beth? You shouldn't be wandering after dark."
She freezes, hearing Glenn's voice. The young Korean is normally friendly and nice, but he's at the top of the ladder and moving closer. Distracting him is probably possible, but Beth hesitates and then it is too late.
"Beth?" Glenn sounds strangled. "What's going on here?"
She doesn't even consider asking him not to tell, because she was already intending to tell Shane. The thought had occurred to her earlier, and if they're rushing to leave, she needs to know more. Glenn listens to her explanation, looking uneasy and sympathetic both as he stares down into the stalls below.
"Daddy thinks they can be cured," she finishes. "He won't like me telling anyone."
"We need to tell Shane and Rick." Glenn pats her shoulder awkwardly, still looking down at what used to be Beth's brother.
"I know." She shuffles her notebook against her chest. "I needed this to show them."
Glenn doesn't lead her to the house, but down to the campfire where all his group are gathered. They obviously know about Shane's wish to leave. She isn't shocked to see that Jimmy is sitting between Carol and Carl, with a bowl of something in his hands. His battered old duffel bag is nearby, and she's glad for him, she really is.
It still sends a surge of guilt through her. If she hadn't complained about Jimmy, maybe nothing would have upset the truce until Shane was healthier. She's seen his pain when the meds wear off. How is he going to travel, especially out there where it's dangerous? He can't even use both arms!
Glenn ushers her to a seat, shifting uneasily as everyone stares at them both. Rick and Shane aren't back yet, but something has to be said to explain why she's here. "Beth knows why they don't want us here. She wants our help."
It's not the whole truth of why Maggie wants them gone, Beth knows, because she thinks her sister wants the walkers out of the barn as much as Beth does. But the other secret, the one everyone is so anxious to protect? She doesn't have to tell them everything. This one thing is enough to see if they're willing to help.
Dale pats a chair next to him, giving her a kindly smile. "Why don't you have a seat until Rick and Shane come back, so you only have to tell your story once?"
Thanking him, Beth sits down in the camp chair, hugging the notebook to her chest. Jimmy meets her gaze, looking toward the barn. That much, Jimmy knows, because hiding the walkers in the barn is next to impossible. He didn't know about her observations or what happened to her. She nods, and Jimmy heaves a sigh of relief. He hadn't told the secret of the barn yet then.
Shane ought not be surprised when he sees that Beth is perched among his own people, and his heart goes out to the girl. While leaving seems safer for his own people, and definitely better for Jimmy in general not to be the tolerated outsider, poor Beth is going to end up even more isolated. She seems damned fidgety, squirming in her seat once he and Rick return.
"Something wrong, Bethie?" he asks, looking around the group. Most just seem curious, but there's something in both Jimmy and Glenn's expression that tells him they know more - and Glenn looks uneasy in a way that Shane doesn't like at all from the brash young Korean.
"I need to show you something." He goes to her, taking the chair that Dale offers, even as Beth passes him the little composition notebook she's been clutching.
Opening it, his blood goes cold at the Polaroid taped to the first page, below a careful explanation of the death of a young man named Shawn. It's so eerily close to the time with Jenner that he has to suppress an actual shudder at the thought. Turning the page, there's a weekly timeline of observations, with the walker slowly showing deterioration at the snail pace slow rate the virus seems to protect them with.
"Beth, please tell me you're doing this safely?" he manages, voice rough with the mere idea of delicate teenage Beth this near a walker. It seems to be contained somehow, and the photo angles are from above.
When he looks up, Beth and the two young men are all staring at the barn. She looks back at Shane and nods. "They're in the barn."
"They?" His voice breaks like a damned overexcited teenager at the idea of multiple walkers, and in a barn within sight of his own people and their flimsy tents.
She looks so guilty he reaches out and takes her hand, letting Rick snag the notebook. HIs brother thumbs through the pages, expression growing more and more horror struck with each one.
"My mama, my brother, a bunch of neighbors." She pauses, seeming to be doing a mental talley. "About a dozen, all in all. Each in a barn stall, chained up, and the barn's chained, too."
"Why?" It's Lori who asks, tugging Carl in close like the boy's a toddler. "Why keep walkers locked up?"
"Daddy thinks they're just sick, and they can be cured." Beth grips his hand hard, grief evident in her voice. "Maybe once they could be, but now, it seems cruel. Some of them have parts missing. And my mama and Shawn? They're starting to lose hair and stuff. It's probably not that long until they start losing parts of themselves, too."
"Like leprosy or syphilis," Dale says, voice hushed unusually for him. "Your father thinks it's something like that, doesn't he?"
Beth nods, since leprosy is something her father's mentioned. The other being a sexually transmitted disease is probably why he didn't take note of it. When Beth researched leprosy, as best as she could from the veterinary books that had tidbits because of armadillos, she wondered how long her father thought walkers could go untreated.
"Jesus Christ," Rick grinds out, looking sickened and angry. "It seemed weird that a veterinarian had so many other supplies, but no antibiotics."
Shane makes the connection, too. "Beth? Did they ever try to treat your mother or brother with anything?"
She shakes her head, blond hair swooping along her shoulders. "Not that I saw, but I didn't go to the barn right away. Daddy did go in there a while, when Shawn was dying. Mama died first, and she bit Shawn when he kept her away from me." There's a hiccupping sound where Shane realizes the girl is trying not to cry, and he says to hell with being a near stranger and slides his good arm across her thin shoulders. She leans into him easily.
Jimmy shifts uneasily, looking at Beth. "I found some packaging thrown away once, in a burn barrel. Otis told me to ignore it and not tell anyone I saw it."
Taking a deep breath, Shane considers the issue. They were getting ready to leave, and Beth knew it, so she's spilling this secret for a reason. "Beth? What are you wanting us to do?"
"I want to know if they can get better," she says softly. "Because if they can't, I don't want to see my mama just lose parts of herself locked in a barn stall."
Shane exchanges a look with Rick, who sighs. The other adults look equally weary of what he's about to tell the girl. "We went by the CDC in Atlanta. The last scientist still working there says there's nothing there, even if they had a cure, it's too late for the ones already that far gone."
"You're sure?" she asks, her expression turning resolute enough that he finally sees some resemblance of Beth and her sister. "Absolutely sure?"
"Yeah, sweetheart. He showed us a recording of an MRI of someone's brain, both before they die of the illness and after the virus reactivates their brain. Everything was gone, after. Only the parts of the brain needed for basic functions."
"Like being brain dead."
She's picking up on it almost faster than Shane did, with Jenner's deliberate grandstanding on how he shared the information. "Exactly like that."
"I need someone to tell my sister they can't get better. She needs to understand it's cruel to keep them locked up like that, instead of letting them lay to rest like they should have been. It's not safe for Otis to be finding them and locking them up, either. He shouldn't have to die to make us feel better."
"Alright." Arguing with Maggie Greene seems to be a talent of his, so what's one more thing to tackle? Beth's right that if Otis is capturing loose walkers, the big man is at a huge risk of being bitten, and the idea of someone that size dead and walking is a little terrifying even to Shane, and he's at least in the man's size range. Beth or Jimmy wouldn't stand a chance.
He has to let her go to take the notebook Rick offers. "Want me to go with you?" his brother asks.
"Nah. Think if both of us show up, it's like the cops knocking on your door when you're trying to hide the drug stash instead of flushing it."
That draws laughs from several around their campfire, although it's an uneasy reaction. Shane suspects if they can't settle this with Hershel, they may be headed off the farm by morning. He'll have to ask Dale about Lori, Carol, and the kids sleeping inside the RV tonight. No sense taking chances with the kids, and while Lori could fight if she needed to, he has no idea if Carol could find the strength of will for it.
Beth trails behind him, a bit like a lost puppy, so he pauses at the porch. "You want to keep the notebook?" he asks her. "Plenty of ways for us to find out that don't involve you."
She squares her shoulders and juts her chin out. "I'm not hiding what I was doing anymore. Maybe it'll help, if he sees what's happening. He doesn't go in the barn, just Otis with new ones and Patricia to feed them chickens."
That explains the stained clothing in the photos, Shane supposes. The idea that only the hired help is taking the risks pisses him off, and he has to bite down on his own temper. Just because Beth's not seen her father in the barn, doesn't mean he doesn't go there. Hershel obviously doesn't know his daughter observes the captives from the hayloft. It would be equally easy for the girl to miss her father's attempts to cure the walkers.
"Let's go see what we can get done then." He doesn't knock like he should, not with Beth right on his heels. For all her bravado, the teenager is half hidden behind him when he steps into the dining room where Hershel, Maggie, Otis, and Patricia are sitting down to supper. They obviously expect the girl, because her place is set where she usually eats. He's been eating meals with them, but the tense earlier exam and discussion led to him stating he would be moving down to his people's camp permanently.
"Deputy Walsh, is there a problem?" Hershel asks, getting to his feet. It's old school manners that still linger in the older man, and Shane hopes those manners hold better than Maggie's do.
Shane feels Beth's fingers twist into the back of his shirt, so he nods and offers the notebook to the veterinarian. "Beth came to ask me what we knew of any possibility of the dead being cured."
Hershel's look is sharp, but the ire is directed at Shane, not Beth. He opens the notebook and pales so quickly that Shane worries for him for a moment. Like Rick, the man turns the pages without comment, looking more and more unsettled with each page. Finally, he looks up, and this time his focus is on his daughter, not Shane. "Bethie? Have you been doing this all by yourself?"
The girl moves to where she can see her father better, but nods. "I wanted to know, and no one would tell me anything. I'm not a little kid, Daddy. Haven't been since Mama got sick."
There's a dull thud as Hershel sinks into his chair, the notebook dropping to the table. Maggie reaches out and claims in, looking through it even as Hershel starts weeping softly. Beth lets go of Shane's shirt with a soft cry, going to fling her arms around her father. "I'm sorry, Daddy."
To his credit, Hershel pulls Beth close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'm the one who should be sorry, sweetheart, not you."
Maggie looks equally disturbed now, and Patricia looks puzzled, but Otis looks… guilty. Shane wonders if the farm hand knew what Beth was doing and kept the girl's secret the same as he's been keeping Hershel's. He chooses not to remark on it, but instead, he pulls out the empty chair closest to Hershel and sits down. When the veterinarian meets his eyes, he explains their time in the CDC in more detail than he'd given Beth.
Hershel's quiet for a long time after he finishes, and even Maggie is surprisingly quiet. "So there's no hope at all, for the ones already infected and gone."
"None. I'm no scientist, Hershel, but Jenner was. That MRI was about as graphic as it can get."
"And the only ones close to a cure for the rest of us, all infected no matter what we do, were scientists in France."
Shane figures the odds of a cure crossing the Atlantic at this point, if those scientists survived past the communications failure Jenner reported, are about on a level of him swimming over there. Europe went down as hard and fast as the United States did, maybe faster, because they were smaller countries. "That's what Jenner believed. It's possible there's other labs, since the CDC isn't the only research lab in the area, and surely the government had a setup somewhere else in case Atlanta fell, but there's no guarantee."
"We're truly on our own," Maggie states, closing the notebook.
"Based on the military's attacks on civilians, yeah, I think we are," Shane tells her. She looks up from contemplation of the dinner table and studies him, looking closer to the truce bearer on the porch than the prickly woman he's gotten used to.
"We shouldn't prolong their suffering, Daddy," Beth says. "Or risking Otis."
At the reminder of the danger to his employee, Hershel meets the man's gaze. "What do you think of all this?" he asks Otis.
Otis twists his cloth napkin uneasily, looking from Beth to Hershel to Shane himself. "I think Beth's got the right idea. You haven't seen how bad some of them are, Hershel. There've been ones I gave mercy to instead of bringing them back."
Hershel is lost in thought for a moment longer, patting Beth's arms where she's got them around his shoulders still. "May the Lord give me strength," he says, head bowed. "Will you go with me?"
The question is directed at Otis, made obvious when Hershel looks up to meet the other man's steady gaze. "Of course."
The cryptic question is made clear when Hershel gently detangles himself from his youngest daughter and passes her to Maggie. "Look after your sister for a while, Maggie."
The older Greene sister looks stricken, but nods. Hershel moves like a man even older than he already is, heading for the door. Shane and Otis follow, leaving the ladies behind. "Dr. Greene, if you need any help," Shane begins, understanding that Hershel intends to end what he began in the barn.
He's cut off by a haggard look from Hershel. "It's destroying the brainstem that ends their suffering right?"
"Any major damage to the head seems to be effective," Shane admits. Why that works, when the brainstem is obviously in charge, he doesn't know, but it does, thank God. He doesn't want to think of the accuracy required to hit the brainstem itself.
"Thank you. Otis and I should be just fine."
Shane can't help following, though, and neither man turns him aside. Hershel shows some knowledge of noise being risky, because after he unlocks the padlock on the front of the barn, the older man goes to fetch a pitchfork from where it's hung near the door. Otis pulls out his own keys, and the two men work in tandem, Otis unlocking the padlocks on each stall, and Hershel stepping inside. The man's grunt of exertion followed by each meaty thud tells Shane when the walkers go down.
It's not until the end, when the veterinarian only has two stalls to go, that there's any hesitation or speech. As Otis opens each of those stalls, Shane hears the man pray for forgiveness, even as he follows through. Hershel's sobbing at the end, leaning on the pitchfork, and when Otis motions for Shane to leave the barn he does.
Hershel's grief isn't something that needs any more audience than Otis standing there with a comforting hand on his shoulder. Instead, feeling like he did every time he had to do a death notification to a family as a deputy, Shane approaches the farm house. He take that much burden away.
A/N: In so many of my stories, the walkers are put down by Shane's group, Maggie, Beth, etc. It was time for Hershel to take charge for once.
The emotional fallout from clearing the barn will be next chapter, and eventually, we'll see Eugene pop up again.
