A/N: Okay folks, I actually slept on this chapter rather than post it yesterday, because of Carol's section. She's putting herself directly in Gorman's path, and it should have all the warnings any Grady chapter should have about consent and sexual predators. If you're uncomfortable with that type of scene, skip to the end notes after Shane's scene in the middle for the summary.
The first time Beth wakes, it's to a raging headache she knows is from crying too much. That connection immediately reminds her of the grisly discoveries yesterday. She's also much too warm considering how chilly it was the nights before. It's dark in the bus's little bedroom, but her mind grasps that there's a well muscled arm around her.
She hasn't slept in the same bed as anyone since the ill-fated winter trek last year. Even then, she always shared with Sophia and Carol, sometimes Lori, too, when things got really cold. Compared to their sparse body heat, Shane is a furnace.
Wiggling enough to find the touch light, her fingertips cause the curtained bedroom area to be dimly lit. Shane doesn't stir, and exhaustion is still evident in his features even with so much hidden behind the thick beard. There's a vague memory of him crying along with her.
Her bladder reminds her why she probably woke, so she eases from under his arm and crawls to the foot of the bed. It's easier to climb over his legs without waking him. All the puppies scramble down after her, but Biscuit and Muffin stay. Her own urgent need taken care of, she peers out the windshield.
Just the windshield being uncovered told her they were somewhere secure. If they weren't, Shane would have shut the screens. He went over that routine with her quite clearly. Dim windows show it's sometime past daylight, and they're indoors, somehow, a garage or warehouse.
Feeling reasonably secure, she lets the puppies out to potty and disposes of the puppy pad they used sometime during the night. Back inside, she checks on Shane before setting a kettle to boil. They're both probably dehydrated as hell. The whistle of the kettle does wake him, so he's sitting up when she offers him a mug of peppermint tea, sitting down to drink her own.
"Thank you." He cups the mug for a moment, not looking up. "I hope it didn't bother you, me being in the bed."
Beth shakes her head before remembering he can't see it. "It was fine. Neither of us wanted to be alone last night." The metal rings slip and slide on her fingers, drawing his attention when he does look up.
"You need a chain for those," he says and surprises her by reaching to unfasten the heavy chain that suspends his 22 medallion against his chest. Slipping the chain free of the golden 22, he passes it to her.
Since even Maggie's ring is a loose fit on her largest finger, she strings them all on the chain and fastens it around her neck. Against her breastbone, she can feel the weight of four lost loved ones. Her breath stutters, and tears fall again. She finds herself drawn into a soothing embrace, and Shane's warmth is as comforting now as it was when she first woke.
There aren't enough tears left in her to cry for long, but she doesn't want to do anything beyond lie here with the one living person she has left. It doesn't take long before she's asleep again.
The second time Beth awakes, she's completely alone in the bed. There's a bottle of water and one of the coconut ration bars she likes best tucked next to her, and the bus is no longer indoors. Blinking at the bright sunlight, she munches the ration bar and finishes off the water bottle before venturing to see where she is.
In the distance, she can see water, and she almost thinks Shane took them back to the lake house until she realizes the house is different. It's bigger than the boat house, and much, much smaller than the main house that was crushed under the fallen oak. While nature is overgrowing things here, it's not as accomplished yet. The water is moving at a fair pace, so it's a river and not a lake.
Outside in a grassy area, Shane's throwing a tennis ball for Biscuit. It seems like it's the first time she hasn't seen him working in some capacity while awake. Sitting in the driver's seat, she watches for a few minutes as the puppies lay flopped around Muffin at his feet. She tries to imagine Judith in this scene, playing with her father and the dogs, and oh God, it hurts to know she's never going to see the baby ever again. Maybe even more than her sister or father or the others now torn from her forever.
Biting back a sound of distress, she takes a deep breath to steady herself and opens the doors to step outside in the chill air. October is finally giving up any claim to summer temperatures, it seems. "Where are we?" she asks Shane once she's close enough not to yell.
He pauses in throwing the ball, looking as haggard as she feels. "My old place in King County."
That lets curiosity push away grief, at least for the moment. The house is a small one, not a lot bigger than the boat house they stayed in. But it's well tended, aside from overgrown grass and shrubbery. Give it time, and it will probably fall into decay, but it was maintained enough before the outbreak to not look years abandoned yet.
"Are we staying here?" she asks. There's a fence, although not the sturdy ones of the lake houses. It's meant more to keep dogs in and set a boundary line, she thinks.
Shane shakes his head. "Not secure enough. I left some supplies here we could use, when I came through last year on my way south."
That reminds her of him saying he spent the winter at the beach. Rubbing her arms in the morning's chill, she thinks that sounds like a plan good enough ro repeat. Warmth and distance from the reality they'll never reunite with their families. "Can we go to the beach?"
He turns and looks at her, where she stands with her arms crossed for warmth. "Yeah. Maybe that's the best idea. I can teach you to sail."
"Really?" She's always loved the idea of sailing, but it's an expensive and frivolous hobby, so the closest she's come was going on a riverboat cruise with her parents last summer at Savannah.
"Sure, why not? Boat's safer anyway." Shane takes a deep breath and motions to the house. "Might as well load up what's there that we might need."
With the sense that Shane really doesn't want to go inside the house, Beth follows him anyway.
Shane isn't entirely sure why instinct led him back to King County yesterday. The boat house was closer to Terminus, but perhaps too close in his grief garbled mind. He wasn't lying when he said there were supplies here. Originally, he had intended to stay in his old house after he left the farm, but even his own home had too many memories of all things Grimes for his mind to settle.
"When I left last year, I only took what I could carry," he tells Beth when she looks around the living room and looks a little surprised at the fact that the dining area is completely covered in supplies. There's a table and chairs in there somewhere, his grandmother's antique passed down in her family from a European ancestor Jean Walsh probably remembered, but he doesn't.
"I'm guessing you were planning to stay."
"I thought about it. It was my grandmother's house." He'd inherited it when Jean died just months after he graduated from college. While he carefully packed away a lot of her things, like that spoon collection - one from every single state - and the massive collection of thimbles, of all things, he didn't change much else. It makes for an odd place for a bachelor, he knows, but then again, he never brought women back here. Not to Jean's home.
Beth isn't as interested in the supplies as in a bookshelf in the living room, and it doesn't surprise him that a female could spot family albums that quickly. He thinks maybe it's an instinct they're born with. She studies the framed photos that he's added to the shelves in front of books and albums, all candid ones added since Jean's death. The older ones are hung properly on the walls, but he never rearranged the massive family history used in lieu of decorations. Even his unlamented father's boyhood pictures are still where they hung when Jean was still alive.
When she picks one up, he steps close to see it's one from one of the department softball games against the local fire department. "You all look so young," Beth says softly.
"Twenty-five, I think. Me and Rick." His voice catches, and he has to clear his throat. "Lori was a few years younger, maybe twenty-one or two then. Carl…" Tapping the glass beside the boy, he manages a smile. "Three. Those stars and stripes cowboy boots were something I got him for Christmas that year. He wore them until they hurt his feet. Cried endlessly when his mama laid down the law that they were too small."
"Poor baby. I remember having a pair of pink cowboy boots I was in love with, too. Think I was a few years older." She glances up at him with a soft smile on her face. "Did you get him another pair?"
"Of course. 'Bout made his parents pull their hair out, because they thought they were garish, but I told them at least it wasn't light up shoes." It's interesting how a girl who's known him all of three days seems to clue in faster than people who knew him for years. Then again, he supposes Beth's never seen enough of his old world self to have any preconceived notions about him. She certainly doesn't seem offended that he was Judith's father.
Pushing away the surge of grief and anger that the baby's loss inspires, he points out other photos, giving her more tales about Carl. The boy was her friend, and he deserves to be remembered. When he reaches the last one, Beth is still holding the first photo and blinking away tears, but smiling at him even more sweetly than she started out doing.
"We should take these with us," she says. "In case we don't come back this way again."
The quiet assumption that she'll stay with him is both comforting and frightening. Shane hasn't been responsible for anyone other than himself and the dogs in so long that he's a little terrified of the idea that Beth is now his to look after. At the same time, who else does the girl have? Her entire family is gone, just like his, and he doesn't know of any community he considers safe enough to leave a teenage girl with no one as a guardian. The idea of not being alone except for the dogs? He's just selfish enough to like that idea, damn him.
"There's smaller prints in that photo box on the bottom shelf," he tells her, not letting on to any of his emotional conflict about her easy declaration of companionship. "These are enlargements from the originals."
When she sets the frame down carefully and looks for the box, Shane goes to check through the supplies. There's no way they can take most of them on the bus itself, but it does have a trailer hitch. They can always nab a cargo trailer from somewhere around and load everything up. He doesn't like the lessened maneuverability a trailer adds for road travel in general, but there's plenty of room on the boat he used last winter for this many supplies.
With this? They could stay on the water for months with the watermaker on most boats meant for venturing out into the ocean. He could probably set up a rainwater collection system, too, to spare that for bathing purposes. Best part is, Beth's not at risk while they collect supplies. She's obviously willing to learn anything he can teach her, and he intends to keep doing so, but why take risks they don't need to?
Being lost in thought means he's startled as hell when Beth's small hand lands on his bicep. She apologizes with a small smile, holding the whole box of loose photos. "I thought maybe we should just take the whole box."
"Alright." While he doesn't think he'll spend much time looking at the photos, not until he feels less like throwing up from the morass of grief settled in his gut, but he's lost people before. He knows eventually, he will want those reminders. His own smile is meant to reassure her and seems to do the job. "How about we go find a trailer to load this into? I've got a plan to propose for how we spend the winter months."
The shadows of grief retreat from her features at the idea of planning for something of a future, so he doesn't mind the way she cradles that box all the way back to the bus and stores it into the bag that has all the other mementos she's been collecting. All they have now is each other, and he promises the daughter he'll never meet that he'll look after the girl who looked after her when he didn't.
Carol's injuries are mild enough that she falls right into the work routine the morning after her arrival. The 'interview' with the bitch in charge of the place is a short one, with Lerner dismissing her like most professional women do. A former housewife just isn't worth her notice. It's also mostly beneath the notice of the problem cops mentioned by Noah.
She isn't young enough or pretty enough for that type of man, not at first glance. But she didn't share that part of her plan with Daryl, because he would have had a shit fit about her planning on getting close to the lead pervert himself. Half the prison thought they were a couple, an idea neither ever discouraged. It kept the young women from Woodbury from doing more than panting after Daryl from afar, and she's not met a man yet that she thinks is worth the bother of paying attention to. She has her little family within the larger family that Rick lays claim to.
Men like this are dangerous enough living in the same world as Sophia and Beth. Carl, too, because she's not stupid enough to think they would never prey on boys, too, just because they didn't bother Noah. And her Beth is somewhere here, in the same building as those monsters. The girl may be a legal adult, not even a teenager anymore, but she's Carol's the same way Carl is. She takes her promises to their dead parents seriously.
"Hey, housekeeper!"
Reminding herself to stay meek and unthreatening, Carol turns, plastering a simple and pleasant expression across her features that was a second nature when Ed was cranky but not yet drunk or violent. "Can I help you?"
The name on his uniform identifies the man as Gorman himself, and she memorizes the look of him. He's freshly showered, obviously getting ready for his duty shift, and still tightening the utility belt that holds his gun and other cop paraphernalia. No one had specified where she had to start cleaning, so she started on the corridor the officers all live on after hearing from one of the other wards that Gorman was off duty.
"Yeah, you can." His gaze sweeps over her dismissively for the most part. "Bedroom needs thorough cleaning. Fresh sheets, especially."
"No problem. I'll get right to it so it's ready when you come home."
Apparently he likes her easy willingness, because he actually holds the door for her to push her cart into the room. Making her brush against his larger form is such an obvious intimidation tactic and test that she isn't surprised when he stops her so he can step even closer. Maybe Noah thinks the man prefers young women, but Carol knows exactly what this man's type is.
Submissive.
Youth may make that easier, but she's got fifteen years of practice in being exactly the kind of prey a man like this likes. When he deliberately presses himself against her hip, she looks down to hide that she isn't blushing like she ought to as one of his hands slips under the loose scrub top she's wearing. They hadn't issued her a bra with the scrubs, and hers had been cut away to treat her dislocated shoulder in a move that makes her think that doctor is more stupid than she initially estimated.
So this asshole now has a firm grip on her left breast. It's not a painful one, more as if he's assessing her worth as he massages it lightly. Fluttering her lashes, she peeks up at him and catches the smirk that spreads over his features. He leans in, breath tickling her ear as he speaks softly. "Not as old as you look, are you?"
Swallowing slowly, she shakes her head as he continues to explore under her top. "Starting going gray in college. Dye just wasn't a priority out there."
"Maybe we could do something about that, if you're sweet enough to me." His free hand slides through her short locks. "What color was it?"
Naturally, her hair had been a brown sort of in between Sophia's honey blonde and a true brown, but Ed always made her color it a rich auburn back when he could be bothered to care about her looks. Knowing the lure that shade has for many men, she smiles shyly. "Auburn."
"Like Isla Fisher. Nice." His hand finally drops away from her chest. "Do a good job for me, and we'll see about a present, alright?"
Nodding and keeping her expression perfectly grateful, she offers the asshole a sweet smile. "I will."
Content with her behavior and agreement, Gorman strides off without a backward glance. Carol finishes pushing the cart into his room and lets the old ghost of herself fall away like the dirty cloak it is and straightens to her full height. She has at least eight hours before the man will be back, because he does actually take his duties seriously in order not to risk Lerner yanking his 'special privileges'.
The room is a large one, not originally a patient's room like the wards are bunked in. The officers have converted work spaces into larger quarters, with actual beds. It's more apartment than spartan hospital room. Based on the stink of sex in the place, Gorman's activities off duty were very clear. Reminding herself that the tired and defeated woman she ate breakfast in said his current favorite is a young woman named Joan, she hopes he doesn't cross paths with Beth before Carol finds her.
Her new breakfast friend did confirm Noah's information that there was a new blonde here, but she's been working with Bob Lamson, a choice job for any of the women. Lamson may live among the dirty cops without stopping them, but personally, the ward assigned to him really is just his housekeeper. He's also particularly protective of anyone who directly works for him. No one will touch the girl as long as she works for him.
The other woman, who gave her name as Marcia, sighed quietly at that. "It's a spartan life, working for one of the good officers. Sometimes, they see the extra privileges the girls that go to Gorman's men get. It's a big temptation, thinking sex isn't such a bad exchange for a few extra luxuries." It sounded like Marcia spoke from experience, but Carol didn't dig deeper. She had what she needed, and since Gorman's days are numbered, she's just got to be careful, since he's probably far smarter than Ed ever was.
Carol told Daryl to give her three days to investigate before infiltrating the hospital somehow, leaving that part of the plan to him and the others. Beth isn't the only person who needs rescuing here, and she vowed to never leave women in the situation she spent so many years in.
It's time to get to work.
A/N: For those who skipped part three, Carol sets herself up to seduce Gorman to get close enough to take down the dirty cops and spare the wards. It isn't a plan she shared with Daryl, so there will probably be some consequences later, even though they aren't a couple here, nor intended to become one. He still isn't going to like her doing something like this.
This was supposed to end the Grady arc, in my original outline, but instead, there will be at least one more chapter. Maybe two, since I figure y'all don't want a chapter entirely devoid of Shane and Beth's continuing adventure... especially for her finally convincing him she's not sixteen (although not in the light of romance yet, just proving she's not a "kid"). o.O
If you want a preview for our little duo's winter plans, go to gonewiththewynns dot com (changing the dot com to the correct URL format, of course) and click on "about our sailboat). I'm honestly torn on whether they'll stay on the boat or return to the turtle bus for the eventual Virginia trip. Since GPS satellites would run for probably a decade after humans stopped maintaining them (and remain fairly accurate at this stage), they will travel pretty far at sea.