July 17, 2010
It's two hours past dawn when Shane meets back up with Rick. Since they are leaving anyway, the walkers were dragged to a general pile near what used to be Ed's campsite.
Now everyone is striking camp, at least those whose tents survived. Rick surveys the mess that was a decent tent and laughs.
"Keep it up, man. Revenge will be sweet." It only makes Rick laugh harder.
By carefully rolling back the gore covered panel he's cut free with his pocket knife, he's hoping to not get all his belongings covered in walker muck.
"Do we actually have any spare tents?"
"Not that I know of. I can probably bunk with T-Dog and Glenn if we need to make camp anywhere."
"Or you can bunk with Daryl. More room that way. The boys can bunk with Merle." Quinn stops next to Rick to look over the remains of Shane's tent. "Damn. I knew it got hit, but it looks like a Tarantino movie."
Shane pauses to think that offer over. It's true that the Dixon tents are larger ones, so going three to a tent is easier than him trying it in the smaller four-person tent with him and T-Dog already being on the bulkier side. "If that would be okay with Daryl."
Daryl, he could probably handle for a few hours sleep in a small space. She could have suggested Merle.
"He won't care. Probably be glad to be away from Merle for a few nights."
No one's banking on a trip that used to take less than half a day being that short now. The fastest routes are more likely to be the most crowded. It could take days or even weeks to reach the Columbus area.
His air mattress did not survive the bullet that splattered one of the walkers. The sheets will be fine, although aerated now, and it's been too hot to unroll his sleeping bag. He salvages what he can and loads it in his Jeep with Rick's help.
The Grimes' gear is all in Ed's Cherokee, after Carol stripped the man of his keys and what supplies survived his well-deserved death. Shane knows she traded the man's rifle and ammo to T-Dog for the shotgun he was issued from Rick's bag. He guesses he doesn't blame her for not wanting the gun.
He pauses for a drink and reviews the vehicles leaving camp. Dale's RV, the Morales' Suzuki, the newly owned Grimes' Cherokee, his Jeep, Daryl's Ford truck, Merle's Triumph, and Quinn's Ford Expedition.
"You're studying the vehicles awfully hard," Quinn says, walking up with a couple jugs of water. He takes them and puts them in the back of his Jeep. Spreading out essential supplies is something everyone agreed with.
"Wondering if leaving T-Dog's van is going to make seating a bit crowded." Leaving the church van is almost a necessity though, because it's even less mechanically sound than Dale's ancient RV.
Quinn studies the vehicles and does the same math he did. Technically, her SUV seats eight, but she's got the back packed with supplies, as well as gear and tents strapped to the top. The loaded gear in Shane's Jeep reduces capacity to him and a passenger.
"We'll all fit for now. The problem will be if the damned RV breaks down and we can't fix it."
Shane agrees. Right now, even putting a passenger on the bike with Merle, they'll be three seats short.
It's Glenn that poses the solution when he comes to slide his backpack in Shane's Jeep, apparently volunteering to ride with Shane versus Dale. "We could stop by that U-Haul place and hook up the tow trailers to everything with hitches. That'll free up five spots."
Solution found, Shane summons the drivers while T-Dog and Glenn do one last round of camp to make sure nothing irreplaceable is being left behind. He relays the extra stop suggestion and everyone agrees.
It doesn't hurt that it means more chances to gather supplies, with four vehicles towing trailers. They pull out of the quarry before noon and make the shift in gear at the U-Haul place. Merle spearheads draining the gas out of the remaining U-Haul trucks, which tops off everyone's tanks, plus putting some spare supply in the gas cans.
By two in the afternoon, they're headed southwest on Highway 70.
It's a fairly quiet drive, since Glenn seems more interested in memorizing the maps in the big atlas he's been entrusted with than talking. It might be the first road trip Shane's ever been on with women and children involved where there wasn't a demand for a bathroom break every hour.
The roads aren't clear, by any means. But they're passable, even when speed slows to a snail's pace. Shane's primary view is Merle's back on the Triumph, as the big redneck uses the motorcycle to navigate any jams. Twice he summons Shane and Glenn to help him move a vehicle that narrows the gaps too much for the larger vehicles to pass.
Then just south of Campbellton, Highway 70 becomes impassible. The crash and subsequent burning of a semi-truck to a pile of twisted slag blocks the curve in the highway, which is no more than a country road at this point. If it were just the more rugged vehicles, like Shane's Jeep, they might risk removing the curve warning signs and edging into the woods, but the RV isn't going to fit. No sense risking the tires on the others, either.
The impromptu meeting of drivers gathers next to the Cherokee, with Glenn joining with the atlas. The rest of the group scrambles for the treeline, so Shane thinks bladders must have held out long enough. Since there are several armed and capable among them, he focuses on the meeting he's in.
"If we go back to where we turned right, by that little tree farm, we can go south on 154 to Palmetto. If 29 is clear after Palmetto, that's where we want to be anyway," the young Korean explains.
They want to stick to 29, if they can, because it swings closest to the lake Quinn mentioned as a destination. No one wants to take the whole group all the way to Columbus without a guarantee.
Daryl and Rick both take a look at the route Glenn's suggesting and nod. Rick looks at Dale. "Think you can reverse that RV back to that last road we passed? Too narrow to safely turn it around here."
"Shouldn't be a problem. At least I don't have to worry about traffic coming up on me these days."
Daryl shifts his feet and clears his throat. "Maybe we just turn down that road? It's a loop, cos I saw the same signs back when we first hit the highway. Getting towards dark, and they don't usually name roads after lakes if there's not a water source. Ain't that far from the Chattahoochee either way."
Shane mulls that over. They've got water, but probably only two, maybe three, days worth with the size of this group. Any time spent near water sources is a good thing. He agrees when the rest do, moving back to his Jeep. Merle rumbles by on the Triumph, passing the slowly reversing RV while the rest of them make the tight turns to return the way they came.
The road is narrow, barely paved, and almost makes Shane wish he argued for the main highway instead. But then they leave the trees and to their right is a massive stone and wood structure that makes him think of a castle more than a residence. It even has a clock tower.
Merle drops back to the driver's side of the Jeep, dropping one booted foot to the ground and signaling the rest of the caravan to stop. "Gonna head up there solo and see what that is."
Without waiting for agreement, he disappears up the driveway, circling the building. Shane's radio crackles with Rick's voice. "What the hell is that thing?"
"Dunno," Shane replies. "Just hope it's not full of walkers, cos Merle's opening a door."
Whatever the big man's found, he finds it funny because he's laughing his ass off when the motorcycle pulls back alongside the Jeep.
"It's a damned horse barn. Horses here must've lived better than most people. Might be a good shelter for the night if we clear it. Didn't hear any movement, but wasn't going in alone."
Shane relays the message, and when no one objects over the radio, Merle takes his bike back up the driveway, with the caravan following him this time. They all park behind the barn and organize to enter it.
"Dale? You and Micah stand watch out here?" Shane asks. From their stance, all three adult Dixons are going in as part of the clearing team. He's still not entirely sure on how capable T-Dog and Glenn are with the weapons they've been given. "Me, Rick, and the Dixons should be enough to check things out."
Five really should be plenty, because if this place was full of the dead, they would know it by now. A larger group would actually end up more dangerous. Leaving Jim and Jacqui with the Cherokee they've been riding in with the Grimes' family keeps Lori and Carl safe.
By the time they've walked the expanse of the barn and checked all the horse stalls, Shane has to agree with Merle. Damned horses really did live better than people here. Either way, the doors can be secured and it may not be a bed and breakfast, but it's also not a tent outdoors.
Once they've relayed the news and their people are unloading, Daryl unhooks the trailer from his truck and offloads what remains in the truck bed to the trailer. "Gonna go look for the lake."
Merle frowns. "Take Micah or Jesse with you."
It ends up being both teenagers who pile back into the Ford with Daryl and drive off.
Carl eyes the barn with a little apprehension. "There weren't any animals in there, were there?"
Rick throws an arm around the boy's shoulders. "Not a one. I'm guessing there either weren't horses here at the time or the owners evacuated them."
Considering anyone with this kind of money could afford to evacuate horses, Shane thinks, he figures Rick's right on that. Quinn's circled the outside of the building with Merle and returns as Rick is reassuring Carl.
"I think it's more of an event venue," she says. "Bunch of equipment down in the distance that looks like for equestrian competition."
That would explain the upscaled barn, if it's not an average, everyday use structure.
"Their luxury is to our benefit, at least," Shane says. "Just think, Carl, you get to sleep in a horse stall tonight."
Lori's venturing inside with Andrea and Amy, and he can hear them comment about how pretty the place is. At least it means she's not arguing with him being within speaking distance of the boy for once.
"Alright. Guess we need to offload some things, depending on what Daryl finds." Merle levels that challenging look at Shane and Rick, as if he expects them to argue, but when they just nod in agreement, he rolls his eyes and heads for the Expedition.
"I'll stick by the radio," Glenn volunteers.
Everyone else goe to follow Merle's suggestion, and by the time Daryl returns with the teenagers, two rabbits, and enough squirrels to feed the whole group, folks are set up for the night.
Shane's just a little bit grateful not to be sharing sleeping space with the man. He's quieter than Merle, always has been, but he doesn't miss a damn thing. Daryl's gaze slides between Shane and the Grimes couple with all the anticipation of a man watching a dynamite fuse burn down.
The former deputy wishes Daryl's watchfulness wasn't legitimate. It's just a matter of time before someone spills the beans to Rick, and he uneasily thinks he owes it to his best friend to be the one to do it. He knows Lori won't, too busy trying to grasp the fantasy that it never happened and he lured her astray, but the longer he waits, the worse it's going to be for Rick.
The brunette is sticking to Rick's side like glue though, so he suspects she knows he's wanting to confess their sins. Starting that conversation with Carl anywhere near is not happening, so he retires after supper to the stall he selected as his own.
He's dozing already, anticipating his watch shift starting at midnight, when the stall door swings open. It's dark and he reaches out to turn on the camping lantern, curious and wary about who's approaching.
He can't exactly mistake Lori's form in the dim light. Lord knows he's seen and felt enough of it to probably recognize her in the dark. She kneels beside the sleeping bag, one hand pressed against his mouth.
"You can't tell Rick, Shane. You cannot ruin my marriage," she hisses once she sees he's awake and not fighting her impromptu silencing.
Shane just lies there until she removes her hand to allow him to respond. He hates the reaction his body still has to her touching him like that, still trained to them both trying to keep the other quiet in their interludes. She flushes a deep red, obviously making the same connection he has about the hand over his mouth.
"Lori, you think him finding out some other way's going to be better?" If the roles were reversed, he sure as hell wouldn't want to find out from someone else. "If you think half the damn camp doesn't know what we got up to, you're living in a fantasy world."
"You told me my husband was dead!" she hisses.
He tries to sit up on his sleeping bag, tired of this accusation already. But she's too close and he doesn't entirely trust himself where she's concerned, not when he reacts to her touch like he's been her lover for years and not weeks.
"I thought he was dead. They were slaughtering patients in the hallways. There were no doctors. He was hooked up to machines and I had no idea how to get him out of that place."
He thinks of the desperation he felt, when the power cut off and all the machines keeping his brother alive died with it. His ear against Rick's chest, listening for a heartbeat that never came. His fingers feeling for a pulse that was not there.
All he could think about in that moment of overwhelming grief was that he had to save all that was left of Rick in the world.
"If you thought for just one second Rick was still alive, would you have come?"
Lori shakes her head.
"If I could have traded places with him, I would have. I swear to God, I would have, from the day he got shot, I would have traded places."
"Seems like you did just that. Soon as you thought he was gone, you moved into his place. With me. With Carl." The venom in her voice burns like acid along the mess of conflicting emotions he's been having about the whole fucked up situation.
"Lori, you cannot lay all the blame for what we did at my feet."
He loves her, as best as he's ever been able to love a woman, but the look on her face is shredding that desperate, lonely affection to nothing. He thought she at least cared for him, but the truth of it shows right now, in the disgust she is viewing him with.
"I will blame you til the end of fucking time, if I want to, Shane. You stay away from my family, and don't you dare tell Rick."
She emphasizes the demand with a thump of her palm dead center of his bare chest. He flinches from the blow.
"I'm gonna tell Rick." He loves Lori, but he loves Rick more.
He really should have expected the impact of the slap to his face, when she's already volatile. But he doesn't, so he can only prevent a second blow by catching her wrist. It's hard enough to bruise, he thinks belatedly, but she's strong as a wildcat when she's riled up.
"I think you're mighty intent on spending time with the wrong man, queen bee, if you're protesting your innocence so much."
Merle Dixon's voice from behind her drains every last ounce of fight out of Lori, replacing it with horror. She yanks her wrist away from Shane, and he lets her go.
Merle doesn't step aside from the stall opening when she tries to stalk past him, so she has to actually brush against the big redneck. She pushes past with a frantic little noise and disappears.
He watches her go before turning that critical, intelligent blue gaze back to Shane. He isn't looking at the white trash act the man puts up at this moment in the darkened barn. Shane thinks he's probably seeing the man that Quinn values enough to save that she would have put a bullet through Rick's head without a second thought.
"Best get your conscience cleared sooner than later, boy, or you're going to live to regret it."
The older man doesn't wait for a reply, but his footsteps don't go far. Shane thinks he's probably bedded down in one of the neighboring stalls.
Sleep stays elusive until he's called for watch.
A/N: I don't think anyone who has read my works (and any comments on Ao3 or discussed this subject with me via PM here on FFnet) would be surprised at the depths of disgusted hatred I have for the CDC attempted rape scene. While they fog it up with the influence of alcohol, the scene doesn't fit where Shane's character is at that point. It's sloppy and has all the complexity of writing "VILLAIN" on his forehead with a magic marker. Placed in season two, after he's begun the descent into madness and feels he's losing everything after the baby reveal, the scene would fit, even as pro-Shane as I am. But not where it is.
So, this is my take on that particular confrontation, without the alcohol.
Lori isn't a villain either, so if you've read RBM, you'll know that I actually enjoy writing her POV. But she's a stubborn, often ungrateful wretch at this point in time, and I don't want to shy away from that stage of her development either.
Note about the property they're on. I didn't start out to use the location - being completely unaware of it while I was playing with Google Maps to find a likely place for a roadblock that would put them somewhere for the night. Out of sheer freaking luck, the sharp curve in Highway 70 that suited a truck crash is right outside an 8,000 acre property owned by a former Olympian where an equestrian event venue was built in January-March 2010. If you've seen Avengers: Endgame, it's also the site of Tony Stark's cabin. It's also the site of the TomorrowLand music festival, but that didn't start til 2013. Yay, Google. :)
I take artistic liberty in any interior of the big barn, since most of the photography of this gorgeous property features the other buildings, not the massive castle of a main barn.