August 2, 2010
As Shane expected, Quinn agreed with the idea of checking in on the Greene Farm. She even went one further and suggested they seek out Rick's helper back in King County. Knowing there was another kid out there with a solo adult for protection didn't sit well with her.
King County proved the easy part of the trip. Morgan Jones still hadn't managed his final task as Jenny's husband. It doesn't surprise Shane, since he doesn't think he could put down a loved one, either.
What does surprise Shane is that the man listened to Quinn's request that he allow someone else to lay Jenny Jones to rest. She doesn't use a gun, avoiding the destructive damage that probably intimidated Morgan. Instead, as Merle coolly distracts the walker woman, she slips behind her and punches a knife into the base of her skull.
He hates Quinn stepping that close, but once she made the promise, he knew better than arguing. Instead, he helps dig a grave among the pretty flowers of the once manicured yard so Morgan can bury his wife.
Packing up the Joneses and retrieving what's useful from his and Rick's homes takes them well past lunch, and then they raid the hospital with its wobbly emergency electricity for anything they might possibly need. After a night camped in the old sheriff's department, they head out early to the Greene Farm.
"We sure this is going to be safe?" Rick asks from the driver's seat. They're following Quinn's Expedition down the long driveway.
"Honestly? No. I don't think the man's the type to shoot people down. But whether or not those walkers stayed locked up is a different story entirely."
"Christ, I hope not. I sure don't want to tell those girls their daddy's dead."
When the three vehicles pull into the farmyard, Patricia is waiting on the porch, looking exhausted. The fact that neither man is outside and the blonde is unarmed makes Shane worry for her safety. Granted, Quinn's SUV is distinctive, but being too trusting these days is damned dangerous.
Quinn exits the passenger seat of the Ford, so he exchanges a look with Rick and joins her before they approach the porch. Patricia looks toward the vehicles, obviously hoping for one of the missing young people. It's saddening that she seems resigned when none of the three emerge.
"They didn't come with us today, Patricia," Quinn tells her, voice kind. "But the girls wanted me to look in on y'all and let you know they're safe and doing okay."
Patricia nods, rubbing at her face tiredly. "Would you be able to spare a moment to help me with Otis?"
Shane stiffens a little. "What's wrong?" Knowing from Maggie that Otis was Hershel's walker retriever puts the man at high risk of being bitten.
"It's not a bite. One of the cows got rowdy and knocked him around. I've got him in the downstairs bedroom, and I've done the best I can. But I'm a vet tech, not a nurse or EMT, and I'm afraid of missing something."
Quinn signals her team, and Jacqui emerges with a medkit. They don't leave the property without multiples of the ambulance grade kits. She passes it off to Quinn and announces she'll stand guard on the porch. Shane trails behind the women, wondering where Hershel Greene is that Patricia is alone in caring for her husband.
The big man's labored breathing can be heard before they reach the room, and Shane catches Quinn's alarmed look. If it sounds bad to him, he can't imagine what a fully trained paramedic would be hearing. Otis is stretched out on the bed, pillows piled to keep him elevated.
"Otis? Can you take a deep breath for me?" Quinn has her stethoscope out almost before she sets her bag down.
The man shakes his head, wincing as he breathes in. "Think the lung has collapsed."
Patricia wrings her hands. "Otis was an EMT. But I didn't know enough to treat it without help, and he said it might heal on its own."
Shane's seen needle decompression on television before, since it's one of those high drama issues that the medical shows like to use. He finds that watching Quinn work that needle into Otis's battered chest is just as hair raising as the shows imply. Between that and the oxygen he is given from the small tank in the medic bag, at least he seems to breathe easier.
"Need an x-ray and someone with more expertise, but I'm guessing you've got more than one badly broken rib just from the physical exam." Quinn glances at Shane, brow furrowed in worry. "Where is Hershel, Patricia?"
Considering the old man is a veterinarian, Shane understands the worry and confusion. Patricia looks like she wants to cry, and Otis reaches out for his wife's hand.
"Not really a secret to keep hidden now that he's off the wagon, Tish."
Patricia takes a deep breath. "He's upstairs in his room, drunk as a skunk. Hasn't been really sober since the girls left. He was an alcoholic for years, right up until Maggie's mama nearly divorced him over it. Been sober most of her lifetime until now."
Quinn takes that in and sighs. "I've got a portable x-ray in the stash we raided from the hospital, but it needs to be charged or plugged in. How's the generator power here?"
"Decent enough for that," Patricia answers. "We used to keep an emergency generator at the vet clinic to run equipment, and the one here is better."
"Shane? Think you can convince an old drunk to sober up and save a man's life?"
It would figure that certain duties of a cop never quite fade away. "Yeah. Might want to let people out of the vehicles if we'll be a while."
"I'll take care of that. Patricia? That okay with you?"
The blonde nods, still clasping Otis's hand like a lifeline.
"Is there anything we can help with?" Shane asks, thinking that there's a lot of animals likely going neglected right now.
"I turned the horses out to pasture and the chickens are fed, so they're fine. The cattle have plenty of water and grazing, so they should be good."
"Alright." Leaving the couple in the bedroom, he walks Quinn as far as the entryway. "We need to make another effort on getting them to leave. I can understand if the old man doesn't want his family members in that barn put down, but we can leave them locked up."
"Do your best to talk Hershel into it. I'm not sure that even his injury will dislodge whatever loyalty Otis has to the man."
She steps outside, leaving Shane to face the stairs. They creak like old houses tend to when he climbs to the second floor, wishing he asked what room the man is in. The two rooms immediately off the stairs are obviously Maggie and Beth's. The teenage girl's looks well lived in, but Maggie's has that bland look of a childhood room not currently lived in but being visited. He wonders where Maggie lived before the dying world sent her back home.
Ignoring the bathroom between two rooms, he checks and confirms the room next to it was probably the late brother's room. Unlike Maggie's room, it shows signs that Shawn lived on the farm still. Quinn probably knows for sure, because she's spent a lot of time with Maggie, whereas Shane's spent more time around Jimmy and Beth, who doesn't talk about her family much yet.
There's only one last door, and it's shut tight. Shane raps his knuckles against the wood. "Dr. Greene? It's Deputy Walsh. Do you realize you've got a man in need of medical care in your home?"
There's a mumbled response, but it doesn't seem violent, so Shane opens the door. The stench of alcohol excess and unwashed body hits him in a wave, reminding him of some of his least favorite job duties. Empty bottles are lined neatly along an immense antique dresser. He wonders where a teetotaler found this much liquor to pickle himself with.
"Dr. Greene?"
"Don't call me doctor."
Shane spots Hershel huddled in a small alcove of the room that has a small loveseat tucked away, probably a grotto the late Mrs. Greene enjoyed from the look of the decor. The liquor bottle decorations continue there, although the bottles on the delicate coffee table all still hold their dangerous contents.
"Alright, Hershel. We need you to sober up. Your man Otis is in a bad way, and Quinn doesn't feel up to treating him solo."
"It might be kinder to just let him die."
Shane controls the surge of anger at the man's words with years of practice, resenting him writing off Otis's loyalty. "Didn't take you for the uncaring asshole type. Thought Christians were supposed to hold all life sacred."
Hell, the man keeps his undead wife and stepson 'alive' rather than lay them to rest because he believes that so much. It's one thing to lose hope, but to shift so far down that he is willing to let Otis suffer makes Shane want to drag the man bodily from the room and force him to work.
"Do you honestly see any of God's work still in the world we inhabit now?" The bleary eyes of the old man are trying to focus on Shane.
"Never been a religious man, so maybe that's to my advantage now. I don't have any disappointment in a higher power to reconcile. What I can tell you is that I don't intend to give up hope as long as I have a family to care for."
Shane isn't a father, and he may never be one considering the narrow scope of the world now. But his family goes beyond blood ties, with loyalty and affection being the binder instead of genetic accident. It's an even larger family these days, because he knows he's as much an honorary Dixon as a Grimes now.
That unconventional family format is why it makes him angry and frustrated to see a loyal couple like Patricia and Otis rejected. They could have left with Maggie and the kids, but didn't want to abandon Hershel.
"My daughters trust me so little that they left without a word."
Shane crosses the room and plucks the half empty bottle of whiskey from Hershel's fingers. The man doesn't fight it, just letting his hand fall to one knee. "So you just give up and don't fight to earn that trust back?"
Hershel starts and stops a reply several times, which lets Shane speculate on how soused the man actually is. It's hard to tell on some people, especially long-term alcoholics who learn to function around the liquor. He sets the bottle down out of reach.
"How are they doing? Is Maggie healing well?"
At least he asked. "They miss their father. Beth is learning some survival skills with our hunters and teaching the other kids how to milk goats and care for chickens. Maggie is doing as best she can with the reminders she's still got."
Rubbing at the unkempt facial hair on his sallow face, Hershel absorbs that. "What's wrong with Otis? Did he get bitten?"
"Cow slammed him into something. Messed up his ribs something bad. Quinn says he's got a collapsed lung, but she's uncertain about the state of his ribs. She's good at what she does, Hershel, but she's a paramedic."
The veterinarian manages to get to his feet without tipping over, but he's unsteady. That alarms Shane, the idea of him giving medical care in this shape. "Why don't you get a shower while I see about some food for you? Otis is stable for now."
Hershel thinks it over and looks at his shaking hands before nodding and disappearing through a door. As soon as Shane hears the shower start up, he confiscates the alcohol bottles. No sense leaving temptation around.
Back downstairs, he finds Patricia and asks about getting something bland for Hershel to eat. "Need hydration and food to help him steady out if he's been drinking steadily since the kids left."
By the time Hershel comes downstairs, neatly dressed and shaved, but holding the rail so he doesn't pitch headfirst down the stairs, Patricia has fruit laden oatmeal on the table. She sets a pitcher of chilled water alongside a glass of juice.
Based on the grimace on Hershel's face when Quinn enters the room with the lurid yellow IV bag, the old man knows what it is. "Steady diet of poison means you're probably malnourished," she scolds mildly.
Hershel doesn't argue, just rolls up his sleeve and lets Quinn set the IV needle in his arm to let the contents of the banana bag trickle into his dehydrated and mistreated body. Shane knows the concoction of thiamine, foliate, and magnesium well, seeing nurses set it up for many an injured drunk hauled into the ER. He does wonder if Hershel knows what it is from being one of those drunks.
Shane steps out onto the porch to consult the others, concerned about how long this is going to take. "Might want to run back to camp," he suggests.
Rick looks both anxious and relieved at the suggestion. "Seems wrong to leave y'all here."
"I think we're safe enough, and with the radio still a little unreliable, we shouldn't worry everyone by being out an extra night. You can always send teams back tomorrow bright and early."
Merle frowns, but nods. "Me and Jacqui stay with you and Quinn, let Rick lead the rest back."
Micah shifts restlessly, as if he wants to protest, but he subsides at a stern look from Merle. None of the others protest, although Rick looks a bit guilty.
"Maybe this will convince them it isn't safe on their own here," Rick suggests.
"We can hope." Shane turns to Merle, as he's the most familiar with the medical gear aside from Quinn. "Any supplies you think we need off the cargo trucks?"
"I'll go grab what they might need," the redneck acknowledges. "Limited in what they can do, but we've got some useful bits."
It takes an hour to shift supplies and send the cargo trucks on their way, trailed by Rick in the Humvee. Shane knows they're facing a few more hours before anyone will trust Hershel to be clear headed and steady handed to deal with the bone fragments the x-ray revealed in Otis's chest.
"Three of us for watch. Who wants the first round to get some sleep?" Shane asks Jacqui and Merle. Food is easy enough, considering one of their cargo trucks is military issue they nicked from the abandoned National Guard camp in King County. They have MREs in plenty.
"Why don't you crash first, Shane?" Jacqui suggests. "You've been awake the longest due to watch. I'll take the first watch, and Merle can wake you after his shift."
It works for him, so Shane makes short work of an MRE trying real hard to be chicken fajitas and bids Quinn goodnight where she's still babysitting Hershel. Sobriety is settling in some for the veterinarian.
"Your people can either sleep in one of the girls' rooms upstairs or the couch downstairs." He sips at the glass of water in his hand almost mechanically, and Shane can picture him treating the alcohol the same way.
"Thank you for the offer." He's gotten spoiled by being back in a bed, so he's glad not to be crashing on the floor.
Upstairs, the idea of sleeping among the frills and memorabilia of a teenage girl doesn't appeal. Hershel obviously doesn't want anyone in Shawn's room. That leaves Maggie's room, so Shane uses the bathroom and strips down enough for comfort before stretching out in the full sized bed with its green geometric quilt. He wonders idly if there are things Maggie and Beth might want from this place that were not considered necessary to life on the road.
He decides he'll consider it after some sleep, maybe after asking Patricia. Tired from the constant wariness required of being out in the open, he falls asleep quickly.
A/N: a reminder that this isn't a Judith as Shane's daughter story. Poor Otis... At least he'll survive this one.