Otis bared his teeth, snarling like a wild animal at Victoria. "I'll kill you, you fucking bitch!" In a desperate attempt to save himself, he flung his head back into Shane's knee, dropping the Deputy on his ass. The moment he was free, Otis scrambled for the fallen revolver.
Victoria continued to advance on him, undeterred even as Otis twisted around with the revolver aimed at her. "I tried being reasonable." Without caution, she wrapped her fingers around the long barrel of the revolver and tried ripping it from him, the side of her face coming dangerously close to the muzzle. "You brought this on yourself!"
"Get it together, Morgan." Victoria paced the tiny bathroom, her agitated mumblings stifled by the water cascading from the showerhead. "Carl was going to die if we didn't do something. He was slowing us down. We did what we had to."
Shane kicked out, slamming his boot into the bullet wound below Otis' kneecap. "Will. You. Just. Give. It?" He screamed, punctuating every word with another harder kick.
Victoria turned to the mirror above the sink and blinked at the unfamiliar reflection glaring back at her - the cruel sneer doesn't match her weary eyes and-
"Don't you fucking dare." She screamed at him, tightening her own grip around the muzzle of the revolver.
She heard the cylinder click before the revolver fired. The bullet whizzed by her cheek nipping the tip of her right ear. She cried out, her reflexes working double time as she thrust the knife forward and-
"Blessed to be God, father of our Lord, Jesus Christ. Praise be to him for the gift of our brother Otis, for his span of years, for his abundance of character."
Victoria startled, the image of her own reflection melting away into the sunny, open countryside near the farmhouse.
"Otis, who gave his life to save a child's, now more then ever, our most precious asset."
She was wearing the clothes Maggie had given her and the incessant pain of her dislocated arm was almost completely gone.
Shane was by her immediate side but the other survivors stood with them in a half circle - Andrea, Dale, Carol and Daryl among them too - while the Greene family stood next to a monument of stacked together stones.
"He died as he lived, in grace"
"I'll kill you, you fucking bitch!"
"Shane, Victoria, will you speak for Otis?"
Beside her, Shane radiated nervous energy as he shuffled. "I'm not good at it." He murmured, "I'm sorry."
"You were the last one with him." Patricia croaked. "You shared his final moments. Please. I need to hear. I need to know his death had meaning."
Guilt wracked Victoria. She looked up at Shane, hoping he'd spare her and say something - anything - but he stood like a deer in headlights.
Glancing up at the others, watching on with morbid curiosity, Victoria realized nobody was about to come to her rescue.
"We were almost at the truck." The words bubbled from her lips before she could stop them, startling Shane along the way. "Shane was limping, my arm was fucked and we didn't have enough ammo to fight anymore. We were surrounded." Victoria stopped short, the lie stuck in the back of her throat.
Christ, she couldn't believe she was about to lie like a suspect on the jury stand - but this was her only chance to make it believable. She needed to do this right.
"Otis. He gave me the bag and shoved me ahead of him."
"Just give us the goddamned bag! Don't make this any harder than it needs to be!"
"Go, he said, save the boy. I didn't think about it. I just ran and when I looked back..." Victoria paused, daring to glance at the widow.
Patricia nodded at Victoria to continue with a pained grimace.
"I won't say he went quickly or quietly." She approached the wheelbarrow of stones and turned to Patricia with a hard stare. "But if not for him, Shane and I would've died. Carl too. Otis' sacrifice saved us and I will never forget that."
Victoria dropped a stone at the top of the pile and returned to her place beside Shane.
Afternoon tea served as a good enough distraction for Victoria to slip away without the group noticing her absence.
She made a beeline for Winnebago parked on the lawn - unsure of when it arrived with the rest of the survivors - and gathered her bag from under the kitchen table.
Victoria sifted through the pre-packed bag. She was quickly running through her options, anything salvageable needed a thorough wash but some bloodstains would never come out.
She had slacks and button-ups left, a set of Military fatigues and her patrolman's jacket.
She lifted the jacket out of the bag and stared at her reflection in the shiny badge pinned to the breast pocket. What was she supposed to do with it now? Arrest walkers? Intimidate survivors with the law?
Use it to get away with murder?
She tossed the jacket on the bench before that line of though spiraled and ducked into the bathroom with the rest of her bag, closing the door behind her.
Taking off the sling was a hassle - the knot was superior - but it was more than worth it. Victoria tentatively rolled her injured, it hurt like absolute hell but her arm was back in the socket.
She had no recollection of that happening - in fact, no matter how hard she wracked her brain, she couldn't remember anything past looking at herself in the mirror. There were gaps between fleeing the high school and returning to the farmhouse too if she really wanted to think about it.
She was missing something, something important at the edge of her consciousness that was just out of reach.
"C'mon, c'mon. Get it together, man." She rubbed her eyes, trying to release the tendrils leeching at the edge of her vision. She counted to 60 before she pulled herself together and returned undressing.
The fatigues fit like a glove and once her hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, she felt a little more like herself - whatever that meant nowadays.
Once she was satisfied, Victoria opened the door and nearly collided with Shane on the other side. He changed out of the ill-fitting overalls and into his own cargo pants and button up, he was even wearing a POLICE baseball cap that matched the deep blue of his button up.
"Hey." He greeted. "I was lookin' for ya." He took in the uniform with a quirked brow. "Fatigues yours?"
"Have my name on them and everything." Victoria answered. "What can I do you for, Deputy?"
"Just wanted to talk to ya." Shane adjusted the brim of his cap, awkwardly shuffling before her. "'Bout what you said to Hershel and his people."
The confidence left her chest like a deflated balloon. "Christ. Why didn't you say something?" She whined at him. "I told them it was a sacrifice, I made him the fuckin' hero."
"You told'em what they wanted to hear."
"That's how you get caught." She snapped back. "Tell me I didn't make it so obvious that we-"
"Hey now, listen to me." Shane clasped his heavy hand on her shoulder. "You didn't give them any reason to not believe you. Alright? Otis died for Carl. It was a sacrifice. That's the truth."
Victoria supposed that was the long and short of it. Otis died for Carl. As long as his family thought he died a hero, they wouldn't ask anymore questions.
She gave them a much better story anyway. A legacy to be proud of - that didn't include his involvement in Carl getting shot.
Victoria pinched the bridge of her nose. She couldn't believe she was letting this train of thought convince her but, there wasn't another way she could spin it without letting the guilt overwhelm her again.
She slipped around his muscular frame, dropping his hand from her shoulder as she stepped into the kitchen.
"And uh, I need your gun."
Victoria shoved her bag under the table with more force than necessary, groaning, "Shane, dude, c'mon-"
"Hershel, he ain't allowin' us to walk around his farm with our guns." Shane interrupted, leaning against the kitchen counter behind Victoria. "Him and his folk don't carry either, laid down the law with us earlier."
"Man, did we find the only anti-gun farmers in Georgia or what?" She turned around and lifted her gun from her holster with a frown. "Here, take it. But I'd feel a helluva lot more comfortable if someone was carrying."
Shane shrugged, offering her a gruff, "Ain't nothin' I can do about it as long as Rick's playin' Sheriff." He grabbed the duffle bag of guns from the table and left the trailer with her only form of safety - again.
The Detective started to follow him out but once she noticed the survivors setting up camp nearby, she froze in the doorway.
She didn't have anything to set up.
"Ya'll do anything special to your guns in Hollywood?"
Victoria turned back to Shane, watching him carefully lay out their guns on the picnic table under the RV awning. "I'm not from..." She shook her head, it didn't matter where she was from anymore. "No. Just don't like, scratch the plating."
He chuckled, spinning her pistol around his trigger finger like some sort of cocky cowboy. "Then why don't you come and do it yourself then, Hollywood?"
Victoria took the invitation and sat across from him as he played with her gun. She examined the table, scanning over the shotguns placed before her - most standard police issued pump action models.
"Christ. Does every group carry a small arsenal?"
Shane chuckled. "Nah. Can't say we've run into anyone quite like us before." He turned his attention to her gun, beginning the painstaking process of removing the little screws holding it together. He worked with his jaw clenched, sharpening his already handsome profile.
The silence was nice. It was no wonder why Hershel and his people were so disconnected from what was happening in their backyard, the apocalypse wasn't threatening them at every corner.
"You'll have to pull your weight."
Victoria blinked, struggling to comprehend if she heard him correctly. "Oh, I'm sorry, dude, is my dislocated shoulder an inconvenience for you?"
The Deputy had the unmitigated audacity to roll his eyes at her. "You can't hide in Dale's RV forever." Over her spluttering, he continued, "Listen, I ain't expectin' you to sit around cookin' and cleanin'-"
"Oh, that's very progressive of you."
"- but the women around here, they ain't gonna see it like that."
He wasn't wrong. In the few short days she spent with the survivors, the noticed the women took on more outdated roles - cooking, cleaning, gossiping while the men walked around with their chests puffed out as if Victoria hadn't clawed her way through the ranks of a male dominated career.
Victoria chewed on her bottom lip, that conversation notoriously never went down well - especially with men like Deputy Walsh.
"Pulling my weight must mean you aren't planning a dramatic escape in the night anymore."
Shane sighed, deeply. "Listen-"
"You don't have to explain yourself." She interrupted. "All things considered, I wouldn't want to leave if I was you either. But, man, we're staying at the scene of the crime. This is textbook stupid."
Shane raised his head. catching Victoria's attention with a glare. "Listen to me, Victoria. We ain't given anybody a reason to believe we would've done anything to Otis."
It sounded more like he was trying to convince himself rather then here but before she could argue with him, Victoria noticed Andrea storming over from the corner of her eye.
"Trouble incoming."
Shane looked over, frowning when he saw trouble's heated glare from a mile away.
Andrea approached the table with determined strides, standing in front of the officers with her arms crossed over her chest. "Give up our guns?"
"You heard Rick. We're guests here."
"And you're okay with it?"
"I don't recall being asked." Shane grunted. "Now lay down your weapon."
"You may like rolling over, I don't!"
Victoria whistled, that was a low blow. "Your way of approaching this could use some work."
Andrea turned her stormy expression on the Detective instead. "Don't tell me you're okay with this too."
She wasn't but she missed the silence already - and Shane didn't deserve the wrath of two women at once. "I'm too tired to be mad right now. I just want to sit here and not think about anything for a few hours."
Andrea reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out her pistol. She dropped it on the bench with her lips pressed.
"Awesome." Victoria slid down the bench, nodding to the empty space beside her. "Sit down and I'll show you how to take apart your gun and put it back together without like, jamming the wrong pieces together." Andrea stood above her with a stoic glare until Victoria released an exasperated groan that sounded more like a childish whine. "Andrea, dude, you're killing me. C'mon, man."
Her frown deepening, Andrea sat down with her arms still crossed.
It was a small win but a win nonetheless by the look of relief on Shane's face.
Victoria lifted Andrea's pistol. The sleek Smith and Wesson wasn't nearly as heavy as her own Beretta 92FS but it fit nicely in her hand - called a Ladysmith for just that reason. It was a perfectly dependable and easy to shoot gun, Andrea's dad knew what he was doing.
"Here." She handed it back to Andrea. "Unload it."
Andrea did so with a scathing eyebrow arched, simply unamused.
"Wicked. Now pull back the slide and check the chamber." Victoria watched the blonde follow her instructions before adding, "Now pull that lever and the slide should come off."
Andrea stared at the separate pieces with wide eyes, then looked up at Victoria like she couldn't believe it.
"It's really that easy." Victoria teased, gently knocking into Andrea with her shoulder.
"Maybe ya'll just do this for me." Shane chuckled, regarding her with an amused grin that didn't annoy her as much as it should've.
"Consider this pulling me weight." Victoria flashed him a toothy grin before turning back to Andrea. "Anyway, you're halfway done. Lift that spring and remove the barrel from the side - carefully, these pieces are fragile."
Quiet just wasn't a luxury Victoria could afford anymore.
There was a walker in the drinking well because of course there was a walker in the well, why wouldn't there be?
"Ah." Dale grumbled, pointing his flashlight down the well and illuminating the poor bastard. "Looks like we got ourselves a swimmer."
The big, ugly bastard was splashing around without a care in the world. Victoria couldn't liken it to anything but a drowning victim - bloated and discolored, skin wrinkled and leathery - except this victim was still alive.
"How long do you think its been down there?" Glenn pondered.
"Long enough to grow gills." Andrea snorted.
"We can't leave it down there." Lori sighed, pointing out the obvious. "God knows what it's doing to the water."
Shane nodded. "We got to get it out."
"Easy." T-dog shrugged. "We put a bullet in its head. I'll get a rope."
"Whoa, whoa." Maggie interrupted, glaring at them from under her straw hat. "No."
Glenn frowned at the farmers daughter. "Why not? It's a good plan."
"It's a stupid plan." Andrea answered instead. "If this thing hasn't contaminated the water yet, blowing its brains out will finish the job."
Victoria looked back down the well. It was basically marinating the water, even if they got it out - and she doubted that too -she wasn't interesting in testing her luck with walker soup.
"So, it has to come out alive." T-dog asked.
The Deputy smirked. "So to speak."
Victoria watched on as the others devised a plan to lower a canned ham down the well with some fishing wire and rope. Maggie stood to the side, her expression hilariously bewildered - confirming how stupid their plan was.
"He's not going for it." Dale murmured.
"Maybe 'cause a canned ham don't kick and scream when you try to eat it." T-dog grumbled back.
Lori nodded, albeit hesitantly. "He's right. There's a reason the dead didn't come back to life and start raiding our cupboards."
"We need live bait." Andrea decided.
The second plan devised wasn't as stupid but it was more dangerous - they wanted to lower Glenn into the well with rope to toss around the walker.
Maggie brought them a thick, heavy rope that Shane looped around the water pump and the steel bar above the well, creating a water-pulley with the boy as the bucket.
Victoria sat across from Glenn, dangling her legs over the well as she watched Shane knot the rope around the younger man's waist.
"Have I mentioned I really like your new clothes?" Glenn asked with a nervous smile. "Camo is, uh, very trendy?"
"Bribing an officer is a federal offense." She teased, making him chuckle shakily. "I'm going to be right here, okay? If you feel like you're freaking out, calmly talk me through it so I can help. As soon as you want out, I'll have them pull you back up."
Some of the tension left his shoulders as he nodded. "Ten-four."
"Don't worry about it, bud." Shane clapped him on the back. "We're gonna get you out of there in one piece."
"Living piece. The living part is important."
The survivors gathered, each taking a section of the rope with their backs turned to the well. Maggie paced alongside them, and Victoria didn't blame her for not wanting to be a part of this.
"Nice and slow, please?" Glenn called out as he began lowering himself down.
Closest to the well, Andrea called over her shoulder, "We got you."
"Oh." Maggie groaned. "You people are crazy!"
"You want to get it out of your well or not?" Shane shot back.
Victoria ignored them, her eyes trained on the young man as he rappelled down the stone wall. "Talk to me, Glenn."
"I'm doing great." He glanced up with too wide of a smile. "Living the dream." He muttered as he continued down.
Maggie knelt down next to Victoria, murmuring, "This is stupid."
Victoria agreed but she doubted Glenn would have appreciated her answer.
Below them, the ugly bastard finally took notice to the living bait. With a loud snarl, it reached for the boy with stubby fingers.
Glenn hung safely above the walker but didn't throw the rope around it. "Hey, Victoria?"
"Yeah, Glenn?"
"I think I'm-"
Victoria never heard him finish. The water pump creaked suddenly, uprooting from the ground and launching toward the well. The rope slacked enough that Glenn dropped closer to the walker.
"Get it, get it!"
"Grab it!"
"Victoria! I'm freaking out! I'm freaking out!"
Shane dropped the rope and dashed for the pump but it slipped through his fingers. As it passed T-dog, he took a dive for it too, catching it inches before it hit the edge of the well. Maggie and the group scrambled to T-dog, desperately trying to help him pull it back up before it unraveled the pulley.
"Get me out of here!" Glenn screamed, wildly kicking the slippery hands trying to grab his ankles. "Get off me! Get off me! Victoria! Get me out of here!"
Victoria climbed out of the well and dropped to her stomach across from the struggling survivors. She leaned down the well and lowered herself down as far as she could, dangling her arm to Glenn. "Climb up the rope and grab my hand!" She shouted.
Glenn clutched the rope with both hands but between his squirming and the survivors trying to pull away the water pump, the young man froze. "Get me out of here. Oh my god, oh my god, get me out of here!"
The group struggled to pull the pump away from the well. Inch by inch, they lifted Glenn away from the walker hungrily grabbing at him.
"Pull! Pull!"
"Hurry!"
"Oh my god. Get me out!"
"Glenn! Stop tugging the rope and climb!"
Shane abandoned the pump and snatched the forgotten rope. With a pained grunt, he began pulling Glenn up by himself.
"Glenn!"
"Pull him up!"
"Get me out of here!"
As soon as he was lifted close enough, Victoria grabbed Glenn by the scruff of his shirt and yanked him up as hard as she could muster. He tumbled out of the well, sending the Detective reeling back with him.
With Glenn returned to safety, the survivors abandoned the pump, kicking up dirt as they crowded the boy.
Lori dropped to her knees, checking over Glenn for any immediate injuries like a mother would her child. "Are you okay?"
Glenn lifted his head from the dirt and panted, slowly lifting himself to his knees with Lori's help.
"Shit." Victoria sat up with a groan. "We're not doing that again, dude."
With a shaky chuckle, Glenn handed the rope to Dale. "We don't have to." He said as he stood up.
Victoria crawled back to the edge of the well and, surely enough, the noose was around the walker. "Holy shit." She laughed, a short, loud noise. "What the fuck?"
The rest of the plan was simple enough - pull the walker out and kill it. This time, Maggie brought a horse to help lift the bastard out. Victoria stood off to the side, clutching an iron pipe as the group did all the heavy lifting.
"C'mon y'all, together!" Shane urged.
The waterlogged walker snarled helplessly as it was dragged up the stone. The repulsing scent of rotting, wet flesh almost knocked Victoria backwards but she held firm, glaring at the foul being as it peaked over the edge of the well.
"It's stuck." Shane grunted.
The walker writhed against the rope, gurgling as it reached for Victoria.
"He's almost out." She readied the pipe, "Just like, one more tug."
The walker shrieked as the rope dug into its softened flesh, its body tearing from the waist down. All the blood, guts and gore fell into the well with a loud splash, settling at the bottom of the drinking water - it was certainly fucked now.
The top half of the sonuvabitch was nothing more than hanging intestines and exposed bone. It continued to howl, desperately trying to wiggle closer to Victoria with grasping hands.
It was a sad, disgusting sight that churned Victoria's stomach.
"We should seal this well off." Dale said, taking off his bucket hat. The disappointment was clear in his sigh.
"So, what do we do about-"
Andrea was interrupted by Victoria, who swung the pipe with a shout, causing a grotesque explosion of skull and brain matter. She hit it again and again, until its face was completely caved in.
She tossed the pipe aside and addressed her audience with a sideways glare.
"Maybe we shoot the next fuckin' walker."