These Things: The world's gone to hell – there's just no other way to put it. A sickness spread across the US, infecting the young and the old alike. I'm a long way from home and I may never see my hometown again, but I have to keep fighting. It's them or us; the dead versus the living. Apocalypse: 1, Iva: 0. (OC/Shane)
Disclaimer:I don't own any of the characters from the famous comic book (turned television adaptation) The Walking Dead, but sometimes I wish I was a writer on the show's staff! I will be the first to admit that the characters are a mish mash of their comic book and television personalities. Some might even be horribly butchered, but I've done my best. Iva, Libby, and a few others are my creations, so please give them a bit of respect.
Rating: This story is rating M+ for Mature Audiences. Gore, violence, language, intense situations, sexual innuendo, and sexual scenes occur throughout the course of the story. Chapters containing sexually explicit materials will be properly labeled, but it is advised that children do not read this story.
"I'm not a bad man, I'm just overwhelmed. It's cause of these things, it's cause of these things." – She Wants Revenge, These Things
These Things
~Chapter Five~
It took almost fifteen minutes more for Shane and Otis to arrive at the farm, the heavyset man struggling and red-faced with every step. I folded my arms over my chest and pushed off of the railing I'd been leaning against and walked down the porch steps to meet Shane.
His dark eyes were wide with trepidation and I knew he expected the worse.
"He's stabilized for now, and it's a waiting game. Rick's inside giving blood. Rare blood type," I added when Shane lowered his combat shotgun warily. "Hershel is doing all he can."
Shane rubbed a hand over his face and nodded glumly. "He a good doctor?"
"He's a vet." Shane jerked his head up abruptly and eyed the woman warily as she stalked down the steps in an angry manner. "My Daddy's a vet, but he knows what he's doing."
"Shane, this is Maggie Greene – Hershel's daughter. That's Patricia, she's Otis's wife." I jerked my thumb toward the older blonde haired woman that raced into her husband's arms. They spoke in quiet tones and I wondered if she was telling him about Carl's prognosis. The screen door opened quietly and a small-boned, delicate young woman with fine blonde hair and big eyes scrambled outside nervously. "And that's probably Beth, if I'm keeping the names straight. Her boyfriend's around here somewhere. Ah, there he is," I jerked a thumb at the dark-haired young man that rushed over to his girlfriend's side.
But, Shane focused on that screen door and seemed torn between rushing inside and catching his breath. I noticed Maggie watching him nervously and I nodded in her direction.
"Your people. Where are they?" Before I could open my mouth, Shane rattled off the exact location of the group on the highway and Maggie nodded her head in understanding. "That ain't real far. I'll go get them. They should be here."
"Carl's mom," Shane began gruffly, "Lori should be here. You're right. Thank you."
I trudged back up the steps and sat down on the top one, shoulders sagging. Patricia had assisted Hershel with the patch job and I felt useless, wringing my hands together. Shane dropped down on the step a feet away from me and cradled his head in his hands.
When Beth went inside and returned a few minutes later with glasses of actual lemonade, I burst out laughing. Shane jerked his head up and glared at me angrily and refused the glass for a moment. "What in the hell's so funny, Iva? You lost your damned mind?"
"Lemonade. People are eating each other and southern etiquette demands that lemonade or tea be offered. Perfect." I tipped the glass back and drank greedily, ignoring Shane when he took his own glass and downed the contents without a word. Relieved, I offered Beth the empty glass and quietly thanked her. "Much appreciated. I didn't realize how thirsty I was."
She tucked both glasses under one arm and hurried inside, Jimmy close behind. A moment later, Otis and Patricia awkwardly climbed the steps together and also went inside, leaving the two of us staring after Maggie as she raced off on a horse. She disappeared from sight after a minute or two, and I could only hope that she could find Rick's wife and the others quickly.
Birds chirped, pigs in the distance rutted in the mud, cows trampled over the tall grass, and I even heard chickens. All sounds I'd missed since the world had gone to hell.
"Is Carl really gonna be okay?"
I considered the question for a long moment before I quietly answered, "I don't know. There's no way to tell if there's any internal bleeding or injury without doing an exploratory surgery, since we don't have the equipment we need. And surgery is out of the question at the moment." I rubbed my palms together and studied them. I'd scrubbed them clean of Libby's blood, but I could still feel it coating my skin. I'd even cleaned under my nails, but I found myself wondering how much remained that I just couldn't see. "We're going to need supplies that we just don't have if there's internal bleeding. Then – then I don't know what."
We sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before he exhaled raggedly and I found myself studying his profile.
"Been a helluva day."
"Yep, that it has." It had started with him helping to dig a hole to bury my best friend. My heart wrenched at the thought and I pushed the heartache aside. "If we had a map of the area, we could try to figure out what places might have the supplies we need."
Inspired by the idea, Shane rushed up to the screen door and knocked loudly on it before he yanked it open to disappear inside. A few minutes later, he reappeared with Otis on his heels. The two men worked together to spread out a large map on the wooden porch floor, careful to keep the edges pressed down. Otis leaned over the map and Shane squatted next to it; I spun around and peered over at the map curiously.
"Well, there ain't a whole lot nearby, to be honest. I know that a FEMA station was set up here, at the high school." He jabbed a thick finger at the map, indicating an area just outside of the small town. "County high school," he added. "Kids from the nearby communities all went there. I only been by there once and it was completely overrun."
Shane sighed. "But, if FEMA set up a station there, there'd be medical supplies, right?"
It took me a moment to realize that Shane addressed the question at me. "Without a doubt, assuming that they didn't evacuate before they were overrun, there would be supplies. But, when you combine a FEMA station and a high school, all bets are off. I've seen places like that – I don't know if you have. They're so full of the dead that it's impossible to manage."
With a curse, Shane motioned to the small town a few miles away. "What about here?"
Otis rubbed his chin. "Well, there is a small pharmacy, but I don't know what sort of supplies they'd carry that Hershel might need. He might have a better idea – he went there fairly often to pick up his wife's medication." I briefly wondered what had happened to Hershel's wife before I studied the map more intently. It was a highly detailed area map, so it was easy to decipher. "There's not much in town, it's real small, you see."
"There's a dollar store, a post office, a small diner. What's this?" I asked, pointing to an area that was just outside of town, the opposite direction of the high school. "Factory?"
"No. Uh, tractor supply store. I ain't been by there in weeks. Last I saw it was pretty empty."
Lips pursed, I considered the options for a moment. "If the pharmacy, or the town, isn't completely overrun, it should be checked first. Depending on if it's been hit or not, we might find enough to make due."
"And if not?"
"If what we end up needing isn't there, then I suppose the FEMA station will have to be braved." I closed my eyes for a moment and recalled with vivid detail the last FEMA camp that I'd seen. It had been overrun with stiffs and I'd watched three people die trying to get the food and water and medicine that we expected was somewhere within that camp. I opened my eyes and studied the map again. "The tractor supply store would be a good place to hit up for supplies, too. Lot of those places carry weapons and ammo, tools that might be useful. Might have dry goods, at least cases of water."
Shane studied me silently for several moments before his lips quirked into a half smile. "That's good thinking. We'll file that away for later." He cocked his head towards Otis and the heavyset man cringed under Shane's assessing gaze. "What about doctors' offices, places like that?"
Otis studied the map more intently and then scratched at his closely-shaved head. "Well, there is one in town, but I don't know that there'd be any supplies."
"Worth a check since it's near the pharmacy," I added dryly.
Patricia appeared at the door and waved her husband inside, leaving me studying the map with Shane. He tugged a red sharpie out of his back pocket and began to mark the places on the map where he obviously planned to visit. I could almost see the wheels grinding away inside of his head as he mentally calculated risks, routes, backup plans for backup plans.
"What were you before all this?" I inquired. "You seem to know what you're doing."
He rocked back on his haunches and shoved that sharpie marker back into his pocket. Then he offered me a wry look that could only be perceived as sarcastic. "Deputy sheriff."
It clicked then – the close bond he obviously shared with Rick Grimes and his family. "Based on his hat and shirt, guessing you two worked together? Partners?"
"Yeah, known each other for years." But that didn't explain the tension between the two. Maybe the end of the world brought out the best and the worst of people at the same time. "You really think Carl's gonna be alright?"
My bedside manner had always been exemplary. Patients had always loved me, and had asked after me whenever my shift was over and they were left with another nurse. But, something about the end of the world made it hard to lie and placate.
"I don't know, to be perfectly honest. He's in rough shape, but I think he's in good hands. Hershel might be a vet, but his hands were steady and his eyes were clear. Sometimes you just know," I added when he lifted a brow in query. "You've got backup plans for your backup plans. If the pharmacy and the town is as clear as your buddy Otis claims, then checking the pharmacy won't take much time."
He slowly folded up the map and tucked it into his back pocket, then sat back down on the step next to me. In silence, we stared at the horizon and waited for news that might never actually come. I could only hope that the kid would pull through and that he'd make a full recovery. Somehow.
