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 Eight~
The road into town was mostly empty, only a few cars and debris littering the road. I wasn't entirely certain how much protection the soft top of the Jeep could provide, but I enjoyed the sensation of the wind rustling through my hair as Shane expertly maneuvered the vehicle around wrecked vehicles and piles of detritus.
The morning had started out calmly. I'd taken the time to stop and check on Carl before taking advantage of the Greene's bathroom facilities so that I could take my first real shower in over a week. Maggie had shared the eggs she'd collected from the henhouse and we'd dined outside quietly, eating scrambled eggs laced with green peppers and mushrooms.
It had been Shane that reminded the others that more supplies were needed if they hoped to remain at the farm for the next week or more while Carl recovered – before they headed to Fort Benning. Maggie had offered to take someone to the pharmacy in town; as a vet's daughter, she thought she could recognize the types of drugs we might need. I'd started to volunteer when Glenn spoke up, leaving me to offer my assistance to Shane when he offered to check out the Dollar General store.
That's how an hour after breakfast, I found myself sitting in Shane's battered Jeep, cruising down the road. One hand on the wheel, the other draped across the open window, he seemed confident and calm as he maneuvered down the roads he'd memorized after studying the map. As he focused on the road, I mentally reviewed and reassured myself that I was as prepared for the day's events as I could possibly be. Armed with my hatchet, my handy knife as well as a spare tucked into my boot, and my .38 caliber handgun and extra ammo, I felt confident that I had a fair chance of making it back to the farm.
Shane slowed the Jeep to a crawl and made a right turn onto a street that led straight through town and I tapped my fingers on my knee.
"Just how bad did things go at that FEMA camp?"
His knuckles whitened and he shot me an irritated look before he focused on the road. "Not so bad that we didn't make it back, but bad enough."
"I hear you used road flares to distract the stiffs," I offered conversationally. "That's good thinking, especially at night. They're attracted to light and sound, sometimes smell. Why did Otis seem so nervous around you?"
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and then loosened it, clenching and unclenching until I thought he might punch the dash in frustration. "There came a time when we were at the brink of it being me or him – then he got nervous and got off a lucky shot that caused the bleachers in the gym to electronically retract. It distracted the walkers and we got out."
"And if he hadn't gotten that lucky potshot off?"
"Had my gun on him, pointed straight at his leg. He would've slowed them down, given me a chance to get the supplies out and back to Carl." He slowed the Jeep to a stop and we stared at one another in silence for a few moments. "I would've, too. Had my finger on the trigger, had already told him why I was gonna do it."
My lips twitched. "Then I would say that Otis is a lucky son of a bitch then, huh? Don't look so shocked. We've all been in the do or die type situation since this all went down. If it would have come down to getting the supplies back or leaving Otis behind, I would've done the same thing. He shot the kid, after all."
Silence reigned as the Jeep rumbled back to a decent speed, carrying us through the outskirts of the small town and finally into the heart of it. Cars were abandoned and the diner's windows were boarded up, but the streaks of blood across the plywood left me doubting that anyone was surviving inside. The town itself was small, no more than two long blocks of small shops, a post office, a diner, a hardware store whose door had been ripped free from its hinges, a small library, and a couple mom and pop shops.
"Small town USA," I murmured to myself as he eased into the empty parking lot of the Dollar General. I studied the windows and noted the thick layer of dust and grime and found myself hoping against all sense that it might actually be mostly untouched. "We should find a way around back, don't you think?"
Shane put the Jeep into gear and we crept around the side of the Dollar General in the wide drive that separated the building from the resale shop next door. There was a box truck abandoned in the rear of the Dollar General and the dumpster looked as though it had recently housed a fire, but otherwise things seemed calm.
"Front or back?" Shane inquired as he put the Jeep into park and pocketed the keys. He reached for his shotgun and I hopped out of the truck, quietly shutting the door behind me as I went. "Back it is."
As he stalked toward the closed door, I found myself shaking my head. There was no doubting that Shane Walsh's former career had been in policing. He carried himself with confidence, pride, authority, and I felt comfortable following behind him, hatchet in hand. When he found that the door was unlocked, he glanced over his shoulder at me and yanked it open, stepping to the side so that I could face whatever might come out.
When nothing immediately appeared, I rapped the handle of my hatchet against the metal doorframe and waited. The sound of gnashing teeth and dragging feet grew louder and I winced as I took a step back and pulled my knife free from its sheath, clutching it in my left hand. The stiff had been an older man when he'd turned, dressed in his Sunday best. I grimaced as I brought the blade of the hatchet down on the side of his head and he crumpled to the ground. Just moments behind him, a young teenage girl dressed in a skimpy top and skirt, barefoot, lunged towards me. I drove my knife up into her head from the left side, driving it home and rendering her inert immediately.
"Head's up," was the only warning I got before a flannel-wearing man that was probably over three hundred pounds lunged towards me. Shane brought the butt of his shotgun down and delivered a devastating blow to the man's head, causing him to drop to the ground near the other two. "Should be cleared out now."
A bit winded, I nodded and stopped long enough to clean the blade of my hatchet off on the fat man's flannel before I followed Shane into the store. It was one of the newer stores, and though they hadn't been cleaned off since the end of the world, the skylights scattered across the store provided enough light to illuminate the back room of the store and beyond.
We entered into the storage area and the employee lounge wasn't far off. Ensuring that no stiffs waited within, I nudged open the unisex bathroom with my boot and sighed with relief when I found it empty. I heard Shane shut the heavy back door and we were alone in the entire store.
He slung the strap of his shotgun around so that he could walk unimpeded throughout the store. I hesitated for a moment before I sheathed my weapons, nervously tugging my hair back into a tight ponytail before I followed after him.
"Store's been hit real hard, but there's still some things we could use." He pushed aside some candy on a shelf and picked up a can of green beans. "Load up as many carts as you can and we'll see what we can fit into the Jeep."
I bypassed the rows of food and clothes and stopped near the personal hygiene area. Shane could say what he wanted, but we needed more than cans of green beans. I snagged a yellow cart and swept my arm across the shelf, dumping toothbrushes, toothpaste, tampons and pads, shampoos and conditioners, and soaps and lotions into the cart. Once I was satisfied that there were enough boxes of tampons, I studied the contraceptive area.
"Got grand plans for the apocalypse?" he inquired dryly as I grabbed box after box and tossed it into the cart. I glanced over my shoulder to find that he was a few feet away, standing behind the register where the locked case held cartons and cases of cigarettes. I grinned in reply and continued to dump boxes and packages of condoms into the cart before I pushed it towards the paper section. Then I dumped several packages of toilet paper inside. "Got a preference on what brand of menthols?"
I parked the cart near the entrance to the back room and grabbed another. "Don't smoke. Nurse, remember?" I shot back as I stopped near the small hardware area. "Jackpot." I dumped rolls of duct tape, electrical tape, two hammers, a couple sets of pliers, several utility knives, four flash lights and five large packs of batteries, and three-ply twine into the cart. Task complete, I paused near the home section and hesitated for only a moment before I shoved a couple thin, but good quality and warm, blankets into the cart.
When I pushed the cart towards the back room, I noticed that he'd filled one completely with canned and boxes of food and another was half full of cigarettes and candy. With a roll of my eyes, I decided to investigate the back room.
Pallets of supplies, stacked chest high were scattered around the back room. I studied the cardboard boxes, noted that a lot of the stacks were wrapped with cellophane, and read the descriptions curiously. I bypassed the box of wipes and the box of diapers and grinned when I spotted the huge box of Rice. Using my knife, I cut through the cellophane and sliced open the top of the box to peer inside. It contained six dozen boxes of various flavors of rice. The salt content wasn't ideal, but the carbs would be welcome down the road. I tucked my knife back into its sheath and hefted the box into my arms and dropped it onto an oversized two wheel dolly that was parked near the exterior door.
For the next ten minutes, I continued to search the back room for other viable options. I found a case of peanuts, a case of saltines, beef jerky, and an entire case of canned tuna fish. By the time I'd stacked the boxes on top of the others on the two wheel dolly, I felt satisfied that we had found more supplies than we could have ever anticipated. In fact, I wasn't entirely certain if we would be able to fit everything into Shane's Jeep.
"Damn." I spun around on my heel, one hand on my hatchet, and exhaled slowly when I realized that it was only Shane. We had three carts full of supplies and five large cases of supplies – a damn good haul. "What'd you find back here?" I rattled off what I'd found and indicated the two wheel dolly. He rubbed his chin. "Good finds. Might take more time to load shit up than I expected."
"We could come back, if it comes down to it."
We argued for a moment before we decided that it made more sense for him to load the supplies into the Jeep while I kept watch. The fifteen minutes that it took to organize the three carts worth in boxes and bags and fit them into the Jeep along with the boxes were tense. I stood on the hood of the Jeep, Shane's shotgun in my grasp, and searched for any sign of danger. He was quick and quiet, so I was almost certain that the noise wouldn't draw any of the stiffs, but it was better safe than sorry.
Wrapping the remaining supplies in a dirty tarp, we left them sitting near the dumpster where an onlooker might mistake them for random debris. When I noticed the dirt and grime, and a few flecks of gore on my hands, Shane shook his head. "Water's runnin', let's clean up."
As I followed him back inside the store, I found myself picturing the looks of surprise on everyone's faces when we returned with the motherlode of supplies. Smiling, I shut the heavy exterior door behind me and finally allowed myself to relax in the slightest. It had been successful morning already.
