Chapter 34

Shane Walsh watched and waited, setting up homestead in an abandoned apartment building three blocks away from Trinity Hills. He'd found the tire tracks, and it had eventually led him to Trinity Hills, where he'd spied Glenn and Maggie playing in the snow with Jenna. The women all made nice by having some kind of party for Carol, which he'd witnessed the previous night. He'd smirked and sat with his binoculars and drank a flat beer as he watched them shower her with hugs and laughter and even sexy negligee, no doubt to wear for that redneck son of a bitch that had fucked up everything once upon a time.

Tonight, he drank a few too many beers, thought a little too long about the things he'd done, the things Daryl Dixon had made him do by fucking everything up and walking around like he owned the fucking earth.

Tonight, he polished the barrel of his pistol and counted his bullets. Tonight, he was a little too drunk to have his wits about him and a little too drunk to care.

He pulled something out of the breast pocket of his shirt. A torn piece of a picture of the police force. There they were. Him and Rick. Grinning like idiots, faces red from having a little too much champagne at a benefit thrown by the Mayor. Back then, it was him and Rick, best friends, partners in fighting crime, side by side in everything they did. Then the turn happened. Then the power plays begin. Then Daryl fucking Dixon and that grey-haired bitch showed up and fucked everything up.

Shane smirked and reached into his pack to pull out a cigarette lighter. He flicked the lighter and let the flames lick the edge of the torn picture. It began to warp and separate from the film, and as the flames ate closer to the center, Shane let it fall to the floor, burning a hole in the carpet.

"Wasn't me, Rick. You know it wasn't. Wouldn't have been like that if you just listened to me. Just fuckin' listened. Always wanted me to follow your goddamn lead. Just fuckin' had enough of being your sidekick." He smirked. "Oh, Rick, Rick Rick, you always had to be the one in charge. Couldn't give up control for one goddamned second."

He peeked through the binoculars again, snorting as he saw that the young black man was on the door. He was pretty sure, from reading lips, the kid's name was Noah, and he seemed pretty green. Wouldn't be hard at all to get past him, to take him out if the need arose.

He pushed back from his seat and holstered his gun. Tonight was the night he took back the power. Tonight was the night he'd put a bullet in Daryl Dixon's back.

"That tickles!" Carol laughed, as Daryl's fingers moved down her spine. She was lying on her stomach, sprawled out in their bed, and he was straddling her hips, massaging her shoulders and her back, but now he was starting to tease her.

His fingers lightly brushed over the small of her back, and she snorted, burying her laughter against the pillow.

"Daryl Dixon, you are asking for it tonight."

"Right about that," he chuckled, bending down to kiss the back of her neck. She moaned softly, and he resumed his massage, pressing lightly against her aching muscles.

"That's amazing," she groaned. She grew silent for a few minutes, before she let out a soft sigh.

"S'wrong?"

"Just worried," she said quietly. Daryl scooted off of her, and she rolled onto her side to look at him. "Shane. I just keep waiting for him to show up."

"He ain't gettin' in."

"He's not a walker. He thinks like a person. The kind of person that would shoot his own best friend in the back and leave him there to turn. He hates us, Daryl."

"For no good reason."

"People who hate like that don't need a good reason," Carol murmured. "He's crazy, Daryl."

"He ain't gettin' in here. We keep somebody on the gates all the time." He saw the look in her eyes, and gently stroked her cheek. "Want me to take watch tonight?"

"No. I want you here with me," she said with a sleepy smile playing over her lips. "I sleep better when you're here." He flopped down on the bed, rolling onto his back, and she scooted over to snuggle up against him. His hand lazily strummed down her waist. "Judith called me Mama today." Daryl chuckled as Carol's fingers linked with his.

"You ok with that?"

"I think so," Carol said with a little smile. "But just so you know, if I'm gonna be mama, you're gonna be daddy." She gently ran her finger down his jaw. "You ok with that?" She thought for a moment, narrowed his eyes and then that smile played over his lips.

"Yeah. I'm ok with that." Carol sighed softly and kissed his jaw.

"Love you," she whispered, closing her eyes and relaxing against his chest.

"Love you too."

Noah's eyes fluttered shut, and his head lolled, rolling against the side of the lookout tower the group had constructed. He groaned, slapping his face and shaking his head vigorously. What he wouldn't give for a Red Bull and a giant bag of Skittles.

He heard a scraping on the asphalt outside. He leaned over the railing, looking down, out over the gate. A few leaves scraped over patches of ice on the road. Noah shivered, shifting his gaze about the area, unable to detect any hint of a threat, walker or otherwise.

He sat back against the wall, and he closed his eyes, taking in the sounds of the night. Wind rattling the branches, distant giggling from the Rhee household, where Glenn was no doubt reading his daughter a bedtime story. An owl hooted in the distance somewhere, and somewhere, a dog barked. It almost felt like home, back before the turn, back before everything got turned upside down and backward.

The rattle of keys woke him as he started to drift off again. He shook his head again, yawning. His eyes watered as he peered over the side again, seeing nothing. And then the bottom hatch of the watch toward banged open, and he nearly jumped out of his coat.

"Shit!" he yelped. Beth poked her head in, a sheepish smile on her face.

"Sorry," she said with a guilty grin. "Thought you might like some company."

"Your daddy know you're out here?"

"My daddy and I had a nice long talk this afternoon. He understands I'm an adult."

"He say that, or you just interpret it that way? In my experience, dads don't ever believe their little girls are grown up. To them, they're always their little girls."

"You have sisters, Noah?" Beth asked.

"No. Just had a few girlfriends," he replied, getting a swat on his arm from her. He laughed and helped pull her all the way up. He pulled her in close, and they snuggled up together. It wasn't long before all thought of keeping watch was out the window, and Noah's focus was directed solely on his girlfriend.

Shane heard the giggles coming from the watch tower and smirked, shaking his head. It couldn't be this easy. Just like in the movies. He walked silently along the gate, moving far from the lookout and the doors. He followed the wall around a corner, looking for anything he might be able to use to get over that wall.

The top had been lined with barbed wire.

"Nice. Very prison-like," Shane snickered aloud. The further he walked, the more it seemed he was going to have to kill those two lovebirds on lookout. He had nothing against them, per say, but if he had to do it to get inside, then he was going to do it.

It was when he reached for his gun that he heard it, right behind him. The snarl of walker just a few feet away. He turned, pressing his back flat against the wall, aiming his gun, making the split decision at that moment not to fire, because if he did, he'd wake up the whole group.

He fumbled for his knife, suddenly realizing it wasn't in his belt. A sick panic washed over him, and he turned and fled, heading for the front of the wall. Another walker stepped in his path, and he stopped, looking around for anything he could find to use as a weapon.

The snarls grew louder, and that was when he heard it. A church bell. And then there was a scuffling of feet and shouts from the other side of the wall.

He plowed into the walker, knocking it away from him, bracing himself for bites or scratches or anything else.

"Fuck," he spat, turning the corner, slipping on a patch of ice, falling face first into the concrete.

"Walker!" Noah shouted from the lookout.

"No! Stop!" Shane scrambled to his feet, just as a walker advanced on him, taking a bite out of his outstretched hand. Out of shock, anger hate, he drew his gun and fired a bullet into the walker's skull.

"Put your hands up!" Noah called out, aiming his rifle over the side of the wall, coat hanging half off of him as Beth scrambled behind him to grab her gun. "Who are you?" Beth peeked out from behind Noah before pulling herself up into sight.

"Shane?!" she called down. Shane panted and winced as his bite burned. Noah turned his gun on the walkers coming up behind Shane and picked them off one at a time, as the gates swung open, and Carol and Daryl both came out, knives at the ready.

"Look who comes to the rescue," Shane chuckled, eyes even on Daryl as the stood face to face. Shane cocked his gun, which made Daryl draw his own.

"Daryl!" Carol called out, realizing what was happening as Shane raised the pistol to his own temple. He closed his eyes, and just as his finger was reaching for the trigger, he felt a searing pain rip through his arm. He cried out, his eyes flying open as he saw his hand separate from his arm as the blood flew in every direction. The pain was so intense he couldn't even scream, and as the axe clanked on the ground, his gaze traveled up to the hands that had wielded it. Glenn Rhee.

Shane's amputated hand still held the pistol, and Daryl made a grab for it.

"You don't get the easy way out," Glenn snarled through gritted teeth.

"Just fuckin' kill me!" Shane yelled, holding his bleeding stump as Noah came running out.

"Grab the rope from the shed!" Daryl hollered. Noah made a run for it, and within moments, Daryl was tying Shane up. "Let's get him to Hershel."

"Why?" Shane asked, color draining from his face. "I'm gonna die anyway."

"Why?" Daryl asked, getting in Shane's face. "We kill you, then we become you. We ain't murderers."