Kids
"Where are we going, Samurai Lady?"
Shane grumbles low in his throat. This is the fifth time this hour he's been asking the same question. Part of him wants to duct tape the boy but restrains himself; that boy has been latching on to his Samurai Lady and she's awfully protective of him like a Mama Bear. All it takes is for Shane to hurt one hair off that boy's head and she'll slice and dice him like he was yesterday's sushi.
Instead he settles for snarling at the boy and he in turn sticks his tongue out. The little punk…
"Shane."
He stops in the motion of giving the kid the finger and looks up.
"Yeah, Mama Bear?" He smirks at her. Her eyes seem to spark with amusement.
"We need a place to rest before nightfall. Jacob is tired and we need to keep him safe."
He nods in response, even though he wants to tell this woman that they would've moved farther along had they killed the kid and kept it moving. He gets a good look at Jacob: Dark brown curly locks, hazel eyes, skin a rich shade of tan. He looks about six years old, maybe older; he wears filthy jeans and an orange shirt two sizes too big, stuffed into a dirty army jacket. His sneakers are peeling at the soles; Shane will have to either fix them or run to a supply store to find some new ones.
Jacob sucks his thumb, and Shane will admit, he looks sort of cute.
He actually wanted a kid of his own; he always imagined two boys and a girl, running amok while he looks on from his front porch. He thought he could build that with Lori and Carl, which didn't exactly end well. Their memory leaves an awful taste in his mouth.
They find a Volkswagen that's seen better days and, after getting rid of the walkers trapped in it, took residence there. Mama Bear lies in the backseat with Jacob, stroking his hair while Shane digs around for keys and proper weapons. Finding all that's needed, he locks all windows and lies in the front seat, eyes flickering back and forth in their surroundings. They're in the forest, civilization hours away. The biting cold makes Jacob shiver and sniffle, inching closer to Mama Bear for warmth. They have no blankets; the only sources of heat are their jackets and body mass. Shane looks over his shoulder and frowns at the two struggling to get warm. He can't have these two dying of frostbite.
He unbuckles his seatbelt and crawls over to the backseat, his body pushing Jacob to the center.
"C'mere."
They obey, embracing Shane while he throws his jacket over them. The heat comes within minutes, the once shivering boy becoming cozy and comfortable. It didn't take long for Jacob to then fall asleep. When the soft snoring fills the duo's ears, her eyes flicker over to his.
"That was nice of you," she says.
"Had to. Didn't want anyone dying of hypothermia."
"You do know I've been roughing it for so long I know how to make my own heat."
"I don't know anything about you. I don't even know your name."
"Because I don't trust you."
"You should. Right now, we have a kid in this. You're going to have to trust me at some point."
He's got her.
She crinkles her nose in annoyance, and finally, she says,
"Michonne."
"Michonne," he drawls out, his tongue caressing every syllable.
"Don't expect us to be the best of friends. Once Jacob is safe, once we find somewhere safe and devoid of walkers, we go our separate ways."
"I have a question, Michonne," Shane leans over to her.
"If you don't trust me and want nothing to do with me, why did you save me?"
"I have my reasons." With that, she turns on her side and he hears nothing from her. Shaking his head, he sits upright in the backseat and takes watch for the night.
The next morning Shane awoke to Jacob's shrieks.
Startled, he jumps out of his spot and assesses the damage. Michonne is gone, and three walkers are clawing their way in the car. He maneuvers his way to the front seat and finds the keys.
"Buckle up, kid." Shane warns.
Starting the car, he prays he has enough gas to get the hell out of there. The car sparks to life, and Shane floors it. Jacob screams even louder, his hands clutching his seatbelt. He turns the wheel, finds the biters, and charges towards them. When the sickening crunch of their bodies greets Shane's ears, he deems it a victory. Turning the wheel, he notices he's making a macabre donut wheel with their intestines; some of them are getting caught in his back wheel. Shit.
Shane is stuck; get out of the car and leave Jacob alone so he could clear the wheel, or stay in the car like sitting ducks until Michonne gets back. Where is she, anyway?
"Where the fuck is that sword-swinging bitch?" He grits out under his breath. As if on cue, the door flings open and there's Michonne, bloody and bruised. Her pets trail behind her and Shane can piece together what happened: she went hunting while they slept.
"Wh-?"
"I went looking for rabbit and gotten attacked by a rogue survivor." She explains, her sword held up for emphasis. She flicks it clean and sheaths it. Jacob runs into her arms, sobbing.
"I thought they got you," he wails against her stomach, "I thought they got you!"
Her eyes flicker to the car. Intestines and the rasping of mutilated walkers draw her attention and it riddles Shane with embarrassment.
"Who's going to clean this up?"
They traveled for what felt like ages. Michonne drove while Jacob sits in the passenger while Shane and her pets sit in the back. His thoughts are blank; his only focus is the scenery and the dwindling houses. He looks to his new companions and a miniscule sense of calm washes over.
He can start over.
"Where are we headed?"
"Cul de sac a few miles ahead." She responds.
"You think that's safe? All those houses could mean there are higher chances of those geeks coming. Or some enemies who don't want new company."
"We find threats, we take them out. Simple as that."
"You think me and you could take all of them out? With a kid as dead weight?"
"Positive."
They pull up to the cul de sac and Michonne draws her sword. Jacob stands beside her, clutching a pipe he found in the trunk. Shane cocks his gun and runs through the homes; eyes and ears open for any sounds or the sight of rotting flesh. He settles on a blue home and motions for Michonne and Jacob to follow suit.
The home seemed to have been well-prepared; booby traps litter the ground, weapons and barred up windows blocked out any chance of sunshine. Jacob is scooped up and placed on Michonne's back and they trail far behind Shane.
Shane peels the corner and finds the kitchen. The cabinets are already sifted through; already perished food rots and mold. Disappointed, Shane makes his way upstairs. The bathroom is stocked with first aid kit and aspirin, though the aspirin is expired. He crams it in his bag anyway. He was finishing raiding he heard a scream.
Running to the source, what he finds makes his stomach twist.
Jacob stands at the door of a children's bedroom, his feet rooted to the ground. Two kids, around his age, lie in their beds, decomposing. Maggots and flies eat away at their skin, the strong smell rendering Jacob weak. His knees buckle, and he vomits. Michonne finds him, and the scene makes her stuck as well.
Shane springs into action.
"Don't look, don't look." He mutters in their ears, shielding their eyes. He closes the door and drags the two away from the room. They weren't supposed to see that. Ever.
"Andre," he hears Michonne whisper against his skin, "Andre, I'm so sorry."
This Andre fellow peaks Shane's curiosity, but he pushes it down.
He crouches in front of them, trying to get their attention.
"Look," he begins, but he doesn't know what to say. They'd just seen dead bodies of children; even a seasoned cop can't prepare for seeing that.
"That's just the world we live in now."
The old world they knew and love is gone.
Right now, death, disease, and struggle for survival are the norm.
They have no more time to grieve, to be shocked at the brutality they're forced to live in.
They have to survive.
"We have to not let this get to us. The parents probably snuffed them out because they were too weak-willed to make it. Let this be a reminder of what happens when you won't keep fighting. We have to move on and struggle."
Jacob's hiccups turn into full sobs. He clings to Shane, his tears and snot soaking his front.
"I'm scared," he bawled, "I don't want to die."
"We're all going to die, one day." Shane answers.
"We're waiting and fighting it out until our time comes. We need to tough it out and make sure the biters won't do us in before our clock runs out."
He look s down at Jacob.
"I'm going to teach you how to shoot, hunt, and kill. You need to learn how to make it on your own. Samurai Lady and I can't be around forever to protect you."
The boy nods against him.
Shane looks over to Michonne. She stays rooted to the ground, her eyes stuck on that door. Pained memories flash before her, memories and tragedies Shane will never know.
"Michonne?" he asks.
"Michonne," he tries again, adding more bass in his voice. He reaches out and grabs her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.
"You got to stay with me, Michonne. You can't leave us right now."
"Andre," her voice murmurs.
She closes her eyes tightly and takes deep breaths. She turns to face the two males. Shane's eyes read worry and concern.
"I'm okay." She answers. She draws her sword and walks downstairs. Shane and Jacob follow suit, their eyes scouting for any potential dangers.
They find Michonne outside the home, greeted by seven biters, stumbling over to her. She hacks one into ground meat and uses the intestines to restrain another one while she impales it with her sword. One comes behind her; she jerks her sword and slices through its head. Three down, four to go.
SHULK. SWISH. THOK. WH-PWAK.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
She flicks her sword clean and sheaths it. She takes deep breaths, looks over to Shane and Jacob and says,
"Let's get moving."
Shane takes the wheel this time, often looking over his shoulder to check on the passengers. Michonne is off in her thoughts, her stern look never changing. Jacob, though petrified at the chained pets that carry their luggage sitting next to him, tries in vain to converse with them. Shane looks back to the open road, seeing another town up ahead. Heavily gated, guards standing posted with guns and arrows, walkers being gunned down in seconds.
He has a bad feeling about this.
"We're turning around."
Despite the obvious protest, he steers the wheel and tries to make a U-turn. Something went wrong; all he heard was the loud pop and hiss of his back tires. Someone either shot at them or they ran over some barbed wire. He hears shouts, guns slapping against flesh. They've spotted them and they're coming.
"We're going to roll out here and we're going to take out as many as we can," he barks. Jacob grabs his pipe, Michonne her sword, and Shane his gun.
"1…"
The noises get closer.
"2…"
They all unlock their doors.
"Now!"
They tumble out into the grass. Michonne stands and charges at the assailants. Shane throws Jacob on his back and shoots. Jacob throws his pipe at one of them and shouts in victory when he hit his mark. They did the best they could, but they were outnumbered. One of the guards, a tall Hispanic man, inched toward them with his rifle.
"We don't want no trouble," he begins, "We just want to know who you are."
"I don't believe you." Shane snarls, "How do I know you ain't gon' kill us and take our shit?"
"We have plenty of shit," the man chortles, "We just need to know if you're a threat."
The two men size each other up, a proverbial pissing contest evident. The tension broke when a whistle cracks through the air.
"Well lookie here. Officer Friendly's friend has come and brought company. A nigger samurai and a half-breed brat."