Fic: The Bus
Author: Ashley
The Bus
disclaimer: not my characters.
warnings: language, SPOILERS for 18 Miles Out
summary: Rick leaves Shane on the bus.
author's note: for a prompt on the twd_kinkmeme. all mistakes are mine. thanks, anon prompter *gg* feedback would be love.
Shane figured he’d have been much more successful at getting his point across had the weather been worse.
The sun was beautiful, it was slightly cool - fall was definitely here - and everyone, Carol included, had a better attitude then they had recently. He’d gone with Rick in the car, the boy trussed up in the back (fodder for the geeks, but Shane kept that thought to himself), the tiny old cd player they’d found plugged into his ears and tape on his mouth and a ski mask pulled over his eyes.
Shane figured the day would have gone a lot better had it been raining, even that pissy stuff that he damn well hated, because maybe Rick would have put off the leaving for a few hours, and Shane could have taken care of business without having to involve anyone else. Maybe they wouldn’t have had to get in the car and drive the fucking 18 miles out and then maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have had to get out of the car when Rick had stopped and accused him of wanting to separate Rick from his family.
Had stopped and forced Shane to feel ashamed and lost and the man, his friend, his best friend, had told him how it was gonna be and that Shane had no say in the matter no more. Rick had stuck his finger in Shane’s face and his eyes, those normally easy to read blue ones, his eyes had been dark and shuttered and Shane had tried, goddamnit, he’d tried to say what had been in his heart and he’d admitted that Lori and Carl kept me alive and fucking Rick man, fucking Rick hadn’t replied. It was as if he hadn’t heard Shane at all.
It was one thing for Rick to go all alpha male. Shane could get around that. He didn’t care, truth be told, because in all the years they’d known each other, Shane could do whatever he wanted, no matter what crazy idea Rick came up with. And 9 times out of 10, Rick had agreed in the end that Shane had been right, and they’d patched up whatever argument they’d started by drinking and then doing stuff Shane refused to think on right now. Rick respected him, Rick loved him, and they were partners and what in the fuck did the other man mean by forcing him into a corner like that?
That Randall was bad news and when Shane drew his gun and attempted to do what he should have done several days ago, Rick knocked him down -
The bus he ended up trapped in was rickety and shaky and he cursed and pressed himself against the door and rocked back and forth as the ravenous walkers groaned and ground themselves against the bus, trying to get to him any way they could. He thought of that thing Rick had done earlier - sliced his palm open with his knife, getting them to come close enough to stab them in their fucked up brains - and slammed the door shut and tried to wait it out, knowing that no matter what had passed between them, no matter that he’d lost it (fuck that, he’d done what he needed to do as he always did, no matter if it was Rick) and he’d tried to crush Rick with that bike and he’d found that wrench and he’d missed by that much and no matter that Rick had headbutted him and had taken his gun away, Shane waited at the door of the bus, watching for Rick, waiting to be rescued. Cause this was Rick, and Shane was damn well stuck between a rock and a hard place (he cocked his head, not sure where he’d heard that weird phrase) and he waited like a princess in a video game, blood trickling down his chin from the left hook Rick had slammed him with.
He was stuck there, and for once in this miserable damn world, had no ideas on how to get out by himself. So he waited, watching -
There they were; Shane slammed a palm against the glass of the window and shouted, “Rick! Rick!” He banged on the pane again, the cracked stuff vibrating with his effort. The geeks hungering for him got louder; the ominous rocking and creaking of the bus distracted him for a moment, and when he looked back at where Rick and Randall (fuck that loser!) had been, there was no one.
“Rick! Rick!”
He screamed it this time, screamed it so loud the walkers recoiled a bit, as if not sure what their lunch was doing - the sun broke free of a cloud and Shane, leaning against the sliding door with his butt, rooted until he found a tire iron and slid it across the door, wedging it shut. Not sure for how long, but he felt his gorge rise as he tracked out toward the emergency exit door at the end of the bus - looking, searching with every beat of his drumming heart, knowing that what he thought was happening couldn’t possibly be happening -
There went the car; he could see it just out of the corner of his left eye. Out the gate, speeding, neither man in the front seats looking back.
If only it had rained, he thought again, his breath catching in his throat, his eyes burning, his mouth open then clenching shut till his jaw made a popping sound. The cut over his eye stung and his brain buzzed and fuck it he pushed the emergency door open, and leaped out onto the concrete driveway, making a beeline for the road and the torn open gate Rick and Randall had driven through.
He passed the bodies of the two men - two cops - they’d seen on their way in.
No bites. Must be the scratches. Their flesh rotting and rank, the uniforms they wore dirty and torn and Shane kept going, stopping only to snatch up the Ruger that lay next to one of the fallen men. He almost tripped over the dead man’s broad brimmed hat, but jumped over it at the last second.
The walkers were behind him; he could hear their groaning and shuffling and he panted as he ran, the car becoming a speck in the distance, his strong legs fast but not that fast, air pumping through his lungs, drying his mouth and throat and finally he stopped, bent over, sucking in breath after breath as the moaning and footfalls came closer.
He stood up, dizzy, spots appearing in his vision. The day was still lovely. He glanced around him; there was nothing save the place he’d come from, and that way was barred by the dead coming for him.
He swallowed.
Carl’s face rose in his mind’s eye, and Lori’s long hair and smile, and the night the government had dropped bombs on Atlanta.
Carl’s face and Lori’s face when they’d seen Rick after Glenn had retrieved him from the city. Shane’s heart dropping into his stomach at the same sight.
That is my wife. My son.
He shuddered and bent over, the Ruger held in his hands tightly. The walkers were louder and closer and his neck beaded with sweat, the car long gone, a tiny wink in his mind’s eye.
A hand whiffing at his back.
Shane straightened and turned and fired the gun point blank into the zombie’s face, blowing its head off its shoulders -
bang bang bang bang bang
click click
He threw the gun at the closest one and pulled his knife and faced them down and the sun beat on his head and he smiled grimly and lifted the blade and blood spattered his face, dark and ochre colored and he wished, a wish that was carried to the heavens by the light breeze, if only it had damn well rained.
~
The Bus
disclaimer: not my characters.
warnings: language, SPOILERS for 18 Miles Out
summary: Rick leaves Shane on the bus.
author's note: for a prompt on the twd_kinkmeme. all mistakes are mine. thanks, anon prompter *gg* feedback would be love.
Shane figured he’d have been much more successful at getting his point across had the weather been worse.
The sun was beautiful, it was slightly cool - fall was definitely here - and everyone, Carol included, had a better attitude then they had recently. He’d gone with Rick in the car, the boy trussed up in the back (fodder for the geeks, but Shane kept that thought to himself), the tiny old cd player they’d found plugged into his ears and tape on his mouth and a ski mask pulled over his eyes.
Shane figured the day would have gone a lot better had it been raining, even that pissy stuff that he damn well hated, because maybe Rick would have put off the leaving for a few hours, and Shane could have taken care of business without having to involve anyone else. Maybe they wouldn’t have had to get in the car and drive the fucking 18 miles out and then maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have had to get out of the car when Rick had stopped and accused him of wanting to separate Rick from his family.
Had stopped and forced Shane to feel ashamed and lost and the man, his friend, his best friend, had told him how it was gonna be and that Shane had no say in the matter no more. Rick had stuck his finger in Shane’s face and his eyes, those normally easy to read blue ones, his eyes had been dark and shuttered and Shane had tried, goddamnit, he’d tried to say what had been in his heart and he’d admitted that Lori and Carl kept me alive and fucking Rick man, fucking Rick hadn’t replied. It was as if he hadn’t heard Shane at all.
It was one thing for Rick to go all alpha male. Shane could get around that. He didn’t care, truth be told, because in all the years they’d known each other, Shane could do whatever he wanted, no matter what crazy idea Rick came up with. And 9 times out of 10, Rick had agreed in the end that Shane had been right, and they’d patched up whatever argument they’d started by drinking and then doing stuff Shane refused to think on right now. Rick respected him, Rick loved him, and they were partners and what in the fuck did the other man mean by forcing him into a corner like that?
That Randall was bad news and when Shane drew his gun and attempted to do what he should have done several days ago, Rick knocked him down -
The bus he ended up trapped in was rickety and shaky and he cursed and pressed himself against the door and rocked back and forth as the ravenous walkers groaned and ground themselves against the bus, trying to get to him any way they could. He thought of that thing Rick had done earlier - sliced his palm open with his knife, getting them to come close enough to stab them in their fucked up brains - and slammed the door shut and tried to wait it out, knowing that no matter what had passed between them, no matter that he’d lost it (fuck that, he’d done what he needed to do as he always did, no matter if it was Rick) and he’d tried to crush Rick with that bike and he’d found that wrench and he’d missed by that much and no matter that Rick had headbutted him and had taken his gun away, Shane waited at the door of the bus, watching for Rick, waiting to be rescued. Cause this was Rick, and Shane was damn well stuck between a rock and a hard place (he cocked his head, not sure where he’d heard that weird phrase) and he waited like a princess in a video game, blood trickling down his chin from the left hook Rick had slammed him with.
He was stuck there, and for once in this miserable damn world, had no ideas on how to get out by himself. So he waited, watching -
There they were; Shane slammed a palm against the glass of the window and shouted, “Rick! Rick!” He banged on the pane again, the cracked stuff vibrating with his effort. The geeks hungering for him got louder; the ominous rocking and creaking of the bus distracted him for a moment, and when he looked back at where Rick and Randall (fuck that loser!) had been, there was no one.
“Rick! Rick!”
He screamed it this time, screamed it so loud the walkers recoiled a bit, as if not sure what their lunch was doing - the sun broke free of a cloud and Shane, leaning against the sliding door with his butt, rooted until he found a tire iron and slid it across the door, wedging it shut. Not sure for how long, but he felt his gorge rise as he tracked out toward the emergency exit door at the end of the bus - looking, searching with every beat of his drumming heart, knowing that what he thought was happening couldn’t possibly be happening -
There went the car; he could see it just out of the corner of his left eye. Out the gate, speeding, neither man in the front seats looking back.
If only it had rained, he thought again, his breath catching in his throat, his eyes burning, his mouth open then clenching shut till his jaw made a popping sound. The cut over his eye stung and his brain buzzed and fuck it he pushed the emergency door open, and leaped out onto the concrete driveway, making a beeline for the road and the torn open gate Rick and Randall had driven through.
He passed the bodies of the two men - two cops - they’d seen on their way in.
No bites. Must be the scratches. Their flesh rotting and rank, the uniforms they wore dirty and torn and Shane kept going, stopping only to snatch up the Ruger that lay next to one of the fallen men. He almost tripped over the dead man’s broad brimmed hat, but jumped over it at the last second.
The walkers were behind him; he could hear their groaning and shuffling and he panted as he ran, the car becoming a speck in the distance, his strong legs fast but not that fast, air pumping through his lungs, drying his mouth and throat and finally he stopped, bent over, sucking in breath after breath as the moaning and footfalls came closer.
He stood up, dizzy, spots appearing in his vision. The day was still lovely. He glanced around him; there was nothing save the place he’d come from, and that way was barred by the dead coming for him.
He swallowed.
Carl’s face rose in his mind’s eye, and Lori’s long hair and smile, and the night the government had dropped bombs on Atlanta.
Carl’s face and Lori’s face when they’d seen Rick after Glenn had retrieved him from the city. Shane’s heart dropping into his stomach at the same sight.
That is my wife. My son.
He shuddered and bent over, the Ruger held in his hands tightly. The walkers were louder and closer and his neck beaded with sweat, the car long gone, a tiny wink in his mind’s eye.
A hand whiffing at his back.
Shane straightened and turned and fired the gun point blank into the zombie’s face, blowing its head off its shoulders -
bang bang bang bang bang
click click
He threw the gun at the closest one and pulled his knife and faced them down and the sun beat on his head and he smiled grimly and lifted the blade and blood spattered his face, dark and ochre colored and he wished, a wish that was carried to the heavens by the light breeze, if only it had damn well rained.
~