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Four Walls and a Roof

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YOU ARE SO MUCH MORE THAN YOUR FATHER'S SON.

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Charlotte Chimes as Nicolette Stone NEIGHBOURS (1985 - ) Ep. 8640 (2021)

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All negotiations agreed upon, signed and sealed with the ink of an imaginary pen, the promises that Shane and Carol made to each other, the walk toward the white Jeep Wrangler was the start of newfound trust. An oath that couldn't be forsaken - blood would be spilled if so, until there was none left and all life was lost. Another mouth to feed but the group made better for it, the introduction with Goose was a warm one by Shane. A closed mouth smile and bow of his head; open palm offered in gentle hello, to be accepted or denied held within Goose's final judgement. Hand retreated, playful fingers stilled, Shane felt the ache return to his limbs at the mention of his previous travels. Alone and with only his gun for company, he walked rather than drove, didn't want to attract the undead, didn't want to die at the hands of those who lived.

A small selection of vehicles to choose from back at the camp, the rule of emergencies only had been established. Gasoline not guaranteed, supply had been low to almost nonexistent. Much had been used for the purpose of fire, cooking and heating. Much had been dedicated to the runs out of town - beyond the camp boundaries, into the territories far away from King County. Gasoline was a prized possession, then. As precious as gold or silver, the earrings that the ladies wore or the wedding bands that the men refused to take off, something that Shane couldn't sacrifice, no matter the convenience. Would rather take the miles by his own feet than that of tires, his muscles bound to hurt by the end, unashamed. It was a burden taken for the sake of family, of friends. Would be done again, certainly, without question or complaint. Shane's heart wouldn't allow him to say or do otherwise. So stubborn, so determined; proud to provide.

He said casually, inspecting the stains on the Jeep's doors, the mud and whatever else that decided to cling to, "I walked. Came from the eastern road and headed straight into the store. Camp's only a few miles back that way, not too far. We'll make it undetected, but we better do it now. No reason to give the bastard's back there anymore chances at luck with catchin' up."

Regardless of actual effort, the pressure put onto pedals or the speed at which a steering wheel could be spun, Shane knew that a car would alert them all. Geeks and whatever else lurked in the area; about as loud as a bullhorn, to be bounced off of the walls of the surrounding buildings, endless and completely against he and Carol's plans. Both a blessing and a curse, the car would need to be taken advantage of quickly, without a moment to debate or the chance to discuss. Beaten down physically but appearing reliable despite, its frame ruined by the hinderances of the road, dented, chipped, split, the faith that Carol held for the old car was noteworthy. Unshaken, believed within totally, trusted to get both herself and Shane out of the mess that tried to take them out. Would keep them safe, too, Shane was desperate to climb into the passenger side seat. Wished for nothing but to rest his legs, to soothe the cramp in his back, to be able to think not of the men who had made his life more difficult.

Head swiveled down the path of the nearest street, a lonesome bit, Shane listened and watched. Awaited any potential for change, the spark that would make both he and Carol abandon the place entirely, to go back to the camp of survivors from Atlanta.

"Come on." Shane encouraged, friendly but with purpose. "You drive. Take it slow, don't gun it out of here. Anythin' too loud, and more than the Walkers will be on us. Go nice and easy. I'll cover you - got a few rounds left in the shotgun here. I'll make them count if I need to."

​​Carol felt a smidge of relief. Being alone as the world went to shit wasn’t fun. Every night she needed to find a place to hole up and make sure her vehicle wasn’t discovered. Every night it was the same mental checklist of minimizing risk and contingency plans. Where would she run if someone came from the window, what would she do if the hallway was flooded with biters… it wasn’t that she didn’t need to worry about all of that when in a group, but it didn’t take a genius to realise a person’s survivability went up if they weren’t on their own.

         “Crystal,” she replied.

         As he continued, there was a flicker of confusion on Carol’s face. Geeks?

         “I’m sorry, a Geek?” She asked, “if you mean biters, she’s actually pretty good at knowin’ when they’re around and warning me. But don’t worry about her, I’ll keep an eye on her.”

         Goose wasn’t one to get herself or anyone else in trouble. In truth, Carol didn’t know how she’d trained the cat, only that she had. Goose had been the singular constant during the absolute hellscape that was the world right now. Carol smiled at his question.

         “Providing no one’s stolen it, she’s with my car,” Carol said, checking her gun one last time. “Follow me.”

         Carol moved with purpose. Shane was right. They shouldn’t waste time and chance running into those assholes from earlier. Carol knew she should have killed the one when she had the chance, but he was basically a kid.

         As they cut between another set of houses, the scenery began to look familiar. She’d explored most of the houses, squirreled away what she could find. The mart had been her last stop. She’d gotten greedy. She didn’t know why. Her luck in the homes hadn’t been great. Carol figured she’d gotten desperate, and rationalised the risk.

         Down the street, and tucked behind an overground weeping willow with branches that consumed most of the front and backyard – was a white Jeep Wrangler. The sides were splattered with mud, an obvious sign that Carol hadn’t kept to the roads. One of the rear windows of the soft top was taped together, and there was a dent in the front bumper. The passenger side window was three quarters of the way down.

         “Home sweet home,” she said as she approached the vehicle.

         And then an orange tabby dropped down from the tree above. She landed on the hood with a quiet thump, and stared at Shane.

         “Goose,” she pointed at the cat. She motioned back to Shane, “meet Shane.”

         Goose flicked an ear at the man. Then turned and hopped on Carol’s shoulder as she passed by to get in the driver’s side. Carol stopped and looked at her companion.

         “You got a car or did you walk? I can drop you at your car and follow you back if you do, probably easiest.”

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One Tree Hill 1.01 | - “Pilot”

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I can save lives. That’s reason enough to risk mine.

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you’re not a fighter.

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                 Still, there is this terrible desire to be loved.                  Still, there is this horror at being left behind.

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It’s never gonna get any better than this.

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Amongst cricket chirps and the whistle of soft breeze, there was peace. A world that knew not of the destruction of Walkers, who lived still in the blissful bubble that was the old ways. Warm afternoons spent drinking with conversations of small talk, the comfort that was found in being around friends. Fearing not the strike of death - the coldness of hands colored gray, the agony of teeth into the throat, breaking and ripping until there was nothing left. Shane was certain that he had stumbled into a dream. One that didn't involve the closing of his eyes, his head upon the pillow, his body wrapped in a sleeping bag, tiny holes by the feet and its zipper only half working. Mind desperate to fight away the terrors, the horrible nightmares, out in the open was an unexpected serenity found. Could be tasted, the delicious burn of beer, filled his belly with more than just fish supper. Able to coax a genuine smile upon his lips, his brown eyes lightened and more happy than ever, his heart lifted.

Inspired, then, to hope, the constant battle between life and death would soon be finished. Shane determined to see it so, the focus of his gaze rested onto the group who had fallen into their tents for the night. Beneath the stars that began to sprout in the sky, the bright blue transformed into a magnificent purple. Dressed in the robe of kings, the world was prepared to greet a new day, the new plans ahead. Unspoken but nevertheless felt, Shane knew that it wouldn't last forever. Safety always the first thought, all within the group were in danger the longer they took to the woods. Exposed and hunted; the roles reversed from predator to prey, the top of the food chain dragged down to the bottom. Flesh and bone that could be broken so easily, with another sip savored, the decision was made, silently. A nod of the head and a raise of the eyebrows, before Juniper, before the land that dared to try to keep its survivors pinned.

Running his eyes across the shape of her smirk, Juniper's playful tease was more truthful than perhaps intended. A statement that meant to get a rise out of Shane, the span of their survival truly depended upon everyone within the camp doing their part. Like soldiers, a bunch of ants who desired the same thing, mindless sheep who were eager to avoid the slaughter. Selfishly or for love, the reasons didn't matter. Always the same, the end was the promise that lives hadn't been carelessly lost. Shane couldn't deny that he had his opinions about Juniper from their first encounter. Uncertain as to her motives, her background anything but clean, the delicate balance between complete criminal and social justice. Her and her father walking that thin line in the imaginary sand; the point that would finalize Shane's judgement, the swing of his executioner's axe heavy and with total purpose. But Juniper and her father had proved themselves. Were trusted, in all the ways that someone could be, were the reliable force that helped his more stern one. A sometimes overly blunt commander, his word law, chiseled in stone, to last for eternity.

Thirst quenched, the empty bottle of beer was less for drinking than for play, to be toyed between Shane's fidgety hands. The glass spun around his fingers, tapped and patted, the label peeled away and the design impressions caressed. A subtle tink to be heard; the gears in his head moving, the tiniest puffs of smoke departed from the ears. More tired than he would ever admit, Shane was ready to move on. Couldn't stand the anxiety anymore, the way that old friends were aged beyond their years, hairs gray and wrinkles by their eyes. It was cruel what the world had done to them. What the Geeks had done, as Shane shifted the bottle around, the echo of the woods couldn't be ignored. Birds, bugs, the faintest trace of deer - anticipation for growls and groans. In tattered shirts and practically disintegrated jeans, he considered tossing the bottle into that direction. Prayed that he would hit something, smash it to pieces so it could never hurt anyone else ever again. A hard swallow, Shane wanted to find home.

"Shoot, it cause of you that none of our asses have been stranded. Hell yeah, girl. You bein' here, bein' part of the group, its saved us more times than I could count. More than anybody realizes, that's for damn sure."

Shane added, watching Juniper with fondness, a boyish air. "Let me tell you something, Juniper. I'm gonna get us out of here. All of us out of here. Look, I know Rick likes it, thinks we're safe where we are, but sooner or later, we're gonna get into trouble that we can't get out of. We're gonna end up burying a lot of our loved ones. This ain't no way to live. Scared, out in the woods, eating fish for dinner and canned beans. We need shelter, Juniper. Real shelter. Somethin' with walls and a roof, somethin' to keep those dead bastards out. Carl and Sophia, they need to grow up in a place that ain't putting their safety at risk. Now, granted, I don't know where such a place is, but like hell am I gonna find one. For all of us. Hey, if I'm lucky, maybe you'll wanna stop by my little slice of heaven every once in a while. Let me cook you somethin' more than fish. Did I ever mention that I'm a good cook, Juniper? Yeah, baby, believe it. Old Deputy Walsh knows his way around a kitchen; what I can do with steak, shit, put Paula Deen to shame, I'll tell you."

Nobody was voicing it out loud, but there were only so many fish they could catch and eat before their bellies craved something else. Finding fresh meat was proving difficult, too, even with an experienced hunter like Daryl. But he tried. Everyone tried to make the best with what they had, which wasn't much. Daryl went out with his crossbow nearly every day looking for something new to bring to the table. Juniper was handy with mechanical work, never afraid to get her hands dirty. Carol and Lori were handy with laundry, providing clean clothes and blankets for cold nights. Rick and Shane acted as protectors, never far from their guns in case danger was afoot. Everyone had their part here, and if they didn't, they'd find out sooner or later what it was.

Juniper thought that as soon as she started eating, the fish had already disappeared from her plate. What little had been caught had been equally dispersed between the members of their camp. She'd never complain. It was something, and that was better than not finding anything if she was out there by herself. But as she finished up the last pinch of fish on her plate, she didn't let it stray far from her memory that she was promised a beer tonight. She'd kept that a secret from the rest of the tribe, including her dad, who'd probably like it more than her, but like hell was she going to pass that up.

She spared Shane a glance as he removed himself from dinner, knowing what he was up to, and calculating when she was going to discreetly excuse herself to meet up with him to share in the lager wealth. Other than a glance in his direction, she didn't pay him any more attention. She didn't want anyone to grow suspicious that something was up between the two, even if it was for an innocent occasion. They were only conspiring to drink beers, nothing detrimental to the survival of the camp. It was kind of funny, too. It made the world feel less serious for a little bit. They needed that break from feeling the weight of camp life and the end of the world on their shoulders.

As some of the others broke away from dinner, Juniper nonchalantly got up with them and acted like she was heading back to her quarters. Instead, when nobody thought anything of what she was doing, she disappeared into the cover of darkness. Feet were quiet as she stepped through grass, minding broken sticks and anything else that might give her away. Not that she was stalking him like he was prey. He had to have known she'd show up sooner or later. It was more fun this way, maybe; their own little game.

She was closing in on him when he called out to her. He didn't even need to turn around to know she was there, which made her think she needed to improve her footwork when she was out here. She smirked all the same at his words. ❝ I only like watching you if you have a beer in your hand with my name on it, ❞ she cleverly retorted to him. Except the image of him from earlier did cross her mind, even if it was brief.

She took the beer from her, not minding that it was warm. A beer was a beer, a treasure in these times. Anyone back at the camp would envy them right now. She popped the top off right before he made a toast. That made her laugh. ❝ Probably stranded on the side of the road somewhere, ❞ she teased him, reaching out to clink her glass against his own and then taking a long sip. Holy shit, she thought. Better than she remembered. That's how long it had been. She shook her head then. ❝ Nah. Y'all would probably be good without me. ❞ She paused, smirking again. ❝ Probably. No promises, though. ❞

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