digging graves// rick grimes x OC//

Nebraska Part 4

The arduous task of burning the bodies fell on T-Dog and Shane. They threw the deceased into a pile to basically create a human bonfire. Shane takes his hat off, "You ready?"
"Yeah," T-Dog pauses and sighs, "Man, how many times we gonna have to do this?"
——
A few moments had passed at the bar, Hershel was still adamant about staying. Rick walks back over to the older man, "Look, I'm done. I'm not doing this anymore, cleaning up after you. You know what the truth is?" he asks leaning down, "Nothing has changed. Death is death. It's always been there, whether ist's from a heart attack, cancer, or a walker. What's the difference? You didn't think it was hopeless before, did you? Now there are people back at home trying to hang on. They need us, even if it's just to give them a reason to go on, even if we don't believe it ourselves," Rick wipes his face, "You know what? This— this isn't about what we believe anymore. It's about them."
Hershel gazes into his glass before finishing it. Rick pats his shoulder. Hearing the door creak open, everyone turns their attention to see two men— alive—walk inside.
"Son of a bitch. They're alive," one of the strangers say.
——
The thinner man sits at a table as Rick fills their glass. "I'm Dave," he introduces, he then points to the bigger man, "That scrawny-looking douche bag there is Tony."
The bigger man looks up and chuckles, "Eat me, Dave."
"Hey, maybe someday I will," Dave replies. He turns back to Rick, "We met on I-95 coming out of Philly. Damn shit-show that was."
Glenn chuckles, "I'm Glenn. It's nice to meet some new people."
"Winona," the woman states with a nod.
"Rick Grimes," Rick introduces, while handing Tony a glass.
Dave points towards Hershel, "How about you, pal? Have one?"
"I just quit," the older male replies.
"You've got a unique sense of timing, my friend."
"His name's Hershel. He lost people today, a lot of them," Rick explains.
"I'm truly sorry to hear that," Dave responds. He raises his glass, "To better days and new friends," his gaze lingers on Winona, before he looks back to Hershel, "And to our dead— may they be in a better place." They all take a swig of their drinks and shots. Winona's eyes land on the handgun peeking out of Dave's waistband, his eyes catch her gaze, "Not bad, huh? Pretty lady like you should know how to shoot. I could teach you, if you'd like."
Winona lifts her shirt to reveal her pistol tucked in the waistband, "I'll pass."
Dave smirks, "I see. I got mine off a cop."
"I'm a cop," Rick butts in, annoyed with the man.
"This one was already dead," the man clarifies.
Rick nods, "You fellas are a long way from Philadelphia."
"It feels like we're a long way from anywhere," Tony speaks up.
"Well, what drove you south?" Winona asks.
"Well, I can tell you it wasn't the weather," Dave says, "I must've dropped thirty pounds in sweat alone down here."
"I wish," Tony jokes.
"No, first it was D.C. I heard there might be some king of refugee camp, but the roads were so jammed, we never even got close. We decided to get off the highways, into the sticks, keep hauling ass. Every group we came across had a new rumor about a way out of this thing," Dave describes.
"One guy told us there was the coast guard sitting in the gulf, sending ferries to the islands."
"The latest was a rail yard in Montgomery running trains to the middle of the country— Kansas, Nebraska."
"Nebraska?" Glenn questions.
Dave shrugs his shoulders, Tony answers, "Low population, lots of guns."
"Kinda makes sense," Glenn replies.
"Ever been to Nebraska, kid?" Dave asks, "A reason they call 'em flyover states." Tony laughs, sharing a look with Dave that doesn't go unnoticed by a hyper-vigilant Winona. "How about you guys?"
"Fort Benning, eventually," Rick answers.
"I hate to piss in your cornflakes, Officer, but.. we ran across a grunt who was stationed at Benning. He said the place was overrun by lamebrains," Dave confesses.
"Wait, Fort Benning is gone? Are you for real?" Glenn asks in disbelief.
"Sadly, I am. Oddly, the truth is there is no way out of this mess. Just keep going from one pipe dream to the next, praying one of these mindless freaks doesn't grab ahold of you when you sleep."
"If you sleep," Tony chimes in.
Dave looks around, "Yeah, it doesn't look like you guys are hanging your hats here. You holed up somewhere else?"
Rick pauses, deciding to answer vaguely, "Not really."
Dave raises his eyebrows, "Those your cars out front?"
"Yeah. Why?" Glenn responds.
"We're living in ours. Those look kinda empty, clean. Not to mention the motorcycle out front, too. Where's all your gear?"
"We're with a larger group our scouting, thought we could use a drink."
"A drink? Hershel, I thought you quit," Dave grins, "Well, we're thinking of setting up around here. Is it— is it safe?"
"It can be, although I have killed a couple walkers around here, same with Winona. Man, you should've seen her, this one time she comes out, covered in walker blood—" Glenn stops from a sharp nudge in the side by the woman.
Dave adjusts in his seat looking at Winona, "Sounds badass," he focuses back to Glenn, "Walkers? That what you call them?"
He chuckles, "Yeah."
Dave nods, "That's good. I like that. I like that better than lamebrains."
"More succinct," Tony concurs.
"Okay, Tony went to college."
"Two years," he banters.
A silence falls over the group. Dave exhales, "So what— so what, you guys set up on the outskirts or something? That new development?"
"Trailer park or something? A farm?" Tony asks walking to the opposite side.
Dave begins to sing the nursery rhyme, "Old McDonald had a farm." Tony chuckles. Dave looks back at Rick, "You got a farm?"
Hearing liquid hit the floor, they look over to see Tony urinating while quietly finishing the rhyme, "E-I-E-I-O." Winona's nose crinkles in disgust, Tony pushes for more information, "Is it safe?"
"It's gotta be. You got food, water?"
"You got cooze?" Tony asks, looking over to Winona, "Ain't had a piece of ass in weeks."
Dave rubs his head, "Listen, pardon my friend. City kids— they got no tact. No disrespect." He looks back to Glenn as he was the one who kept spilling information, "So listen, Glenn—"
"We've said enough," Rick declares.
"Well, hang on a second. This farm— it sounds pretty sweet. Don't it sound sweet, Tony?"
"Yeah, real sweet."
"How about a little southern hospitality? We got some buddies back at camp, been having a real hard time. I don't see why you can't make room for a few more. We can pool our resources, our manpower."
Rick stops the man, "Look, I'm sorry. That's not an option."
"Doesn't sound like it'd be a problem."
"I'm sorry. We can't," Hershel states.
"We can't take in any more," Rick insists.
Dave chuckles, "You guys are something else. I thought— I thought we were friends. We got people we gotta look out for too."
"We don't know anything about you," Rick says.
"No, that's true. You don't know anything about us. You don't know what we've had to go through out there, the things we've had to do. I bet you've had to do some of those same things yourself. Am I right?" Rick doesn't reply. "'Cause ain't nobody's hands clean in what's left of this world. We're all the same. So come on, let's— let's take a nice friendly hayride to this farm and we'll get to know each other."
Rick shakes his head, shrugging, "That's not gonna happen."
"Rick—"
"This is bullshit," Tony declares.
"Calm down," Rick demands.
"Don't tell me to calm down," the bigger man snaps, "Don't ever tell me to calm down."
"Woah," Glenn says.
"I'll shoot you three assholes in the head, fuck your whore, and take your damn farm too!" Tony shouts. Winona backs away from the man, Rick stands up to face him, instantly becoming defensive over the woman.
Dave quickly gets up, "Woah woah woah woah. Relax," he says towards Tony, "Take it easy. As much as I think Winona is pretty, we won't do that. Nobody's killing anyone. Nobody's shooting anybody. Right, Rick?" Dave says hopping over the bar. He slowly pulls out his gun, laying it on the bar top, "Look. We're just friends having a drink. That's all. Now where's the good stuff, huh?" He begins to search, "Good stuff, good stuff, good stuff. Let's see." Rick's hand rests over his gun, as Dave reaches below eyesight. Dave pulls out a bottle, "Hey, look at that. That'll work." Taking a deep breath, he sighs, "You gotta understand— we can't stay out there. You know what it's like."
Rick nods, "Yeah, I do. But the farm is too crowded as is. I'm sorry. You'll have to keep looking."
"Keep looking," Dave repeats, "Where do you suggest we do that?"
Rick shakes his head slowly and shrugs, "I don't know. I hear Nebraska's nice."
Dave laughs, "Nebraska. This guy." His eyes flash down to his gun, but before he can even grab it, Rick shoots a bullet between Dave's eyes. Quickly turning around to shoot Tony in the shoulder, causing his shotgun to shoot the ceiling, Rick shoots another blow to his stomach. Tony slouches and Rick stomps over, shooting another round into his head. Hershel and Glenn stare at the bodies, Winona's eyes following the man instead.
Tony's body slumps against the wall, falling further over. Rick clicks the safety of his gun back on, and shoves it into his holster. He shares a look with the others. A silence falling over them once again.
——
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