Goodbye to a World | shane walsh

09 | the calm before

The pair were about halfway to Washington, D.C. Nola had the map spread out on the dashboard, marking their path as they drove. The gas gauge was hovering near empty, adding a sense of urgency to their search for a place to refuel.

The journey so far had been relatively smooth. They'd stopped a few times to switch drivers and rest. Now, they were driving through the backroads of Virginia, steering clear of larger towns in favor of smaller, more manageable ones—though this made finding resources even more difficult.

Despite the challenges, the long stretches of road gave Shane and Nola time to bond. With little else to do, they talked, shared stories, and played the random CDs Nola had brought along. Each unmarked disc was a surprise, sometimes producing the most unexpected and amusing music.

Shane had begun opening up about the group he was with before that fateful day in the fire lookout, over a year ago. Nola found it hard to believe so much time had passed, considering how little she knew about him. Yet, it felt as though she had known him forever.

He told her about Rick—his best friend—along with Rick's wife Lori and their son Carl. He mentioned Daryl, the redneck, and Glenn, the pizza boy. He described the Greene family farm, the missing girl Sophia, her mother Carol, and Carol's abusive husband, who had met his end early on. There were many more members, too. Shane recounted how the group had clung to the hope of returning to a normal life, even as the world around them crumbled. He told her how Lori and Carol had insisted on making Sophia and Carl do homework, trying to hold onto any shred of normalcy.

Nola couldn't help but laugh at the thought of doing math during the apocalypse. But as Shane continued, she began to understand more about the man beside her—the pressure he'd been under, the rash decisions he'd made, and the spiral that had led him to where he was now. It was clear that clinging to the old world had driven him to the edge, and while Nola knew that things would never be the same, she admired his determination to survive, even if it meant breaking away from the past.

"Stop there," Nola suddenly said, breaking the silence. Her finger pointed to a construction site just off the road. Shane shot her a puzzled look but complied, pulling over as they approached the site.

"Do I want to ask why?" he questioned, putting the car in park. Nola hopped out, grabbing a jerry can from the trunk.

"The machinery here runs on gas. If we're lucky, no one's taken it yet," she explained, heading toward the site with Shane following close behind, knife at the ready. The place was deserted, just a shell of what it was meant to be—four crumbling concrete walls, scaffolding, and a temporary plywood roof.

The absence of rotters didn't ease their tension. Nola approached a large bobcat, hoping her hunch was right. She began siphoning fuel into the jerry can, smiling as it filled with a slightly amber liquid.

Nola swayed playfully while holding the can and tube, catching Shane's eye. He couldn't help but chuckle at her carefree demeanor, shaking his head.

"Don't make me spray you," she teased, jostling him as she nearly pulled the tube from the bobcat. He flinched slightly, giving her a mock glare.

"And then what? Set me on fire in my sleep?" he grumbled, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Only if you steal my Big Cat bar again," she quipped, her tone playful yet mock-threatening.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Pretty sure I  found your Big Cat bar."

"Yeah, in my bag!" she shot back, her voice gleeful and sarcastic.

Before Shane could respond, part of the plywood roof collapsed behind him with a loud crash, causing him to stumble toward Nola. She grabbed his arm to steady him, and they both froze as a horde of rotters came tumbling down from above, a mass of decaying flesh and bone. Some managed to pull themselves up, crawling towards them.