Impregnable {A Walking Dead Fanfiction}

Thirty-Five

     We gave Rick and Lori time before going to see him. Carl looked pale and frail but was sleeping peacefully. Lori looked back, reaching out to grab my hand. "Thank God," I said, squeezing her hand. She smiled at me before returning her attention back to Carl. "Where's Shane?" Maggie asked as I walked back into the hallway. "He was just here," I replied, looking over at the empty couch. "He went upstairs to take a shower," Beth said from the kitchen. "Oh, well I'm going to check on Mable and try to get some sleep. I'll see everyone in the morning." I said, giving Maggie a sympathetic look before walking outside. Mable was fast asleep in a pile of blankets on the folded-over back seat, sleeping peacefully as the breeze blew through the slightly open windows. I curled up next to her and tried to relax, my mind flooding with thoughts. Shane killed someone today. He did it to save Carl, but it still happened. His eyes had looked so different when he returned, dark and cold. I didn't know how to react or what to say to him. I didn't know what I would've done if I had been forced into his shoes. I laid on my back and stared up at the ceiling, hoping the exhaustion would kick in soon.

    I woke up just as the sun had started to light up the sky. I reached behind me, realizing Shane wasn't there. I turned over and in a sharp breath when I saw him asleep in the slightly reclined passenger seat. All of his hair was gone. He hadn't slept in the front since the first night I'd kissed him. "Shane?" I asked, shaking him gently. He grunted, turning over and squinting at me. "What happened to your hair?" He took in a deep breath, glancing back at Mable, who was still fast asleep. "Otis..." He sighed. "I had to get his bag off of him..." His eyes glazed over, I could tell he was remembering what happened. I climbed forward and wrapped my arm around him, leaning my head on his chest. 

    After we'd been there for a while, we heard the sound of engines revving in the distance.  I looked up, seeing Cameron's SUV and the Winnebago coming down the long dirt driveway. "Any sign of Sophia?" I asked, walking over to the Winnebago as the door swung open. "Not yet," Carol said, stepping out and hugging me. "We left a big sign and some supplies for her in case she's able to retrace her steps. Me and Merle are heading back later to check." Daryl said as he approached us. "Do we...ah...ring the doorbell?" Dale asked them as I led them towards the house. "I'm not sure..." I said. "I think common courtesy like that is kind of out the window these days," Shane said, holding Mable's hand as she walked beside us. I knocked on the door frame before opening the screen door, seeing Maggie on the couch reading a book with a steaming cup of coffee on the table next to her. "Good morning," I said, "the rest of our people are here." 

    Patricia had slept in, but everyone else was awake. I introduced the Greene's to Dale, Carol, and Merle before they led us into the kitchen for breakfast. "How's Carl this morning?" I asked, taking a spoonful of scrambled eggs from a large cast iron skillet. "He'll pull through, I'm already starting to see slight improvements overnight," Hershel said. "Thanks to you, Hershel." Rick said, taking a sip from his coffee cup, "And you, Shane. We'd lost Carl if not for your help," Rick said.  Shane smiled solemnly, looking down at the wooden floor. 

    Hershel asked us to have a funeral for Otis later that day. It was the least we could do. My day consisted of loading rocks into a wheelbarrow and hauling them across the field with Andrea. We stacked them into a triangle formation in front of a shallow grave that Rick and Shane were digging. Otis' grave was next to two others. One makeshift headstone was marked 'Annette,' and the other marked 'Shawn.' I thought back to Hershel talking about how they'd lost their own. How we'd never gotten the chance to bury Amy, Lana, Dean, Jim, or Matt. I looked over at Andrea, she grunted as she lifted a heavy rock onto the base of the makeshift headstone. She looked up at me for a moment before wiping sweat from her forehead and going back to work. "I think that's about good enough," Shane said, taking Rick's hand and stepping out of the hole. "I don't understand why they asked us to dig a hole if there's no body." I said, creating small swirling patterns out of pebbles around the headstone. "Hershel said dig a hole. I'm not going to ask any questions." Rick replied. 

    "Alright, I think I'm done," I said, sitting back. "We've been done. You've been at it for a while. It looks beautiful," Shane said behind me. "I just put rocks on the ground," I said, standing and wiping my hands on my jeans. "But look at it though," Shane said. I turned around, it was beautiful. I'd found colorful glass beads in the shed next to the pile of rocks we'd collected from. I'd arranged them in swirling patterns and flower shapes around the base of the grave. Shane wrapped his arm around me and kissed my forehead. "Come on, we should get cleaned up." 

     Maggie let me borrow one of her black dresses, and I was able to take a five-minute shower before we gathered. It was heaven. I combed my hair with my fingers and braided my hair in two long thick pigtail braids that fell to my belly button. I put Mable on my hip and Maggie, Shane, and I walked down the stairs in unison. I felt everyone's eyes on me once we walked on the front porch. They had always seen me with dirty fingernails and bags under my eyes, my hair thrown over my head with a rubber band that was holding on by shreds, threatening to break at any moment. They got used to seeing the Hollie DiAngelo that I was two months ago. "This is beautiful, thank you, Hollie," Patricia said, a stray tear falling from her eye. "You're welcome," I said smiling and reaching out to hug her. 

   Hershel began the funeral by reading out of a book he had pulled out of his pocket, so small that it disappeared in his hands. "Blessed be God, our Lord, Jesus Christ. Praise be to Him, for the gift of our brother, Otis. For his span of years, and his abundance of caring. Who gave his life to save a small child's. He died as he lived, in grace." He spoke, and all of the Greene's nodded slightly. I just did what I did at every funeral I'd been to, stared into the hole in the ground and tried to not focus on the words that were being said. "Shane, will you speak for Otis?" Hershel asked, and I felt Shane back up a step. "I'm no good at stuff like this." He said, I could hear his voice shake. "You were the last one with him, you shared his final moments," Patricia said, letting out a small sob as Shane sighed. He told the same selfless story he had the night before, and I bit my tongue. He was lying to all of them, and they didn't suspect a thing. I tuned out as much as I could as he limped towards the grave. "...if not for Otis, I wouldn't have made it out alive, and that goes for Carl too. He saved us both." He said, taking a rock and setting it in the bottom of Otis's grave. He limped back to me and wrapped his arm around me taking my hand in his and squeezing it tightly. I squeezed back, hopefully telling him that what he'd done well, even though I couldn't shake the giant pit that had formed in my stomach.