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50 Shades Of Shane


“Put the gun down.”

Aubree's eyes never left the man's in front of her, taking in his entire figure as the gun wavered ever so slightly in her hands. He looked average enough, just more muscular than most of the men she had come by. The only things that set him apart were the police insignias that seemed to cling to his hat and his shirt like they still mattered. Her eyes filtered down, taking in the extra gun at his waist, a Beretta set in a holster. From there a set of handcuffs poked out from a little further back.

It was the first cop that Aubree had seen alive in ages.

“Your authority ain't mean shit anymore.” Aubree stated matter of factly, watching the emotions change in his eyes. She had seen it entirely too many times before; it was that clinging hope that society would go back to how they once knew it. Back before the outbreak, back before the dead were rising and eating everything in sight, and if they weren't, they were making more for their army. Some people didn't know when to give it up; Aubree had personally given up that hope long after entering Atlanta.

His eyes watched hers carefully, deliberately, trying to debate who she was and pick apart every atom in her body. He was trained well from what she could tell; the way his fingers never strayed and his arms never shook told her that he had shot in the past. He had gotten his first taste of the trigger release, and he wasn't afraid to take advantage of it again. Aubree could see the utter murder in his eyes, looking for vengeance with absolutely nothing left to hide.

He had killed before, and he'd do it again if it meant keeping his camp safe. “Put. The gun. Down.”

The man at his side reached out, grabbing at his gun with a stern look. “Lets both put the gun down and talk like humans about this.”

“Human's don't exist anymore.” The words slipped from Aubree's lips before she could stop them, her fingers staying on the man who's finger was still itching on the trigger. “We're all just monsters waiting to happen.”

“Shane.” The man next to him spoke up, his eyes trained on the muscular man. He watched him carefully, his hand reaching out and grabbing the gun firmly. He pulled it away from his partner's hands, giving him a look. “We don't kill the living.”

“So we wait around for them to kill us?!” Shane's voice raised a few octaves, his eyes darting around his friend's face. A stern look was set on both of their faces, trying to decipher silently what they were going to do with the intruder. Finally, Shane dropped his shoulders, glaring a bit as he shook his head and began walking backwards. “Whatever you say, Rick. I'll be sure to tell Lori and Carl your cause of death was stupidity.”

With one more turn on of his heel, Shane was marching back through the woods, slowly swallowed by the trees and out of sight. The man kept his eyes on the spot where his friend had formally been, then turn to look at Aubree. She took in his cop uniform, raising her eyes a bit at the fact that he was still in it. The police force had died long ago, and there was no authority to upheld any longer.

“Why do you wear that stupid cop uniform?” A small amused noise left Aubree's lips, her run still raised and pointing at the stranger who had deemed her worthy of his time. His eyes were just as careful as his friends, but humanity laid in his eyes.

“Now, I think we got off on the wrong foot. You'll have to excuse Shane, he's a bit of a hot head.” His voice was edged with caution, ready to over take her if needed. He stepped around Aubree in a side step, his hand reaching for her gun.

Aubree's eyes narrowed, the gun in her hand coming up to smash into his nose roughly as she made to step away from him. His hand was too quick however, reaching out and grabbing her wrists. A rough tug sent her gun to the ground along with her body, his knee in the center of her back as she felt the warm liquid spilling from his nose and onto her hands.

“Miss, I've dealt with criminals for years. You want to try that again?” His breath was hot in her ear, her shoulders struggling for escape from the forest floor. A clicking noise hit her ears, and she was pulled up roughly by the handcuffs that rested on her wrists. “Now, I wanted to talk about this civilly. You ain't giving me much of a chance though.”

“Let me go!” Aubree swung her shoulder back, trying to jar Rick's grasp. His grasp only tightened as he dodged backwards, slamming her front first into a tree. Her head hit at an odd angle, black vision spilling behind Aubree's eyes as she swallowed hard and grit her teeth. Her body was beginning to throb, ready to collapse and give in to the overwhelming blackening sensation that was filling her body.

The last thing Aubree seen before her world went black was the forest turning upside down and Rick's haunting face dancing against the blackening sky.

Rick paced the rather wide porch of the farm house, watching out over the camp. In the distance he could see his group mingling with one another, the fire at a fair height and only big enough to lick at the bottom's of their pots where their food resided. The wind swept up for a moment, an ominous breeze flowing in the dark and rattling the leaves that were beginning to lose themselves to the seasonal instinct.

Winter was coming in, and it was coming in fast.

The boards next to him gave off an age long creak, drawing his attention from his thoughts. They had a tendency to run away with themselves, trying to plan out that next motive, that next patronizing move that would put everyone's lives in danger. How many more would he have to lose? If he gained one, would he lose more?

The brunette cautiously walked up to him, her hand instinctively wrapping around his waist as she pressed her frozen nose to his shoulder. Out of pure instinct, his own arm curled around her, pulling her in tight as her emotions from the day let themselves out. “Herschel says he's doing better...”

Rick listened as her voice trailed off, short and quiet as she reached her hand up to wipe at her eyes. His fingers moved along her back, smoothing down the over sized plaid shirt that kept her body from the chill. It was becoming worn and tattered from so many strenuous washings, but with the world how it was they had no room to complain. “Why are you so upset then?”

The brunette straightened up, wiping at her eyes as she pulled in a shaky breath. “Herschel needs to do the surgery, Rick. But he doesn't have the tools. I don't even know if there's a place around here left to raid for them.”

Rick's hand came down on the railing, punching hard at it as he pulled in a slow breath. Every fiber in his being was searching for some sort of answer—ones that he didn't have. The apocalypse hadn't prepared him for his role. He had never asked to be the leader—it was merely bestowed on him when he wasn't watching. He observed his wife in that moment, looking for the answer in her own eyes, but he found nothing. He found nothing but more questions that he didn't have the answer to. Rick let the knowledge seep in, pulling in a deep breath before he reached out and squeezed his wife's arm. He gave her a knowing look, then ducked inside the house once more.

The woman watched after him as the door slowly swung shut, jarring ever so slightly on it's rickety hinges.

Blackness surrounded Aubree's vision as she began to come back to consciousness. Her eyes rolled ever so slightly as she attempted to pull herself out of the heavy fog inside of her mind, trying to pull her back down and deep into the realm of nightmares. Now days there weren't dreams anymore—your mind was filled with the same monsters that roamed the planet.

A thudding of heavy foot steps jarred her a bit more, her eyes finally opening and adjusting to the blinding lights overhead. Her eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly as she tried to remember the last moments before she had passed out. Groaning, Aubree made to stretch her limbs, only to be met by restraints holding her wrists in place. Glaring, her eyes turned up to the handcuffs against her wrists, the cold metal digging into her skin uncomfortably as she yanked hard at them. They rattled against the bed frame, but didn't budge and inch.

A dread filled her stomach as she realized that she was trapped. After months upon months of running, she was trapped with no way out. Her wrists slammed against the metal more frantically, desperate to get out and to run. The instinct was entirely too strong after surviving in the world now, and she couldn't suppress it the way she used to. A scream left her lips as she pounding harder, feeling the metal nearly cut into her bones. Yelping at the sensation she stilled against the bedsheets, swallowing hard as she watched her surroundings once more.

The foot steps inched closer, hesitated, then a key turned into the lock of the door. Rick stepped through the door, his eyebrow raising ever so slightly as Aubree's red wrists slammed into the metal cuffs once more. “You ain't getting' out of those. They've held many criminals before this world took them.”

A bitter laugh escaped Aubree's lips, “You talk like the world still exists.”

“It does in the ones who still allow it to.” Rick glanced out of the door way into another room, eying the body on the bed turning his attention to the spitfire cuffed to the bed. Aubree's eyes watched his carefully, her wrists turning as she tried to get out once more. Her wrist gave ever so slightly, but got stuck once more. Her antics were enough to jar him from his thoughts, and he turned back to her. “Now, give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right here and now.”

“You ain't that type of guy. Your partner, maybe. But you ain't him.” Aubree's eyes challenged him, her eyes flickering to the gun at his waist. Her eyes dared him, taunting him to pull the trigger and show his worth in the new world.

But Rick wasn't easily persuaded, and his gun remained in his holster. “Well then, I suggest you be real friendly with him.”

Rick reached out, unlocking the handcuffs attached to the bed. He was grabbing Aubree's wrists before she could make a run, a stern look in his eyes as he leaned in close to her ear. “You make a run and I'll put a bullet in your brain. You understand me?”

His breath ghosted over her skin, raising the hair on the back of her neck as she swallowed hard. For a moment the urge to run took over her, desperate Rick's warning. But something in the tone of Rick's voice held her to her spot, her logic working against her instincts. People to trust in today's society were a dime in a dozen, and Rick was no exception.

She'd be able to make her escape later, when her life wasn't on the line.


please update soon

Please update!

Ashleyziur Ashleyziur

This is awesome please update soon

This is so good <3

Cat-182 Cat-182
Really good! So well written and a great take on the story. You are doing an excellent job writing Shane-he is really complex. Can't wait for more.
Alva Starr Alva Starr