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50 Shades Of Shane


"I did what I had to do.”

It was a mantra, repeating over and over like a clock that was beginning to die. No more time would be held within it's quickly ticking hands, until it finally landed on one distinct number and stayed there permanently. The phrase wouldn't remove itself from Aubree's mind, repeating over and over to the point where it rang into her ears and bore into her brain. The scene haunted her memories the second she closed her eyes, the gun shot ricocheting through Otis' leg and landing on the pavement with a thick thud. She heard Otis' screams as he clung to Shane, desperate to make his way out of the school area and back with his medical supplies before it was too late.

Aubree's stomach twisted, her mind forcing her to swallow hard as she pressed her palms into her eyes, feeling the sockets against her flesh as she swallowed harder. It all echoed around, refusing to leave even if she begged it to. This was the world they were living in now; why was she still so surprised by Shane's actions? She had said it herself to Rick, hadn't she? Cops were murderers; given they had the justice to do it, it wasn't portrayed like that. But since the moment they entered the academy and trained to become a serving officer, they were taught how to protect themselves, by any means necessary. They were taught where to shoot in case of an emergency; certain ones would let you live while others were the end of it all.

Shane had deliberately chose the first option; he had shot Otis in the leg so that he would be live, squirming prey. He would be more appetizing for the Walkers if it happened that way. Aubree could still hear their victory cries, could hear the sickening sound of Otis' screams fading out and give way to the animalistic eating of the Walkers. They had been over the ridge and in the car already by the time the screams were fading, but Aubree had still heard it. She had heard the sound entirely too many times already—it was engrained in her and haunted her nightmares when she tried to sleep.

“I did what I had to do.”

You couldn't be picky in today's word. With the dead rising up and waiting on their haunches to pounce and devour you, you couldn't spend the time deciding who's life to save. It was always in those moments where your true character was tested, and where you'd realize in the long run if it screwed you over or not. Aubree wasn't a part of the group; shouldn't she had been the easier decision? Her stomach churned as she thought of it being her lying on the ground, blood pouring her body as she was ripped open alive and eventually fell to blackness. She thought of the Walkers grubby fingers digging into her flesh, pulling out whatever they wished to devour with the sickening scent of copper in the air.

Aubree tried to breathe in deep, tried to suppress the unwelcome thoughts that were crawling up her spine like spiders. Their eight legs were digging into every nerve ending in her body, and suddenly the night air seemed too thick. The eerie silence of the farm was unwelcome and unnerving, and she found it hard to keep her body pressed to the truck. It felt wrong to even be there—it was Otis' truck, and Otis wasn't in it. Otis wasn't even on the farm anymore.

Otis was dead and inside of multiple Walkers' stomachs.

Aubree faded in and out of her own conscious state for most of the night. It was a blur of the eerie farm silence, Otis' screams in her head, and the faint crying she could hear from inside. Shane had left long ago, and Aubree hadn't had the energy to follow suit and see the disappointment on Rick's face when he saw that she was alive. Part of her mind vaguely told her that Rick had already seen her, but couldn't recall when. It was all a blur of immortality suddenly being dragged away right underneath her finger tips.

She barely registered when the door to the farm house opened once more, the rickety door clanging against the termite eaten frame. Foot steps approached her, then stopped abruptly. Aubree's eyes registered the legs in front of her, and her eyes slowly drug up until she met the eyes of the brunette whom she had seen a glimpse of before leaving. In her hands she held a few clothing items, a slight smile on her worn out face.

“Herschel said that these might fit you. He said that you shouldn't be staying in those blood stained clothes all day with the infection and all,” her accent was beyond subtle and Aubree had a hard time believing she could come out of Georgia.

She nodded her head, carefully pushing herself up and hissing at the pain that slammed through her arm. Giving the brunette a small smile, she took it with her good hand. “Be sure to thank him from me. I'm Aubree.”

“Lori.” The brunette raised her eyebrow a bit, shocked ever so slightly at the pleasantry. Aubree didn't blame her; she'd be terrified if someone walked up to her with their hand held out for a shake in society today.

Aubree gave Lori a small smile, glancing around the farm and the faint fire from Lori's camp. Lori seemed to sense her discomfort, giving her a small smile as she shifted on her heels. She could tell that the brunette was trying to make a tough decision; one that wasn't entirely hers to make.

“We have a spare tent,” she said finally, glancing out towards the fading embers of her camp. She could faintly see the risings of a few of the members as they filtered about, talking among themselves in the hushed tones that they had managed to acquire. Aubree watched her carefully, unsure of her motives for a moment. This could be her chance to run and never look back.

But the secret hanging over her head kept her firmly in place. It was the thought of Shane coming after her with a loaded gun that haunted her vision, that squashed the hope of every normal scenario she could breed. Something about the man that was hidden inside the walls of the farm intrigued her; he wasn't like the other survivors that she had stumbled on. There was something about the way that he carried himself, the way he left questions unanswered.

Turning back to Lori, she gave her a small curt nod, following the brunette's shaky steps as she led Aubree over to the camp. No one looked up at her; they were all lost in their own routines and worlds. She didn't take it personally however; everyone needed their quiet reflection after the lights slowly went down over the horizon. Lori showed her to the extra tent set further back from the group and more towards the fence line. The location didn't make Aubree feel secure, but it would have to be better than being out in the open.

When Aubree awoke in the morning it was to the unnatural calm of birds calling. It struck her as odd, especially in such a desolate time. She hadn't heard the birds singing their morning praises in ages, let alone hear the roosters crowing from their safe haven. She carefully brought herself to a sitting position, noting the sun climbing just over the horizon and the unnaturally heavy sound of rocks being thrown into a wheelbarrow.

Glancing down at her wrist, she tried to move it, wincing in pain as she did so. The bone looked a bit out of place, but not broken—to which she was thankful for. She could handle a sprain or dislocation, but not a broken bone. They took entirely too long to heal, and it was time she didn't have. Pushing herself up and into the fresh clothes that had been given to her by Lori the day before, Aubree cautiously ducked out of her tent. She took in the cold breeze as it filtered across her skin, almost giving away to an ominous feeling inside of her body.

Things were calm on the farm—too calm to be associated with such a cruel and pretentious world.

For a split second, everything felt like some horrible nightmare; the world that she had been living in didn't include singing birds, live animals, or even the freshest of air. It consisted of copper scent and red, and unceremonious moans from the dead.

Aubree's eyes traveled along the horizon and away from the seemingly abandoned camp just feet from her. They didn't stop to observe what the group had brought with them—they simply carried on towards the road and a nearby tree where the people from the night before were gathered, a stack of rocks built up against it to resemble a grave.
Shane stood, hair freshly buzzed away and eyes careful and guilty looking as the man that looked entirely too old for this world spoke. His eyes scanned him ever so slightly as the ceremony was continued, and then his eyes widened as the attention was turned to him. She could tell that he was backing off, trying to find a way around what was being bestowed on him. When there was no turning back, Shane was forced to recall the events from a night before, but a much more twisted version than Aubree had recalled. But was that part of the nightmare that she had been dreaming? Shane made his way over towards the wheelbarrow, taking a rock from it and placing it upon the top of the make shift grave. His ankle drug behind him the entire time.

Aubree knew it wasn't a nightmare.

A few hours after the ceremony had broken off, Aubree found herself mulling around the camp for a bit. She could see the mistrusting looks in the eyes of everyone around her. It wasn't an abnormal feeling—she was an outsider to the group and someone who Shane didn't appear to trust. Aubree didn't know a lot about them, or how their inner workings turned, but she could guess that Shane was one of the more important authority figures around them. Her biggest guess was that Rick and Shane were the ones who had led the group here, whether it was intentional or not.

Making her way down the ridge of trees and towards the camper, she took a left as she watched Andrea walk out from the trees. She was mumbling something to herself about having to surrender her weapon, and Aubree's eyebrow arched up slightly as her shoulder slammed ever so slightly into hers on the pass by. She pushed the thoughts out of her head however and continued forward, coming face to face with the very thing she had been unintentionally seeking out.

Shane sat at the picnic table, a bag of guns sitting on top of it as he flicked through them, mentally taking count. The police insagnia of his hat made her roll her eyes for a moment before she stepped up, hovering and debating taking a seat. Shane's ears perked ever so slightly at the sound of footsteps, his well trained hearing picking up on even the quietest of sounds. His eyes ran up her body until they reached hers, the expression in his face changing as he stared at the girl.

“I trust you ain't got a gun.” Shane's voice was quiet, skeptical, and unready for any form of discussion. His elbows leaned on the table as Aubree shook her head, carefully taking a seat on the bench and carefully calculating just how far away the bag of guns was from her in case of an emergency.

“Gun surrender? Don't you think that's a little dangerous considering the outlook of things?” Aubree's voice tiptoed around an obvious insult, her eyes glancing around and scoping out the nearest exits. Shane raised his eyebrow up ever slightly, simply shrugging his shoulders as his fingers ran over the tops of the guns.

“Not my orders.”

“Rick's then,” Aubree quipped back before Shane could get another word out. His cold eyes carefully calculated the girl in front of him, searching for something in her that he wasn't aware of. Aubree didn't shy away from the staring contest, her thoughts cool and collected in a facade that she was ready to put on if she needed to. “He seems to be in charge around here, anyway.”

“Guess so.” Shane's voice was even quieter, his muscles tensing up ever so slightly. “What's the real reason you're out here? Why ain't you runnin' yet like you want to?”

Aubree's eyes scanned the man in front of her's face, her teeth biting into her lip ever so slightly in thought. Why hadn't she run? Had she been simply too mentally exhausted to do so, given what had happened the night prior? But she had every opportunity now to just turn into the trees and forget that any of this had ever happened. But there were too many things nagging at her, refusing to budge and make her leave the imprisonment of the camp.

“Why wasn't it me.” Shane's eyebrow arched up a bit in silent question and Aubree rolled her eyes a little, finally dragging them away from the trees and a possible escape route. “Why wasn't I the one left for Walker food?”

“Because you got that means of survival in you last time I checked.” Shane said his answer carefully, as if it had been repeated over and over again in his head. Aubree's own eyebrow arched back in response, a small voice of hysteria beginning to rise up in her head again.

“You killed a man who you've known, you just met me and last time I checked, you pointed your gun in my face.” Aubree's hand reached out to grab a gun, getting her fingers on the barrel just as Shane's larger hand enclosed on her injured wrist tightly. Aubree felt the sickness rising up in her stomach as the pain rushed through her, her teeth biting into her lip with a silent scream as she pushed it down. Shane's eyes carefully analyzed the girls' reaction, noting it all down in a mental piece of paper to be filed away later.

Aubree's eyes rose up to his, pain evident and clear, but a more profound means of anger and determination overshadowing them. Shane leaned in closer as his grip tightened, Aubree's teeth finally drawing blood as she pulled back mentally from the pain. “You're not screamin'. You ain't beggin' for death. You're a different breed, one this world needs. Otis? Ain't nobody have time for that kind of kindness in today's world. He served his purpose. Don't make me regret letting you serve yours.”

With that Shane pushed off of her wrist, Aubree's opposite wrist punching hard at the wood below her as she felt the bones pop back into place.

Shane didn't bother to look at her as he grabbed his bag of guns, heading back towards the camper. He shut the door behind him with a loud bang, closing the door both on society and any further discussion.


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