CHAPTER SEVENTEEN,
where's Otis?
THE FEAR OF of losing Carl was on the top of her list, but the thought of two very important people in her life risking their lives in such a world like this made it hard for her to concentrate on anything else.
Carl needed that chance, he had such a long life that needed to be lived out - but so did her brother, so did Nathan.
Her brain was tired from all the thoughts and the shock and the fear, and she just wanted nothing but peace. Not just for her, but for everyone else around her that was suffering - yet it seemed like a moment of peace didn't exist in such a world like this.
"He made a promise."
Samantha glanced over her shoulder in time to see Rick Grimes sitting next to her on the porch steps. He looked a little more stable now, better than how he was a few hours before.
An assuring smile outstretched his lips, but the exhaustion straining his blues told another story. "You know how he is with his promises." He added.
"You should be resting." Samantha stated, frowning.
Rick nodded understanding. "I had to check on you to make sure you were okay," He glanced back at the door, back at the house that smelled of his son's blood before back at the girl he thought of as a daughter. "It's okay to not be strong sometimes, Sammy."
Samantha shrugged, rubbing her head and trying to maintain her coolness.
However, even if she did look somewhat convincing - Rick was one of those few people who could see through a fake facade. "Shit happens."
He chuckled lightly. "I should use that line more often."
Samantha glanced at Rick, the man she always looked up to as a father. He had this expression that invited her to be honest with him and to cut the bullshit, as soon as she saw that invitation the tough exterior she tried keeping up broke down. The weigh of today finally took its toll, and her shoulders begin to shake as tears blurred her vision. The cop took her into his arms as she wept, clinging onto the fabric of his old uniform. She felt like a small child, vulnerable and scared - she absolutely hated it.
"You know," Rick started, his voice layered over her sobs. "Shane hated you once."
This caused her to abruptly stop, confusion replacing her worry as she stared up at him with glassy eyesX She didn't know what to say, his words not exactly comforting.
"I...thats not really helping me, Ricky." Samantha stated, wiping at her nose.
"Jean was out, and despite Shane not wanting to watch over you she still left him in his care - you were only a few months old, and we were just fifteen," There was a hint of a smile on his haggard appearance. "I was over that night, when you started wailing so loud I couldn't even hear the television. I begged Shane to go comfort you, yet he downright refused," Samantha only stared, small shaky breaths leaving her parted lips. "But then he gave in and he went to you. As soon as he picked you up, you stopped, as if he was all you ever needed - as if he was the solution to all your problems,"
Rick could faintly remember when he entered Samantha's nursery, the walls painted of violets and pinks, pictures of a ghost of a family that was split apart because of a tragedy.
"I've never seen Shane cry before, not even when he was at your parents funeral - but as soon as you stopped, reality hit him harm. He couldn't take out his grief on you, he made a promise that night, he said.."
"My sister, my responsibility," The fifteen year old Shane Walsh murmured, smiling through the choked sobs that left his lips and for a second, his baby sister seemed to smile back.
Samantha was at a loss of words. She remembered the story her grandmother told; how they were coming back to the hospital after her mother gave birth; how it was raining hard; how the drunk driver stuck her parent's vehicle; how she was the only survivor.
She couldn't believe it. Shane had hated her, took out his grief on her, because he couldn't fully comprehend that his parents were gone. This made her feel even more shameful about her past, her veins being consumed by a dose of self hatred. Samantha had put her brother through so much trouble and constant battle in the past.
She wouldn't blame him if Shane even resented her a little for that.
"Why," Samantha was struggling with her words. "Why are you telling me this?"
"When Shane makes a promise, he's hell bent on keeping it," He informed, reaching forward and ruffling her hair. "Don't worry about him, he's strong."
Samantha nodded, staring back into the darkness of the farmland. She thinks at that point they were both enjoying the fresh air. It had been too long since they haven't smelled decay.
"Carl wanted to be you for Halloween." Samantha mentioned, a grin slowly growing on her lips.
A smile blossomed on his face like a flower on spring day. "Really?" He asked.
Samantha nodded. "He said he wanted to be you when he grows up, make you proud."
The smile he wore definitely belonged to that of a father - it was so loving, it making her heart warm up. "He already does, every single day."
Samantha grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. "He's going to make it through this, okay? He's just like you."
"I know."
She turned to look back at the stars. "You both been shot, so he's almost just like you," Samantha noted. "All he needs is your hat."
"We should create a club." He joked.
Any conversation was cut off by a sound. The two turned to the darkness and caught lights heading their away - headlights. Samantha jumped from her seat as the vehicle rolled up, her best friend and Shane jumping out.
But Otis was missing, and Samantha suspected the worse.
She didn't give it a second thought, her nerves and heart breathing in joy as she rushed forward. Shane dropped his bags and caught her hug, his baby sister having to step on her tippy toes to catch his whole frame.
Her big brother was holding her so tight she almost couldn't breathe, his breaths ragged and for a second she could hear how quick his heartbeat was.
Shane Walsh and Nathan Barton were finally home.
"I kept my promise." He said lowly and Samantha pulled back, catching the off look in his eyes.
She turned to Nathan but he was eying the ground, their silence making her gut twist. They both looked like soldiers that had come back from war, broken and defeated. Something had happened, and this was their reaction.
"Carl?" Shane asked, his voice strained the night he had gone through.
"There's still a chance." Rick spoke.
Shane and Nathan handed the bags to Hershel and Glenn. Samantha was watching them closely, noticing how they couldn't look anyone directly in the face.
"Otis?" Hershel finally popped the question. In their hesitation he found his answer. Hershel ordered no one to tell Patricia until Carl's surgery was over. After he took Glenn with him and walked inside with the bags, Samantha turned to the two men with arms crossed. "What happened out there?"
The two exchanged a look, as if asking one another who should speak first. Nathan looked to his feet and back up at the group. "We were cornered - t-they came out at every turn and..." He stammered out. He was a complete mess, his lip busted, blood marking his clothes along with his sweat, and angry fingernail running down his arm.
"Then he said - he said he would cover us. That we should keep going. So, that's what we did." Shane finished with a frantic whisper, swallowing down a lump in his throat.
"We kept going. We had to. But then I-" Nathan inhaled a sharp breath, his hands shaking. "Otis was gone, man."
Two of the strongest men she knew, the artilleries of the group, looked devastated and guilty, war painted on their faces and trauma behind their eyes. Sometimes you have to sacrifice yourself in order to save others.
And Otis did just that.
━━━━━
Dirty.
That's what Nate felt. He felt dirty, even when all the blood and dirt was rinsed off of him in the steamy shower. It was as if everything that had happened tonight wouldn't leave him, his sins engraving into his skin like a tick.
Nathan rested his forehead on the wall, letting the hot water run trickle down his back. No matter how hard he scrubbed, he couldn't clean away what happened. It was far from pristine. It was dirty.
Nate felt dirty.
He could still hear the dead as they gained up on them, he could still feel the fear and adrenaline that filled him. He could still see the look in Shane's eyes when he realized what he had to do.
Nathan could still hear Otis's screams as he was ripped a part.
The soldier slammed his fist into the wall, anger boiling his veins. Otis was a civilian. Nathan was trained to protect people like them. He was supposed to be the hero in the people's eyes.
But was he really a hero? Do heroes just kill the innocent in cold blood?
No Nathan thought. He was a just a murderer. He murdered Otis. Otis was just a casualty.
"We did the right thing," Shane reasoned on the ride back. Nathan could only stare at the claw marks on his arms. "You can't save everybody. We did this for Carl. Carl is going to live because of Otis's sacrfice."
Carl was going to live, that was true. But a life had to be sacrificed in order for him to live.
He didn't die, you murdered him A voice hissed in his head, the voice being layered with familiarity that Nathan dared not to identify.
He stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his bare waist and turned to the mirror. The soldier wiped the fog away, and stared at the reflection before him.
That's not me He thought, squinting at the reflection. He looked like Nathan, but that wasn't him. This was a complete stranger, someone else's skin.
Nathan gripped the sink, glaring at the reflection as his stormy eyes begin to burn. "I will not cry." The soldier vowed, his voice coming out hoarse from exhaustion.
He gripped the sink tighter.
It was the right call. Carl would be alive. Nate didn't fail this time.
They had made it.
They had made it.
They had made it-
"We did the right thing."
And then he looked back at the reflection, seeing him , Shane and Otis running.
The three men moved forward. Shane was limping, Otis was slow, and Nathan - he kept the mission on his mind as he trudged a little farther than the other two.
"We're gonna make it." Nathan reassured, ignoring the cries of his aching bones. He had been through worse. He has walked through hell and called it child's play.
The groups and groups of the dead followed behind them with surprising speed, yet Nate kept repeating the same phrase over and over again.
We're gonna make it.
The walkers were hungry, teeth gnashing together and hands outstretched, ready to either feed or grow their infinite army.Shane and Otis behind him shot at them, but Nathan knew they were just wasting bullets. It was so use. The bullets barely made any affect.
"We aren't going to make it with this much weight." Nathan called over his shoulder, pushing his legs to move forward.
"He's right." Otis said breathlessly.
Nathan stopped and turned to the two men. There was this look in Shane's eye. It made the soldier's skin crawl. He's seen this look before. It had been on ruthless, determined men - men that would ambush his brothers when he was across the sea fighting.
It was the look of a ruthless survivor. It was a look of an unhinged desperation.
Nathan was smart enough to know something was about to go down.
"I'm sorry." Shane said.
Nathan faintly saw the confusion cross Otis's face before Shane shot him in the leg. His actions created all out war.
Shane grabbed the bag from Otis and tried to pull it away from the writhing man, but he was grabbed and pulled to the ground.
Nathan couldn't let anything happen to Shane. Sammy needed him. Carl needed him.
He hated to admit it but - even Nathan needed him.
Nathan dropped his bags and rushed forward into action, like a soldier going into war. He pulled at the bag, trying to get it away as the walkers neared. Nathan could feel the fear stab at his heart repeatedly, not only at the walkers, but his gut telling him this could go down in so many possible ways. He knew someone had to die in order to make it through this.
He didn't want to kill Otis, however. Otis was innocent. He wanted to help Carl but Nathan wouldn't fail either. He was trained in the army to kill anything that blocked him from succeeding in the mission. Saving Carl was in fact a life or death mission - Otis was the obstacle, and Nathan must succeed.
Otis then turned to him, agonized anger screwing up his face as he grabbed at Nathan arms, scraping his nails onto the flesh. The soldier felt his skin burn with pain, and he screamed into Otis's face, spitting flying everywhere like rain.
"Murderer!" Otis screamed, throwing a fist into Nathan's face. He fell back, the taste of metallic filling his mouth as blood oozed to his chin.
A good chunk of hair was pulled from Shane's head, Otis pulling out a pistol and trying to shoot at the cop but Nathan jumped forward. He kicked at Otis's hand, knocking the gun away and threw the bag behind him with a sudden rush of adrenaline.
They were a mess of screams and violence, not fighting like humans but animals fighting for domination.
Nathan took out his own pistol and whacked Otis on the side of his head. The helpless man became dizzy for a moment, this giving the soldier enough time to pull Shane out of the tangled limps. They both glanced at one another and at the man that reached for them, trying to process what they had just committed.
As the walkers were now on Otis, his pained screams making their ears want to burst, Nathan thought he saw his brother for a split second. His eyes were milky, a pleading look screwing up on his decayed face, his hand reaching out, flesh falling off the bone.
He shook his head and it was Otis again.
Otis was still very much alive as the dead ate him.
Shane and Nate locked eyes, a silent understanding between the two of them. It had to be done. They had to sacrifice Otis's in order to save another. But what gave them the right to decide his life was less important - that he was not worthy to breathe another day.
They were less than human, perhaps more feral, fighting to survive the cruel circumstances they were placed into.
They were nothing but products of war.
Nathan noticed he wasn't the only one in the bathroom. Through the fogginess he thought he saw two figures looming behind him.
Otis and Jason.
Nathan felt his breath halt, his heart becoming stuck in his throat. He whipped around, but found no one.
Just my imagination. They aren't real. They're just nightmares bleeding into reality.
Turning back to the sink he pulled his cross out of his dirty jeans and gripped it to his chest. No matter how tight he held the silver cross, even as his hands begin to whiten, he knew that his God could no longer protect him from his sins. They were unforgivable.
Not only did he kill an innocent man that night, he killed what made up his identity - his morals.
As Nathan stared at the reflection, he finally figured out who the stranger was in the mirror and wearing his skin.
It was the monster he created.
(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟnote
nate going cray cray
words ; 2758
edited ; ✔️