Crossing The Line Chapter Two

Second Attempt


Rick spent the next few days keeping a very close eye on Carol Peletier. She went about camp, he noticed, with her head down. She did her chores, she contributed, but she didn’t go about it with her usual quiet cheer. Something besides a bad tumble, as she called it, had happened to her in the woods that day, but getting her to open up about it was proving to be a fruitless effort. She rebuffed, usually with anger, any attempts he made to get her to talk.

Since talking wasn’t going to work, Rick set about the task of watching. He was a trained police officer, after all. Observation was something he was good at. Using his resources was also something he was good at. Daryl Dixon was one such resource who had even better powers of observation than he did.

“Daryl, I need a word.”

“What?” Daryl asked. He was wiping blood and dirt off his crossbow, and checking the integrity of the bolts.

“You notice anything weird about Carol?”

“Since she ‘fell down,’ you mean?” he said, using quotey-fingers to indicate his disbelief of her story about taking a fall.

“Yeah. She says she took a tumble.”

Daryl shook his head. “Naw, man. I saw her face. She ain’t got that shit in any fall. Somebody did that to her.”

“Did you see her that day?”

Daryl froze in his work of cleaning and maintaining the crossbow. After a moment he put the weapon down and stood to face Rick.

“You accusing me of hurtin’ that woman?”

Rick realized what his words must have sounded like and he shook his head. “No. I want to know what you think happened to her.”

“You’re the cop. You tellin’ me you can’t figure it out?”

“Just say what you think, Daryl.”

“Well, if I didn’t know that almost every man in this camp was honorable, I’d say she was raped. Don’t do no good trying to ask her about it if she won’t talk.”

Rick nodded. “So you’ve tried to pry the truth out of her too?”

“I didn’t try to pry, I just asked. She said she fell down and then told me to mind my own business. That’s what I’m doing. I’m minding my own.”

“Keep an eye on her. If you notice anything at all, please, come tell me. We gotta look out for our people, especially our women and children. They may be capable warriors against the walkers but one fact remains: they need protecting from the living.”

Daryl nodded and sat back down. “Will do.”

Rick left Daryl to his bow and went to the edge of the camp. Carol refused to step foot in the woods alone. It made sense if someone had assaulted her. She wouldn’t be keen to make herself a target. Now she was washing laundry and watching her daughter, Sophia. She kept a close eye on the girl as a rule, but in the past few days she’d taken to obsessively watching her.

“Carol.”

She sighed, knowing what was coming. “God, Rick. Just leave me alone. Please.”

“I need to know what happened that day. I need to know--”

“Why, Rick? I’m not your responsibility. I’m not your burden. You’re not helping me by staying in my face, prying.”

“You’re about to crack under the stress. I can see it.”

“You’re the cause of that stress. I’d be okay if you’d just leave me be!”

She abandoned her wash to run to the edge of the clearing where she sat watching her daughter. They’d drawn looks from the others. Rick decided he’d harassed Carol enough for the day. If she wanted his help she knew he was there.

The familiar sound of a jeep on the access road signaled Shane’s return. He had loaded the back of the little truck with gallons of water and gave his usual warning of boiling before drinking. His hand, Rick had noted three days ago, was wrapped in a bandage.This one looked fresh.

“You never did tell me what happened to your hand,” said Rick.

“Ran it up on a sharp rock,” Shane said. “Got some antibiotic ointment on it, and we got a bottle of Cipro. It’ll be all right.”

“You notice anything off with Carol?”

“Who ain’t noticed, Rick?” Shane said, and then walked away.

Failing to show an interest in the subject didn’t sit right with Rick. Shane had been a cop too, and those instincts to serve and protect didn’t die easily. Then again, the world had gone to shit, and Shane wasn’t the same man he’d been before the Turn.

Or was he?

Rick often thought about the changes in his former friend. Shane had always had a sharp edge, a darkness inside him, and that had made him a good cop with good instincts. Still, since the turn, Rick had wondered more than once if perhaps he hadn’t been made for this world from birth. Shane thrived on the constant danger and violence. It wasn’t breaking him--it was making him stronger. There was very little Shane wasn’t willing to do to keep himself and his group safe. There was very little he wasn’t willing to do to get what he wanted.

Rick felt that he was on the verge of an answer. He just wished it would reveal himself sooner rather than later.

*****

Shane Walsh stared at the roof of his tent. Three days had passed and no lynch mob had showed up at his door to drag him out to the woods and string him up in a tree. He knew he’d gotten away with it. Carol wasn’t going to say anything no matter how much Rick badgered her. He had found her weakness, and that was Sophia. He had to be careful with that angle, though. Nothing could drive a woman to kill like maternal instinct. If he pushed too hard on the threat of hurting Sophia, Carol may just snap and use a gun to take him out in front of the whole camp.

The encounter he’d had with her in the woods played like a movie behind his eyes and he felt a stirring in his groin. He needed it again. He needed that rush of power. He thought of perhaps singling Andrea Harris out, but she was too strong-willed a woman. She never left camp alone and she always kept a gun on her. He wasn't sure she knew how to use it, but it was too much of a risk that she’d get off a lucky shot. She would most definitely tell if he came at her the wrong way, which was unlikely to even be possible because she’d made it clear she would fuck him. A willing partner wasn’t what he needed, or wanted.

For the first time Shane was beginning to understand Ed Peletier, and why he’d done what he’d done to Carol. He couldn’t understand the attraction to Sophia that Ed had displayed. Kids had no interest for Shane. That was truly sick in the worst possible way. A woman was a different story. A woman could pose a threat when the fighting started. That’s what made it so good. Overcoming the threat. Carol had surprised him by putting up a fight and getting away, but she hadn’t surprised him with her silence. After all, keeping silence is what made Carol the perfect victim. She was strong in some ways, very weak in all the right ones. That made her the perfect target.

He remembered the scent of Carol’s fear, so sharp in his nose, like salt in a wound. He remembered the terror in her eyes. He remembered the wiggling of her body beneath his, the feel of every muscle in her body straining to get away from him, as he’d pressed her face first into the soil and taken her. She’d struggled so hard, so wonderfully hard. She’d given it her all but it wasn’t enough. He was more powerful than her. This new world may have taken away his control over his life, his destiny, but he’d learned it was possible to win that feeling back by taking control of a woman.

If it’s that good with Carol, imagine how much sweeter it’ll be with Michonne? Shane thought. 

Michonne was a warrior. When he took her, and he was going to take her, it would require skill, effort. He was going to do it out in the open, as he had with Carol. He was going to go on a run with her, lure her somewhere, and give her the room she needed to put up a really good fight. Then, when he overpowered her…

The rush Shane got from the fantasy was too much. He needed to feel that again. He needed the terror in a woman's eyes. It was late. He could sneak into Carol's tent and take her. Nobody would know because she would never tell. 

Very careful not to make noise, Shane peered from his tent and observed the camp. Dale was on watch, atop his RV. His back was to Shane. The rest of the camp was empty. He looked for Rick, or Daryl, to be skulking in the shadows. He caught sight of Rick as he disappeared into Michonne’s tent. It was no surprise. She’d been gone on an extended run with Jim and Glenn and had only gotten back that evening.

One day that’ll be me slipping into her tent, and into her body, after Rick’s dead… Shane thought before slipping back into his own tent.

After giving himself another half an hour to make certain he was alone, Shane left his tent and went past the one belonging to the little Korean guy, Glenn, to the tent belonging to Carol and Sophia. Carefully, he unzipped the flap, and slipped inside.

*****

Nighttime was the worst. Carol needed her rest but she was afraid to go to sleep. What if Shane decided to kill her and her daughter in their sleep? The idea made her positively tremble with fear. Rick was right. She was about to crack under the stress. Every night she waited until Sophia was asleep before she let the tears fall as her mind replayed that awful day over and over again. She checked to make sure her gun was within reach and then snuggled down into her sleeping bag. Nights were getting chilly and it was hard to get warm at times.

Her mind, as she drifted to sleep, went to Michonne. Shane had said that Michonne was his true target. She wanted to warn the woman, but at the same time she feared that exposing Shane’s secret would somehow lead to Sophia getting hurt. Michonne wasn’t like her. Michonne was a fighter. Carol believed that if Shane attacked her it was likely Michonne would kill him. She was deadly with or without that sword.

At first Carol thought the weight that pressed atop her was part of the nightmare of what had happened with Shane a few days ago. Then she realized that the weight was real. Shane had finally decided to make a move. He was going to kill her and do God only knew what to Sophia before killing her, too.

“You know how to keep your mouth shut,” Shane said. His breath was hot and stinking in her face. “That’s good, Carol. You keep that up, you give me what I want, and Sophia will stay safe.”

She reached for something, a gun, and Shane easily wrested it from her grip. He grinned down at her.

“Ain’t that cute,” he said, and then forced his lips over hers.“You know how hard it gets me when you fight. I'm startin’ to wonder if you don’t like it just a little bit. You a dirty little whore, Carol? Are you? Tell me you are. Tell me.”

“I’m a dirty whore,” she said in a strangled whisper.

“You liked it when I fucked you, didn’t you?” he said, knowing she didn't, but he wanted to make her agree. He wanted to just make her. 

She nodded. She cried silent tears, trying not to wake her daughter. She probably had years of experience staying quiet for Sophia’s sake. 

“You want it again, don’t you? Say it.”

“I...I want it...” a small sob escaped her and she hated him with every fiber of her being.

He tossed the gun beside Sophia, who remained sleeping, unaware of her mother’s predicament beside her. Shane put the edge of his knife against Carol’s throat and she stilled at once.

“Good girl,” he said, relishing the fear in her eyes. “Now undo my belt.”

*****

Rick grunted as Michonne rode him, moving her hips against him in a hard, fast rhythm. He could feel her body squeezing him from the inside an orgasm shook her. It was too much, and he came, emptying himself into the condom. They were going through those pretty quickly and would need to go on a run soon to acquire more.

Michonne collapsed beside him in a sweaty, breathless heap, and then draped a strong, naked leg over him. Even as their breath settled, Michonne could see something bothered Rick. They hadn’t had much chance to talk since her return.

“What’s the matter, Baby?” Michonne asked.

“I can’t stop thinking about Carol,” Rick admitted.

Michonne side-eyed him. “I’m going to give you five seconds to explain that comment before I take my katana to you.”

“You’ve been on a run so you don’t know, but something bad happened with Carol a few days ago. She came back to camp in distress, covered with mud, her face bruised and bleeding, and blood between her legs. She claimed she’d had a nasty fall and had started her period while she was in the woods looking for mushrooms and berries but I think she was raped.”

Michonne immediately got up and began pulling on her clothes, leaving Rick startled and confused at the urgency in her actions. 

“Michonne?”

“I need to talk to her.”

Rick pulled his jeans on. “Won’t do any good. It’s the middle of the night and she won’t open up. She refuses to talk about it.”

“She’s going to talk to me,” Michonne said.

The first thing that popped into her mind when she heard Rick say rape was Shane. She remembered, not long ago after he and Rick had returned from a successful run, that he’d come into her tent and tried to assault her.

“Any ideas who did it?” she asked.

Rick looked down and shook his head. “No.”

“Really, Rick? None?”

For some reason Shane’s face flitted across Rick’s mind, but he pushed it away. He knew Michonne didn’t like Shane. He was always after her to dump Rick for him, just as he’d tried to get Lori to do before her death. That didn’t mean Shane was a rapist.

“We’ll talk to Carol, together,” Michonne said, deciding not to push the subject. Rick was going to have to face the truth about Shane sooner or later. Sooner, if Michonne had anything to say about it, because she was finally going to tell him about Shane’s attack on her the night they’d had the good supply run. Guilt burned at Michonne’s belly. Perhaps if she’d said something that night, nothing would have happened to Carol, because Shane would no longer be in their camp. 

She wanted to be fair to herself, and try to tell herself that she had no way of knowing Shane would attack another woman in the camp, but that excuse didn’t sit well with her. She felt she’d failed Carol, indeed the entire camp, by keeping her mouth shut about Shane’s attack that night in her tent. She wouldn’t make another mistake by letting Shane get away with it, if she could help it.

“Rick! Get out here! Now!”

That was Daryl Dixon’s voice and he was pissed. Rick finished pulling on his socks and then headed out of the tent, Michonne close behind, her sword drawn. He’d just stepped out when he saw Shane emerge from Carol’s tent, staring hard at Daryl, who had his crossbow trained on him. The dull silver light of the moon glinted off the steel in Shane’s hand and Rick knew what was about to happen.

“Daryl, look out!”

Daryl dodged to the side just as Shane fired the gun.

*****

Daryl Dixon remained in the shadows of the trees that surrounded the camp and kept a watch on Carol and Sophia’s tent. It was his third night on lookout duty, not for walkers, but for them. Despite Carol telling him to mind his own business the day she was attacked, Daryl had started watching her tent that very night, and he’d continue to do so until her attacker revealed himself. 

Daryl had no issue with leaving people to pair off in peace. How many times had he gone into the woods for a piss and heard people coupling? He didn’t give two shits about what other people did--as long as it was consensual and no harm was done. Rape, however, was another story, where plenty of harm was done. He’d dodged Rick’s question about seeing Carol when she returned to camp three days ago, but he had seen her. He’d seen the blood between her legs, the obvious damage to her face from a living man’s hand. He’d seen the way she’d walked, as though every step was agony that came from the core of her being.

Something else Daryl noticed was Shane Walsh. He’d arrived back at camp at the same time as Carol, Rick, Carl, and Sophia, but hanging at a distance, offering no support or comfort. Added to that was that his hand was dripping blood from a fresh wound. He’d been glaring at Carol the entire time, issuing silent threats with his eyes and oblivious to anyone in the camp who may have been watching him, as Daryl was.

It was only a matter of time before Shane would make another move on Carol. Daryl knew what abusers were like. He’d grown up under the fist of one, just as Carol had. He could recognize a kindred spirit in her, and he thought that perhaps that was why he was so keen to look out for her now. Abusers, he knew from firsthand experience, got off on hurting those weaker than themselves. It was a drug for them, an addiction, and Shane was going to eventually need another fix.

The question was, what was Rick going to do? The man was good at denying what stared him in the face. That he refused to see the obvious clues that Shane had attacked Carol and would soon go after Michonne, even if it meant he had to kill Rick to do it, made Daryl doubt that Rick had the stones to put a stop to Shane. He could have told Rick that Shane was Carol’s attacker, but he had history with Shane. They’d been friends in the world that was, before the Turn. Rick would deny it, he would want proof, and that would only serve to put Carol in danger.

It was no surprise to Daryl when Shane peered out of his tent and then, half an hour or so later, crept out and snuck over to Carol’s, where he slipped inside. Without hesitation, Daryl started across the camp. When he arrived at Carol’s tent, he could hear whispers and Carol’s fearful voice.

Daryl ripped open the tent and trained his crossbow on Shane.

“Come outta there, motherfucker,” Daryl said.

Shane was truly surprised at Daryl’s arrival. Surprised and angry. He hadn’t seen the redneck anywhere in camp, watching for him. Apparently Daryl was a sneaky little bastard. He was smart, too, to have figured out who had attacked Carol. Either Daryl was smart or, Shane figured, he was the idiot to believe everyone in the camp would be as blind as Rick as to what he’d become.

“Rick! Get out here! Now!”

He saw Rick and Michonne, from his peripheral vision, emerge from her tent. Glenn also stirred and peeped his head out. Daryl kept his eyes on Shane but he didn’t see the gun in his hand. All he saw was the movement followed by Rick’s panicked warning. He tried to dive out of the way but he was too late. Shane fired and something like a hot poker slashed across his left bicep.

“Shane!” Rick shouted.

Shane was quick, and he was ready. He fired blindly back at them, uncaring of who he may have hit, as he fled toward his jeep. The engine fired to life. Daryl, and the others who’d awakened at the noise, watched as Shane spun it around and took off out of the quarry. Carol’s sobs were loud in the night, as was Sophia’s confused and frightened pleas to know what was going on.

Daryl’s eyes met Rick’s.

“There’s your guy,” Daryl said. “Now what are you gonna do about him?”

Rick looked to where Shane’s jeep had sat and he felt his stomach clench in rage. How had he not seen it? How had he not put it together? Was he really such a fool that he couldn’t piece together Carol's injuries, her behavior, and Shane’s wounded hand all on the same day, at the same time? Had he wanted to believe that he could never have been friends with a monster so badly that he’d ignored what was right in front of his face?

“I’m gonna find him,” Rick said, in answer to Daryl’s question. “And I’m gonna kill him.”

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