calamity → the walking dead ¹

[ 017 ] hope itself.

CALAMITY.

chapter seventeen, hope itself.
[ season two, episode seven ]

AIDEN STEPS UP TO HER BROTHER WHO STANDS RIGID OUTSIDE THE BARN DOORS, HIS SHOULDERS TENSE BENEATH HIS SWEAT-SOAKED SHIRT. The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the yard, illuminating dust particles that dance between them in the heavy summer air.

"You keep yellin' like you were earlier, you're gonna bust a blood vessel," she says, trying to keep her voice light despite the tension crackling between them. Her fingers fidget with the frayed edges of her sleeve, a nervous habit she's had since childhood.

Shane's heated glare shifts from the barn doors to his sister. His eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep, jaw clenched so tight a muscle jumps visibly beneath the stubble on his cheek.

"Shut the fuck up, Aiden," he snarls, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that makes her stomach knot. "Just shut the fuck up for once in your goddamn life."

The crickets chirp in the tall grass beyond the barn. Somewhere in the distance, a bird calls out a warning.

"You're such an asshole, you know that?" Aiden's voice rises, hands now balled into fists at her sides. "Sayin' Sophia could be dead. You know damn well—"

"Don't you dare!" Shane storms toward her, boots kicking up dust as he closes the distance between them in three quick strides."You don't know what you're talking about, Aiden." His finger jabs the air inches from her face. "You were a cop, just like me. You know the rules of a missing person." Each word is punctuated, deliberate, hitting her like physical blows. "After forty-eight hours, she's dead. Nothing more, nothing less."

Aiden feels her throat tightening, a tremor starting in her hands that she tries to hide by crossing her arms. "She's not," she whispers, then louder, "She's not." Her voice cracks on the second denial.

She notices Shane's left eye twitch, that telltale sign she's known since they were kids. It only happens when he's fuming, when he's barely containing the rage that's always simmered just beneath his surface.

The silence between them stretches, filled only by Shane's heavy breathing. She can see him restraining himself, his fingers flexing and unflexing at his sides.

"You know what, Aiden?" His voice drops even lower, a rumble that reminds her of approaching thunder. "Be like them. Be like all these other idiots who don't see what's right in front of their faces." He gestures wildly toward the farmhouse where the others are gathered. "Risk everyone's lives by leavin' these. . . these things in here."

"It's better than being on the road!" Aiden raises her voice, feeling color rush to her cheeks. Her heart pounds against her ribs. "You think we're safer out there? With no shelter? No walls? You've seen what's out there, Shane!"

Something dark flashes in Shane's eyes. In one swift, violent motion, he grabs hold of her arms. Not the iron grip from earlier in the woods, but a death grip that sends immediate pain shooting to her shoulders.

"Shane," she gasps, fear blooming in her chest as his fingers dig deeper. "You're hurting me." She tries to pull away, but he holds her in place. "Shane, let me go." Her voice comes out small, childlike.

His face is inches from hers now, nostrils flaring. "You listen here," he whispers through gritted teeth. "Don't act like you know more than I do. I've been keeping us alive this whole time. I know what the hell I'm doing, Aiden."

With each sentence, his grip tightens incrementally, as if he's not even aware of the force he's using.

Aiden feels tears prick at the corners of her eyes, both from pain and from the sudden realization of how far gone her brother might be. "Shane, stop it," she pleads, no longer trying to mask the fear in her voice. "You're scaring me. Please."