Re: TWD: graham + clem + shane
He did want water, but more than that, he wanted to fucking close his eyes, yeah? Just for a fucking minute or whatever. Just for two fucking seconds he wanted to let his bones settle on that bed. Hunger, thirst, and exhaustion puffed and burned on blue eyes, hung as heavy bags, and Shane only gave something of a grumble when the room-temperature wetness of the rag hit his face and Clementine began scrubbing at him. Like the last reserves of his energy had been tapped dry just fucking getting through that window with that bag.
It was a fucking catch-22—the boards on the door or whatever. They had to do the shit before the rotting oak splintered from hinges from sheer fucking weight, as the press of decomposing, moaning bodies piled on and on, but smacking the shit out of nails with a hammerhead made noise, and noise drew more, yeah? But Shane knew, even fucking prostrate there with a t-shirt under his head, that if they didn't board the door now, it wouldn't matter if more didn't come, because the shit would come down.—They needed to get the fuck out. He needed to get the fuck up. They should probably shift the bed in front of the door, more counterweight and another obstacle, yeah? They should fucking take the closet doors off and get them covering the now-shutterless windows, unless they wanted the cool night to seep in and pool in the folds of their clothes or the spill of the few candles Shane had found to alert every living fucker in a one-mile radius that there was shit to be had.
"In the bag, yeah? There's a real fucking sling for that arm," muttered the man to his fucking nurse. "Shoes too. Got batteries and gum for a fire." Shane struggled a bit to fucking remember everything that jangled in that stupid canvas sack, but he gave up when Clementine asked him what happened. "Didn't see anyone living, yeah? Found a town two or three miles down the fucking state road. Empty. Couple farms scattered around. Places with the dead shit still locked inside, canned food untouched, probably turned when the shit started. Lost my fucking journal in one of them, but I found a place, yeah? Better than this shit, brick farmhouse. I cleared it. Got a woodstove, water from a well." He shifted and opened his eyes on Clementine and Graham. "But it's far the fuck out from any towns and shit, yeah? From doors."