Chapter 38 Shane Did You Forget Who You’re Talking To

“Tch.” Magnus Vane watched Hershel walk away toward the farmhouse, his shoulders carrying a kind of exhaustion that hadn’t been there before.

The barn had always been a problem Hershel would eventually have to face, and although Shane’s method had been brutal, forcing that confrontation early wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Better for Hershel to accept what the walkers had become now than drag the same belief all the way to the prison and create another crisis later.

Protecting Maggie, Beth, and the living members of his family mattered far more than preserving corpses that could no longer recognize them.

“Magnus!” Carol hurried across the wet ground and wrapped her arms around him before he had time to react.

“Thank God you’re back.” The gratitude in her eyes was obvious even though she tried to keep it under control, and Magnus accepted the hug without making things awkward.

“In this world, I’m starting to think luck has a pretty short shelf life,” he replied, earning the faintest smile from her.

“You and Carl must be starving.

I’ll make something.” Carol turned toward camp, but Magnus caught her wrist before she could go far.

“Food can wait.

We brought plenty back with us.” He pointed toward the fire engine.

“Grab a few people and help unload some of it.” Andrea and Amy arrived moments later, visibly relieved to see him alive, only to discover that returning from the dead apparently came with manual labor.

Magnus opened one of the fire engine’s rear storage compartments and climbed partway inside, passing down bottled water and sealed packages as everyone formed a loose unloading line.

T-Dog eventually ended up carrying more than anyone else and shot Magnus an annoyed look.

“Man, you trying to kill me?” “You’re the one with arms like that,” Magnus shot back with a grin.

“Use ’em.” The haul wasn’t enormous once it was divided among everyone at the farm, probably less than two weeks of comfortable supplies for the full group, but the small cakes immediately changed the mood.

Cigarettes and liquor had become valuable luxuries, but sealed sweet food was almost as good because it delivered calories and a brief reminder of what normal life used to feel like.

People who had been gloomy all day started smiling when vanilla and strawberry cakes appeared.

For a few minutes, the apocalypse felt slightly farther away.

Glenn finished setting down the last container of water, wiped his hands, then quietly edged closer to Magnus.

“Next time you go out, can you look for ramen?” he asked, sounding almost embarrassed by the request.

“I don’t care what brand or flavor.

Just instant noodles.” Magnus stared at him for a second before laughing.

“You held out seven days before asking for comfort food.

I respect the restraint.” Glenn rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth still lifted.

Magnus patted him on the shoulder and made a mental note that if he ever found a grocery store with intact noodles, Glenn was getting first pick.

They unloaded roughly half the supplies and left the rest inside the fire engine as reserve stock.

Magnus had learned quickly that keeping everything in one communal pile was asking for trouble if they ever had to evacuate in a hurry.

Once the unloading was finished, he crossed the camp and found Rick sitting with Carl asleep against his chest.

Rick had already removed the quiver, but the Primitive Bow rested nearby where Carl could reach it the moment he woke.

“The kid was exhausted,” Magnus said.

Rick looked up once.

Then back down.

Magnus studied him for a second.

“You’re mad.” Rick’s eye twitched.

Magnus almost smiled.

“That’s a yes.” Rick stayed quiet for several more seconds because Carl was sleeping, but eventually he spoke in a low voice.

“When you didn’t come back, I started thinking about what I was going to do if you showed up without him.” He finally looked directly at Magnus.

“At one point, I figured I’d cut your throat myself.” Magnus raised an eyebrow but wisely said nothing.

“Then I saw Carl again,” Rick continued, voice tightening despite how hard he tried to keep it down.

“And all I wanted to do was hit you for taking my son out into walker country for an entire week.” His fingers flexed against Carl’s shoulder.

“We had an agreement, Magnus.

I thought you’d at least bring him back once so Lori and I knew he was alive.” That part Magnus couldn’t argue with.

Rick looked down at Carl’s hands.

Small calluses had begun forming where the bowstring and grip had rubbed his skin over the week, and the boy held himself differently even while asleep.

Rick brushed one thumb over those rough patches, then glanced toward the Primitive Bow nearby.

The anger slowly drained from his expression.

“But when he looked at me,” Rick said, “I knew something had changed.” Magnus remained quiet.

Rick lifted his eyes again.

“I don’t know everything you made him do out there, and part of me probably doesn’t want to know yet.” He exhaled slowly.

“But he’s more confident.

He watches things now.

He carries himself differently.” Rick paused.

“So from me, as his father…

thank you.” Magnus was about to wave the praise away when Rick’s expression hardened again.

“But.” There it was.

“Lori barely ate after the first few days,” Rick said.

“She kept waking up in the middle of the night thinking she heard Carl.

Then the rain came, she got sick, and now she’s lying unconscious in your tent.” His voice remained controlled, but the accusation behind it was completely fair.

“You don’t owe me for training Carl.

You don’t owe Carl.

But you do owe Lori an apology.” Magnus frowned slightly, not because he disagreed but because he was replaying the last seven days from her perspective.

He had known Carl was safe every hour of every day.

Lori had known nothing.

Add in the confrontation they had before he left, and Magnus could understand why the situation had hit her so hard.

“Fair enough.” Rick seemed mildly surprised by how quickly he accepted it.

Magnus looked down at Carl one more time, then nodded.

“I’ll talk to her.” He turned to leave but stopped after only a few steps.

“Start getting everyone ready to move.” Rick looked up immediately.

Magnus continued, “We’ve waited long enough.

Hershel and his family can decide whether they’re coming, but the rest of us need to start preparing for the prison.” Rick didn’t argue.

Magnus headed toward the tent he had originally given Rick’s family when they arrived at the farm.

Lori was still inside, but before Magnus could reach the entrance, he found Shane standing guard outside.

Shane wore a dark brown fitted T-shirt, and his hair had grown longer over the past week, slicked back from his face.

Combined with the stubble and permanently tense posture, he looked more and more like the hardened Shane Magnus remembered from later in the original timeline.

The instant Shane saw him, he stood.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Magnus stopped.

Shane stepped forward, anger barely contained.

“You take Carl out of camp, disappear for seven damn days, and don’t send a word back?

This place nearly fell apart because nobody knew whether either of you was alive.” Magnus’s expression flattened.

“Watch how you talk to me.” Shane stared at him.

Magnus didn’t move.

Rick had every right to be furious.

Lori had every right to be hurt.

Magnus had accepted that much without argument because their fear had been his mistake.

Shane, however, was not Carl’s father, and Magnus had no intention of standing there while he acted as if Magnus answered to him.

Shane’s jaw tightened.

Magnus’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Seven days apart, and apparently Shane had already forgotten exactly where their last conversation had ended.