"Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I don't think I got you're name."
"Because I didn't tell ya my name,"
When survival is no longer living its time to take back their world from the dead. Can they do it together or is being so similar to each other more toxic...
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My body tingles with the cold and fear. The group found me, they followed me, and I let them. I lay in the bushes, my head in my hands as I think.
My truck is tucked away down the road. Away from Mateo and the markers. If I could get to it everything will be fine. He has a walkie talkie, I can talk to him. Find a new meeting point if I can get to my truck. I look back the way The men just past. Listening to the whistle fading into the background.
I watch the men's shadows dissolve in the grey forest. With the rain being so loud in this forest I'll be just fine if I run, they won't hear me. Or I cold run straight for Mateo, perhaps it was just coincidence I past these men.
Biting my lip I make my decision. Mateo is safer away from me, ain't gonna drag him into my mess. I'm gonna run for my truck.
Launching off the ground like a cat chasin' its prey, I throw all my focus into the sudden speed. I pump my arms with force, my boots slapping the ground in long harsh strides. Against my knee the leather cases of my machetes slice into flesh through my jeans. I can't see the ground ahead, my hair is heavy in my face.
From the side I'm slammed into by a body, not the dead, the living.
We roll across the leaves, elbows and knees digging in to ribs and bones. Mud soaks through my clothes, matting my Hair.
I curl my fist, attempting strike my attacker. A harsh hiss in my ear as we roll to a stop, my attacker is a larger man with a short, sloppy buzz cut and black beady eyes. His breath stinks. His bared teeth are yellowing and his beefy hands are slick with rain against my throat.
"Shouldn't have run girly." He laughs grabbing my hair as he clambers to his feet. I shriek in pain grabbing hold of his wrist. Kicking and shrieking like a banshee in hopes of attracting a skin walker, the man drags me through the mud. The cold begins to set in.
"When I get ma hands on ya filthy, sorry, no good sons-"
"Whoa! Whoa! No need for that kind of language!" Shouts a familiar voice.
My heart hammers in my ears. I begin to flail, attempting to get my feet under me in the puddles. Strands of hair break on my head, as I rip away from the mans grip. He immediately shoves me into the ground.
Face first into the mud. Knees in the gravel. I bite into my lip. Bastard. I wipe the mud off my cheeks, not giving either man the satisfaction of disgust.
"Is this everyone? Let's get started then! I'm Negan."
I look up from the gravel as someone removes my machetes from their designated spot at my side. Around me, my entire camp. All seventeen of them. Mateo sits with a bloody nose, his hair is staining his forehead and beads of rain roll across his cheeks. He's the farthest group member to my left, to far from me to reach.
The man from the highway; Negan, stands in the center of our semi circle with his bat now on his shoulder. Rain rolls off the leather in small beads. The rain has also washed the gel from his hair, allowing black strands to fall on to his forehead in perfect curls. He has this look in his eyes, a look that makes you wonder how many people he's killed.
"There you are. So about those brothers of yours? I'm assuming this is your group. Am I right?" He points the bat under my chin, grinning at the people cowering around me. His grin... his grin makes me realize he's probably lost count.
"Yeah, it's ma group," I answer bitterly licking salty rain drops off my lip. "Thought ya said you was gonna forget seeing me, grease. What happened?"
Negan sneers, nostrils flaring. "You're leader here, seems to forget that she isn't in the position of power here, the next sarcastic words that come out of her mouth... one of you poor bastards is going to die." He Hollers.
"We are the saviors. And you guys all work for me now. We've got a nice system with people like you. We take half your shit and in return we don't kill you. It's fairly straight foreword. Anyone tries to run, anyone thinks they can just turn their back on us. Let's say they are never seen again.
"I'm not going to pretend to be a bad guy, if you guys can cooperate we won't have a problem. Go out, find cool shit and every week we'll be back to take half. Food, weapons, people occasionally. Can you do that ?" The baseball bat is placed back under my chin. I hold eye contact with Negan, making no move to answer his demands. I can't be sarcastic but he never said I couldn't not answer him.
"Why should we assume you're not bluffing? You're all talk no bite." The father from marker one spits. Negan turns sharply, the barbed wire of the baseball bat slicing open my chin as he pulls it with him. I moan, teeth piercing my lip to keep the cry down. Copper stains my tongue.
"I'm bluffing?! I'm bluffing! Everyone pay close attention. I can assure you, I'm not bluffing." Horror paralyzes me as the baseball bat comes down over negans head with every ounce of strength the man possesses. Every fold of fabric strains around his body as the bat strikes the top of the fathers head. The squishy, bone shattering crack. A acidic stench of vomit rises through the frozen air. The mother screams while another man to my left struggles to his feet shouting the worst words he can come up with.
"I'll be right with you." Negan informs the the other man. Negan bends down in the fathers face, the man is pale, blood flowing over his face, into his eyes and on to the ground. Negan whispers something to the father but the life leaves his eyes before he gets his answer. He slouches foreword, Negan bounces to his feet out of the path of the Now dead man as he lands in a puddle with a splash.
"That was just a practice shot, I'm no where near done with you yet!" Negan strikes again, again, and again. Over and over. His brains squish through broken bones and skin and hair. Crimson water sprays across through the air splattering on my face.
"Whoo! That was- damn. Alright, you sir. I believe I heard you're complaint. Wanna say it to my face one more time?" Negan gets in the other mans face. "No? Alright." Negan kicks him down. He drags the baseball bat down the side of his face and then lines up the shot.
