Survive || Negan Fanfic (DDLG)

Chapter 21: Outside Shit

A/N: ok so Christian Bale is Lawson, ok? Why? Because he's sexy af okay? Okay. Enjoy the story.

     Yep, I was lost. One gun, three bullets, no food or water and shit out of luck, which wasn’t really uncommon for me. I’d been walking for 48 hours, and hadn’t come across any fresh water source, any supplies, hell anything but trees, bugs, dirt, and the sun. I was running out of steam, and fast. My throat felt like it was a pork rind, and I wasn’t even sweating even more.

I was in trouble, but the only thing I could do was keep going. I walked and walked and walked until I couldn’t even process that I was walking, just on auto-pilot and daydreaming of a 64-oz of aqua Gatorade. That had been my favorite flavor, but I couldn’t remember what the weird name was that they’d given it. Green glacier? Iceberg? God, this wasn’t helping me at all.

Finally, my legs gave up, and I collapsed to the ground, the world blurry around me. As I became one with the ground I knew I was going to die on, I began to fall into delirium.
I saw Negan appear from nowhere, walking slowly toward me, a gun pointed at my head. He was wearing the most ridiculous camoflauge outfit, but it was smart if he was hiding out here in these woods. He looked as if he were hunting for deer, as if it were just a hobby of his; so natural, so normal. As he came closer, between slit eyelids, I realized it wasn’t Negan at all, but some other man.

“Wh-who…”I tried to rasp, but my throat had given up just as my legs had. The man knelt down, putting his gun down next to him, and raised one of my eyelids. Just as I fell into unconsciousness, he picked me up off the ground.

I woke up dazed, but remembering what had happened, I shot up, only to be met with a splitting headache. I let out a small groan, putting my head in my hands.

“You should be careful,” a gruff voice spoke. My eyes snapped open to see the man who had picked me up standing above me, staring at me with a serious expression.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I think you need to tell me who you are first, little lady. I did save your ass, after all,” he spoke in a thick southern Georgia accent. I sighed.

“My name’s Abby.”

“I’m Lawson. Now, what were you doing wandering around in the woods? You were half-dead when I found you,” he asked, crouching down in front of me so we were eye level.

“I was being held captive by a group. I escaped and just wanted to get the hell out of there,” I told him half-honestly. He saw through the ploy.

“So your plan was just to go until you found…what? You have one gun and no other supplies. Looks like sure death to me,” he probed.

“I had another group that, well, they were also keeping me there against my will. But there, I think…I don’t know. I might have had a chance of integrating. I thought I was heading back in that direction, but I guess I was wrong,” I confessed.

“Two groups in one area. I guess it’s a good thing I bumped into you,” he told me, standing again. I frowned.

“Why?”

“I don’t do groups, and I stay as far away from them as I can. Now that I know there are at least two around these parts, I can go ahead and move along,” he told me. I chuckled drily, and he frowned at me.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just…I used to do that
too. Be on my own, stay far away from groups. I had a lot more guns then, obviously,” I told him. He nodded once.

“Well, you can stick with me for a while, if you’d like. I wouldn’t mind a little company,” he said.

This was my chance to get away. Go with this man, who actually I really didn’t know that much about, but he seemed pretty genuine, and stay away from both Rick and Negan. I wouldn’t have to deal with the drama, wouldn’t have to see anybody else die or anyone else fight over who deserved to live more. I could escape it all, scot-free, before anything else bad happened to me.