Black Horse (John Seed x Reader)

chapter five

You bolted awake when the door to your room was being unlatched. The rattle of the keys could be heard from a mile away. A follower with long, shaggy hair and a scruff beard opened the door with tired eyes, "Get up. You're moving."

Last night, John ordered one of the followers to open an empty cell for you to use so you could finally get some rest. The room was pretty small, with only a cot and a toilet in the corner. You didn't mind. In fact, you were completely grateful to finally lay down and sleep after a week of sitting.

You don't know why, but a sudden disappointment settled in your bones when the follower was the one opening the door. Maybe you were expecting someone else to wake you up... You shook the feeling off, sending the man a look of confusion, "Moving? To the confession room?"

He shook his head, "No. To John Seed's ranch."

***

"Get going, sinner," the follower shoved a rough hand into your shoulder blade, almost making you trip over your own feet. You shuffled forward, your teeth clenched in anger.

You tried to swallow your growing anxiety. Why were you being moved to John's ranch? You couldn't stop thinking about last night and wondered if that was the cause. Whatever the reason was, it wasn't a good one.

Your sore wrists burned from the tight rope that was bound around your hands. You growled, resting your tired wrists on your stomach as you marched through the bunker. Followers and Angels glared at you as you passed, muttering insults and spats your way. You rolled your eyes for the millionth time.

When you turned the corner, seeing no one in sight, you took the opportunity you had been so desperately waiting for. You planted your feet into the ground, causing the cultist behind you to poke your kidney with the nose of his 1911 pistol. He snarled, "Keep moving."

Before he could shove you forward for the fifth time that day, you quickly jabbed your elbow into the man's stomach. He doubled over, a groan of pain leaving his mouth. You spun around and forced your tied hands into the follower's temple.

He was on the ground now, and you snatched the 1911 out of his weak grasp and tucked it snugly into your belt line. "Hey, I heard something over there! Go check it out!" Another cultist shouted from around the corner, and you immediately took off sprinting.

If you didn't get out of here soon, an alarm would blare in these halls and echo throughout the whole compound. You would surely be doomed. You bolted through the bunker with your hands still tied by your waist.

Your eyes scanned the corridors, and an odd feeling of deja vu settled in your mind. Didn't you just see that box?! Everything looked the same in this God damn hellhole. You took a sharp turn to the left, immediately colliding into something hard and falling forward to the floor.

You stuck your hands in front of you, trying to stop yourself from hitting the concrete ground. But, your hands wrapped around something silky as you fell, and you landed on something that definitely wasn't concrete.

"Fuck," a raspy whisper left his lips as he groaned in pain, one hand clutching the back of his head and the other wrapped tightly around your waist. You stared at John in disbelief, your jaw hanging wide open. He didn't seem to skip a beat, though. His classic ever-present smirk was still plastered permanently to his face. Nothing caught this man off guard.

"Came to say bye before you left?" The Baptist asked hoarsely. His thumb reached up to your chin and gently closed your mouth. His sapphire eyes then flickered to your neck, smiling broadly when he noticed the blood red scab that had formed over the mark his teeth left last night.

Your hands slowly reached down to your waist, and before the man noticed, you slammed the butt of the pistol into his jaw. His head fell limp to the side, his eyelids fluttering shut. You sighed deeply in relief, tucking the gun back and retrieving John's pocket knife from his vest pocket.

Don't you just love a creature of habit?

You quickly flicked the blade open and placed the end of the knife into your mouth. Moving your head up and down, you carefully sawed off the rope that trapped your wrists together. Once you were free, you pushed off of John's unconscious body and sprinted up the stairs to the exit of the bunker.

When the sunlight hit your eyes, you almost collapsed to the ground. A sharp pain pierced through your temples. You squeezed your eyes shut, placing a hand over them until you finally got adjusted to the sudden exposure to light.

You began running down the steep hill away from the bunker, your short breaths almost identical to wheezing. Besides the sound of your pounding footsteps, your surroundings were calm and tranquil.

There was no alarm. No Angles. No convoys. No angry John on your radio.

It was dead silent when you left the bunker. At first, you couldn't help but get an eerie vibe from it all. You glanced back at the bunker uneasily as you slowed your sprint to a walk. Then, you shook the feeling from your bones and decided to feel victorious in this moment of triumph.

You were free, after all.