I managed to weave through the walkers and find my way back inside the cabin. I need to come up with a plan, and fast, if I want to make it back to The Sanctuary anytime soon. It's at least a day's walk, a minimum of thirty miles. I rummage through the cabinets and take as many cans of food as I can find. I stuff them inside the duffle bag along with a few bottles of water. When I turn toward the front door, I notice Negan's leather jacket thrown over the back of a dirty couch. Thankfully he was able to get away, but I know he's going to come back for me unless I make it back before he can try. I set the duffle bag down, pull Negan's jacket around my body, and place the bag strap across my shoulders. Think, think, think. How can I get out of this? I'm surrounded by a sea of the dead with just a knife, drowning with no coast in sight. I shuffle into the bedroom and blow out the lantern, causing darkness to swarm around me. The darkness makes it seem as if I'm not even here. The only hint of light comes from the moon that hangs in the sky and seeps through the bedroom window.
What would Rick do? What would Negan do? Come to think of it, I've never seen Negan in a situation quite like this. He has always been protected, even when he wasn't behind the gates of The Sanctuary. Sure, he's been in a pinch before. He's fought more than one biter at once. Rick has been through this, and so have I. How did we get through it in Alexandria?
We gutted up.
I rush back to the front door and peer out the small window at the top, looking out to spot the walker of my choosing. One strays away from the crowd toward the cabin. Perfect timing. I creak the door open slowly and approach the walker, then lunge forward and bury the knife deep in its skull. I yank the blade away and catch the body before it can thud against the wooden deck beneath my feet. The body is light as I drag it inside, an indication of its decaying state. Once the door is shut, I slice the walker open, then slip the knife into my waistband. The guts are cold to the touch and the foul stench fills my nostrils undesirably. Nonetheless, I fight through the turning and churning of my stomach and lather myself with innards.
I pull the door open, then grab the walker by its feet, and drag it back onto the porch. I drop its legs, reach to close the door, then make my way into the undead crowd.
I will get out of this.
-
The sun continued to rise and fall as the days passed. I've watched the sunrise seven times since I have seen Negan. When I first deserted the cabin, I started in the direction of The Sanctuary. But I've been sidetracked by groups of walkers that I simply can't fight off on my own. There are two cans of food left along with five water bottles. I have yet to find a building unlooted, everything has been picked bare. Which can mean one of two things: There are no supplies within miles, or there's a civilization close.
The optimist in me would choose to believe the latter, but I'm afraid she left in the truck with Negan. I don't have the best sense of direction, especially now that I've been swept around by smaller herds. Survival is my main priority, which means I need to find food and shelter, and I need to find them both fast. Otherwise, I'll walk along the biters in search of flesh, myself. Thankfully Negan's leather jacket has kept me warm through the cool nights, but it smells like shit after being coated in guts, not to mention I haven't bathed in seven days. God knows I smell like shit, too.
Survival is my only option. I can't lose Negan, I can't lose my friends in The Sanctuary, and I sure as hell can't lose my people in Alexandria.
The rustling leaves in the wind have become the backtrack to my days on a never-ending loop. Sleep was hardly an option, I'd managed to sneak a few hours here and there so long as I could find a tree branch to host me away from the dead. When I'm not on guard for walkers, I'm on guard for people. Nice groups were few and far between and I don't want to press my luck.
I came across one man on my fifth day alone. He didn't have anything with him outside of his dirtied clothes. I didn't ask his name, I don't see much of a point. I did, however, give him a can of food along with a bottle of water. He didn't have a destination as he was merely wandering around. I would have offered to take him back to The Sanctuary with me had I known where I was going.
'My mother said that killing them would free their souls,' he said to me.
'Respectfully, I'm not sure those sacks of shit have souls,' I observed with a scowl painted on my face. God, I sound more like Negan each fucking day.
The man chuckled as he wiped the back of his blood-stained hand across his cheek. The blood greeted the dirt that seemed to have been plastered to his brown skin for some time now.
'Everybody is entitled to their own opinion,' he smiled while taking note of the duffel bag flung across my torso. I could tell soon into our interaction he posed no threat. He was quick to call out any dead ones that wandered close behind me, so I returned the favor when the body on the ground began to approach him in his blind spot. I brought the strap around my body and unzipped the top, pulling out a can of food and a bottle of water. I rolled them across the gravel road that stretched on for miles. We were headed in opposite directions.
'I'd give you more, but I don't have much,' I pointed to the supplies on the ground in front of him. Not to mention I had somewhere to be, but he didn't need to know that.
'I appreciate anything at all,' he bent down and picked up the can and bottle before offering a smile of gratitude.
He was on his way shortly after our exchange, which I didn't mind. I need to get back to Negan as quickly as I can.
It's been two days now since I've seen any other survivors. The man runs through my mind in flashes and I can't help but hope he made it somewhere safe, maybe to The Sanctuary. My gut is telling me that I'm getting closer to The Sanctuary, though, so I can't be sure where the traveler is now. He might still be on the road, scavenging for another meal wherever he can find it. Or maybe he came across somebody out for blood and lived his last day shortly after we crossed paths. Maybe he's eating some of Harry's delicious vegetable soup, or enjoying a party that Sherry organized.
God, I would kill for either of those right now, and those two shouldn't be worried for me. I can take care of myself, which I'll always be sure of. I don't know where I am or when I'll be back, but I know that I'll get there, whatever it takes.
All I can hope for is the peace has remained between The Saviors and Alexandria over the past septenary of days. Maybe I'm a fool to believe there was any peace in the first place. I mean shit, Rick and Negan have been playing a game of cat and mouse for months now, and Rick has never been the type to take this much shit from anybody.
Now, as the gravel fades into the pavement beneath my feet and the sun has long set, I can't help but notice a set of tire tracks. My eyes follow the trail that leads into a strip mall, a very familiar strip mall. With long strides, I began to pick up my pace with what little energy have in my body. I've been walking for a week and have yet to figure out what I'm walking toward. This short series of overgrown shops is the first landmark I've come across since the herd swept me away.
As I approach the end of the strip mall, I notice the familiar row of windows a few stores down from where I stand. I secure the duffle bag around my torso and unsheath my knife, ready to clear any dead ones that might've crept into the music shop. Scanning the area eases the small bundle of nerves inside my stomach, there are no biters in sight. Hopefully, there won't be any in Soul. Maybe this means a group just came through here, maybe it was Negan and his men.
When I push the door open, the familiar ring of the bell above the glass pane fills the air. I let out a quiet whistle after the bell rings for a second time as the door closes. Stepping further into the shop, I spot the section of the speaker set we took for the party. The sector was clear and the teal paint I had been introduced to with the cocky, loud-mouthed man sparked a memory within me.
'Negan,' I called out. 'Come back here.'
I heard his footsteps become lighter and quicker in pace. He was at my side in seconds.
'Oh hell no,' his posture dropped as he disapproved.
'Why not?' I continued toward the set, reaching out to dust it off with my fingers.
'Are you trying to drive a fuckin' herd into The Sanctuary?' He questioned in a vexed manner.
'Please,' I rolled my eyes, 'the walls are too thick for these to draw anything in.'
He sighed heavily and hung his head to the side, looking me up and down.
'We could throw a party,' I suggested, attempting to persuade him by grabbing his leather-coated bicep. 'Have music, dancing, drinks,' I continued. 'Come on, do something nice for your people. Everybody deserves a night off.'
His eyes stayed on my hand, still grasping his arm. After a long pause, he agreed. 'On one condition.' I hummed as I raised my eyebrows.
'Save a dance for me,' he tantalized. Our grins grew together, mirroring one another before I suppressed mine.
'Fine,' I agreed reluctantly, dropping my hand back to my side.
Now I find myself missing his touch, missing his loud-mouthed remarks. His cocky personality that has just enough swagger to keep me on the hook. I miss him. I miss Negan. We've come so far, and that thought doesn't scare me anymore. A thought that once would've had me rethinking every life choice I've ever made to get here suddenly didn't phase me. I've known Negan was capable of change, he just needed the right person to show him.
I lock the door as if the entire front of the shop isn't made of glass, once I realize the shop is clear. The body that I had once slain behind the counter has since been moved, making for a decent option as my resting spot for the remainder of the night. Someone has come through here, they had to if the body is gone. Maybe Negan has gone out to look for me.
I drop the duffle bag to the ground and crouch to the floor, then unzip the top and retrieve what water I have left in my second to the last bottle. I unscrew the cap as I sit on my behind and take a quick sip to keep my water source as long as possible, which barely quenches my thirst. I rezip the duffle and lean back, resting my head against the bag and keeping my knife in my hand. Negan's leather jacket will be just enough to keep me warm through the night, and with luck, I'll get some well-needed rest.