"Carl?" Jane said, causing his head to swivel back around to her.
"Yeah?"
"Don't die."
He grinned at her, before adjusting his hat on his head and leaving down the dirt path that would take him to the sanctuary.
Throwing her bag over her shoulder, she dumped it on the ground and rummaged through its contents. She took out her switchblade, some binoculars, and discarded a few bobby pins into her hand.
Using the binoculars, her eyes followed the edge of the sanctuary's metal fence. It was swarming with walkers, each one weaving in and out of each other.
She scoffed at their idiocy, watching them bump into one another over and over. This would be easier than she thought. Hearing a noise behind her, she celebrated silently. She waited as a Walker sprung out of the bush, jaws open wide.
She didn't wait one more second to plunge the knife right into its skull, sending it flailing and struggling to the ground.
When it had finally stopped moving, she cut into it, piercing it's rotted skin and causing waterfalls of blood to ripple out onto the forest floor.
Smearing her hands in it, she gagged a little. The smell was strong, and decaying. She spread the blood across her face, and draped the intestines and chunks of skin around her neck. Gross.
She hid her bag in a bush, covering it up with leaves before grabbing her knife and making her way down to the fence. If she was careful, she'd be able to slip through unnoticed.
Unfortunately, she couldn't find a tear in the fence so she had to risk climbing over. It just meant she'd have to be more careful once she was in amongst the hoard.
She got in safe and sound, the smell of the walkers leaving a horrid stench in the air. It didn't faze her, though she made a mental note to take a shower once she got home.
She shuffled alongside them, spotting a guard near by. He was armed with a shotgun, but facing away from her. If she was sneaky enough, she could make it. Taking a deep breath, she started to ascend up the second fence.
She got down gracefully, quickly moving to the shadowed area to avoid being seen.
I'm not going to get in with him there, she thought.
Shit. She'd have to take him out.
Readying her switchblade, she inched closer and closer toward him, ready to stab at any minute. Her hands were just about to snake around his neck when gunshots fired out from the other side of the building.
Carl.
She had two options: run, or fight. Unfortunately, she didn't have much time to choose between the two, because the man had already noticed her. She kicked the gun out of his hands and tried to pin him to the floor, but it didn't work.
His fist went straight to her mouth, getting in one good hit before warmth took over his body. Jane's knife had buried itself securely in his lower abdomen, making the man fall limp on-top of her. She shoved him off and grabbed his gun, placing it between his eyes.
"Try anything, you're dead." Well, it wasn't like he could, anyways. He stayed on the ground, clutching his wound whilst Jane pried the knife out of him. He watched as she grabbed his keys from his belt and made her way inside.
It wouldn't be long until they found him, but she suspected every soldier Negan had was dealing with Carl right now. Sure, he'd have some security on standby but it couldn't be too severe.
The only tricky part was actually finding Daryl.
She scouted the halls with her shotgun outstretched in-front of her, the old blood now dried onto her face and flaking. She rounded corners carefully and made light steps, trying not to get lost in the pretentious hallways.
She wondered where Carl was now. Was he okay? Was Negan dead?
Suddenly, faint voices were heard from the other side of the hall. She quickly crouched behind some storage unit, watching as a man and a girl talked.
They were gathered outside a door, talking into it.
Daryl? Maybe.
Then, they swung open the door, dragging someone out by the arms. It was Daryl. Her heart skipped a beat, but quickly calmed again due to the sight of him.
He was beaten up, bad, and he looked almost ill. He was wearing a tracksuit with an orange 'A' on the front, completely dehumanising him.
She felt a twang of pain in her heart, knowing that Daryl was in here because of her. But the thought of sadness only provoked revenge.
She followed the three of them down the hall and up a flight of stairs. She stopped and flew behind the wall when they came to a halt outside of a large white door. She could hear voices from inside, but they were muffled and faint.
She guessed she was just too focused on the door, and what might be inside, or Daryl's unforgiving expression as she was grabbed from behind. She managed to whack whoever it was with the barrel of the shotgun, but soon there were more and more people struggling with her.
She could've been more careful, and maybe, if she had, Daryl would be okay.
★
𝟣𝟢 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗋
"See, I'd expect a kid your age to be moping around, not doing a damn thing, except crying about missing the prom. But you—why you go on a mission."
Negan announced, as Carl swallowed hard.
"You find me, you kill two of my men, and you're smart enough to know that I'm not gonna let this slide." He chuckled, almost driving himself mad with his own humour.
"Ah, I can't-- I can't do it. It's like talking
to a birthday present. You got to take that crap
off your face. I want to see what Grandma got me."
Carl was afraid this would happen. The only people who he even let see him un-bandaged was Jane and Michonne. He knew they wouldn't judge him, infact, they made him feel a lot better about it. But he knew exactly what Negan would say. He would poke at it, make fun of it, praise it - maybe.
"No." Carl announced, making sure no fear was evident in his voice.
"Two men! Two... men. Punishment.
Do you really want to piss me off?"
As much as he didn't want to, he had no choice. Negan was, infact, being reasonable. But honestly, Carl would rather take a beating from him than take his bandage off.
He hesitated, but lifted his hands to the cloth anyway. The bandage unraveled slowly, falling in twists and turns on his lap. He looked up at Negan, knowing his long brown hair strategically covered his gaping wound.
"Get that hair out of your face. Let me see."
He did as told, slightly shaking now.
"Christ! That is disgusting. No wonder you cover that up."
Carl grimaced at his words, and looked down at his feet. He wished all of this would just go away.
"Have you seen it? I mean, have you looked in the mirror?" Of course he had, the day he got it, he spent hours doing just that. Hoping that it would go away.
"That is gross as hell. I can see your socket."
"I want to touch it." Negan reached a hand out, and he flinched away slightly. "Oh, come on. Can I touch it?"
Without warning, tears started to form in his eye. He couldn't stop them from falling either. He didn't know what he was crying for really - whether it was a mix of rage and frustration, or sadness and insecurity.
"Damn. Holy hell, kid. Look... I just-- it's easy to forget
that you're...just a kid."
Carl continued to cry, water trails staining his face. He didn't sob, or scream. He just silently sat, soaking in his own despair.
"And I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or anything.
L--I was just screwing around."
"Just forget it." Carl spat, before a knock came to the door. It turned out to be one of Negan's men, handing him Lucille. For a split second wished that it was Jane, coming to his rescue.
"All jokes aside, you look rad as hell. I wouldn't
cover that shit up." He said, turning back to the teenage boy.
"It may not be a hit with the ladies, but I swear to you, no one is gonna screw with you looking like that."
"What do you like to do for fun? You like music?" There was a strange hint of playfulness in Negans tone that Carl was glad he caught. Something was going to happen, but he wasn't sure what. In fact, he probably never knew with Negan.
"I want you to sing me a song."
"What?" He asked in pure astonishment, cursing himself for showing any extreme emotion.
"Yeah. You mowed down two of my men
with a machine gun. I want something
in return for that. Sing me a song."
Carl couldn't. He didn't want to. He hadn't sung since...well, he can't even recall when it last had been. He was so taken aback by the strange response, that he actually looked Negan in the eyes and scoffed.
"I-- I can't think of any."
"Bullshit!" Negan yelled, in an attempt to frighten the boy. But he didn't succeed.
"What'd your mom used to sing you? What'd your dad
play in the car?"
How was he going to get out of this?
"Start singing."
"Okay, okay. Okay. Uh.." he thought of something Lori used to sing to him, to make him go to sleep.
He started to sing as Negan swung the bat around behind him, whistling and humming as he did so. His voice was raspy, and quiet. He hadn't sang to anyone since before the outbreak, and even that was no excuse for his terrible tone. His voice wavered and shook as he tried to hit the notes, anxiously brushing his hair back with one hand over and over.
He hated having his eye exposed, even more so than he hated singing. And suddenly, he had a desperate wish for Jane to be here beside him, but as his singing continued, he realised that would be incredibly embarrassing.
His tears had already fallen, and his face was wet and regretful. How could he let himself be so weak? Infront of Negan? Maybe it was because he had lost so much, or maybe, it was because he had so much to lose.
"Do not let me distract you, young man." Negan said, almost proudly.
He finished the song, Negan still swooping and curling the bat in his hands. He was scary, yes, but also incredibly immature in some ways more than others.
There was a long pause - an awkward and silent one.
"That's pretty good. Lucille loves being sung to. It's about the only thing she loves more than bashing in brains. Weird, huh?"
Another silence. Carl felt that the only form of protest he could raise was to just stay quiet.
"Did your mother sing that to you? Where is she now?"
A rough pain shot through his chest, as he thought about his mother. Now, a second round of tears began to race down his cheek - but this time, it was only one. One measly droplet that soon stained his shirt lightly. He didn't bother to wipe away the remnants of his sadness, instead, he just let it come.
That's what Lori would want him to do.
"Damn. Dead, huh? You see it happen?"
"I shot her...before it could..." and that was all he could manage, otherwise he felt as if he'd break down on the spot. He just needed Jane to come back now, to save him. He just wanted her arms to wrap around him, telling him he's okay.
"Damn, no wonder you're a little serial killer in the making."
He paused, before leaning in closer towards the crying boy.
"There's also another little.....secret I know about." He said, slurring the 's' for dramatic effect. He was so close now that Carl could study and follow the creases on his face, and the singular hairs of his greying beard. He actually smelled better than he looked, though the excitement and unpredictability in his eyes would cause anybody to stay miles away.
Knowing Negan, this could be anything. Anything from minor to major. He just hoped to god Jane was alright.
"Come on, kid. Get up." He grabbed lucille as he said this, Dusting his leather jacket off like it would actually be dirty. "It should be ready."
"What should be ready?" Carl said, and almost regretted asking the question.
"The iron."
Just then, the door came crashing down, and in amongst the dust and clatter, he could see Jane so clearly - sprawled out on the floor, coughing loudly from the dust particles floating in the air. He was so glad to see her, yet so incredibly terrified for her.
About five more people followed her into the room, a lot more gracefully than she had entered it. They picked her up by the elbows, dragging her out, when Negan called them to stop.
He didn't look surprised to see her at all, infact, he looked incredibly joyous.
"Look who's joined us! I was expecting you. What you two didn't realise, is you are sooooooo obvious," he said, flailing his hands in the air like a boy-crazy teenage girl. "You're quite the pair."
Carl looked away, shame filling his face. But it was too late, because once Jane had come to her senses and stood up, she had noticed his face glistening.
She wasn't embarrassed of him, or even awkward about it. She was angry. Angry at Negan, for making her boyfriend cry.
"Lemme ask you this, Jane-y. How many of my men did you kill today? You and your boyfriend are really racking up a body count here!"
"Suck my-" she started to say, but cut her off as he revealed Lucille, streching her out lightly infront of Jane.
"Ah ah ahhh." He smiled, baring his perfectly white teeth. "I really like you two. Don't ruin the image."
Silence filled the room once again, and the teens shared a quick glance. It was only small, but Jane's look of reassurance meant the world to Carl.
"So! About that iron," he said, leaving the room as Carl and Jane followed. They had no choice but to.
They wouldn't dare interlock their fingers, though they wanted to. They wouldn't normally walk around hand in hand, but now, right now - they both just needed the comfort.
Walking through the sanctuary, people gave them many looks. Some disgust, some confusion. I guess it was just abnormal to see teenagers alive again, and, well - they had just killed many of these guys'd friends. Oops.
Jane's eyes followed the coloured pipes that ran through the halls, whilst Carl kept his eyes on Negan.
"Did you find him?" Carl whispered discreetly.
"Not the way I wanted to," she hushed back.
"Leave it, lovebirds!" Negan said, nestling his bat nicely between his shoulders. When they finally stopped walking, they had met a metal railing - painted a brilliantly sickly yellow.
Stairs connected the balcony they were standing on to the concrete floor below, where men were crowded round a small metal object with a handle.
"Hold this for me." He said, giving the iron to one of his men. Jane's gaze followed the line of the man's, landing on another man sitting on a stool. He was wearing a doctors coat, with a stethoscope hung around his neck.
"You know the deal. What's about to happen
is gonna be hard to watch. I don't want to do it.
I wish I could just ignore the rules and let it slide,
but I can't.
Why?"
Suddenly all of them piped up, startling the teens a little. They immediately moved closer together, sharing a little bit of warmth.
"The rules keep us alive.
That... is... fight.
We survive.
We provide security to others.
We bring civilization
back to this world.
We are the Saviors.
But we can't do that
without rules.
Rules are what make it all work.
I know it's not easy.
But there's always work.
There is always a cost.
Here, if you try to skirt it,
if you try to cut that corner..."
They trailed off, and before the doctor could scream, his face was melting under the hot metal of the iron.
Carl shut his eyes tight, trying to drown out the screams, but Jane just watched as the man was cooked alive.
★
Sorry it took me so long to get this chap out lol, my family's been round for a week so it's been hectic 🫶 anyways thanks for the love and support on this story, it really means so much to me.
Love you all!!!