'if I cannot bend heaven,
I will raise hell'
☾
He felt cold fingertips prodding at him, or were they needles? He couldn't tell. Everything was dim and fuzzy around the edges. Was the room dark, or were his eyes closed? He didn't know.
Zeppelin.
Did his mouth move? His tongue felt heavy. Then, a burning sensation, so bright and searing that he thrashed against the heat of it. It burned and burned; his flesh was melting off his bones.
More morphine, a ghost uttered in the wind. Add twenty points.
I need Zeppelin.
Then everything was numb.
☾
Zeppelin spent the next two hours pacing in her box they called a room. At least it had a window, though it was high enough on the wall that she had to stand on her tiptoes to peek out of it. All she could see were treetops, and that made her more nervous.
When the sky between those branches finally faded from ebony to a deep blue tinged with purple, she decided to leave her room. The hallway was dim—only sparse floodlights lining the wall provided any illumination. A few of the doors she passed were outlined with light from within, and shadows flickered between the cracks, but most were still dark, so it seemed a fair amount of the people on this floor weren't early risers. She noted that, filed it away.
She didn't bother slinking along the shadows as she usually did; she was certain everyone knew they had arrived anyway, but she had perfected masking her steps long ago, and so she heard only the sound of the lights faintly buzzing and the trail of her fingertips along the damp concrete wall. She wasn't sure where her feet had decided to take her, but her instincts steered her in the right direction more times than not, so she didn't think too much about it.
She arrived at the emergency exit on the west side of the building, where a dark staircase twisted below and beckoned above. She let the door close softly behind her as she stared at the path leading up. Something inside of her knew that Negan's rooms were up there. She almost took a step forward but stopped. She shook her head, scolding herself, and descended the stairs two at a time until she reached the bottom floor.
The hallway here was brighter, though not much cleaner. She followed some unknown path that, after passing even more doors that didn't seem to be bedrooms, eventually led her to the cafeteria. She didn't pass anyone else on her way in—she noted that, filed it away.
The moment she stepped foot into the cafeteria, she felt dozens of eyes glued to her skin. The room was just as she had imagined—concrete walls and flooring, long tables scattered throughout with benches on either side and a large serving window connected to the kitchen on the other side.
A few of the seats were occupied by people who seemed less than thrilled to have a new mouth to feed. A few more people ambled to the short line to get their breakfast, and their footsteps echoed as the chatter stilled. Zeppelin kept her head straight and her chin high, ignoring the way whispers followed her as she walked along the furthest wall.
She didn't step into place behind the others; she just passed quickly behind them to eye the food options as she made her way to the exit. Scrambled eggs that had a grayish tint, sliced white bread with slabs of margarine, and jello. Lots of jello. She just put a hand over her mouth to prevent the laugh she felt from escaping when she suddenly slammed into someone rounding the corner.
"Shit," the woman hissed, grabbing Zeppelin's arms to steady each other. "You okay?" The stranger was a few years older than her, with golden skin and ebony hair that fell in thick, tight ringlets around her face. The first thing Z noticed was that her eyes were kind.
"Yeah," she huffed, stepping back from the woman. "I'm good, sorry. I was distracted."
The stranger eyed her quickly, then whistled to someone back in the kitchen. "You're the newbie, right? I heard a girl and her brother were coming in."
"Yeah, guess so." Zeppelin shoved her hands in her pockets, suddenly uncomfortable with how regular the conversation was. How did she used to talk to people? She was good at it once.
"Name's Gloria." The other woman seemed content to fill the silence. The person she whistled to appeared, a heavy-set man with scruff covering his thick cheeks and jelly stains on his shirt. He held a piece of toast in one hand, and a banana in the other, and Zeppelin's stomach roared.
Gloria rolled her eyes at the man, snatching the banana out of his hand and nodding him back to the kitchen. He just grinned, happily obliging. "Here, girl." She held the banana out to Zeppelin, who just stared at it.
"It ain't gonna bite you," Gloria chided, shoving the fruit closer. "Here." Z took it slowly, holding it at her side like the dagger she missed so badly.
"On me," Gloria smiled, crossing her slender arms over her chest as she eyed the growing line behind them. "I know you haven't started building points yet, and the first couple of days here can be tough. Consider it a welcome in present."
Zeppelin wanted to ask her to clarify; the word tough sent goosebumps over the back of her neck, but an even more nagging part of her just wanted to get out of there already. "Thank you," she said and sincerely meant it.
Gloria waved her off, looping a rubber band around her hair as she pulled it away from her face. "Don't mention it. Oh, and a little tip: the breakfast gets better around eight. All the early risers are the ones doing the grunt jobs; you know, runs that take all day, construction, or sewage duty, so the options aren't that great. Come back later, and I'll have something good for ya." She winked and brushed Z's shoulder as she returned to the kitchen.
Zeppelin wasted no time in hurrying out of the cafeteria, and as the door slammed shut behind her, she realized she hadn't given the woman her name. Was that still considered rude? Did shit like that even matter anymore? She didn't think so, but then again, she always felt as though she saw things through a different lens than others.
She pressed herself further into the shadows as she explored the next corridor. She avoided a puddle of water near her worn-out sneakers and peeled open the banana while she walked. She thought it might be nice to have a friend. A real one, not like the girls at the bar who'd come in and attach themselves to her in the hopes of getting themselves and their sorority sisters free drinks for the night. It usually worked, but it didn't ease the ache of loneliness in her chest when she spent another night in her room alone.
When she passed an open door, she couldn't help herself, and she stole a glance into the room. It seemed to be a regular supply closet, though she couldn't make out its contents in this lighting. She decided to move on, focusing more on her breakfast than she should have since she didn't hear the footsteps down the hall until they were almost rounding the corner ahead of her.
She backtracked, quickly ducking into the supply closet and tossing her banana peel on the shelf behind her as she slunk deeper into the darkness. She quietly brushed her fingers over the shelf, searching for anything that could dislodge an eye or slice a vein, but everything she could reach was useless. She didn't even know why she was searching for a weapon, but wrapping a white-knuckled fist around a can of beans relieved some of the pressure in her hands as she listened.
Two pairs of footsteps scuffled by, and she pressed herself further into the shadows. "Gonna hit Oceanside tomorrow, see if their offering is bigger than last week," one murmured. "You in?"
They kept walking, and the responding voice had faded by the time it answered. Zeppelin clenched her fist around the can once more before she gently set it back down. When she slipped over to the door and peeked around the threshold, they were gone. She didn't know where Oceanside was, and she didn't even really know where the hell she was, but something about the man's tone had every hair on her neck standing to attention.
She turned right back down the corridor, following the shadowed wall that led to a door marked EXIT. It seemed Negan was right after all. There was a whole world she didn't know about.
Since the day everything turned to shit, it had been her and Benji. The man she had passed in the woods, Daryl, had seemed harmless. Then there were the Claimers, who were anything but harmless. And the stranger who killed one of their own behind the veil of a bathroom door. But entire communities still existed, and this one seemed to thrive. What of the others?
She suddenly couldn't breathe through the thick air settling into her lungs, and she shoved through the door leading her to the sunshine with more force than she meant to use. The door slammed back against the painted brick, ringing in her ears as she jumped to avoid the rebound swing. She sucked in a deep breath, hard enough to make her lungs hurt, and put her hands on her knees as she surveyed the lot.
A few motorcycles were parked to her right, though after a quick investigation, they no longer interested her when she noticed none had any keys. On her left were large shipping containers scattered around the asphalt that led to the back side of the warehouse. And in front of her, far in the distance, a chain link fence separated her from an endless stretch of forest.
"The woods go on for miles," a voice called out.
Zeppelin flinched, whirling to face it and reaching for her empty holster. She felt the ghost of her weapon and instead dug her nails into her palms until she felt a sting there. Leaning on a second-story balcony above her was a kid, probably sixteen or so, who looked like the epitome of a golden retriever in a boy's body.
He had a mop of golden, shaggy hair that hung over his ears, a broad, bright smile, and large eyes crinkled with laugh lines even at such a young age. He had a rifle strapped to his back, though he leaned his elbows on the railing as if he didn't have a care in the world.
"Looks to be that way," Zeppelin said, holding a hand over her eyes to shade them from the growing morning sun. "You on watch up there, or do you always hang out on balconies alone at six am?"
He grinned, ducking his head as he nodded. "Yep, the safety of you and everyone on this side is in my capable hands." Watchpoint at the east exit. She noted it, filed it away.
She turned back to the fence, squinting her eyes as if she could somehow see right through the blanket of trees. There wasn't even a break in the green that would lead to a path. The kid observed her as she observed the woods, and she looked back to find him fiddling with his rifle like he hadn't been watching her at all.
"Any tips for a newbie?" She hoped her tone was casual, though the pile of firewood she leaned against splintered under her unforgiving fingernails.
"As for the woods," the kid nodded towards the stretch of green laid out before them. "Don't go running off. It's really overgrown in there, so easy to track, you know. You'll be found quicker than you can run."
"What makes you think I'll run?" She furrowed her brow, hating how much this kid truly saw.
"You look like a runner." He winked, adjusting his stance to cross his ankles. "As for everything else, just keep to yourself and do what you're told. You'll be fine."
"Yeah, I've never been particularly good at that," she muttered half to herself as she gnawed on her bottom lip. If she couldn't convince these people she wouldn't run out on her bill, then they'd never take their eyes off her.
"Don't stress it," the boy called out, waving a nonchalant hand in the air. "Usually, women who look like you don't get the hard jobs around here. He'll probably make you one of his wives or something."
Zeppelin's breath caught in her throat, freezing all the nerves in her jaw as a small log cracked under her hands. What the fu-
"Wives!?" She snapped before her thoughts formed a coherent sentence. "As in multiple?"
The boy shrugged sheepishly, suddenly finding everything around Zeppelin much more interesting to look at. "Yeah, he's got a few."
"Make me?" She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest as she paced away from him. "Nobody's making me do shit." She wouldn't dare admit that Negan seemed like the type of man who could do just that. The wrath of God himself couldn't get her to admit that. "What's your name, kid?"
"Ian." He grinned again.
"Thanks for the info, Ian." She pushed off her perch on the logs and stalked away, headed for the back of the building and, hopefully, the sweet release of quiet.
☾
Negan hadn't slept a wink. He paced and drank and paced some more until his steps were uneven, and his arms felt stiff and loose all at once.
Two more mouths to feed, he had griped to himself. At least one of those mouths was goddamn beautiful.
Simon and Jace finally had the audacity to stroll into his suite well past four in the morning, even though he knew they had arrived over an hour ago. He was everywhere, after all.
"And where the fuck have you two girls been?" Negan growled, trying to relieve the tension in his jaw by taking another sip of scotch. Simon plopped down on the leather chair across from him while Jace hung near the wall.
"We brought the boy to doc and the chick to her suite, and here we are," Simon sighed, and he folded his hands behind his head as his eyes fluttered closed contentedly.
"Did I say to escort that girl around, or did I say to report to me immediately?" Negan slapped his glass onto the table beside him, curling his lip when the liquid splashed his hand. "Any old loser out there can take her to her room."
"Whew," Simon perked up and loosed a long breath, shifting in his seat. "Don't know about that one boss. She's a little spitfire."
Something in his tone set a tic in Negan's jaw. From his peripheral, he swore he saw Jace clench and unclench his fists. "Keep it in your pants, Simon," he growled as he leaned back into his seat.
He didn't even know why he was angry—he honestly didn't care that they didn't come to him straight away. He just needed some release from the restlessness digging roots of barbed wire into his veins. Fucking, drinking, even killing wasn't doing it for him these days. He needed something more.
"What about the brother? Any use?" Negan absentmindedly wrapped his hand around Lucille, tight enough to keep him tethered as the liquor settled deeper into his chest.
"Looked half dead and limp as a worm, but there's some potential, I guess." Simon reached for the bottle of scotch on the coffee table between them, but one look from Negan had him sitting back. "He'll heal."
Negan looked to Jace, though he didn't expect him to say anything. The kid was silent as could be, a perpetual statue, until given an assignment that he always did damn well. But he spoke with his eyes, and Negan could respect that. Even if he thought it was fucking weird.
Jace gave him a subtle nod, and that was all the confirmation Negan needed. He waved them both away, then spent the next hour sulking in his suite before he finally got his shit together. When he left his rooms, it was just past six, and he regretted every step down the halls.
He'd never been a morning kind of guy. He much preferred the quiet of the night and the discretion that kind of emptiness allowed. But he'd been on edge lately, and he didn't think he'd slept more than a combined ten hours in the last week. The little spitfire he was headed to see had only added to his simmering discomfort.
He clutched Lucille in his right hand, her base resting gently on his shoulder as he strolled through his kingdom. Everyone he passed greeted him, and a few people on his shit list kneeled, which he always got a kick out of. He should feel like he was on top of the fucking world—he was. So why did it feel like something was missing?
He knew exactly where his new friend was placed, so when he knocked on the door like a polite gentleman and got no answer, he shouldered it open without another thought. Fucking empty.
That little fox. He considered smashing something but held back. He didn't want to scare her just yet, not when he didn't have the chance to see the glint of fear work its way into those pretty eyes or the way her throat tightens up when her breathing stops. Instead, he slammed the door behind him and went to find some answers.
He didn't bother knocking before letting himself into Simon's room. His right-hand man moaned, tossing away the naked woman's arm that was splayed across his own bare chest as he sat up.
"Jesus, boss. You even get any sleep?"
"Where's Zeppelin?" Negan twirled Lucille in his hands as he surveyed Simon's room. Clothes were scattered all over the floor, empty liquor bottles decorated his otherwise open bookshelf, and he had his own little arsenal piled up on his coffee table. What a mess.
"Who?" Simon rubbed the backs of his hands over his eyes as he fully sat out of the bed.
"Don't fucking play with me, Simon," Negan snapped, halting his pacing. The woman in his bed was finally coming to, though a heavy weight lingered in her eyes. Simon slapped her firmly on the ass as she straightened out.
"Go get in the shower, angel. I'll be there in a minute," Simon ordered his newest conquest. She obeyed, not bothering to shield her naked body as she padded to the bathroom—tiny tits.
"Where the fuck could she be?" Simon griped, pulling a faded cotton tee over his head and reaching for his holster. "Taking off on the first night, she's got balls."
Negan rolled his eyes, turning his back to Simon while he shrugged into a pair of pants. The shower clicked on, the water droplets splatting the tiles pinging like fireworks in his head. He gritted his teeth and swung Lucille lazily at his side.
"Breaking into the outpost, now she pulls this shit?" Negan let out a low chuckle. "We've got to step up our game." He turned and strolled out without another word.
In lieu of kicking down every door until he found her, he did what any sensible leader would do. He questioned every unlucky person to cross his path as he headed deeper into the Sanctuary. After ten of them swore they hadn't seen her, he was ready to rip the walls down with his bare hands. God, it's been less than a day, and she already got under his skin. It only pissed him off more.
Finally, Fat Joey, loyal as always, fessed up. "Yeah, man, I saw her in the cafeteria this morning talking to Gloria."
Negan rubbed a hand over the stubble creeping along his chin as Fat Joey leaned against the wall across from him. He needed to shave. "And what were they talking about?"
Fat Joey shrugged; he was probably too focused on breakfast to pay attention to the women anyway. Negan slapped a hand on his shoulder in thanks and headed off to find his favorite lunch lady. She hated it when he called her that, but it made him laugh every time.
The cafeteria was still unoccupied for the most part; only a few people lingered in the line, but all eyes turned to him when he entered. Just the way he liked it. He made his way to the front, effectively cutting everyone else.
"Gloria, my favorite lunch lady!" He grinned, leaning back on his heels. The woman rolled those big, chocolate, beautiful eyes of hers as she slapped a scoop of eggs on a tray and passed it to the scruffy little man next to Negan. "So much attitude for so early in the morning."
She tried to keep up the annoyed mask, but he could see a hint of a smile tweaking her lips. "What can I do for you, Negan?" She nodded to the next person in line—she knew Negan didn't eat the shit she served here. His meals were delivered to his suites when he felt like eating.
"Gloria, you can solve all my problems with one little answer," Negan said as he leaned over the counter separating them. "Where is my new friend Zeppelin?"
She wrinkled her brows and scooped more grey gloop onto a tray. "The girl with all the curls? She was here thirty minutes ago, maybe. Running from you already?" She smirked, peeling off her gloves and wiping a hand over her brow.
"You know I love a good chase," Negan grinned back and shoved the pang of unease to the furthest corners of his mind. "Which way did she go?"
Gloria simply pointed to the east exit and returned to the daunting task of feeding hundreds of people in a day. Negan whistled lowly to himself as he followed her index finger out the door. Gloria was one of the first people with him in this shit storm and one of the only ones he allowed to get a little lippy now and then. She knew her limits.
The fresh air and dewy sunshine did nothing to lift Negan's spirits as he sauntered outside. Who does this girl think she is? He offers her hospitality, medicine for her brother, and a roof over her head, and she bolts at the first opportunity. Simon was right, and this chick had balls. He didn't know if that turned him on or pissed him off more.
He wandered around the side, peering around storage containers and piles of steel and wood as if she was crouched down somewhere hiding from him. He should've known she wasn't that afraid.
He saw the tangled mess of curls first, attached to a head that was locked on to some point in the distance that he couldn't make out. That head was connected to a body that he wanted to see how much he could bend, and he gripped Lucille a little tighter as he strolled up behind her.
"Something interesting out there?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. She didn't flinch, but he could tell from her rapid blinks that he had surprised her. She turned to him, and he almost dropped to his knees before her.
"You were right," she murmured, careful to meet his gaze and not drop it any lower. "Big world out here."
"You'll learn pretty quickly that I'm always right, darling." He'd already forgotten that he was supposed to be mad at her. "Any particular reason you feel you need to be out here first thing in the morning?"
"I didn't know I wasn't allowed to leave," she said, her tone sharpening as she looked back out across the fence. She looped her fingers through the chain link, and Negan saw the bruises splashed across her knuckles.
"How's the other guy look?" He taunted, leaning with his back against the fence to watch her. A line creased between her brows, and he nodded to her hand in answer.
"Wasn't a guy," she replied and dropped her hand back to her side. "We hadn't seen anyone else in weeks. I punched a wall."
Negan grinned, dragging a whistle between his teeth and shaking his head. "Too bad we don't have a therapist for you to see."
She glared at him, and his grin widened when he realized he hit a pressure point. He ate that shit up. She turned away, stalking off like she owned this place. He'd have to train her.
He wrapped a hand around her upper arm, yanking her back to walk next to him as he slowly, purposefully, held a leisurely pace. "Did you ask for a tour? Funny, must not have heard you."
He felt the muscles in her arm twitch as she faintly pulled against him, testing the amount of strength he'd use on her. She had no idea. "Well, I know you've seen the doctor's office, the hallways, the cafeteria." He checked off the list as he led her toward the west side of the building. "What else?"
He felt the shift the moment she saw what he wanted her to see. Rows of chain link metal layered together circled around his favorite section of their surrounding lot. Inside the labyrinth of fencing was his very own obstacle course. Rusted spikes poked out of the ground at odd angles, and they scattered unusable steel beams around the area. But the best part was the bodies chained up, snapping and snarling and fighting—both the dead and the living creatures.
Negan watched Zeppelin in amusement as she stared in awe. He saw the faintest trickle of fear in her cold gaze, and the muscles in her throat strained just as he knew they would. Yeah. The wait was worth it.
"What the hell is this?" She shrugged out of his grasp, and he stopped himself from grabbing her again. He didn't want to bruise her too early.
"This is what happens to sorry assholes who don't follow orders," he said as casually as he could manage, as if it was all one big game to him. "They work their way back up."
Zeppelin shook her head faintly, shifting her weight on her feet as she crossed her arms. She watched as one of the men, covered in filth and wearing nothing but shredded sweatpants, jumped around the reaching claws of a biter and scooped the bucket off the head of another one. He cheered, lifting it above his head before he tossed it to the ground.
"That just earned him ten points," Negan chuckled, still gauging all her reactions. He watched every breath that passed in and out of her lungs.
"How do the points even work?" She finally looked up at him, then took a small step back when she realized how close he was.
"The points work however I feel like they work at any given time," he admitted with a shrug. "Do what the fuck you're told and get points, impress me and get even more points, disobey me and see them stripped away."
"So it's all just for your entertainment? All this?" She waved her hand exasperatingly at the building behind him. "You expect me to believe that?"
"Have I given you a reason not to believe me?" He mirrored her step, reducing the gap she wanted between them.
She studied him for a moment, and he almost felt itchy under the weight of her gaze. Nobody had ever dared look at him that way, not since...
He shifted his grip on Lucille and gritted his teeth.
"I think you're very good at crafting what you want to say before you say it. But nobody who puts in the work of leading this many people does it for shits and giggles." She looked back to the men fighting for scraps of plastic. One of them stumbled and cried out as he smacked into the asphalt, and a corpse chained to the ground reached for him.
Negan pointed a leather glove-covered finger at the man. "That makes me giggle," he smirked.
She rolled her eyes and stepped back again, attempting to lead them both away from the show. "Then you're sick."
"Never claimed to be healthy, darling." He looped an arm around her shoulders and pulled back, leading them to the northern door. He thought he saw a ghost of a smile dancing across her lips.
Interesting.
He opened his mouth to snap out some other witty line when one of the men in the cage screamed in agony. They both whirled to see the man who fell, now attempting to crawl away from the corpse who was gnawing on his leg. The others stood and watched, and then one carried on trying to get another bucket. The man screamed again, and the sound rang in Negan's ears. Before he could move, Zeppelin already was.
She snagged a knife from its place on Negan's holster with such speed and precision that he stumbled back in shock. Then she was running, quicker than any fox, until she was at the cage door. He managed to take one step before she flung it open and, from the threshold of the fence, hurled the knife towards the carnage. It landed cleanly and perfectly in the corpse's head, and the man scrambled away.
It all happened within thirty seconds. Damn, she's good. How annoying.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He snapped as he closed the distance between them, snagging her arm in his too-tight grip. Forget about not leaving bruises, he wanted her to feel it.
"That man was in pain. I ended it," she snapped, trying to twist herself out of his hand. He didn't let her. "We need to get him inside, the doctor could save him."
Negan shook his head, waiting for her to calm her thrashing before he started to drag her. "He doesn't have enough points for that," he snapped.
"Where are you taking me?" Anyone else would've sounded more frightened, but her tongue was practically dripping with venom. He hated that he wanted to taste it.
"You're done out here."
☾
Lights were dancing behind his eyelids. Blue, purple, red, pink. The colors swirled together like a painting, twirling around until everything was ablaze.
Ben's head was pounding with an incessant ache in the back of his skull. He took a shaky breath in, and his ribs felt like they were shattering.
What the fuck happened?
There was a beeping behind him that started faint, but steadily grew louder and faster as he drifted closer to consciousness.
Where am I?
He heard a voice somewhere, soft and thick all at once, like honey poured over a warm biscuit. He strained his ears and tried to make it out, but it faded. Then it was gone.
Where's Zeppelin?
His eyes struggled to open, and mucus was crusted on his lids as if they hadn't moved in days. When they finally did, his vision was dark and unfocused, though a blinding light nestled above him forced his gaze to correct itself. There was a small metal table next to him that held bloody tissues, a scalpel, a few bottles of labeled liquids, and a plastic box of needles.
A doctor's office?
He felt the presence of someone next to him before he saw the shadow. He tried to twist his head to face them, but his neck felt very heavy. He twitched his fingers and toes—all working, but his limbs felt like they were made of cement. He could only stare at the table as the person warbled something that sounded like a dream.
His hands were lighter now, and so were his legs. He flexed them again, feeling the brush of his skin against soft cotton fabric. He'd been wearing jeans the last he was aware of, and the thought of someone changing him, seeing him naked while he was asleep, had his lungs working faster. The beeping behind him increased, matching the rhythm of his heart rate.
The shadow disappeared momentarily before it came back, and Ben felt a warm press of a hand against his arm. When the limb twitched, he realized his strength had returned to him. In the same instant, he grabbed the scalpel in his other hand and swung back, digging the cold metal deep into the stranger's throat.