❝ HIS NAME IS NEGAN ❞
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It almost felt like that day. Almost.
With the greening, algae covered ravine and each stray rock littered along the edges unrecognizable in layers of moss, she could have sworn she was back home in King County. Even the branches on the unusually large oak tree sprouted in all the right places, the one where she would spend her evenings lounging fitting under her just right, her back against the main trunk and her legs supported along the length of the bark. It sat above the raging stream, thick and sturdy as the leaves tumbled from the trees just like they had three years prior. Yet, the looming pines had an ominous feel to them, unlike back in her hometown when she would travel freely through the forested areas. It was something different. It sent chills from the nape of her neck down the back of her spine, and made the hairs stand erect on her honey colored arm.
Maybe it was the walker clawing at her tattered shoes. It emitted and unearthly groan from the back of it's throat, it's long and yellowing fingernails doing it's best to latch onto her leg. She remembered the first time she'd ever seen one of the dead. Her eighteenth birthday on the news station. It's face was peeling and bloodied, his eyes a sickly color, but it was nothing compared to what she'd witnessed the three years since that day. They continued getting worse, their flesh rotting and smelling absolutely vile as time passed on. She couldn't imagine what they'd look like if she happened to live another three years.
She'd let it claw and snap it's jaw for five minutes before she sent a powerful kick to it's temple. It stumbled back and fell to the ground, just enough time to let her climb down the large dense trunk. Wiping her hands on her pants, she decided if she'd have to listen to another minute of the walker's moans and groans, she'd end up throwing herself at it just to make it stop. Gripping onto the hilt of her knife, she pulled it from the waistband of her pants and plunged it deep into the walker's skull. Its ungodly noises immediately stopped as its movements faltered and it fell to the ground. She figured it must have been a redneck of some sort. Although it's remaining hair was sparse, she could still make out a mullet to accompany it's tattered and worn down red plaid, buttoned to the top.
She tried to repress the painful and acidic vomit that pushed it's way up her throat. It was quick as she hunched against the thick tree. She'd never get used to the sight of a corrupt decomposing body, especially when they still had the ability to roam on two feet and snap their jaws. Although most times she could hold herself together, it was something about the disease bearing, decaying creatures lurking the woods that looked eerily similar to her childhood hang out spot. It was a sacred area to her, and to have it ruined by a bloodied, dead monster was her worst nightmare. Literally. Had she been a few years younger, she would have plunged into the ravine trying to get away.
Twisting back to the thick oak, she traced the tip of her finger gently against the rough bark. It ripped easier than the one in her hometown. It was also smaller, she noticed, as she took a step back and really sized it up. She could tell the difference. If she was in King County, her initials would have been neatly etched into the side of the trunk. There would have been ribbons scattered in the dirt and ropes swinging from the trees. The ravine wouldn't have the distasteful aroma of death and there wouldn't be a flesh eating creature sprawled at her feet.
She was far from home and she knew it even as she perched herself on the thick branch, peering down at the raging stream. It was a dark, murky color with a vile odor. She knew why. The walker she'd killed still had pools of dark green water resting in the crevices of it's face. Must have been a swimmer. Couldn't have been the first, either. With the disgusting smell it gave off, she figured there were guts and limbs swimming deep beneath the surface of the rough waters.
Spinning on her heel, she gazed down at the creature. It felt wrong having it there, with it's decomposing and peeling body, looking eerily similar to somebody she knew in her past life. Lifting her foot, she harshly kicked it's side, again and again until her worn shoes were buried deep in the pit of it's stomach. Her soft skin surrounded by guts and decaying mush, she ripped her shoe from it's body and fell to the ground with a thud. Wagging her foot in the air as rapidly as possible, it's insides splattered across her jaw and over her clothes. She thought she might vomit again, but instead she stood heaving with nothing to cough up. Her stomach was swirling. She wanted to die.
To think her naive mind once thought she was invincible. Now she woke up every morning either wishing she were dead or being an inch closer to it. Death surrounded her. It was crazy to think three years prior, she'd been so oblivious to the fact she'd someday be gone. Just like Lori. Just like Shane. Just like her father.
Yet, while most of the population was dead and gone, she was still there on her twenty first birthday, alive and breathing. She thought maybe had she not been fucked over by the universe, she'd be in a bar somewhere having drinks with some friends she'd never met yet. Or at home with her grandmother because she'd failed to make any companions and spent all her time alone in the woods where the dead didn't roam. Either seemed like paradise to her as she sat on her hands and knees, heaving into the narrow ravine.
But she was glad she was alive. Because while she sat being a pathetic loser, wishing the world hadn't gone to shit, she was still on a mission. She doubted anybody else would go through hell and back just to get the smallest bit of insulin for the elderly woman, traveling shop to shop day and night, fingers crossed that they'd find something. Anything. The last thing she needed was for her grandmother to slip into a coma or pass in her sleep. If she lost her, Winona didn't know what she'd do. Kill herself, probably.
Unlike Rick, her grandmother wouldn't miraculously wake up from a coma if she happened to slip into one. The woman was old. Feeble. She'd barely gotten a drop of insulin in months. If Winona didn't find something soon, she'd be walking on eggshells day and night. It could be years until her blood pressure was high enough for her to slip. Or, it could be tomorrow. She wasn't sure. But she wasn't taking any risks.
She felt bad enough just taking the long route. She could have been at a store by now. She could have found insulin. Instead, she was off in some forest that looked eerily similar to her hometown, on the brink of tears because she couldn't pull herself together. Each moment her solemn self pity party was holding her back from getting to her feet and marching on was another moment her grandma could slip while she was away.
Pushing her body weight up, she stumbled to her feet and glanced down at the dead man. Slipping her sleeves over her palms, she grabbed the walker's wrist and tugged him toward the ravine. It didn't feel right having him lay there. He looked scarily similar like the old drunk hillbilly that used to live across from her. He was an asshole, but sometimes he came over and kept grandma company while she went out on her daily woodland adventures. Using all her force, attempting to drag the hefty man to the stream, she finally got the edge and gave him one last nudge. It was a miracle his hand didn't rip off. He tumbled over rocks and into the green, murky river. It felt as if she'd just murdered someone and was covering up the evidence.
Slinging her bag off her shoulder, she reached deep inside it and pulled out a black, dusted notebook. It's pages were worn and yellowing, the corners turning soft as she flipped through them, landing upon a black page. She gripped a ball point pen buried at the bottom of her sack and began to write. It was short, quick, and to the point. She only had a few pages left to spare.
04/03/13 Killed a walker. He looks just like that drunk that used to talk to Ma sometimes. Even the woods look the same. Same river, same tree. Different person.
She dropped the notebook back into her back and zipped it up, slinging it over her shoulder. Wiping her hands together, she gagged at the walker's shedding skin that had clung to her wool sweater. Quickly wiping it on her jeans, she continued on her way down the hill towards the dirt road. As she emerged from the towering pine trees, she hobbled off onto the vacant path and placed her hands on her knees. It was a long narrow route and she probably wouldn't come across something for miles. Dragging the back of her hand against her perspiring forehead, she continued to stroll as rivulets of sweat ran down her back.
The thought only propelled her. As much as she wanted to lean against the tree and watch as hues of orange, red and purple filled the darkening sky, she had a job to do. Each time she thought of her grandmother alone in bed on the verge of a coma, her pace quickened. There was nobody she loved more. She'd get herself killed trying to save the woman if it came to it.
She found herself wishing she'd taken one of the cars. It was pretty selfish to walk knowing she'd very well come across nothing. It was all trees. The long, narrow dirt road and pine trees.
Not half an hour later, the sky just at it's peak of darkening, she came across a dilapidated convenience store. A convenience store that doubled as a drug store, which she noticed it stated on a dirtied banister. With two of the letters fallen off the sign that hung above the entrance, it read nonsense, but she figured it had once been named 'Lucky's'. She hoped it would stay true to it's name.
Wasting no time bolting through the glass doors, she immediately swiveled to the drug counter. To her dissatisfaction, it was vacant and dimly lit, not a groan or a moan to be heard in the tiny store. As much as she didn't want to kill off another dead one, the silence made her stomach swirl with nausea. It meant the place had been cleared out. And by the look of the shelves, the answer become very clear to her. There was no insulin. Just some vitamin C and B12, and a couple odd bottles of Tylenol.
She shoved them into her bag, her fingertips trembling as she tried not to burst into tears. What was she going to tell her grandmother?
Sorry, Ma, but you're going to die. There's just no fucking medicine left in the world anymore.
Her grandmother wouldn't even care. That's the worst part. She'd waggle her finger and tell her to stop risking her life; she wasn't worth it. It broke the girl's heart. To her, she was everything. It consumed her mind day and night, and each morning she packed up to hit the road in search for another run down, desolate store.
And when she didn't go back that night, her grandmother would be furious with her in the morning. She'd say she could have gotten herself killed out there, camping out where a walker could have easily reached her. But Winona didn't care, because her grandmother was worth it.
Dropping to her knees, the scabs on her caps slid off and began to bleed against her light wash jeans. She was a haggard mess. Her hair was mussed from continuously running her callus fingers through it, knotting it in every which direction. Her clothes had holes and her toes were practically sticking from her battered running shoes that held no support. It hurt every time she ran, sending sharp pangs up her legs and throughout her lower body. The walk back in the morning would be dreadful.
Shoving her bag into the corner of the counter, she opened the cabinet doors that rested just below the cash. Swatting at the spiderwebs, she climbed inside and hunched her back, bringing her legs to her chest. It'd have to do for the night. She'd wake up in the morning stiff as stale bread, but she didn't want a walker stumbling in and ripping her to shreds as she slept. Her grandma wouldn't be able to close her eyes ever again if the girl didn't return home.
Her back was already cramping up as she shut her eyes and closed the slider door. Resting her forehead against her knee caps, she began to cry. She figured it wasn't really pathetic if nobody was watching.
The rest of the night was eerie and silent. The only noise to be heard was her short and erratic breaths. She was right, as it hit morning, she'd only gotten a couple hours of sleep. Her eyes were heavy and her back felt as if she'd just had her ninetieth birthday instead of her twenty first. Although the pain was at it's all time low, since half of her body was still numb from being cramped up so long.
Just as she slung her bag over her shoulder, a shrill ringing sounded through the empty stores. Her heart nearly stopped as she clutched onto the knife in her waistband, ready to use it. It was the bells that sat above the entrance. Her eyes shot down to the two figures that ambled in. They raised their guns immediately, fingers hot on the trigger as they eyed down the girl. Winona's heart beat quickened as she raised her hands in the air, showing she meant no harm. Unless they tried to make a move. You always had to be careful around humans when the dead roamed the earth. They were selfish and immoral.
She was the first to speak. "I was just camping out for the night. Sorry to scare." The two visitors, who were both female, gave each other a wary glance. Hesitantly lowering their guns, the one with unkempt brown hair and tired eyes stepped forward.
"You didn't."
Winona paused, her lips parting. Hitching her chin, she glanced around the vacant store. "Oh. Well, if you two were scavenging this isn't the best place. All I got was a bottle of vitamins and Tylenol."
"Thanks for the heads up," the same girl said, crossing her arms over her chest. An awkward silence fell throughout the store as Winona adjusted the straps on her backpack. She glanced over at the other girl who had dirtied blonde hair and a small gash across her cheek. It looked as if it had been sewn up carefully. Neatly, by a professional, perhaps. Her arm was a different story. Bright red blood gushed from the wound as she placed her uninjured hand over it, trying to stop the bleeding. It didn't do much help as the liquid streamed down her arm and onto the cold tile floors.
The brunette girl swiveled back to the injured one. "Let's head home, Tiana."
The other, named Tiana, shot daggers at her friend. "No. We have nothing. Negan will lose his shit if we go back empty handed."
"It can wait. You're too badly injured." The brunette insisted, taking the girl's arm in her hands. Tiana winced, pulling back and giving her a venomous glare. Sighing, the uninjured one spun on her toe and glanced at the stranger.
"You're hurt," Winona pointed out. Tiana furrowed her eyebrows as she held her arm close to her chest. The blood was relentless as it continued in a steady stream.
"Obviously." She sneered, wiping the blood away with her fingers. Her whole hand was coated in the red liquid, beneath her long and sharp nails.
"Uh I-I," Winona stuttered, flinging her backpack off her shoulder. She contemplated on whether or not she should help the girl, but decided she wasn't completely heartless. Besides, the stitch on her face was much too neat to of been done by one of them. They had a camp. People. Supplies. Medicine. "I've got something for that. Just hold on a sec."
Unzipping her backpack, she buried her hand deep inside it, rummaging around for the package she'd never had use for before now. Grasping it between her fingers, she hastily pulled it from the sack and dropped it on the counter.
"We don't got time," Tiana spoke, her head tilted.
Winona narrowed her eyes. "Not to be rude, but you should probably make it. You'll bleed out before you make it home, let alone get some supplies."
"What makes you think we have a home?" The brunette asked defensively, stepping in front of the blonde. Winona grabbed the package and stood in front of them, chin raised.
"Those stitches couldn't have been done by one of you. Correct me if I'm wrong, but if you had the supplies and the ability you would have done it by now." The brunette stepped back and glanced at her friend.
"You're right." She said, eyeing the package in Winona's hands.
Unwrapping it, Winona stepped forward timidly. The blonde, Tiana, held a scowl on her face as the brunette glared at her, arms crossed over her chest, toe tapping against the tile floors.
"Just let her help you, T. You're no use if we bleed out before we get back." She joked, a smile adorning her features. The friend rolled her eyes and shuffled on her feet, finally giving in. Using her hands to prop herself on the counter, she swung her legs and sat stiff on the surface. Winona strolled over to her, stitch between her trembling fingers.
"Your name?" Winona asked, tilting back to look at the brunette. She ripped a piece of paper towel from the counter and dabbed at Tiana's arm, cleaning the blood that had spilled.
She answered hesitantly. "Veronica. Vee for short. You?"
Winona swallowed the lump in her throat and turned back to Tiana, placing the first white stitch on her arm. The blonde winced. "Sydney." It felt too personal to tell them her real name. Like she was giving off some deep dark secret that would break her if it got out.
"Sydney," Vee hummed, "those butterfly stitches?" She jerked her head towards the white stick-ons Winona was placing on the girl's arm.
"They are. I've never used them before. Just sat at the bottom of my backpack collecting dust. You're lucky you found me." Winona squinted, focused, and placed another stitch on the bleeding arm.
"Lucky we are." Vee glanced up at her friend who was too focused on the girl below her, tending to her wounds.
"These should hold for a little bit. At least enough to scavenge for an hour or so and make it home. You said you have a camp. Former doctor do those stitches for you?" Winona asked, sticking her tongue between her two front teeth. It was a habit she'd picked up whenever she was focused on a task.
Tiana tightened her jaw and looked towards Vee. "No former. Just doctor, Doctor Carson."
Doctor Carson. Winona took note of the name.
"Alright. Good to hear. Doctor Carson will do a better job than whatever the hell you wanna call this." Winona laughed in huffs, squinting as she placed the last stitch on the girl's arm. It wasn't the best work in the world, but she figured it'd do for the time being.
"It's good enough for now." Vee peered over the stranger to take a look at her friend's arm. "Feel alright, T?"
"I feel the same, just less blood." Tiana's lips curved upward as she raised her arm, observing the temporary stitches. Winona laughed and placed her hands on her hips, taking a step back to give her room. She hopped from the counter and onto the tiled floors, stretching her legs.
"So who was it you're scavenging for? Nigel? What makes him so important that he gets what you find?" Winona squinted, adjusting the waistband of her pants.
Vee shifted uncomfortably as if talking wrongly about the man was some sort of a sin. "He's our leader. We're not really scavenging for him, but he makes sure we bring back a sufficient amount every run. If we don't, it doesn't end well. And his name is Negan." She huffed, her lips curving upward with her last words. Winona laughed, nodding her head.
"Sounds strict," she commented, raising her eyebrows. Vee watched her as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a cigarette. Lighting it, she linked her thumb in the waistband of her pants and took a puff. Holding it out to the two girls, she continued, "Strange name. Negan."
Vee took it from her and placed it between her lips. "Strict would be an understatement. But he gets shit done and he's good at it. Kept us alive all these years. Where are you staying?"
"The roads." Winona smiled, taking the cigarette back after Tiana refused. It frightened her how easily the lie slipped from her lips. If she'd tried to do that three years ago, she'd start trembling and erratically breathing. "Been loning it since shit hit the fan."
"Must be hard." Vee frowned, buying into her lie. Winona raised her eyebrows and looked to the ground, taking another puff from her cigarette.
"Not really. Eyes open twenty four seven. Gotta find a safe enough place to sleep every night, but other than that it's been alright." Winona nodded, stomping her stick into the floor. She flicked it back with the heel of her foot.
"I couldn't do it," Tiana spoke up.
"Well, I suppose it's better than death. I'd eat my own hand before becoming one of those things." Winona's eyes flickered to the window as a walker pushed itself against it, gnawing and snapping it's jaw. It's tinted green saliva smeared across the dirtied glass.
Vee cringed and uncomfortably crossed her arms over her chest, shuffling on her toes. "I can say the same. Does it get lonely out there?"
"Not really," Winona hummed, "I kinda like being on my own. I suppose it's lonely every now and then, but it helps that I spent a lot of my time before this by myself, anyways."
Vee glanced down at her fingernails, wiping the dirt from underneath them. "You want a safe place to stay?"
Winona glanced up surprised. "Sorry?"
"Our base is big. Negan likes recruiting new people. I'd like to have you around too."
Winona paused, her lips parting. Shutting her mouth, she smiled. "No. No thank you. You know, moving from place to place for three years I don't think I could stay in the same area for too long without losing my mind. You're kind, though, thanks for the offer."
"You're welcome anytime. It's just up the road ten minutes in the car. If you change your mind, drop by. Tell 'em you know us. They'll let you in and you can talk to Negan, get settled."
Winona scrunched her nose and leaned against the counter, linking her thumbs under the straps of her backpack. "If it ever gets too lonely. Don't count on it, though. Probably gonna head up to West Virginia, or Ohio if I can make it."
"Why so far?" She asked, furrowing her eyebrows.
"It's the apocalypse, might as well travel a bit." Winona adjusted her hefty backpack and grinned. Tiana raised her eyebrows, lips twitching upward as she bit down on her bottom lip. "I'll let you continue your escapade. Make Negan happy."
Snorting, Vee raised a hand and gave the girl a fleeting wave as she sauntered toward the glass doors. Reaching for the hilt of her knife, Winona called out one last goodbye and exited the store, penetrating the walker's skull as she strolled off.
The sun was bright and so was she as she trudged back home, feet hurting, back cramping, but unable to get this camp off her mind. Glancing over her shoulder one last time, she thought. Ten minutes. Just ten minutes up the road was a whole shit load of medication. Winona wouldn't stop until she had that insulin between her sneaky, slick little fingers. She almost felt bad for the girls. But she couldn't find it in her. She was going to save her grandmother.
She did it.