All you could hear was the ragged breathing of you and your companions, and the muffled wails of dead corpses traipsing right towards you. Your eyes were slowly adjusting to the dark, and you could make out the reception desk to your left and the stairs straight ahead. Your legs could no longer take your weight, and you crumpled to the floor in a heap, resting your head back against the coolness of the wall behind you. Daryl was crouching by the doors, catching his breath and peering cautiously out through the crack to make sure the walkers were still coming. The last thing you needed was for them to get bored of chasing after you and to go after everyone else. Alden was bent double and vomiting in the corner, pushing Gabriel away when he tried to console him. Everyone else was trying to recover, because in mere minutes the fight would be back on- and it would be more dangerous than ever.
Negan made his way over to you with his free hand outstretched, gesturing for you to stand.
"Up. Come on or you never will."
With a groan you pushed yourself up, grabbing your katana and using his arm for leverage. You were stood facing him, both of you panting heavily. He looked at you, concern written in every feature of his face. God, he's handsome, you thought.
"I told you, you could have left."
"Well, she didn't." Rosita spoke up, stepping forward a couple of paces. "And I'm glad she didn't. You're a good fighter, and you're proving your worth. Keep doing what you're doing."
She shot Negan a snide glance then turned away. He raised a comical eyebrow then turned back to you.
"Can't please them all I guess."
You smiled. "I guess not."
"You sure you're ok? I mean what happened..."
"I'm fine, honestly. Don't worry about it."
He looked at you questioningly but didn't press on the matter. You were relieved. How could you explain that you felt like someone had passed you your death sentence without having even met them? You shuddered at the thought then tried to mentally prep yourself for what was coming.
"Hey, some have broken off and are going around." Daryl rapidly snapped his fingers to get everyone's attention, and was now standing upright, hunting knife in hand.
"Open the doors. Let's do it."
Listening to Carol, Daryl's hand moved to open them, but he jumped back as soon as masses of hands begun banging loudly on the doors. Nails and teeth scraped awfully down the steel, making sharp grating noises that pierced your brain and made you cringe.
"Ah shit. They're coming in heavy man."
"We gotta open it now or the others will be killed!"
Rosita spoke with such urgency that without a second thought Gabriel had moved forward and pulled at the doors in one swift movement, opening the flood gates to hundreds of corpses, that spilled in like water from an open dam. You all instantaneously raised your weapons and began to strike down more bodies yet again. Someone shouted desperately over the conundrum, you didn't know who, warning you that "They won't all be walkers now! Watch out for weapons!", as you sliced through rotting flesh, spilling guts and putrid brown liquid onto the floor.
More and more walkers were streaming in, a never ending line of death that would just not give up. It was becoming overwhelming- the heat was suffocating, the stench intoxicating- and you realised they were beginning to cut you all off from eachother.
"Shit."
Panic began to creep its way into you as you looked around and realised that Rosita, Gabriel, Carol and Alden had become completely separated from the rest of you, being pushed down the left corridor and away from the stairs. You began an attempt to try and cut your way through to them, but it was useless. The wall of stinking flesh was too thick to pass through, and before you could get any further you were pulled back by the lioness, and ushered to the stairs.
"It's no use, there's no way of getting to them. We gotta leave."
You shrugged her off, and continued towards the stairs. She was right, but it felt wrong to just leave and carry on as if they had never been there. You yelled to Daryl who had had the same idea as you, to come up and push on with the original plan. He blatantly ignored you though you were sure he heard, and continued trying to force his way through the impenetrable blockade in front of him. He was beginning to get overrun in his desperation to reach the others, grey, gnarled hands tugging on his vest and grabbing at his arms hungrily. Carol noticed this and yelled to him, craning her neck to be heard, all the while stabbing and slashing at the walkers that had split off from the main group. "Get your ass up those stairs Dixon! We'll circle round to the other staircase- YOU CARRY ON!"
Reluctantly he obliged, pushing forcefully past the hands and torsos that were starting to surround him, and ran up to meet you and (Magna it turned out) at the safety of the stairs. He stood there for a moment, seeming to be looking for something, then he turned to you and asked, "Where the hell's Negan?"
You looked down at the horde of walkers that had begun making their way clumsily up the stairs towards you- and you couldn't see him. Your heart dropped in your chest and your stomach flipped over and over in fearful somersaults. Where the fuck was he? He was right behind you a moment ago, you could have sworn... But all you could see were walkers, and as your eyes flicked frantically through the crowd, hoping, praying that you wouldn't see him lying mauled on the floor, screaming in agony, you saw a flash of silver working it's way quickly to the front of the others.
"Come on, we gotta keep movin' up! Hey! Come on!"
It was your turn to ignore Daryl as you stayed put, wanting to be there to help Negan through and up, but you had a terrible thought that that wasn't going to happen. You turned to catch up with them, hating the fact that you had basically left him to die (if he wasn't already dead) but what other choice did you have? A single tear ran down your cheek, leaving a trail down your stained face, and before you could even take a step, you were pushed roughly to the ground by someone behind you. A skin freak. You struggled, twisting and squirming about on the floor to get onto your back, when a large boot came crashing down on to your throat, crushing your windpipe. You choked at the impact, gurgling and gasping wildly for air as your source of oxygen was being cut short. The pressure building in your head and face was excruciating, and you could feel your veins pulsating through your skin. You blindly felt about for your katana, only to realise that the mother fucker standing on you was holding it in his grimy hands. He smiled eerily, whispering something that was incoherent but it chilled you all the same. Hands had started grabbing at your boots, and you felt a mouth encompass your foot, teeth creating little pressure points through the leather. You kicked madly, trying to keep them at bay but your vision was becoming clouded. Your head was spinning, and in a last attempt to save your skin, you tried to yell for help, but your words caught in your throat, trapped by the heavy boot that was nearly separating your head from your neck. As your head lolled backwards and you could feel your breath being snatched from your lungs for the last time, you heard an appalling shriek come from above you, that got cut short by grotesque spluttering and gurgling. Hot blood rained down on you, scalding your face and burning your nostrils, making your eyes water violently. As the bastard drowned in his own blood, you tried dragging yourself up the stairs, not getting very far, gasping and coughing hysterically as you fumbled for your knife. Suddenly, strong hands had grabbed you by your shirt and pulled you forcefully upwards, dragging you up the stairs and round the corner to the next set. Still spluttering, you swung blindly at whoever was there missing them by inches, when your wrists became encased in their hands, your knife pointing right at them.
"Hey it's me kid, it's me, cool it!"
Negan pulled you into his chest in a warm hug, and you collapsed in his arms, relief washing over you in comforting waves. You tried to speak but you physically couldn't, instead a strangled wheeze travelling from your throat and out of your mouth.
"It's ok, you're ok." He used his sleeve to wipe the fresh blood off of your face then turned to Daryl and Magna who were standing at the top of the second flight of stairs.
"She good?" Daryl seemed impatient to get going, and where you completely understood, it pissed Negan off.
"No she fuckin' isn't no thanks to you two! What the hell were you thinking leaving her like that?!"
He helped you up the stairs, arm wrapped around your waist for support with your own arm draped across his soldiers, the walkers closing in on you, fast. You could hear them moaning and snarling, clacking their yellow teeth and slack jaws as they craved your flesh and blood. The whispers were becoming alarmingly louder too, but no matter how hard you tried, you were not able to walk on your own, your feet unable to pick themselves up and your legs slipping from underneath you.
"We thought she was right behind us." Magna seemed appalled at the state of you, and you thought you must look like absolute shit. Your throat burned and your head was pounding- you were hardly aware of your surroundings at this point.
"Shit." Negan continued to drag you up the stairs, then turned to Daryl and Magna. "You two carry on. You can handle it right?"
They both nodded, then Daryl spoke in his gruff manner, "What're you gonna do?"
"She needs to rest. We'll hide out for a few, then carry on up. We can take them out from behind then rendezvous on the roof."
"Ok man. Let's go." He signaled to Magna to carry on, and then they started to clang and smash their weapons on the metal banister, drawing the attention of the walkers to them and not to the guy dragging around a dead- weight.
Negan found a small door in the corridor and twisted the handle, rattling it vigorously when it looked like it wouldn't open, then it miraculously swung inwards. He nudged you gently in and shut it with a gentle click behind him. It was a store cupboard which had been emptied from the evacuation, but luckily there were still stray items laying haphazardly on the floor and dangling off of shelves. He propped you up carefully against the back wall, then began looking around for anything he could use, picking up some expired pain killers and some gauze. With a groan, he situated himself opposite you, his back bracing the door.
Every breath you took was agony, raggedly wheezing through the pain. There was going to be a wicked bruise in a couple of days, that was for sure.
"Here." He chucked you the almost empty bottle of pills, and suggested you took some when you were ready. You placed them down on the floor next to you- there was no way you could take them now, not when it felt like you were swallowing daggers. Instead, you just looked at him, exhausted, and mouthed a small 'thank you' to him. He chuckled, then exclaimed, "That's the second time I've saved your sorry ass- you owe me."
You flipped him off, jokingly telling him to go fuck himself. He didn't take his eyes off of you as you drifted off, the distant harmonies of the horde brushing past your hideout lulling you into a troubled sleep.