If You're Still Breathing
Before Rick Grimes and company, there was lonely traveller, Kurt Hummel. Lost, frustrated and barely breathing, Kurt finds the Saviours. Expecting immediate death, he is surprised when it doesn't come. What does, however, changes him more than the apocalypse ever did.
Chapter 1- I Won't Fight It
The wind swept through the trees and Kurt Hummel shrugged his shoulders and let the shiver rip across his bare back. He was used to the cold by now, used to way it controlled him. The autumnal breeze had been lingering for, by Kurt's predictions, a few weeks now. He had tried to keep track of the date, but had failed after only a few days. A lack of suitable sleeping arrangements had soon let that particular task fall flat. If Kurt had a dollar for every night that he had spent wide awake, clutching the blade of his knife, well…he would have to be able to count the days to know how much he would be earning.
He heard a low growl in the distance and rolled his eyes, groaning half-heartedly as he searched for the source of the noise.
Walkers.
People had different names for them. On his journey to find stable living, he had come across all kinds of people who called them "Biters" or "Roamers" or even "Zombies". Kurt had first heard them called 'Walkers' so he had stuck with that. It seemed fitting, because they did walk. And that was what had made them so unnerving at the beginning. When the dead rose and began to walk, creep, towards him and he was never quite sure whether he was going to survive the coming onslaught. Of course, now, he had become a proficient fighter and could more than hold his own against the Walkers. It only took one sharp stab of his knife and they were dead. Well, if that was what applied to them. They were no longer going to eat his flesh after he disposed of them. That sounded better.
But Kurt was alone and that had never fared well for anyone in the new world they were living in. His own company was all he had had for weeks now, he presumed, since his last group weren't smart enough to survive an attack on their camp. Kurt had stuck to the shadows, smearing himself in Walker blood to deflect his scent elsewhere. He often thought that was heartless in his survival, leaving them all to die without sharing his tactic. Then he would truly reflect on what had happened to him since leaving Lima, Ohio, and he would think himself smart for outliving everyone he had already known or met along the way. There was one girl who he thought might have lived through the slaughter, but he had soon discovered her mutilated body on the highway to wherever it was that he was going.
With the wind, came rain.
Rain was the worst for Kurt. It washed off the Walker blood while he slept, or tried to sleep at least. It became unbearable sometimes, especially when it was light drizzle that soaked through everything he owned. Heavy rain he could deal with, because one piece of correctly placed material deflected it well enough.
Kurt had two options.
Dart into the woods and protect himself and his limited rations from the rain and himself from potential hypothermia, risking his life if a horde of Walkers smelled him.
Stay exposed to the elements in the rain, wasting his food supply but staying in the open, where he would not be surprised by any Walkers.
It quickly became clear that Kurt would not have to choose either of those options.
In the middle distance, Kurt saw and heard something he never expected.
Trucks.
He hadn't seen a truck since the very beginning, when he had used his father's to escape the apocalyptic state of Ohio. He hadn't gotten it very far after that, though. Even though he and his father had kept it in pristine condition, it was very archaic and was never supposed to be a long term solution to anything.
Kurt was in no fit state to run anywhere, so if the trucks wanted him, then that's what they would get. Then he thought about it some more.
It was likely that the trucks were just passing to get to somewhere and happened to cross paths with him, but maybe they would have some food or some water that he could use. Better yet, a spare tee or a jumper that he could wear until he found some shelter.
So he flagged them down.
And in a series of bold and impulsive decisions that Kurt had made since the outbreak, this would be the one to have the most far-reaching consequences and would be the one that would determine his path to potential survival.
The trucks flashed their lights at him, grinding to a slow halt as they approached. Kurt sighed in relief that they saw him and smiled as two windows were being lowered. A hand reached out and signalled for him to approach. Usually wary, Kurt's desperation took over and overwhelmed him as he rushed over to the trucks, which had stopped next to each other, leaving a gap in the middle through which Kurt would approach.
He looked up into the windows and saw two men, one middle-aged and greying slightly, the other a few years younger and blond. Kurt tried not to let his eyes linger on the latter's facial scarring, but it was a hard task. The older man coughed, finally averting Kurt's gaze.
"Look here, Dwight," he said gruffly, "we done got ourselves a straggler."
The other man, Dwight, nodded, grinning. "You know how he likes stragglers. Do we take him in?"
The older man shrugged. "Might be a nice fit for the boss. Got any bites, kid? Scratches? From the Walkers?"
Kurt shook his head. "No." His teeth chattered uncontrollably, as was noticed by the two men.
The man raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "Get in. This truck, not Dwight's, he'll end up killing y'all."
Kurt did not need to be asked twice and hurried around to the passenger side, climbing in and huddling up for warmth.
"Not want your seatbelt on?"
Kurt sighed. "I've risked death enough since this whole thing started to be afraid of dying in a motor accident."
The man chuckled. "That's a good way to look at things, kid. What did you say your name was?"
"I didn't."
"Smart," he replied. "Names are intensely personal things. Considering I reckon we gonna be seeing a lot of each other, I'm gonna tell you mine. It's Simon."
"Kurt," was his obvious reply. He had given fake names in the past, but he was tired of lying, tired of running, tired of everything.
"Sounds fancy. Your daddy a Cobain fan?"
Kurt shrugged. "About as much as everyone else. I never asked how I got my name." It was something that Kurt had never thought about before. He never asked his father how his name had come about. His mother was long gone by the time he had even thought about how people's names fitted them.
"You an orphan, then? It's a common occurrence in a time like this."
"For a while now." Kurt didn't want to go into any more detail than he absolutely had to. Information was power, even before the outbreak. Now it was the difference between life and death, quite literally.
"It sucks."
"Where are we going exactly?" Kurt decided to ask.
Simon looked across at him briefly, then looked to Dwight before returning his gaze to Kurt. "Now that there's something you'll find out when we get there. It's quite unlike anything you'll have seen throughout this whole thing."
Kurt laughed hollowly. "You'd be surprised."
Simon smirked. "We all got those kinds of stories. Sometimes we share 'em, sometimes we don't. That much is up to you. But when we get where we're going, you'll make that decision pretty quickly. Depends on whether Negan takes a liking to you."
Kurt stared at him blankly. "Negan? That's where we're going? You're with Negan?"
Simon grinned. "So you heard of him? Not surprised. All good things, he hopes."
Kurt tilted his head, remembering his last recollection of the name. "Probably not as warm of a reception as he's expecting."
"What exactly do you know about him?"
Kurt cleared his throat, slowing down the chattering of his teeth. "Just that he's a force to be reckoned with. The guy I heard it from barely made it out alive when he met Negan. Almost lost both his feet for not giving up his gun."
Simon nodded. "I remember that guy. Mouthy and too damn stupid for his own good. But I don't think we'll have that particular problem with you."
"Is that so? And you just happen to know this how?"
Simon leaned across slightly. "Cause I'm Negan's right hand man. Me and him got an understanding. We ain't never let each other down. I know him better than anyone else."
Kurt frowned. "From what I hear, Negan doesn't take lightly to newcomers. I don't understand why I'm not dead yet."
Simon raised an eyebrow. "I was about to ask you that very same question. You got no shirt on your back and, from what I can see, hardly any supplies. And you're on your own there. You must be something special to survive like that."
"Just lucky, I guess," Kurt murmured. Honestly, he didn't know how he was still alive, either.
Simon clicked his tongue in response. "Ain't no such thing as luck these days, Kurt. You either live or you get killed, that's the only two ways about it. You're alive, which means you're capable. The Saviours need more guys like you."
"Me?" Kurt asked, puzzled. "I'm barely reaching six feet tall and have the upper body strength of a six year old girl. Why would you need somebody like me?"
Simon shrugged. "It's simple, ain't it? We have tons of guys built like tanks and taller than most folk. It's the thinkers that we running low on. Ones that don't immediately go for their guns."
"Who says I'm not like that? In a world like this, you kind of have to be, right?"
"Not always. Killing gets the job done but it can also kill you if you ain't careful with how you do it."
Kurt nodded, getting the idea pretty quickly. "Gunshots attract more Walkers and you're soon to run out of ammo if you're surrounded. I found out that quite soon after joining my first group after my friends died."
Simon felt an unusual wave of sympathy and a little bit of empathy for the boy. "There ain't anyone you know left alive?"
"All dead," was Kurt's simple reply.
Simon whistled. "Must be tough, kid. But you're gonna get accustomed to life with the Saviours pretty quickly indeed."
Kurt folded his arms, partly to keep the warmth in. "Who says I'm going to stay with you once we get there."
Simon chuckled. "Well, now, Negan ain't just gonna let you leave, is he? If you can be useful to him, he'll keep ya. And I get the feeling you're gonna be mighty useful to him."
"Great, so I'll be a prisoner." Again, Kurt thought, rolling his eyes.
"Not such. You'll be a member of the group, just like everyone else. You'll start from the bottom, yeah, but you'll soon work your way up that ladder."
"Not to digress, but is there something I can cover myself with? I might die of cold before we even get to Negan."
Simon, keeping one hand firmly locked onto the steering wheel, reached under the seat for a blanket and handed it to him.
"That was there the whole time and you never thought to give it to me?"
"You never thought to ask?"
Kurt flapped his mouth open and closed. "Well, of course I did. I was just waiting for a break in the conversation. It's uncouth to interrupt."
"But you did anyway?"
"It was necessary," Kurt countered, feeling like he was taking some sort of test about himself and his choices.
"So why is that my fault?"
Kurt gritted his teeth, hard. "I guess it's not. Next time I'll just ask for something I want."
"Good. But you'd better not pull this shit with Negan. Be direct, be unapologetic. If you want something, it's for a reason. No matter what you heard, Negan's reasonable unless it threatens the safety of the Saviours. We got some business runnin' around that ain't good for our reputation, so we gonna put an end to it.
"You might wanna sleep until we get there."
Kurt shook his head. "There'll always be time for sleep. Either after surviving another day or when I'm dead. Might as well make the most of the world while I can."
"Okay then. Don't say that I didn't give you the option."
"If I make a choice, it's entirely my own. Some people in this world think that they can blame everyone around them or even the damn apocalypse for their bad decisions. That's the fool's way out."
"Glad you think so."
"Where were you going before I flagged you down? Are you not still going to go there?"
Simon shrugged, accelerating into a stray Walker in the road, causing it to topple over the car and crash down to the floor, legs mangled irreversibly. Kurt stared apathetically back at it before turning once again to the driver. "Had some business to take care of. Some people not pulling their weight. Negan wasn't happy, so he sent us to deal with it."
Kurt frowned. "Just the two of you?"
"You doubting us, boy?"
"How could I? I've never seen you in action. I'm just saying that a piece of business worth sending the right hand man out to deal with must be bigger than just two people on their own. Plus, there aren't many people in groups of less than six nowadays. I'm a rare exception to the rule."
Simon drummed his fingers on the steering wheel a few times, as though deliberating whether or not to tell Kurt the information. "One of our scouts got wind of a new group that's threatening to take over and already has in some places. They don't know about us yet, but rumour has it that they're going to at some point. Dwight and I were on our way to check it out."
"At night?"
"When else?" Simon retorted, making Kurt fall silent.
An uneasy feeling swept over the boy as he sat, his shivers reduced to minor spasms as he warmed up considerably. He didn't quite know what was odd or wrong about the situation yet, but something was. And he hadn't even met Negan yet. His gut told him that it was going to change everything. And it would absolutely right.
The truck grinded to a harsh halt, skidding through the gravel as Simon stopped at their destination. Or so Kurt presumed, he could have been anywhere. Surprisingly, it wasn't so unsettling to be in the middle of somewhere completely random with a complete stranger. Not anymore. Not since the virus took its hold on the world.
"Come on, get out."
Kurt blinked as he realised that Simon was speaking. "Can I keep the blanket?"
Simon grunted. "You want something that isn't yours?"
"I'm being direct and unapologetic. I guess it's better to ask permission than forgiveness later on."
Simon smirked. "Sure, keep the damn thing, I don't care."
"Sure seems like you do," Kurt whispered, unsure if Simon heard him or not. If he did, the man did not respond in kind.
Kurt stared all around him as the door slammed shut. The establishment would have been impressive even before the apocalypse given the size and effort of maintenance, but afterwards it seemed like a dream. Kurt supposed that was just due to the sheer numbers of the group of Saviours being able to handle its upkeep.
"This is your territory?"
"Pretty great, ain't it? All this is ours. You'll learn your way around quickly enough."
Kurt was used to things changing with the rise and fall of the sun, but this seemed particularly hasty. "How did I go from walking in the rain to being an actual member of the Saviours."
Simon stepped away from the car and began to walk towards the compound, gesturing for Kurt to follow. "Look, Kurt, things have only gotten worse since this whole thing started. More people are dead, turned, people we used to know and care about. And for you to be surviving on your own and still in good shape, that's not something we come across a lot. I saw that instantly. This world ain't what it used to be and we always need new hands, whether to fight or to keep us all alive."
"Fighting doesn't keep you alive?"
"Not half as well as being prepared. And as good as you might be, you wouldn't be alive right now if you didn't know how to prepare yourself for the Walkers. So many folks have been turned and shot because they thought their brute strength was the only thing they needed. Now you need to adapt, and quick, because if you don't, you'll be dead."
Kurt snorted. "Sounds about right."
Simon nudged his arm. "Negan's not expecting us back so soon, so let me handle the talking. Just stay quiet unless he asks you to speak."
Kurt rolled his eyes and mock saluted. Simon made a cutthroat motion with his hand and Kurt dropped his arm promptly. He wanted to stay true to himself but he didn't want to die because of his foolhardiness.
They walked towards the entrance of the complex and banged on the gate. Within just a few seconds, a response was formed.
Kurt knew who he was before he even arrived around the corner.
The pregnant silence hung thickly in the air and it became charged with fear and tension. Kurt heard Simon gasp a quick breath before straightening his posture.
Negan walked towards him like a predator, boots clicking sharply against the ground. Kurt took in his appearance all at once. Overbearingly masculine, Negan presented himself with a dangerous elegance that Kurt figured was individual to him. His half-greying beard sat layered over his skin, only adding to the gruffness of his overall demeanour. His eyes pierced the vicinity like a laser, tuned and alert for anything that could be considered a hindrance. From the way Kurt analysed him, Negan hadn't made up his mind about whether or not he was considered a hindrance.
Negan's speed did not decrease until he was a yard away from Kurt and Simon. He glanced quickly at the latter and then turned to Kurt with a smirk.
"Well, well…what do we have here?"