"We're on easy street, and it feels so sweet. 'Cause the world is 'bout a treat when you're on easy street ~," Negan gleefully sings, tapping the rhythm on the steering wheel.
We've been on the road for about an hour. I clung to my bag tightly as I tried my best to remember every turn and exit as we snaked down backroads and interstates. I've refused to utter a single syllable to him or Dwight, spending my time glaring out of the windshield from my cornered in spot between my two captors. The two would make the occasional side-glance exchange. Negan hasn't tried to say much either besides the occasional road rage filled comment whenever someone pissed him off, along with the same repeated question.
"Recognize the scenery?" he first asked about twenty minutes into the trip.
"Uh huh." We weren't too far outside of my hometown.
"Still know where we are?" he asked twenty minutes later.
"Mhm."
Truthfully, I barely recognized where we were. I knew that I had traveled through this part of the state, but I couldn't give you an exact location if you asked. What's with the questions anyway? If this was his idea of small talk, he was miserable at it.
"What about now?" he asks again in an impatient manner.
"No, I don't recognize anything at all," I mumble.
We are on a gravel road in the middle of the woods. I haven't seen another car in miles. Maybe a stray sign here or there letting you know which one-stoplight towns were near, none of which are recognizable to me.
Suddenly, Negan pulls the truck over to the shoulder of the road and puts it in park. Getting out, he struts to the bed of the truck. I looked behind to see Dwight stare me down with a warning glance, implying to not get any ideas about a possible escape. I can hear him rustling through the junk in the back, he appears to be looking for something. An enormous grin sweeps across his face, he must've found what he was searching for.
He saunters over to the passenger side door, opening it with flourish causing the door to bounce on it's hinges. "Alright, darlin, this can go one of two ways, both have the same result. It's just the matter of how it goes down. We're still a few hours away from my humble abode and I can't have you knowing its exact location, just in case you're as fucking shady as your father. You may wanna try and pull one on me," he explains.
It's then that I notice what is in his hands; zip ties and a bandanna.
"Normally, I can get back in half the time that it's taken us, but you're fucking smart, and I have a feeling that you would've known the entire way there. So instead, I sent us on a little adventure," he shifts his weight in amusement. "I unfortunately must cover those pretty little eyes of yours, don't wanna give away any secrets," he whispers.
"Th-the zip t-ties?" I frighteningly ask. The blindfold was the least of my worries.
"Oh, it wouldn't make sense to only blindfold you. How can I trust that you won't try to sneak a peak? You can't peak if you can't more you arms," he winks. "So, as I was saying, you can make this easy. I'll throw this blindfold on you and quickly snap these on, no harm and no foul," he raises his hands, backing away from me. Suddenly his face turned dark and emotionless. "Or, you can make a fuss and I'll be forced to stomp your ass worse than I did your father. It'll still end with your fucking eyes covered and your arms behind your fucking back," he growled, face now level with mine.
I don't need any time to contemplate my decision. Those are not empty threats and I want no part in testing the truthfulness behind them.
I set my bag on the ground, before gingerly lower myself out of the truck. I turn with my back to Negan, and place my hands behind my back in a defeated manner.
"Good girl," he mockingly praises me.
My skin crawls as I feel him grab my wrist and attach the zip ties. Even though he said it would go smoothly if I cooperated, he snaps the zip ties tightly with the plastic now digging into my flesh. He spins me around and proceeds to blindfold me.
"Lights out, baby girl," he says as he knots the blindfold and places me back in my seat. Dwight helped guide me into the seat. I make sure that my bag is between my feet.
I've never felt so vulnerable in my life than this very moment. Negan strives to exude mental and emotional control over people, but now he has physical control, something that I am not comfortable with. I re-adjust in the seat as I feel the truck take off once again.
Even without my sense of sight, I still try to distinguish between the various right and left turns that we make with hope that I may be able to retrace our path. This tactic quickly falters since there is no way that I can reference the distance traveled between each turn; what point is it to remember taking a left turn when I have no idea which left turn to make? I have no way of using landmarks of any kind to aid me.
"Can you at least tell me where we're going?" I request, breaking the hours of silence.
"Oh shit, she speaks. I thought you had gone fucking mute on me," he jokes. "We're heading to the Sanctuary, my Sanctuary.
"So you gave up the high roller drug life to become a preacher?"
"Excuse my God dam French, but do you actually believe that my ass would ever be a fucking holy man with the shitload of stuff that I do? Jesus fucking Christ." He retorts, exuding a snicker from Dwight.
Message sent.
"Darling, I'm kind of a big deal," he boasts. "Did you not pay attention during story time? The Sanctuary is command central for the creation, manufacturing, and distribution of the best unicorn / rainbow shit on this side of the US! It's a way of life."
Although I can't see his face, I can imagine the egotistical smile affixed on it.
"Where the hell did you get that name from?"
"Language, darlin'," he warns. "The name came from our loyal customers. My crew and I are known as the Saviors. Poor bastards would get so fucked up on our shit that they'd be seeing ol' Jesus himself. Started calling us their saviors, the name stuck. Then we were like 'Well, if we're the god damn Saviors, we need us a fucking Sanctuary! End of story."
He is so full of it. Saviors? Really?
"But why are you taking me to your drug lab?"
"I fucking live there," he states matter-of-fact. "Shit, I was spending almost every waking moment there anyway so I figured that I might as well make it my new home. I guess it's your home now too, ain't that right, doll?"
I fight back the urge to hurl at the thought of calling any place with Negan, my 'home.'
"Speaking of the fucking devil, we're here!" Negan declares, his voice oozing with enthusiasm.
I lurch forward in the seat as I feel the truck come to a stop. I'm so preoccupied with the thought of having reached our destination that I fail to notice Negan and Dwight get out of the truck. It isn't until I'm brutally yanked from my seat that I am once again snapped back into the real world.
My feet hit gravel as Dwight steadies me with a hand on my bound wrists and shoulder. He unknots the bandanna and I'm immediately blinded by lights. I squeeze my eyes shut at the sudden intrusion. I know that it should be well into the night by now after all the time that we spent on the road; where the hell was all this light coming from?
My vision slowly returns as I get accustomed to the brightness. It's then that I'm able to get a good look around my surroundings. We appear to be in the middle of the woods, surrounded by ten foot high chain linked fences adorned with barbed wire. Large spot lights are spaced at regular intervals along the fence. It isn't until I turn around that I see what must be the Sanctuary.
An enormous, weathered, brick warehouse. It stood three stories tall with windows lining the walls from nearly top to bottom. Some of which were boarded up from where they had been broken, while others sported ugly cracks. From the looks of it, it was possibly a beautiful place before. Now the bricks were stained and chipped, and the tips of metal beams from the buildings frame even showed in the most damaged places.
"Isn't she beautiful?" Negan says, stepping from behind the truck, wiping a fake tear from his eye. "Home sweet home!"
I hear footsteps approaching and turn to see a man nearing us. He has curly gray hair and a thick moustache.
"Well, hello there," 'stache man directs towards me, flashing a toothy smile. "I didn't realize you were bringing back a guest, I would've cleaned the place up a bit," he says pointing back to the warehouse.
"I know it wasn't the original plan, but ghost boy was a little hesitant to pay his fucking bill. I had to shut that shit down. What better way to show him that I meant what I fucking said then taking a little present for myself?" Negan places a heavy hand on my shoulder.
My eyes fall to the ground as I feel Negan staring at me. This bastard was truly proud of what he had done today. I had an urge to shrug it off, but forced myself to remain knowing the consequences. His hand remains on me as he continues his conversation with the man.
"Any trouble while I've been gone?"
"Not a peep all night."
"Fan – fucking – tastic! That's exactly what I wanted to hear." Negan happily smacks my shoulder a little too hard in response.
"Do you get unexpected visitors often?" I muster, eyes still on the ground. I was very curious. I mean, if I'm going to be staying in this hell-hole, I at least want it to be a safe hell-hole.
"Comes with the territory. There's always a dumb fuck with beach ball sized balls who wants to try to take our shit. Hell, I want someone to try to step up to me; their ass will meet Lucille. That sends a direct message to every other cocky shit who wants to try anything. I'll send someone a bashed-up skull in a heartbeat. We've made several special deliveries over the years. Lucille gets fed on a regular basis," Negan sinisterly chuckles.
A puzzled look spreads across my face at Negan's mentioning of 'Lucille.' He seemed to have read my mind. "Oh, you'll meet her soon enough. Speaking of Lucille, I believe my dirty girl here still needs a good cleaning after our most recent festivities. Simon, take umm- uh, shit, what's your name again, doll?" Negan asks, placing a hand on his head while trying to think.
"Samantha," I say, making sure to give the full name after what happened earlier.
"Yeah, I knew that. Take Samantha on a grand tour of the place. Bring her to my quarters afterwards. Dwight, you can head home. Good work today," Negan begins strutting towards the warehouse with my pack in hand. "I almost fucking forgot, zip ties stay on! Still don't trust the little shit yet!" Negan yells as he's walking away.
Dammit. I was hoping to get out of these things. The slightest movement of my wrists causes the plastic to bite further into my skin. It's sure to leave some hellacious marks once they're finally removed.
I am grateful that Negan has left, though. This guy seems a lot less harsh than Negan and Dwight. Maybe I can get on his good side, maybe even get some information out of him.
"Alright, princess, my name is Simon and I will be your tour guide today. Let's get this show on the road," Simon says in an exaggerated manner. He grabs my arm and begins to lead me around the warehouse. "To your right, we have a fence. And over there, is the same fence..." Thanks, captain obvious; I never would have noticed that.
As we turn towards the rear of the warehouse, I spot several large box trucks.
"This is the loading area. The trucks get backed up to the big ass doors and shit gets loaded inside."
I'm trying my best to scan the area for any possible weak points to aid an escape, but no luck. The fence is pristine, there is no way that I could possibly get to the box trucks unnoticed, and there is nothing that I could use to climb over the fence. I'm trapped.
I must've zoned out while contemplating my next move because I'm suddenly aware of Simon lightly shaking me to get my attention. "Hey, pay attention. I see what you're doing; you think I'm stupid?" he says in a low tone.
"N-no, I wasn't –"
"Listen here, Negan has you here for a reason. Now, he's not going to be too happy if his new pet decides to run away. Cause you bet your ass that he will find you, and you do not want to get on his bad side. It'll be the last thing you ever fucking do." Simon has now grabbed me by my collar and is glaring me dead in the eyes. I keep my eyes fixed on him, too terrified to look away. Tense seconds tick away until he releases me just as quickly as he had grabbed me.
"Well, back to the tour!" He cheerfully grins and pulls me along as if that heated exchange never happened.
He leads me inside of the warehouse. It's even more spacious than it looked from the outside. The space appears to be sectioned in half with makeshift walls forming the dividers. The walls looked only about seven feet tall, so the room still feels very much open with its ten foot tall ceilings. Rows and rows of tables were lined throughout the entire first half of the room. Several boxes were stacked on each table.
"This is the packaging floor. I'm sure you can guess what we do in this area?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. Seriously, Simon?
I shrug my shoulders and answer, "you package stuff."
"Ding, Ding, Ding! We have a winner!" He shouts.
"How many people work for Negan?"
"Oh shit…. A few hundred, including the runners. We are a large-scale operation. We practically have men in every state that either work for us or buy from us."
Out of all the drug dealers in this world, my father had to go and mix up with the freaking Donald Trump of crack, or meth, or whatever it was that they did here. This explains Negan's arrogance and ego; he is practically ruling an empire.
Simon showed me a few rooms off from the main packaging room. Bathroom, closet, and a room with sofas, chairs, and a TV.
"Keeping the morale up keeps productivity up," he explains.
I realize that he has shown me nearly every room and we have yet to stumble across a bedroom of any kind. "Wait, where does Negan stay?"
"The majority of the upstairs is his domain. I have a room up there too; my ass stays whenever Negan has to make a run." That explains why Simon was here when we arrived.
Simon glances at his watch. "Shit, we're going to have to cut this tour short. I better get you up to Negan ASAP. He can be an impatient man at times."
That wasn't nearly enough time to feel Simon out, I'll have to pray that I get another opportunity alone with him. He's my only hope right now. Simon leads me to a staircase off the 'packaging' room and we begin to ascend the stairs.
I attempt to calm my breathing and assert any ounce of confidence - now is not the time to be weak. I need to show Negan that I am not going to allow him to walk all over me as my father allowed him to. I did what he wanted, I came with him. But I am not bowing down to this evil son of a bitch
Edited by Spitfire47.