A/N Alright, this story from here on out is completely A/U. I'm going forth without the comic. I've also changed the rating on this story to an M. Thank you to everyone who has left a review! It really means a lot to me. Pierce through the heart, feel free to call me Red! (or anyone else. 217 is the room in Stephen King's book 'The Shining', so, yeah, it is a weird name if you think about it, lol.)
My smile was taken long ago, if I can change I hope I never know.
The power is out when I get up. It's like an oven in this house. I can hear the rumbling of the thunder in the distance. Must have been a storm or some shit. I pull a pack of lunch meat from the fridge and sit down with the rest of the milk before it goes bad. It sounds like the fucking Fourth of July. Shit, what day is it? No, it can't be.
...
I look over my wedding ring, then pull Lucille's from my pocket. There's so much that needs to be done. I can't do this shit on my own. She'd know- the fuck is that noise? Are those gunshots? It sounds like it's coming from right outside. What the fuck is going on!? I set both of our rings on her end table. Where's that fucking weather radio? I find it in the garage and set it on my workbench, trying to pick up a signal. It comes in alright. Loud and motherfucking clear.
"We interrupt regular broadcasting at the request of the Federal Emergency Management Agency. At 5:06 PM eastern standard time, an unknown virus has spread throughout the city of Baltimore. The area and surrounding areas are being evacuated. Please stand by for further evacuation instructions. If you believe anyone has the following symptoms-"
"What the fuck?" I'm still asleep. I know I fucking am. An unknown virus? What the fuck does that even mean? Is that what Lucille had? Is that what took my Lulu?! "Thank Christ," I sigh relieved when one of the neighbors is standing in the garage. "Did you hear that shit? Do they know what caused it? Holy fuck, you don't look so- whoa, fuck," I yell, when he reaches for me. "Get your fucking hands off me!" I shove him to the floor, but he keeps coming after me. "Knock it off! This shit ain't fucking funny!" I instinctively reach for one of my baseball bats in the garage and take a swing at him. Blood and teeth fly outward, hitting the wall along with my neighbor. "Oh, fuck. What have I done?" I've killed an innocent man! "Wake up," I yell, nudging him with the bat to the back. "Wake the fuck up!" When I hear the sounds of a police siren, I throw my hands up, but it speeds right past the house.
"Help," a disembodied voice screams.
If my neighbor didn't just try and pull this same shit with me, I wouldn't have believed my goddamn eyes. I guess even then I still don't as I witness a grown man eating this woman alive. The infected seem to go down if you hit them in the head a few times. I apply pressure to her neck. "It's okay," I tell her.
"Back away from the infected," a commanding voice instructs.
I glance over my shoulder to see several uniformed military men in gas masks.
"We will open fire."
"One of those fucking things bit her. She's going to die if we don't get her hel-" I lunge away from the woman as the men unload several rounds into my neighbor. "What the fuck?!"
The guns are turned on me.
"Check him for bites."
"Get your fucking hands off me!"
"Shit, shit," the men scream, firing shots at the infected behind them.
I'm not fucking waiting around to be shot, or mistaken for being infected. I hide in between two houses, watching something that can only be described as a movie take place in this front yard. When only the infected are left standing, I try my best to hide my bulky frame behind a trash can until they migrate elsewhere. I snatch up one of the soldier's radios and bolt for my house. I listen to that fucking radio, paralyzed on my chair, for hours. The virus turns people into something not of this world. If you're bit by them, you become one of the infected. Evacuation routes turned into goddamn warzones, because all it took was for one person to become infected, and it spread like a fucking wildfire. Right before the battery goes dead, they talk about an area of New York that will be the target of several airstrikes in an attempt to keep the virus at bay. People are killing people out of fear. I sit in my chair, gripping the bat I have tight between my fingers. If this is the end of the goddamn world, I have a few wrongs that need righted, and I know just who to fucking start with.
...
My baseball bat gets snagged on Frank's barbed wire fence. Even better. Something to tear his flesh from his bones. When I'm done wrapping the barb around the wood, my hands are a goddamn bloody mess, but I don't even feel the pain and kick open his front door. I'm shot in the hip, but the bullet just grazes me. I don't want to kill him. No. Not just yet, so I rear back and hit Frank in the ribs. "You wanna shoot at me you piece of shit?" I come down hard on his hands, even managing to rip off one of his ring fingers. "Yeah. You're gonna deal with me, motherfucker."
"Please, I was just doing what Blythe said."
"You dumb cocksucker, do you really think I give a fuck about your excuses? Do you think it's going to save you? You are the most cowardice piece of shit. Are you actually crying?" I lean in closer as a breathed laugh escapes my nose. "Guess Blythe really does have your balls. Let's find out."
"No, no," he screams.
"Hold fucking still. Oh. There they are." I take another swing. "Well. Were." I shouldn't be this jaunty about having this fuck's ball blood on my hands, but it is like being baptized. "That one was for Grey. For when you tried to grope her, you sick fuck. Now, get on the radio," I scream, pressing the tip of the bat to his throat. Wire starts cutting into his flesh. "You tell Blythe he's next."
"Bu-"
"Now!" I sink the wire further into his throat.
"Blythe, Negan is-"
"And this one's for me." I raise the bat and end his miserable existence with one forceful flog to his skull, hoping that Blythe can hear the sounds of his bones breaking before the radio went silent. I pry it from Frank's hands, and push in the button. "You hear that, Blythe? I'm coming for you next."
...
I kick in the front door, bringing the goddamn frame down with it. "Blythe," I bellow, shoving over the umbrella stand by the door. "Where the fuck are you?" I search this entire goddamn house from top to bottom, then start down the steps in the basement. Christ. I cover my nose with the crook of my elbow from the stench. My eyes start to water from the pungent vile odor. I trip over a chain in the basement, and when I do, a painful whimper comes from a dark corner. There's a flashlight that I click on after a few hits to the fucking thing, and follow the chain with the light. It coils around a small bloody foot. "Oh, god! Grey," I whine, dropping the flashlight and rushing to her side.
She was maybe 60 lbs. The sides of her brow were caved in where you could actually make out the shape of her skull. She's too weak to even acknowledge me.
Despite taking two pairs of testicles, watching my neighbor slain, and the front yard massacre I witness, what Blythe has done to Grey is far worse. I know if I don't do something for her right fucking now, she will die. It's not safe here, so I take her to my house. I hold her in one arm, and help her drink from the bottle of water. "Small sips." There's matted blood caked to the roots of her hair from some kind of trauma. The water is still on, and somewhat lukewarm. I can't tell if these are bruises or dirt on her body, and very carefully bathe this woman.
She sits slumped over the water.
I don't know if I'm causing this woman harm, or helping her. I choke back tears when I actually pull out a clump of her hair. Grey wasn't clothed when I found her, so I pull my Devil's jersey from my closet and put it on her when I'm done. "That's better. All… better…" I stammer, sweeping away my tears with the crook of my elbow. I'm worried that she won't have the strength to chew anything, so I strain a family sized can of chicken noodle soup and help her drink the broth. I wish she'd say something, give me some type of sign. I'm so goddamn scared as she sleeps curled beside me. Scared that she won't wake up. What if she has the virus, too?
After three days, there's still no change in Grey. Our food supply is depleted. I filled every fucking container we had in his house with water while it was still on, but even that goes quickly. If I leave Grey to go find food, and something happens to her, I'll never forgive myself.
My front door flings open.
It could have been a fucking girl scout, I'm not taking any goddamn chances, and fly up, swinging my bat right into the marauders skull. There's two others accompanying him that meet the same fate. "Bad enough I gotta fucking worry about people eating each other and you motherfuckers are going to break into my house?!" I drag their bodies to the porch, taking everything I can. At least my concern about food is over for now. They have several days' worth of food on them. Weapons. First aid. First aid! "Grey," I shout, hurrying back in the house. I don't know how much these antibiotics will do for her, but it's better than nothing. Grey sleeps some more while I take the time to board up a few places in my house.
...
"Negan."
I almost swallow the nail in my mouth, spitting it to the floor. "Grey?!" I hurry up the steps to my bedroom.
Her hand moves some across the bed.
I press my lips to her fingers. "I never should have let you fucking go. I'm so sorry, Grey."
"You found me," she smiles weakly.
"I want to touch you so bad, but you... you're..." I frown looking her frail condition over. "What happened, Grey?" I thought maybe she couldn't go through with leaving Blythe, but she really did make an effort to leave him.
"Karen took me two streets over. Blythe was waiting for me in his squad car. When I asked why, she said she wouldn't have you lusting after a woman that wasn't her."
I knew his little tantrum was all a façade. Now I wish I would have helped him pull the goddamn trigger. "I got a letter in the mail from you."
"I tried to make Blythe paranoid. To insinuate that you would come after him because it would only be a matter of time before you got suspicious. He said if I didn't find a way to rectify that he would, and Lucille would have a place right next to me."
"You protected my Lulu."
"Where… where is she?"
I drop my head. She holds me by the nape as I sob against her chest. As quick as it came on, I shut it off. I shut everything off. It's about survival now.
"Negan, you need to leave. I'm too weak."
"Were going to stay here until you can."
"I won't have you die for me."
"I can take care of my-fucking-self."
"Bullshit."
"Go back to sleep. You need your strength."
"Will you lay down with me?"
"No." I slam the door shut behind me.
I set my backpack on my bike, tightening it down. Grey never work up this morning. I stuff the postcard Grey sent in my pocket. Losing Lucille broke me. Losing Grey now, too? I'm inconsolable. If only I had taken the fucking time to lay down with her. To spend one more night with her. Did she give up for me? So that I could go on without her? I stand at the end of the driveway as the chaos briefly stills around me. There's a promise I made someone that needs fucking fulfillment. I'm going to find Blythe if it's the last motherfucking thing I do. I eye my barbed wrapped baseball bat lengthwise. "Lucille and I are coming for you, motherfucker."