This is another chapter where the girls are talking about some of Negan's violent antics, in this one it's what Nova refers to as their campaign of 'vermin extermination'. It doesn't exactly further the 'plot' any, but hey. I like writing pointless violence.

Chapter 10

Campaign Vermin

The small group of Saviors burned across the countryside, investigating the various buildings on the outskirts of the suburbs. Gas stations and drug stores, the occasional fast food joint or auto shop. Most were already thoroughly scavenged, but sometimes they found a useful item or two. Along the way, they decimated small groups of walkers... and sometimes they swore they were killing the same ones over and over again. The plague was never-ending.

They were also alert for another sort of trouble: survivors. Groups could mean settlements; groups could be danger. The bad seeds floated on the wind and always seemed to land close together. Bands of wicked men, marauders and rapists, scrounging for food and worse... for entertainment.

The Saviors did not tolerate these groups. They were not good for their extorted communities. They were not people fit for the world.

And they were an excellent outlet for the violence and blood thirst that roiled their veins.

Today, they hit the scumbag jackpot.

"Hold up. Stop the truck."

Seth hit the brakes. Dwight and Olaf pulled alongside.

"What's up, boss?" Dwight asked, and Negan pointed to the treetops, where white smoke drifted.

"Got ourselves some travelers."

They traveled down the road, looking for a better vantage point. They found one on a rise in the road; it looked straight to where the smoke emanated. An old gas station, possibly derelict even before the ZA, and now completely overgrown.

Negan and Seth exited the truck, looking down at the camp. They were still too far to make out details, so Dwight lifted his crossbow and peered through the long-range scope.

"Looks like three...no, five guys. Unless more are inside...that place looks like it's about to collapse at any minute though."

"Let me see." Negan motioned for the bow and when Dwight hesitated, he growled, "Hand it over!"

Dwight sighed and relinquished the bow, flinching as Negan sneered, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna break your little toy. Wouldn't want to make you fucking cry even more than you already do."

Dwight scowled. Negan peered at the group for a moment. "Hmmm. Looks like ordinary fuckers...oh. Hold up." The muscle in his jaw tightened. His teeth exposed in a smile, the horrible one, the one they all knew meant trouble. "Heh. Scratch that. Looks like we have some vermin to dispose of." He handed the bow back to Dwight. "Give it another look-see. By the trees."

The sight made Dwight's teeth grind, and he lowered the bow with a dark brow. "Yeah. Gotcha." He gestured to Olaf. "We're on it, boss."

"Good." Negan was still smiling, his eyes glittering. "I don't want one hair on my pretty little head touched, Dwight, not like the last time-"

"Yeah, I got it," Dwight said, voice hard.

Negan got back in the truck, as Dwight muttered to Olaf, "...if he keeps his big ass out of the way this time, maybe that won't happen-"

"I can hear you, Dwight," Negan grinned out the open window. "And I promise, I'll keep my 'big ass' well out of the way. 'K?"

Dwight flustered. "Er. Right." He saluted as the truck rumbled on down the road.

Seth drove boldly right into the camp. The men had strung up several classic Walker alarms of cans and wire between them and the darkness of the nearby forest. A fire burned between the rusted-out pumps, and several rabbits roasted over the flames. Beer cans in hand, the men looked up as the Savior's truck rolled in, bumping over muddy ruts and lurching to a halt. They reached for their rifles and pistols in an offhand way, still downing their drinks as they aimed at the newcomers.

Negan leaned out the open window, a goofy grin on his face. His voice was the slow affected drawl of someone less than mentally efficient. "Hi, guys! How's it fuckin' goin'?"

One of the men, a dirty-blond with a heart-shaped face, set his beer down and sneered. "Roll your truck on outta here, man. You've stayed alive this long...if you wanna keep it that way, then git goin'."

"You don't have to be mean," Negan looked baffled at the hostility. "We're all in the same boat out here... jus' trying to stay alive, maybe having a little fun too. Mostly tryin' to have fun, though..."

"Yeah, well we ain't interested in peace and love, retard." Heart-face didn't lower his gun. "Roll out or things are gonna get ugly."

Negan scratched his head, eyebrows raised in chagrin. "Well, ok. We'll go...it's just...I see you gots some food there-"

Heart-face cocked his pistol and aimed it at Negan's forehead.

"...and we just raided a drugstore. We got some good shit. Plenty to go around. We could all sit togetha, eat, and have a nice buzz. We ain't seen other people in a while."

The gun stayed up for a moment, then lowered. The leader looked back at his men. "All right. What do you say, guys? Meal and 'dessert'? Maybe share a few stories? Retard here is askin' nicely, and if he wants to share-"

"Sure, Doug. That sounds cool. Long as they don't try any shit."

Negan looked at the two men squeezed beside him in the idling truck. They shook their heads. "Nah. We try to keep our noses clean..."

"...unless it's cocaine powder," Seth said and giggled, a sound at odds with his fiercely shaven skinhead and bold tattoos.

The three men exited the truck, with Doug and his goons watching them carefully. Upon seeing Negan and his men had no visible guns, they seemed to relax – and they all shuffled towards the fire.

"No guns?"

"We had a pistol, but we ran outta bullets," said Negan.

"Wow, that's tough shit," said Doug. "Hard to believe you numbnuts survived this long. Must be dumb luck." He snorted and gestured to one of his men. "Get some more of the bunnies on the fire."

The man complied, and another man split up the meat that was already cooked – between the eight men it wasn't much.

While the meat was passed out, Negan peered over towards the treeline. There was a derelict sign, supported by two metal poles, that announced the gas station's name: 'El Cheapo's Gas and Convenience Store'. Chained to it were two naked women.

"Heeey..." Negan waved his little rabbit drumstick in their direction. "You guys got toys!"

"Hell yeah." A lanky black man with tangled dreads leered at the captive females. "Got lucky. Caught those two about a week back. Been havin' a good time with them ever since."

"I'm jealous..." Negan bit into the rabbit and spoke through his mouthful. "...every time we see chicks, they're with a group and are too well-guarded and shit. We can't git one alone." He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, leaving a smear of grease on the leather. "Hey, can I go look at 'em?"

Doug shrugged. "Sure, man."

Dreads stood and strode with Negan over to the women. They stopped before the shorter one, a malnourished brunette. Her arms trussed above her head, naked knees turned inwards. Blood on her thighs, bruises on her face, the marks of grabbing fingers black and blue on her breasts. Wide blood-shot eyes stared up at Negan in horror, and she tried to pull away.

"Hi," he said cheerfully. "What's your name?"

Behind him, Doug's men laughed. The girl cringed, moaning as his gloved finger brushed her cheek – tears wetting the leather.

Dreads snorted. "Wastin' water again," he said. "All she does is cry and..."

Negan's finger played softly over her lips, and the acidic odor of urine filled the air. She sobbed, a stream of yellow mingling with the blood on her legs.

"...piss. Yep."

"Yuck." The Savior leader giggled. "Damn. You fucked her up so much she doesn't even know her own name. And she pees. Heh."

"She don't need a name, does she? We got plenty we made up for her and her little friend over there." Dreads sneered and then leaned over and smacked her abused breast. "Shut up. Fuckin' crying again. Bitch."

Negan looked over at the other girl, grinned, laughed. "...Maybe yer boss will lend us out one later?"

"Maybe. Depends on the shit you got. Come on." They walked back to the fire, where the rabbits were nearly done. Negan sat with his long legs crossed Indian-style. Doug leered at him.

"You like our girls, retard?"

"Yeah."

"Yep. They're fucking hot, but they're getting a bit worn out." He shrugged. "Looks like the food's done."

While one of his men began to slice up the steaming animal with a machete, Doug looked over Negan and his men. There was a cruel smile playing his lips. "So, what's your name, 'tard? I mean, I guess I could keep calling you 'tard', but now that we're all friends..."

"I'm Negan," said the Savior Leader, then gestured to his men, "That's Seth and that's John."

Doug was non-reactive to the unusual name – non-reactive in the sense that he didn't run screaming. "Knee-gan? That's a different name." His lips quirked, but he said nothing further. The hacked-up rabbit was brought over on a beat-up cookie sheet, the meat steaming and smelling delicious.

"Oh yum," Negan said, licking his lips.

"Yeah." Doug wafted the scent towards his nose, and then shot a long look at his men. His lips were still smiling, and it was an unpleasant sight. "Thing is...we don't really want to share. This is the best catch we've had in weeks. So, you know what? I don't think we're gonna."

"What do you mean?"

Doug snarled. "I mean, you and your faggot buddies sit here and just trust us? How do you know we ain't gonna shoot you and take your drugs and truck for ourselves?" His pistol came up again. Guns lifting all around. "Maybe we'll even pass your 'tard ass around and tie you up with the other bitches."

Confusion and hurt lined the Savior Leader's face. His eyes were wide, lips pouting. "But...w-w-why...why would you do that? We're bein' nice. You ain't gotta be so mean..."

"Oh my God. How did you live this long? Guess you never ran across anyone, or they were all just as stupid as you." Doug cocked the pistol. "Stand the fuck up, faggot. You too, all of you...up. And don't move. Or move, I don't care. Your ass is grass either way."

Negan and his men quickly climbed to their feet, hands held in the air. John's eyes flitted nervously back and forth between his leader and Doug, his voice box bobbing. Seth looked grim.

"W-w-wait..." Negan's voice was a weak plea. "...I just gotta ask you something..."

"Sure, you got a last request? Go for it."

Three fingers on Negan's left hand folded down; he grinned, voice suddenly free of the affected, simpleton tone. "...how do you know I don't have my best snipers watching your stupid fucking ass right now?"

Doug frowned, cocked his pistol and -

It was blown from his hand. He screamed, bloody appendage clasped to his chest, bits of pistol scattering into the grass. His men jumped – two heads were pierced by bullets, skull and brains joining the pistol fragments, two bodies hitting the ground.

Dreads turned to run, but before he could take two steps, a bolt struck him in the back, protruding out from his chest. He gasped and fell to his knees, clutching frantically at the injury.

The last man was slow in raising his rifle, and Seth charged him, grabbing the gun roughly and pushing it down. There was flash of steel – Negan drew his knife and thrust it upwards into the man's jaw, lifting him off his feet. With a grunt, he turned and flung the man off the blade, blood spraying onto his arms. The man hit the ground and rolled, breath rattling in his throat before he lay still.

Negan wiped the knife on his pants and casually re-sheathed the weapon. "Wow. That was awesome." His teeth glittered as he stepped towards Doug. The heart-faced leader was bent over, his hand still cradled into his chest. "Oh dear. Did you lose a few fingers? I'll have to reprimand Olaf...he's usually a better fucking shot then that."

"What...what the fuck!? You killed my guys!"

"Uh...yeah." Negan observed the carnage, still grinning away. "A bit too fast for my taste, but whatever. We still have you, after all."

Dreads moaned; he was now lying on his side.

"Oh, and that guy."

The sound of motorcycles came down the road; Dwight and Olaf pulled up alongside the truck. They parked and dismounted, coming over to view their handiwork.

"Hey, boys. Nice fucking shooting."

Dreads moaned again.

"Hey. Get Lucille for me, would you?" Negan nodded at Dwight, and the crossbowman headed for the truck.

Doug eyed Negan warily. "What the fuck are you planning to do, retard?"

"Oh, shut up with the 'retard' shit, already." Negan rolled his eyes. "That's a fucking offensive word. And by now, it should be pretty fucking obvious that I'm much smarter than you, Dougie-boy. Now sit the fuck down." He held out his hand, eyes gleaming happily, as Dwight presented the barbed-wire bat.

"And allow me to introduce my best lady friend, here. This is Lucille. She's a thirsty girl, and Walker blood only keeps her satisfied for so long. It's like a vampire feeding on cadavers. Sometimes she really needs fresh meat, if you get my fuckin' drift." He hummed softly to himself, boots squelching across the bloodied grass.

Dreads' eyes rolled upwards, whites showing all around the brown iris. Negan's boots were inches from his head, the bat held lightly in his grip. He tried to talk; blood bubbled from his mouth.

Negan stroked the bat with his gloved hand, holding her affectionately up to his cheek. "Drink up, baby," he cooed. "This one looks real juicy."

"Wait-" Doug sputtered, and then cringed -

Lucille came down, hard and vicious, shattering skull bone, smashing brains to a pulp. Dreadlocks soaked in blood, a face decimated as the bat came down again and again. Doug looked away – eyes brimming in terror.

Seth grunted. "Fucked with the wrong retards, didn't you?" He leaned over and grabbed a hunk of the rabbit meat from the tray, chewing and watching his leader impassively.

"Mmmm..." Negan strode back to the fire, the bloodied bat slung across his shoulders. "Now that Lucille is full and happy, I think I'll sit a spell. You boys want to join me? This rabbit does look really motherfucking good. I'm fucking starving."

"Fuckin' good," Seth concurred through a full mouth, and he plunked down by the fire. The rest of the men joined him, and Doug looked about uneasily as the Saviors surrounded him in lazy repose, digging greedily into the meat and beer.

They ate in contended silence, save for the occasional grunt or belch; Doug sat stiffly, unable to run with the five pairs of eyes on him.

Negan tossed a bone into the fire, rubbing his hand off on his jeans. "Fuck. How motherfucking rude of me." He stood and Doug's eyes followed him, but the Savior Leader's attention was elsewhere.

The two tied women flinched when the large man approached them. He held his hands out in appeasement, his voice soft. "Don't fuckin' freak out, girls. We're not going to hurt you. We have a settlement with women and children, and you'll be safe there. Understand?"

The brunette had started to cry again. The blond nodded.

"Good. Easy now." He eased the knife out, still streaked with blood, and the brunette screamed as much as her cracked voice would allow. She writhed in her bonds as he leaned towards her.

"Whoa, whoa!" He cried, and the blond croaked, "Carla, stop it – it's ok!"

He took her arms, trying to hold her still. "Just cutting the ropes. Ok?"

She went still, sobbing under her breath. He cut the bonds and she fell to the ground, curling into a ball. The blond stood stoically, letting him free her. She rubbed her sore wrists and crossed her arms over her breasts, watching him warily.

Carla staggered to her feet as Negan turned back, and she suddenly bolted, pounding past the truck and heading down the road. She was surprisingly fast in her malnourished state, evading his grab for her arm with ease.

"Hey!" He yelled. "Where are you going? You're naked, girl! Get back here!"

The blond screeched for her to stop, but she ignored them all.

Dwight sighed and stood, putting down his beer. "I'll get her." He took off down the road, crossbow bobbing on his back. Negan led the blond girl to the truck, where he retrieved a ratty blanket. She covered herself, accepting his offer for food and drink. She sat in the truck, uneasily watching the men as he brought her several hunks of meat and a beer. Then he left her alone, sitting back down among the Saviors.

"Wow. Fuckwad. You did a number on those poor beauties." He shook his head. "A real man doesn't have to do that shit for a simple lay. Fuck."

Doug didn't answer. Finally, as the men were polishing off the last of the meat, he inquired about his fate. "What are you gonna do to me? You killed my guys. You gonna kill me?"

Negan downed the last of his beer, and belched. "Yeah. Probably. I've been mulling it over, honestly. Torture you? Maybe. Don't know if you're really worth my time or effort, no matter how much you fucking deserve it. I was also thinking of making a little gift of you. You heard of the Hilltop?"

"No." Doug's voice was shaky.

"Ah. Well, they're a little community." He chucked the empty can into the fire, waving idly to the west. "Out that way somewheres. And my community has a bit of a partnership with them, only they always pitch a fucking fit over their end of the deal. They don't like me very much, you see, because they're lazy fucks who want shit for free and whine when it's time to pay the fucking piper. We're the pipers, we clear out the goddamn rats, and they sit behind their safe walls like a bunch of useless lumps."

Doug starting zoning out during the long tirade; he jolted back to attention when Negan's long leg lashed out, kicking him in the shin.

"So anyway, I thought: hey, if I handed them over a rapist scumbag piece of shit like you... you, who might've grabbed one of their precious daughters or mothers if given a fuckin' chance... it might calm their titties. They'll see I'm a nice guy, really." He scowled, the skin between his eyebrows crinkling. "But no. Those fucking pussies would probably give you a literal slap on the wrist. Let you walk. So fuck that."

He drew his knife, picking at his fingernails with the tip. The fire was getting low, reflecting red off the blade.

"So, what then?" Doug asked.

Negan shrugged. "I suppose I'll have to kill you." He picked up a stick and poked the glowing orange wood of the dying fire. Bits of flaming debris floated upwards. Sparking out – poof. Here and then gone.

Doug was staring at him, his face going white – and Negan leaned over in a casual motion, like an offhand gesture. With one fast, vicious stroke, he stabbed Doug directly through the ribs, straight into the left lung. With a scrape of metal on bone, he withdrew the knife and settled back into his cross-legged position.

The marauder leader bent double, a sucking, gasping sound emerging from him, his hands clutching frantically at the wound. "Oh...oh my God.." He cried in a frog-like croak. He collapsed onto the ground, rolling in pained panic.

"I've always wanted to do that," mused the Savior Leader. "Hey, how long do you think it'll take him to bite it? Any fuckin' guesses?"

"Five minutes," said Seth.

"Ten," said John.

"I don't know..." Negan looked doubtfully at the frantic man, laying there on his back, his mouth the opened 'O' of a fish on land. "Do you suffocate first? Die of blood loss? Or drown in your own blood?" He nudged Doug with his foot. "Hey. Which one are you feeling right now? Suffocating or drowning?"

Doug convulsed, trying to thrust his own finger against the wound, stop the air from sucking in and out.

"Fuck. You're no help. I guess we'll have to wait and see. They got any more fucking beer?"

Seth was proven wrong, as seven minutes passed and Doug still clung to life. The horrible sucking noises came and went; John went into the woods both to piss and to evade the noise; Seth and Negan continued to chug beer and count down the minutes until Doug's inevitable passing. There was the crunch of boots on gravel; Dwight came trudging up to the fire. He looked dubiously at the wounded man, then shook his head. "The girl..."

"Did she outrun you? Seriously?"

"No. Ran into some fucking walkers. She...she didn't even try to avoid them. She just ran right through them, like she didn't care either way...whether she got away from me, or they got her..." Dwight shakily reached down and snatched up a beer. Popping it, he drained half in one gulp. "Shit! Poor fucking bitch."

"That's a fucking shame..." The Savior Leader cast a glance at the truck, where the shadow of the blond sat. She had her head leaned onto the glass; from the sag of her shoulders she appeared to be sleeping. "...well, whatever. We tried, right?"

"Umm...what's up with him?" Dwight jerked his head at Doug.

"Plugged him in the lung. Waiting to see how long it takes for him to croak. So far, Seth is wrong, and John's time is just about up...it's got to have been ten motherfuckin' minutes by now."

"Yeah, I'd say so."

"Stabbed in the lung?" Dwight crushed the empty beer can and hastily reached for another. "That could take hours, man. Are we really going to sit around and wait?"

Negan looked, for a moment, like a child who'd just been informed they were leaving whatever fun thing they were doing – a day at the beach, a trip to the fair. His lips pouted and he looked sullenly at Doug's prone form. Doug, as if sensing imminent danger, struggled to his feet. His hand pushed to the wound, he took several steps towards the woods. None of the Saviors pursued him; they did not have to. He was back on the ground already.

Dwight sighed quietly, but didn't push the issue. His discarded food and beer was where he'd left it. He took it and moved out of the range of Doug's air-sucking gasps.

"Let's make it a half-hour." Negan squinted at the sky showing over the dilapidated station. It would be dusk in an hour; they'd have enough light to get back to Sanctuary. "In the meantime, let's go through their shit, scavenge whatever they have."

"Sure, boss." Seth lit a cigarette. "But think Dwight might be right. It'll probably take him at least a few hours."

"Meh." Negan grunted, displeased. He wasn't about to drag Doug's sorry ass along with them – but he'd been eager to see him breathe his last.

The group of rapists had a few items of value; matches, bedrolls, some cans of food, and the various guns and ammunition. John and Dwight put everything into the back of the truck and stayed near the vehicle. Doug tried to rouse himself two more times and failed. Negan made a joke – wondered if Doug could smoke a cigarette through his new hole – but none of his men wanted to give up their precious cancer sticks.

Too soon, time was up. Doug still lived.

"Well, I gotta say, I'm fuckin' surprised. Either you have a goddamn strong will, or that wound just isn't as deadly as I first surmised. Heh. Whatever. It was a good run, Dougie-boy." Negan scuffed the ground with a forlorn boot, eyes down-turned. "I'm sorry to see it end, but hey. You were a motherfucking asshole."

Doug, eyes scared, watched as Negan stepped to the Walker alarm – the clothesline strung with tin cans.

It made an awful racket when a Walker stumbled into it, or when homicidal Negans grabbed hold of it and shook it rapidly.

"What are you doing?" Doug sounded like a dying bullfrog. With great effort, he got to his feet, swaying drunkenly.

Negan grinned, rattling the cans more vigorously, crying out 'Souey! Souey!"

Dwight rolled his eyes at the pig-calls. Then he reached for his crossbow; over Negan's clamor came the distinctive dry-throat growls of a Walker. Or Walkers, plural.

"Hey!" Negan yelled at him, "Don't shoot our guests! We're fuckin' leaving! So Doug's gonna need some company!"

Dwight shrugged, shouldered the crossbow and headed for his motorcycle. The other men followed suit, with John reluctantly climbing into the truck bed to avoid disturbing the sleeping woman.

Negan practically skipped over to Doug, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him over to the nice, bright fire. Fire was a lure to the dead. Noise too, and warm rosy meat. This was a Walker's wet-dream right here.

"No," Doug gasped. "You can't-" He gasped and whistled through the stab.

"Sure I can," Negan quipped cheerfully. His eager eyes focused on the treeline where two walkers awkwardly stumbled into the camp. "But hey..you might have a chance still." He pressed a finger to his lips. "If you're really, really fucking quiet." He winked and whispered. "Ta ta now..."

He jogged over to the truck and vaulted into the bed with easy grace. Rapping Lucille against the cab window, he watched as Doug made a desperate attempt for the woods. As Seth drove off and the motorcycles followed, he saw Doug flail and scream weakly as he was overtaken, as the truck thrummed homeward, he grinned. He had gotten to see Doug breathe his last after all.