Negan kneeled down and began to syphon gas from the tank of broken down SUV. He glanced around the area that looked as if a tornado had hit it and continued on with what he was doing, running a hand through his facial hair as he listened to the fuel drain into the container.
"Maybe that's our gas you're taking," a voice came from behind.
Negan glanced calmly over his shoulder a small pack of young men. "Maybe you'll be taking my beating in return. I mean, I'll give you a beating. Not that you'll be... that was supposed to sound fucking clever and it..." He cleared his throat and smirked, "Let me start over. I haven't spoken out loud in a few weeks."
"Listen man just give us the gas can."
"That's not fucking happening," Negan told them, "But listen. I found a car a few blocks from here. Ran out of gas, keys are still in it. You take this gas you don't have all the fuckin' pieces do you? Any of you motherfuckers know how to hotwire a car?"
The men all exchanged glances though none of them said anything. By the looks on their faces, Negan could guess their answer.
"Great, that makes five of us." He waved a hand, "Come with me."
With a little reluctance the small group began to tail him, prompting Negan to glance over his shoulder again with another smile as one of them placed a wooden baseball bat on his shoulder.
Negan grinned wider. "Nice bat."
Their group walked on for several blocks without much talk other than some hushed whispers. When they arrived back to where Negan had left the vehicle his eyes widened when he saw smoke coming from the hood.
"This is the car?" one of the men asked, shaking his head.
"I thought it was just out of fuckin' gas," Negan admitted. "Shit..." He scratched his head.
"Well, what the hell are we supposed to do now?"
He could see that the pack of twenty-somethings were looking for a direction. They needed guidance. They were wanderers with no idea of what direction to go in.
"What's your name kid?" Negan asked the leader.
"Paul."
"Negan." He outstretched his arm.
"Negan?"
"Strong fuckin' name, don't ya think." He smirked and shook his hand firmly before waving on their group, "Come on. I marked off a place with barbed wire and shit. You have food in those bags?"
The foursome looked at one another and then Negan continued when they failed to respond.
"We have to go on foot but I have shit, too. I have a fire starter, canned food and shit. Water. Beer."
"Beer?" one of the young men raised his eyebrows and shrugged, smiling for the first time.
"Let's go." Negan waved them on, "I'm starting to go ape shit talking to my fucking self."
...
The five men sat around a fire passing around a collection of food that came from each of them.
"You lose anybody Negan?" Paul asked, taking a bite of the canned chicken soup they'd just warmed up over the flames.
"Nah... always been kind of a loner," he lied, "So, not really. Nope."
"Dude, I can't believe you picked off those dead heads from across the lot back there," another man said with a laugh. He took a sip of his beer. "That shit's amazing."
"I had guns before this but I only shot 'em a handful of times." Negan smiled, "I should've went to the range more. Guns are the shit."
"People used to say guns and big trucks were for guys with small dicks," Paul said with a laugh, "Overcompensation."
"Bull shit," Negan disagreed with a hearty chuckle, "No dick compares to my dick... and I had a big truck... and shit, I love shooting these fucking undead pricks." He continued to laugh, "Overcompensation? Fuck no. I like big trucks and big guns... because I got a big dick." Negan took a bite from his bowl and noticed all the men staring in his direction with wide eyes, "What? Too much dick talk?"
"Holy shit!" Paul rose to his feet and pointed, "Behind you!"
Negan glanced over his shoulder, immediately rising to his feet to see a swarm of the undead filtering into their space by the masses. "Oh fuck!" He reached for the rifle and felt the undead arms wrap around his torso from behind. "Mother fucker!" Negan shoved it away and fired a bullet into its temple, sending the body the floor. Another replaced it, growling and snarling as it eagerly approached their group with its arms outstretched.
More gunshots ensued and everyone began to fight against the herd, sending one into the fire where the pot of soup spilled all over the place.
"Clumsy motherfuckers!" Negan continued to fire shots before reaching for the baseball bat and proceeded to smash in the skulls of the approaching dead ones.
A terrible, high-pitched scream filtered through the air and Negan turned to see two of his new acquaintances being ripped to pieces. He continued to fight, knowing there was nothing he could do to save them as the herd tore through their camp ground like a school of hungry sharks.
"Son of a bitch." Negan continued to swing wildly, taking out each approaching dead one with one swift blow. By the time it was over he could barely feel his arms and he crouched to the ground panting as he took in the carnage.
They were dead - all of them. The monsters; the men. Negan shook his head as he took in all four mutilated bodies that fell to the snapping jaws of the pack of hungry hellions.
You gotta be fucking kidding me, Negan thought. He rose back to his feet and realized how quickly he was back to being on his own. It was the way the world was, he decided. People died. Getting close to anyone was not an option.
With a grunt he rounded up whatever food he could from the group's leftovers, strapped the baseball bat in the top of his backpack and reloaded the rifle he'd been using before making his way away from the mass grave.
Alone again, Negan thought. He began to wonder what was left of the world. Were there people left, or was this it? The small pack of men had given him some hope that people were out there, though the rapid nature that their lives were stripped away showed the vicious reality.
Still, Negan knew that he could make it just fine on his own, as he already had. He just didn't know how much longer it would be before the dead truly took over and all forms of society were lost forever.