The dragging sound is what he remembered the most vividly - that and the pain; a physical pain he had never experienced before that day even in the apocalypse. The voices all around were in and out but always far away as he slipped in and out of consciousness.
Negan stared down at the blood that dripped off the front of his leather jacket that stemmed from the wound on his neck. He would have attempted to reach up to see how bad the bleeding was if he wasn't being carried by the two men under each arm.
A metallic taste lingered on his tongue and he coughed as it dripped down the back of his throat, sending a stabbing pain down the length of larynx.
"He's not fuckin' dead?" one of the men asked the other upon hearing him cough.
"Not yet," was the response. "Rick wants him in a holding cell."
"This fucker is heavy."
Negan didn't have an ounce of energy in him to fight back. He could barely breath, he felt lightheaded. He didn't have an accurate thought on how much time had passed since he'd blacked out at the entrance of the Hilltop. Everything was fuzzy at best, and so he did the only thing he could at that moment - he allowed the Hilltop members to drag him to where ever fate lead him and hoped he was still alive once they got there.
I'll be damned if I die today. Negan took another painful breath and attempted to see clearly. I'm not fuckin' going down today.
Marilyn felt like it was a ten mile hike to the car. She knew the people she passed sensed something was off. She hadn't taken the time to look in the mirror but it was no secret that her eyes were red and puffy, her posture matched and panic clung to her facial features. Luckily in the late hour only a handful of people were active and about. Her only saving grace was that no one ventured to speak to any of them.
Every step of the way made Marilyn think of Negan. When the loading dock came into view she remembered so vividly the night he had brought up recently when the two of them stood in the back of a truck, he gave her the towels for the female workers and she pointed out the color of his eyes.
A fleeting smile that was accompanied by tears crossed her face for less than a second before the tears fell again.
"Right here girls." Simon pointed to a truck that still had the headlights on from his rush in and out. He flung open the driver's side door and Nina flung open the passenger door.
Marilyn stood outside the car behind her friend and couldn't bring herself to get in. She was frozen.
"Mar..." Nina pulled the seat back and hopped into the back. "Come on."
Marilyn never felt more terrified than in that moment. Getting in the truck with Simon and Nina meant life at the Sanctuary was over. She would never sleep in Negan's room again, never plant tomatoes in the new-found gardens; never revisit the different locations where she fell in love with Negan.
"Marilyn get in." Simon's voice shook as he looked into the side view mirror.
"We have to go look for him." Her voice was hard and demanding despite the tears.
"Okay. We will." He waved a hand. "Please."
Marilyn bit down on her bottom lip and closed her eyes as if she was fighting off physical pain. Her stomach hurt, her feet were stuck and her body felt paralyzed again. Nina's voice urged her on and without another thought she let impulse guide her body into the passenger seat beside Simon. Before she could even slam the door he hit the gas and headed as fast as he could toward the front gates.
"We have supplies," he went on, "From the trip."
Marilyn reached into her pocket and felt a rush of relief fill her body when she realized she still had the maps that Negan had given her. She removed them from her pocket and held them to her chest, feeling the same type of emotion from holding Negan's sweatshirt.
"if you don't want to come that's fine but drop me off near the Hilltop."
"Marilyn, no." Nina shook her head and leaned forward.
"We have to lay low for a little while," Simon informed her.
"Take a right out of the gates," Marilyn ordered.
Simon looked over at her. "Do you even know where you're going?"
She unfolded the map and Simon glanced over briefly.
"We're heading back into the chaos, you do realize this." When he put on the blinker to go in the opposite direction Marilyn reached down into the back of her pants and pulled out a handgun. She pointed it directly at Simon.
"I'm not looking for a territory analysis, I'm looking for a pilot. If you can't be that then let me the fuck out right here."
Simon let the car roll to a halt and stared at her for a moment in shock. His jaw dropped just slightly and his hands tightened on the wheel.
Marilyn was too focused on the impulsive, emotional nature of the moment to hear what Nina was saying as she leaned forward from the back seat. Her friend's voice was simply background noise to the heartbeat-like drumming in her pulsating eardrums.
The left side blinker clicked rapidly in a taunting fashion and a dim, green light illuminated the cab of the truck, sending shades of fluorescent green against the left side of Simon's face.
Simon didn't immediately respond or even move. He stared back at her and Marilyn cocked the hammer of the black revolver in her hand. "What's it going to be Simon?"