The Sound and the Fury
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to The Walking Dead or any related title, character, plot, setting, etc. These rights are the sole property of Robert Kirkman, Tony Moore, AMC, and various publishers and distributors. I own only the original elements in this story, the writing and publishing of which earn me no money.
Chapter Two
The Sanctuary turned out to be a large factory that had been converted into a sprawling, heavily guarded complex. The bottom floors were crowded. Most of the Sanctuary's several hundred residents lived on the first few floors while the main levels were used for assembly and cleaning lines and a workshop. Scattered around the factory were a cafeteria and kitchens, a small doctor's office, a marketplace, and a garage. The upper levels held a few private rooms. Most of them were taken up by Negan's Saviors, but a few were available for Sanctuary residents. The rest of the upper levels were used for Negan's offices and living quarters.
Just outside of the Sanctuary itself, but inside the imposing fence, were several gardens, two greenhouses, and a small collection of livestock. The cows, pigs, and chickens all provided food for the residents of the Sanctuary, through one means or another.
The entire business was run using a system of points. Each job was worth a certain number of points and everything a resident could want required points as well. It had been explained to Collins that the 'rooms' on the lower levels - a bed and foot locker surrounded by hanging sheets - cost fifteen points a month in 'rent'. Meals were deducted automatically from their points totals at two points per meal, twice a day. Anything Sanctuary residents managed to keep after those amounts were taken from their points totals could be used to purchase anything that could be found in the marketplace, including clothing, hygiene supplies, additional food, or entertainment items.
It was a tremendous scam, to Collins's way of thinking. Sanctuary residents barely made anything more than the cost of their housing and food, and most of the things in the marketplace cost far more than they should. The only ones who could afford them were those with skill-based positions, such as mechanics, doctors, and Saviors. These were the same people who could afford a private room on the upper levels, with rent of thirty-five points a month.
As a janitor, Collins earned one-hundred and fifty points per month, exactly eleven points more than her food and rent. The cheapest pair of pants she had found to replace her tattered jeans cost forty points. Fortunately, work outfits were provided and the pair of cargo pants she had been issued were almost new. She was able to spend the eleven points from her first month's work on a three-point toothbrush, three-point toothpaste, three-point deodorant, and two-point soap. Life became almost bearable after that, though if Collins had planned to stay, she likely would have been very unhappy indeed. The lack of points explained the extremely limited number of janitors around the Sanctuary.
The main benefit of Collins's job - other than the pants - was that she wandered every inch of the lower levels as she cleaned. She occasionally swept and raked leaves outside, taking every opportunity to study the security of the Sanctuary. Dusting and cleaning windows helped her learn the best escape routes, and late-night floods of the shower room allowed her to discover the overnight guard pattern.
She had managed to avoid any suspicion, as best as she could tell. The Saviors didn't seem to care overly much about what happened on the lower levels of the Sanctuary and their leader made only limited appearances. About once a week, Collins would see him wandering the system of catwalks that hung over the main floor of the old factory, but he only watched the workers for a few minutes before leaving once more. She couldn't dedicate much time to watching him in return, but she was reasonably sure she had managed to avoid his notice.
Overall, being a janitor was the best decision she could have made, other than pretending to be deaf. Few people spoke to her, but a high number of them spoke around her. Collins listened to her heart's content, memorizing secrets and helpful information to make her life easier. Her ultimate goal was to save enough points to purchase a small toolkit she had spotted in the marketplace. The standard tools were surprisingly good quality, but Collins was mostly focused on the solar-powered flashlight with a backup crank included in the kit. It had been buried underneath a pile of junk and the case was severely scratched, but Jason had helped her convince the shop owner to hold the whole kit until she earned enough points to purchase it. It would take a while, as the usefulness factor of the kit as a whole meant it cost a hundred and fifty points.
Jason had offered to purchase it for her, naturally. As a producer of leather goods and thickly-woven clothing, he was unbelievably popular among mechanics and Saviors. A portion of his earnings went toward paying the rent for his market stall, but Jason was still considered to be one of the wealthier residents of the Sanctuary, and he had formed a sort of friendship with Collins.
However, she refused to allow him to buy her the toolkit. Her time at the Sanctuary was limited and she didn't need to worry about Jason being blamed after she disappeared some night, flashlight in hand.
Jason had also been unwilling to leave Collins to her lonely work, insisting that she meet at least a few members of the group she had planned to rob. Though they all had to have worked out what she had been attempting to do when the Saviors had infiltrated, the group members were all kind to Collins. In fact, she found a friend of sorts in their now ex-leader, Soph.
"Go on, Soph," Jason had egged on one day in the cafeteria. "Tell her what it's short for."
"Sophronia," Soph grumbled. "My family is Greek and my parents wanted a boy. That name is their punishment."
Really? Collins signed, but Soph only laughed when Jason had translated.
"No, they thought it was a pretty name. Means practical or something like that. Romantic, right?" Soph gave an easy shrug. "At least it's fitting."
That was correct. Soph was nothing if not ultimately practical. If there was one person Collins had ever met who would understand the insane scheme she was currently running, it would be Soph. Not that she would ever admit her secrets to the older woman.
For one thing, Soph was busy, even more so than Jason. It wasn't rare for Collins to go several days without seeing Soph, even though her cleaning duties took her all over the Sanctuary. As she discovered through sitting with the other members of the artisan group, Soph had brought all of them together. She herself was extremely skilled at woodcarving, able to get an edge close enough to make the near-waterproof containers. These sold for an impressive amount and Soph was quickly becoming one of the most wealthy residents of the Sanctuary.
Despite Collins' determination to remain alone, the artisan group seemed to have adopted her as one of their own. They knew she didn't earn many points, and it seemed every day that they were trying to give her something new. Case in point, Soph slid into a table in the cafeteria, sitting across from Collins. She set her tray on the table and her skilled hands moved upward, twisting her thick black hair into an effortless-looking updo with only a hair tie and two bobby pins.
Collins watched the motion in jealousy. Her own hair - though far less thick than Soph's - had been a constant source of irritation since her only hair tie had broken the previous week. Hair ties were sold at the frankly ridiculous rate of five points each in the marketplace and Collins had deemed the expense too high. She just wanted to earn her toolkit and get out.
Seeing Collins's gaze on her motions, Soph drew a spare tie from her pocket and tossed it to her. Collins immediately shook her head and tried to give the tie back, but Soph ignored her, focusing her attention on her food.
"I'm not taking that back, Collins," she said eventually, seeing that Collins wasn't planning to give up. "I came here with about forty of them in my bag and the Saviors didn't bother to confiscate them. I don't need it, you do. End of story."
Collins sighed silently and tied her hair back, enjoying the feeling more than she could describe. Thank you, she signed, uncertain of whether Soph would understand.
"She says 'thank you'," Jason translated, sitting down beside Soph.
"I have managed to grasp that much," Soph told him dryly. "You're welcome, Collins. I do think it's time that I started learning sign language, though."
Collins stared at her, feeling the bemusement on her own face. Soph scarcely had time to eat and sleep, and she was offering to learn another language? Soph laughed at Collins's confused look. "What? I thought it might be nice to be able to talk with you even when Jason isn't around. What if we need to talk about him?"
Jason grew red, his ginger complexion showcasing his embarrassment even as Soph shot Collins a conspiratory wink. "Like I'll agree to teach you now!"
"That's okay," Soph said with a shrug. "I'm not an idiot. Collins can just sign what I'm saying and I'll pick up on it that way."
Privately, Collins thought that Soph was putting far too much faith in both of their abilities, but the thought filled the rest of the meal with good-natured bickering between Soph and Jason. It was entertainment enough to keep Collins happy through a solid portion of her afternoon cleaning duties.
Author's Note - My apologies for this short, Negan-lite chapter. As I'm sure you noticed, he only made one small cameo, but he's going to be a much bigger part of the story in later chapters, obviously. I just had to get a little bit of the story set up for now. Thanks to everyone who has read, followed, or favorited this story! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'll see you next week!