A/N There's a panel in issue 152 that I absolutely love of Negan. He's in his cell, hunched over, with his head down. Arms folded over his knees. His eyes are blacked out, as is the majority of the cell. I wanted to incorporate that issue in this chapter. (Real quick, for those of you that don't read the comics, I made Negan recap what's going on more than usual so you're not lost.)
Carl stares back at me wide eye. "Fuck."
"Yeah. Fuck."
"You just left her to die? Why didn't you put a bullet in her head?"
"I didn't know. The outbreak had just started."
"I guess I figured she lived, and was one of your wives."
"I told you it wasn't a love story, kid."
"You should have had two bats. An aluminum one named Grey. Ya know, because it's gray. Grey and gray," he chuckles.
I let out a breathed laugh. "That reminds me of a conversation Grey and I had once."
I like the sound of the aluminum bat.
Wait, what? The what?
The sound of it.
The sound of what?
The bat.
The wood bat?
No, the aluminum bat.
I'd die a happy fucking man listening to you say that word over and over. I fucking love your accent.
"What did it sound like? You just did it in your stupid voice."
"Al-ah-min-e-um."
"I don't know why I asked. You sound like a leprechaun. Anyway, I need to get going."
"I'm telling you, it's fucking hot. She'd have to do it for-" My eyes sink. "You."
Carl returns to his seat when he sees my face. "I'm sorry."
"Doesn't matter, kid."
"Do you regret your last words to Grey?"
"Every fucking day."
"You had no way of knowing that would be the last time you'd speak to her."
"Is that an excuse?"
"You weren't in your right mind. Not after Lucille. To be honest, I don't think you ever will be. I don't even know how the guilt alone doesn't kill you."
"You better run along."
"I can stay longer if you wanna talk."
I turn around on the cot so my back is to him.
"That still doesn't do anything, ya know."
That's what I'm good at. Not doing anything.
The guilt would kill me, except I've shut that part of me off. Or so, that's the façade I've tried so hard to convey to my men. When you're alone twenty-four hours a day, in the dark, that façade starts to slowly seep out, and I question my sanity in this prison. I thought that losing Lucille and Grey was punishment enough. Now I have all this time to reflect on what a piece of shit I am. If I had been a better man, maybe Lucille would have tried harder to fight the cancer. If I had been a man, I would have killed Blythe sooner, so it didn't cost Grey her life. I whip my head to the right when the obnoxious stomps of some punk kid interrupts my train of thought. "Who the fuck are you?"
"My name is Brandon, and I'm getting you out of here." The keys to the cell hang loosely in his right hand.
"Kid, I don't know who the fuck you are, but I can tell you don't know fucking fuck all. I'm not fucking deaf. People have been milling about all day up there. We wouldn't get two feet before Rick shot us both."
"Yeah. That's it. There's a whole caravan gearing up for a trip back to the Hilltop. Dozens of people are leaving. We could slip out in the crowd… no one would notice."
"I don't mean to seem ungrateful, but… why the fuck would you attempt this?"
"You're the only person I can think of who might hate Rick Grimes as much as I do. There's a whole army of Whisperers out there… and they don't want us bothering them. Rick is gearing up for war with them and they have no idea. If we went and told them what was coming… they could attack and kill Rick and all these other assholes that live here. They'd kill them, they'd kill each other… whatever. I know I can't make it there alone. You can get me there… you're free to go… or maybe you come back here and kill Rick with the Whisperers… whatever you want."
"I'm not saying yes… but I ain't exactly saying no either. I'll tell you the truth… I like where you're going with this. Let me think about it."
He gives me a sour look.
Who am I fucking? There ain't nothing to think about. I want blood. It ain't Rick's. It ain't these Whisperer fucks. It ain't even Dwight's. I want to spend the rest of my days confined in the woods with Blythe tied up in my motherfucking basement. "Open this goddamn lock."
...
This little shit's plan actually worked. Fuck it. I'm not questioning how we got out alive. "They see you?"
"Probably thought I was ducking away for a piss. Nobody said anything."
"Probably in the clear. Hand it over." After two years, I'm starting to feel more human again as I zip up my leather jacket. "Felt naked without it." One of my favorite memories of Lucille.
Brandon also gives me my belt with my knife on it. "Hurry up. We gotta get moving."
"Excuse the fuck out of me? What was that?"
"The Whisperers. We gotta get to them."
"Oh, you didn't really think this through so much, did you?"
"What?"
"You're little plan. You get me out, I take you to the Whisperers so you can rat on Rick and his group. That part where you do something for me is fucking over. So why in the fuck would I bother doing that part where I help you? I appreciate you finding my jacket and things… but that only gets you so far."
"You hate Rick just as much as I do. You want this, too right?"
I want out of these goddamn woods for now. "Point me in the right direction, and shut the fuck up. I'm the one calling the shots now. Fall in line or fall down a fucking well." I shove him when all he does is give me some dopey ass look. "Walk."
I unzip one of my pockets and pull out the postcard Grey gave me. I trace my fingers over her handwriting. My plan is to use this kid as much as I can. Get a general idea of where the fuck I'm going and then be on my merry fucking way. As long as I can avoid the Whisperers, I'll be fine.
"We should have brought more food. Dammit!"
I shove the post card in my pocket, getting to my feet. "Will you keep it down, you fucking idiot? I'm not going to get through this without fucking killing you, am I? And that's how little motherfucking respect I have for you, kid. I'm asking that… out loud... right the fuck in front of you. Am I going to have to kill you?"
"N- no."
"Was a fucking rhetorical question, Brandon. Keep moving."
...
"Jesus fuck, why'd you stop?!"
"That must be it… The border they marked. With my mother's head…"
"Oh don't be such a crybaby. The fucking world ended. Everyone's mother is dead, you pussy. Besides… we're on our way to talk to the people who cut your mom's head off... have some motherfucking perspective." I yank him by the strap of his backpack. "Come on. We're burning daylight."
This kid, right here in the middle of fucksville, has a goddamn mental breakdown.
I seize the perfect opportunity. "Ah, shit, kid. I'm sorry. I can be pretty fucking insensitive sometimes. Especially if I really don't like you. Come here."
He snivels into my jacket. "Whisperers killed my mom… Rick killed my dad. I hate them all. I want them to kill each other. I want them all dead."
"That's the plan, kid. That's the plan." I lean in close to him, unsheathing my knife. "Or rather…" One quick stab to the chest to end it all. "That was your plan." I fucking hate cowardice people.
...
"Fuck you, sun! Don't grab a fucking sleeping bag or anything, Brandon. I'll be fine sleeping in the open, Brandon. So glad I stabbed you, you fucking shit ball." I look over my shoulder when I hear rustling. That ain't the undead. "Come out from wherever you're hiding, and let's look at each other so you can see my big fucking knife and I can see whatever you've got… so we can see how fucking interesting this is going to be." It ends up being several… people? The fuck? "Okay, you have knives, too. That's cool." Oh. These are those Whisperer fucks Rick said killed a fuckload of fucking people. "Wow. You guys are scary as fuck. If it were a little darker and I couldn't see your fucking people mouths through the skin masks, I'd never be able to tell you apart from the dead ones. Crazy." It's a little fucking unnerving actually. "How do you guys keep from accidentally stabbing each other? Or shit… do you guys just fucking push a dude in the bushes and say, 'Oh, he was already dead,' and move on? Be honest, that's happened at least once, right? Don't fucking fuck with me."
"You know what we are?"
"I have eyes… so fuck yes I know what you are. People wearing skin suits to mask themselves from the dead. Or is this like a fucking looney tunes thing and there's another zipper under the human skin and you're dogs inside? Are you guys like living Russian nesting dolls?"
"Why did you come here?"
"You say that like this burnt out street is something fucking special. I came 'here' to get to 'there.' Do I have any fucking clue what there is? Hell the fuck to the fuck no. I'm just trying to live in a world of the dead. This skin thing works? I could get into that."
"You were not sent here?"
Jesus. That voice. "Huh? Sent?" I've never looked up to anyone, but this motherfucker towers over me like I'm a goddamn joke. "Holy shit! You're a scary fuck, aren't you?! Jesus, shit. You're a mean looking fucker. What's your name, big guy?"
"We don't have names. I am called Beta."
"That's a fucking name. A stupid one… but it still counts."
"You are not amusing. You are too loud. This is not a world for the loud anymore. You need to be silenced."
"Is that a fucking threat?! I'm not a fucking idiot. I can fucking count and I count ten of you. The rest are undead fucks, and while I appreciate you holding those stupid fucks at bay, I'd bet my handsomest nut only two of you can actually fight. I'm not going to win a full-blown fight, especially with you Frowny Mctwoknives jumping in. But I'm goddamn motherfucking sure as fucking fuck that I'll kill at least three of you smelly piss bowls before you get me. Maybe I only get a good stab in a few of you-" I try to take in a deep breath, but I'm only able to after he removes his knife from my gut. "Fuc- y-" I drop to my knees, cradling my stomach. "Shit!" I wanted to have one of those bad ass stories. Like, 'Oh this motherfucker shoved his guts into his pocket and carried on his merry fucking way,' but the only thing I can do is lie there on the scorching pavement, bleeding out like some bitch complete with menstrual cramps. Didn't even get to say something cool before I- "Hnng-"
I groan, trying to lift my arm to push away the person disturbing my sleep. The room starts to fill with light. Oh, shit, fuck is this that light they're always talking about? I know I'm dead when I hear the sweetest voice.
"Wake up, you dumb cunt!" Her slate eyes well up with tears. When the tips of her fingers brush against my cheek, I know this is real.
"Grey," I choke, grabbing her by the nape and pulling her against me.
