Fear and Desperation
Chapter 4
Abigail was thoroughly screwed, and she knew it.
She'd barely managed a wink of sleep that night after tending to the woman's injured foot; the sheer gravity of what she'd done, and what could very well happen, weighed heavily on her mind. While it may have been the right thing to do at the time, it would certainly cost her dearly.
What would Negan do with her once he found out? He was definitely the type who didn't take defiance lightly, but would he really kill someone who inadvertently disobeyed the system that he'd put in place?
If she tried to reason with herself, Abigail knew that she hadn't done anything wrong. Technically, she could sign the supplies out under her own name, thus costing her own points, and use them how she saw fit – which was to heal someone else. Did it really matter what she did with the supplies once they were bought with her own points?
Abigail hauled herself up into a sitting position and ran her hand through her hair, ignoring the knots and letting her hand move to give a fierce rub to the back of her neck. From her spot on the floor, she could hear Sherry's soft, steady breaths breaking the otherwise silence. The sun was beginning to rise, the weather already promising to be warm, but she guessed that she still had a good forty minutes before everyone else would rise for the day, and still another hour before breakfast would be served.
A part of her really didn't want to go outside today, but she was due to practise at the munitions yard, as all new recruits were; as well as attend to her stint at the laundry house while simultaneously on standby for Dr. Carson. If she didn't show up to anything, they'd most likely come looking for her, and if she didn't need to earn points to live, Abigail would stay inside all day and spend her time with Sherry, or secretly plot her escape.
She sighed again. Abigail had been here just over a week and she still hadn't the faintest idea of how to escape, let alone where to even begin. This place kept her busy – a little too busy, in fact – and finding a way to thoroughly scout the area, and to steal and hide supplies would prove much more difficult than she'd originally anticipated. This community was much smarter than she gave them credit for.
But trying to plan an escape while simultaneously attempting to prove herself as a worthy asset was another ball-game altogether. If she ended up getting close to Negan – that is, if she still could, given what she'd just done – then it would be a challenge to keep him distracted.
But would it really be so bad to stay? a voice in the back of her head asked. This place is the most populated one you've been to thus far – not to mention they grow their own food and have running water. You could just apologize and do the right thing and work to earn your keep.
Abigail grimaced. The small voice was right – to an extent.
Despite the way she'd been brought here, she'd be a fool not to see how safe and secure this place was. There was no running, no hiding, no need to sleep with one eye open and watching out for the undead at every turn. Not only did the people in this place survive, they thrived.
And as much as she hated to admit it, Abigail felt more relaxed here than she'd ever felt since the world turned.
But the only thing stopping her from getting comfortable was Negan.
Granted, he was a terrifying man, and possibly a little unstable, but she couldn't help but notice the way the men hung on his every word, obeyed his every command without so much as a blink of hesitation. It may not be perfect, but it was as close to normal as one could get nowadays.
"So, what made you decide to become a doctor?"
Abigail looked up from her tray of food. Tom sat opposite her, left cheek puffed from the food he hadn't swallowed yet. They'd spent nearly every day together since their meeting at the munitions yard just over a week ago, and Abigail had grown quite fond of him, and his presence made her feel comfortable enough to let her guard slip just a little bit. He was funny, a little cheeky, but still had a good heart – a rarity in these times. He chewed once, twice, waiting.
"Just wanted to help people," she answered vaguely, shrugging.
He laughed. "Bullshit," he scoffed. "No one ever does anything to help people out of the goodness of their hearts. Come on, tell me."
Abigail rolled her eyes. "Fine. It was for the money, cars, and beautiful women," she snickered, flicking a piece of food at his shirt. "Happy now?"
His smile grew wider, if it were even possible. "I knew it!" he exclaimed. "But seriously, how'd you manage to become a doctor at twenty-five?"
Abigail laughed. "Technically, I'm not a qualified doctor. But I did advance through university and managed to skip a few years." She sighed. "The world turned a week before my last medical licence exam, though."
Tom winced. "Ouch. That sucks."
"Missed it by that much," she agreed.
They continued to eat their meal in a companionable silence, only speaking to comment on various topics and poking fun at one another. He was a fun guy, Abigail thought, but she couldn't shake the feeling that, well, he may have some sort of feelings toward her. However, it had been a while since she'd genuinely laughed and talked with a man, and she could just be misinterpreting his polite behaviour.
Tom was in the middle of telling a story, when his gaze shifted and his smile suddenly faltered. The din of the mess hall had also quietened, and Abigail's heart skipped a beat. She didn't have to turn around to see just who had walked through the door.
Those calculated footsteps were getting closer, each deliberate step sending a jolt of fear through her veins; the knot of dread from earlier this morning returning and wringing itself in her gut.
Calm down, she told herself. There are people all around you – he can't possibly do anything to you here.
Abigail heard some men acknowledge their leader by his name, others by the word 'boss'.
…Unless he calls you away.
Biting the inside of her cheek, Abigail adjusted her posture and tried not to be bothered by the man who came to stand beside her table. She looked to Tom, but his gaze was lowered to his tray.
"And how are our lovebirds doing this fine day?" he crowed in amusement, letting Lucille drop to his side. "Planning the wedding yet?"
Tom laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. "No, sir."
Abigail hated the way Tom immediately went into submission mode.
Negan let out a low chuckle. "Too bad. She's a fine piece of work, boy."
The underlying tone wasn't lost on her. Abigail looked up to meet Negan's gaze, schooling her features into one of indifference. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of making both Tom and herself squirm. She would obey, but she wouldn't squirm.
Negan's tongue darted out to give his bottom lip the faintest of licks. "Heard you're quite the shot now, sweetheart."
Abigail nodded. "Tom has been a great help," she said, desperate to shift the topic of conversation.
"Is that so?" he said, sparing a glance at Tom, who damn near blushed like a schoolgirl. "Hell, keep it up and you'll be going on your first run yet."
Tom practically beamed.
Negan then looked to her once more, sparing her a wink as he turned on his heel to leave. She watched as he swung Lucille back onto his shoulder and exit the mess hall.
Abigail whipped around to face Tom.
"Why are you so keen on pleasing him?"
Tom blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"You heard me," she insisted. "Why?"
Tom sighed. "Negan picked me up not too long ago," he explained. "I was on my own, nothing to my name. I had a gun with one bullet left when they found me. He took me in, promised to give my life purpose if I agreed to work for him. I just…" he hesitated, and Abigail softened her scrutinizing stare.
Tom looked to her, a flicker of sadness in his eyes. "I just want to feel useful again, you know? And if that means pleasing a man like Negan, then so be it."
"I heard what you did last night."
Abigail grimaced as she exited the bathroom, but didn't respond.
"You shouldn't have done that," Sherry continued. "I know you wanted to help that woman, Abby, but there are rules, and—"
"—don't you think I know that?" Abigail snapped, throwing the towel to the floor. Sherry didn't flinch, and she sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I just…"
Abigail let out a frustrated groan, flopping down onto the bed beside her roommate and throwing her arm over her face. Her earlier interaction with Negan had left a horrible taste in her mouth, and she'd been on edge ever since. Sherry placed a comforting hand on her arm.
"I'm sorry," Abigail said again. "I just couldn't stand by and let that poor woman suffer. I'm a doctor, for fuck's sake. What was I supposed to do?"
"Nothing you weren't expected to do," Sherry said, giving her arm a rub. "But you broke the rules, and he will come for you."
"You're not helping," Abigail groaned pitifully.
Sherry giggled, despite herself. "I'm just telling the truth." Her voice then sobered. "But you need to be careful, Abby," she warned. "Negan doesn't tolerate a lot of things, especially rule breaking."
Abigail removed her arm from her face and looked at Sherry. "What do I do, Sherry?"
Her friend sighed. "I don't know, but I'll be here for you, whatever he does."
"You okay?" Tom asked, placing a hand on her shoulder as they walked toward the munition area, passing the trucks and vans that were busy being loaded with bags, guns, and men. Abigail spotted Negan nearby, supervising the load.
She shrugged his hand away and kept walking. "I'm fine, just tired."
Tom pursed his lips. "Are you su—?"
Abigail whirled around. "I said I'm fine, Tom."
The hurt that flashed across his features made her gut squirm with guilt, and Abigail sighed, reaching a hand out to him. "Tom, I—"
Her apology was interrupted by Simon, who startled them both.
"Hey, kid," he said, jutting his chin out to her. "Pack your shit, we leave in ten."
Abigail's mouth fell agape as Simon walked off.
They want me? On a run?
At that thought, she turned to Tom. His initial concern for her had morphed into a look of pure betrayal as he shook his head in disgust and turned on his heel to leave.
"Tom!" she called after him. "Hey – wait!"
But he ignored her, and disappeared into the throng of people that bustled by, leaving her feeling guilty and helpless. Through the crowd, her eyes briefly locked with Negan's, and a smirk peeled across his lips.
With a sigh, she headed back for her room, anger fuelling her every step as she entered through the double doors and bounded up the stairs.
That bastard! He knows how much Tom wants this, she thought hotly, grabbing the nearest bag and shoving whatever she could find into it, anger growing as she realized that Negan had directed that comment to him earlier on purpose.
As she shoved a change of clothes into the bag, that feeling of dread crept up on her once more, stilling her movements.
He's done this on purpose, she realized with quiet horror, sitting back on her haunches. He's caused a rift in my friendship with Tom, and now he's taking me away where Sherry won't be able to get to me if I need her.
If Abigail hadn't regretted her actions from the night before, then she sure as Hell did now. There's no telling what he could possibly have planned, and that frightened her. Her aim was still in need of improvement, and she hadn't had much experience in scavenging for supplies; being a doctor meant you stayed behind a lot of the time.
This could only mean one thing, and whatever it was, it wasn't going to be pleasant.
Briefly, she considered leaving a note for Sherry, but time was ticking. She'd already fucked up once, and she didn't need another strike on her record.
Hoping that Sherry would quickly realize what was going on, Abigail placed a few more things into the bag and headed out the door.
Men had finished loading supplies into the truck when she exited the building, and were beginning to hop into the vehicles one by one. Keeping her head held high, she headed over to where Negan and his men stood, eyes defiant as she slung the pack over her shoulder, her grip on the strap so tight that he fingernails dug into her palm.
Giving her a once over, Negan inclined his head to a nearby van.
"You're with me," he said, turning on his heel.
Reluctantly, Abigail followed, heart hammering in her chest as he climbed into the driver's side. With one last, longing glance behind her, she sighed and reached for the handle.
Abigail removed her pack and placed it on her lap as she closed the door. Lucille was immediately in front of her. She looked to Negan, despite herself.
"Hold this."
Carefully, she slid her pack to the floor, and Lucille was gently placed in her lap. The engine then started up with a roar, and Abigail watched as the gate opened, ignoring the barbed wire poking through the fabric of her pants.
They exited the compound, Negan deftly moving the vehicle through the gates and onto the beaten path that eventually lead to a paved road. Two trucks moved in front of them, followed by two other vans behind them. The knot of dread only grew as the Sanctuary quickly faded into the distance.
After driving for ten minutes, Negan hadn't said a word.
And Abigail felt suffocated under the weight of his presence.
Were it not for the thrumming of the engine and the crackling of the radio he had strapped to his belt, she was sure that she would have gone insane. She kept her arms crossed tightly across her chest, high enough so that she wouldn't have to touch Lucille.
The bat felt like a thousand pounds on her lap. Every jolt, every turn, and Lucille only poked her harder, as if daring her to touch her. But she refused.
Another eight minutes passed, Abigail's eyes trained on the analogue clock on the middle of the dashboard. She could feel Negan staring at her.
"Shit, sweetheart," he said. "Lighten up. Lucille won't bite."
Releasing a breath she hadn't even realized she was holding, Abigail slowly let one hand come to rest on her handle, flinching at the surprising smoothness of her coat that contrasted with the ugly barbed wire wrapped around her head. Carefully, she curled her fingers around the handle.
Negan chuckled. "Pretty, ain't she?"
Abigail didn't respond.
Silence came over the van once more. Sparing another glance down at her lap, Abigail's stomach churned uncomfortably. Lucille lay there, taunting her.
Breathing out a shaky sigh, Abigail released her grip and folded her arms over her chest. She spared a quick side glance at Negan, whose gaze was fixed onto the road in front of him, one hand loosely gripping the steering wheel while the other rested on the gear stick.
Suddenly, the car began to slow down. Looking around, Abigail realized that they'd come to a stop in front of a row of abandoned houses. A large tree stood proudly in the front yard of the closest house, casting a deep shadow over the street.
The engine was shut off, and Abigail flinched as Negan carefully removed Lucille from her lap and exited the van. Reaching for her pack, she followed suit, slinging it over her shoulder as her feet met the ground.
"All right, gentlemen!" Negan announced, earning the attention of his men. "Standard procedure; clear and search."
They all nodded, beginning to make their way around, and Abigail began to make her way to the first house.
"Abigail."
She stopped and turned. Negan was waiting expectantly, Lucille on his shoulder. He stepped forward, reaching into the back of his pants and held out a gun, and pointed his beloved weapon in the direction of the backyard of the nearest house. "Front and centre. Now move."
Adjusting her pack, she took the gun from his hand and began to walk, the hair standing up on the back of her neck as she heard his footsteps behind her.
The usual warm hand of the sun was a harsh slap on her back as they walked in silence, Negan following closely behind. Abigail's heart was racing, adrenaline beginning to thrum through her veins; being around Negan tended to have that effect on her. Dutifully, she ignored him and tried to keep an eye out for the undead, eyes moving left and right, ears straining to hear for any sudden movements. While she may have not had much experience going on scavenging runs, she had been on her own long enough to know what sounds and movements to look for.
She swallowed thickly, finger dancing over the trigger.
You could do it, you know, that small voice in the back of her head whispered. You could turn around right now, put a bullet between his eyes and make a run for the truck.
It was too easy, the more rational part of her mind quickly concluded before she could entertain the thought any further. Even though they were very much alone at the moment, with the other men scouting the rest of the houses down the street, it would be an incredibly stupid move. Negan would overpower her in the blink of an eye, even if she did manage to put a bullet in him first. Plus, the sound of a gunshot would most likely draw out the undead.
As they entered the backyard, she spotted a shed in the far back corner.
Abigail stopped and turned to look at Negan, who only acknowledged her silent question with a slight nod of his head. Keeping the gun raised, Abigail moved carefully, cursing as she nearly tripped over a rock.
Crack!
Suddenly, Abigail fell forward, white-hot pain exploding up the side of her leg. She landed hard on her elbows but quickly rolled to her side to clutch at her leg, cursing and howling in pain, eyes wrenched shut.
Through the pain, she opened her eyes to see Negan standing over her, gun pointed directly between her eyes.
I apologize for the lack of Negan in the previous chapter. This story is from my OC's point of view, after all, and so it's understood that she obviously won't be with him at every second of the day unless something happened that made it that way. However, I can promise you a lot more Negan from now on!
As always, let me know what you guys think!