Fear and Desperation
Chapter 8
For the next five days while Tom was recovering in the infirmary, Abigail spent most of her time with him and assisting in his rehabilitation, to which he'd made excellent progress. It was a nice change of pace from her days of counting and sorting, and he had even offered to help her with the new patient record system. She'd politely refused him the first time – simply because he had to rest and recover – but had eventually agreed to let him help, and soon they'd both managed to re-write nearly two-thirds of the Sanctuary's entire population records together by the end of his third day.
On the fourth day, Abigail had brought a deck of playing cards that she'd borrowed from Sherry, and the two were now enjoying a playfully competitive game of poker.
"That's it, I give up!" Tom exclaimed, tossing his cards onto the portable bed-side table and sinking lower into the cot while folding his arms over his chest. "How you manage to win every single time is just ridiculous!"
Abigail smirked. "Don't hate the player, hate the game," she chided smugly as she swiftly collected the scattered cards and began shuffling them once more.
Tom shot her a flat look. "Come off it," he scoffed. "You've won every hand you've dealt, and just when I think I've got the upper hand, you—"
He stopped mid speech as he saw Abigail's grin grow wider and wider, and realization dawned upon him as he finally saw the sparkle of deceit in her dark brown eyes.
"You've been cheating!" Tom exclaimed scandalously after a brief pause, scrambling to sit up straight. Abigail was already laughing at his misfortune, tossing her head back with glee as the confusion in his eyes had given way to clarity.
"It took you this long to notice?"
"I didn't think you would cheat!" he spluttered indignantly, looking almost offended. "I didn't know you could cheat!"
Abigail laughed again as she finished shuffling the cards. "Well, cheating in poker is considerably frowned upon, and not to mention illegal in every casino."
Tom shook his head. "No, I meant you," he said with an honest chuckle. "Since when do you know how to do that?"
Abigail watched as genuine curiosity had since overtaken the shock realization of her questionable actions, and he shuffled closer to the edge of the bed, clearly eager to learn of how she managed to accomplish such a feat without being caught out. His blue eyes twinkled excitedly, and she smiled.
"A magician never reveals her secrets," she said with a wink, relishing in the impatient half-groan, half-laugh coming from Tom as he fell back onto the bed.
"Aw, come on," he whined, sitting back up, hands in his lap. "You gotta show me how you do it!"
Abigail playfully rolled her eyes in an exaggerating manner before shuffling her chair closer to the edge of his bed. She then grabbed the deck and began shuffling; first at a regular pace, and then a little faster. She then cut the cards once, twice, and then three times – all different ways; sometimes in half, other times in thirds. The entire process only took about twenty seconds at the most, and once she was done, Abigail placed the deck face down on the table in front of him and waited expectantly.
Tom just blinked and looked up at her.
"Take the first card from the top," she instructed, trying hard not to smile too widely.
Doing as he was told, Tom reached forward, picked up the top card and placed it face up on the table next to the deck – the ace of hearts.
Tom looked up at her again, playful scepticism in his eyes. Abigail laughed and motioned for him to take the next card. He did, and placed it face down next to the first card, which turned out to be the ace of clubs.
Again, Tom looked up at her, but this time, he'd caught on to what she'd done. Without having to be told a third time, he hastily grabbed the next two cards and placed it next to the first two, revealing the entire suit of aces.
"No fucking way," he said disbelievingly with a chuckle. "There's no way you did that on purpose."
Abigail laughed incredulously. "You don't believe me?"
"I think you're full of shit," he sneered playfully, screwing his nose up.
Leaning back in her chair and folding her arms over her chest, Abigail took on an air of arrogance and wordlessly motioned for him to repeat her instructions with a smug jut of her chin.
Tom comically raised an eyebrow, and reluctantly took the next card from the top. It was the king of hearts, and he looked just as unimpressed as before, but nonetheless continued. The next was the king of clubs, followed by the king of diamonds and king of spades.
"Lucky shuffle," he commented with a smirk as he tossed the last king onto the table.
"Just keep going, you'll see," she said in a sing-song voice.
Tom narrowed his eyes at her, and Abigail's smile grew wider and his completely fell from his face.
"There's no way."
Abigail let out a sharp laugh as Tom quickly reached forward and grabbed the deck, and began taking the top card and hastily slapping it face up onto the table, one after the other. The next suit revealed was the queens, then the jacks, then the tens, and so on and so forth until he had eventually made his way through the entire deck, revealing both to her and himself that Abigail had managed to shuffle the deck to successfully revert it back to its original order, including order of suit.
After tossing the very last card, the two of spades, onto the table, Abigail watched as Tom sat back in utter disbelief.
"Holy shit," he said after a moment, free hand coming to his forehead. "Holy fucking shit."
"I know, right?" she giggled, reaching over to collect the mess of cards and lazily shuffle them back together as Tom watched on.
"How did you do that?"
"Practise," she chuckled. "And lots of it."
A playful smirk twisted itself onto his lips as his eyes met hers. "That's seriously so cool though! Can you do any magic tricks?"
"Thought you'd never ask," she said as she gave the deck another two cuts and a shuffle before fanning out the deck before him. "Pick a card."
Tom rolled his eyes. "This is the oldest trick in the book," he commented smartly. "I know how it's done; everyone does."
"Ah, while that may be true, you haven't seen how I do it," she said mysteriously before jutting her chin at him. "Go on, pick one."
With another roll of his eyes, Tom picked a random card from the deck and brought it close to his chest – so close, in fact, that he almost went cross-eyed as he looked at it. He stared at it for a moment before looking up at her and pulling the card even closer, if it were possible.
Now it was Abigail's turn to roll her eyes. "Just memorise it and put it back in," she quipped, motioning impatiently with the fanned deck in her hands.
Tom gave the card another once over before sliding it back in the deck, different to where he had first picked it from. Abigail then closed the deck and began shuffling meticulously; cut, then shuffle, two more cuts, bottom to top shuffle, another cut, then top to bottom shuffle, and so on. She continued this process for another minute before breaking the deck in two. And then, with a swift flick of her wrists, the deck disappeared.
It took a second for Tom to realize what had just happened, and he suddenly leaned forward with an audible gasp, hands coming to grab at her wrists.
"No way!" he cried in disbelief, turning her wrists over in his hands before looking up at her. "How did you do that?"
Abigail laughed and reached her left hand behind his ear. With a flick, a single card appeared in her fingers and she brought it into his line of vision.
"Is this your card?"
Tom's eyes went even wider before he snatched the card from her hand. "What the fuck, how did you—wait, where's the deck?"
Sitting back in her chair, Abigail brought her hands in front of her and, just as before, with a swift flick of her wrists, each half of the deck reappeared in her hands. She then fanned the deck again and motioned for him to pick another one.
He did so, and took a quick look at the card before excitedly placing it back within the deck. Abigail then shuffled it three times before pulling the top card and showing it to him.
Tom's excited smile fell. "That's not my card."
Abigail blinked, and then turned the card so it was facing her. "Oh, hang on a sec," she said before giving the card a sharp flick with her fingers. In the blink of an eye, the card instantly changed suit to the correct one.
"Is that better?" she asked with a smirk.
"Holy fuck," he said with a laugh. "That's some serious shit right there," he laughed again, reaching forward to pluck the card from her fingers.
"Like I said, practise," she replied, shuffling the deck lazily. "And lots of it."
Tom adjusted his position in the bed. "When the hell did you decide to learn all of that?"
"I actually started doing that just a few years ago," she answered.
Tom blanched. "Just a few?" He then let out a low, appreciative whistle. "If I was wearing a hat, Abby, I would take it off to you."
Abigail snickered. "I'll be sure to buy you a hat for next time," she winked.
Tom chuckled in return as he settled back into bed with a quiet groan. "So, why card tricks? What made you decide one day that, 'hey, I'm gonna learn how to do some kick-ass card tricks'?"
Abigail lazily shuffled the deck of cards as she leaned back in the chair. "Stress, mostly," she explained vaguely.
After a brief pause she looked to Tom, who was patiently waiting for her to elaborate. She sighed and placed the cards on the table.
"It was just something I did to help me focus, that's all," she said.
"Does it help?" he asked.
She nodded. "I suppose it does. Got me through med school with my mind still partially intact," she joked.
Tom smiled at her. "Still, that's impressive. So what kind of doctor did you want to be? You know, before all this," he said, his hands gesturing vaguely to everything around them.
"Cardiologist," she said with a hint of pride. "I'd always wanted to be a heart surgeon."
"You ever operated on anyone?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Not on my own, though I did assist on both minor and major surgeries during my student placement. Cut a few things here, sew up the incision – that sort of thing."
Tom shuddered. "Gross. I could never cut someone open, just feels so…" He then made a face and Abigail laughed.
"I'll remember that the next time you get shot," Abigail quipped as she stood and walked over to the sink to grab herself a cup of water.
"Ha-ha," Tom shot back dryly from behind her. "Then who would play poker with you when I'm gone?"
"I'm sure I'll find someone," she smirked as she brought the cup to her lips but falling just shy as the door to the infirmary suddenly opened and Dr. Carson entered the room.
"There's a public address in ten minutes," he explained, eyes moving between them before pausing on Abigail. "Don't be late."
And as quickly as he had appeared, Dr. Carson left the room, and a knot of dread filled the pits of Abigail's stomach – the same unmistakable knot she got every single time anyone mentioned the man in charge. In fact, just a glimpse of that black hair and even blacker-than-black leather jacket caused her stomach to work itself into cold knots.
Not only would she have to be in the same room as him, a public address meant that she had to kneel.
The knot in her stomach now morphed into one of disgust as the memory of her first time kneeling for him replayed in her mind, the memory still so fresh that it made her feel physically sick.
It occurred shortly after she'd returned from being left for dead; she'd been on her way to the mess hall for lunch that day when she spotted him walking in her general direction. By this time, she had yet to cross his path, and so when the people around her began to drop to the ground without so much as a beat of hesitation, Abigail stood there in quiet horror as he came closer, his gaze now fixed firmly on her.
Physically rooted to the spot, Abigail was positively frozen and unable to move, despite the voice in her head screaming at her to do something, but it was to no avail; the fight or flight sensation was setting her nerves ablaze, and before she could make a move, Negan was standing directly in front of her.
All time seemed to come to a devastating standstill; not a single leaf dared to cross their path, and she swore that she heard a few of other Saviours hold their breaths as they witnessed, perhaps for the first time, someone who was apparently refusing to kneel.
Negan's gaze was damn near crushing as Abigail continued to hold his gaze for what seemed like minutes wherein it was only mere seconds. But she refused to cower, despite the fear that made her blood run cold.
…When I say get on your knees, you'd better do it with some god damned enthusiasm…
His harsh words from their brief encounter in the infirmary rang loudly in her head until it was a harsh screech that made her ears ring shrilly. Abigail was determined to not let him win, though when the mirth faded from his eyes and was replaced by that same coldness she'd witness during their encounter in the garden shed all those weeks ago, she felt her resolve begin to crumble; and it was only when Negan spoke did she then resign herself.
"Do not make me have to ask."
And so, biting back the bile that threatened to rise from her stomach, Abigail slowly crouched to the ground, her fingers digging into the dirt, eyes watering and chin trembling in both fear and rage – fear of what he might do to her if she refused, and rage in how easily she allowed herself to succumb to the pressure – again.
Abigail kept her eyes firmly planted on the dirt beneath his boots as he finally appeared to be satisfied.
"Atta girl."
The thought of having to kneel again made Abigail's gut churn uncomfortably, but she knew that there was no other choice – she had to. Disgust rose like bile in her throat as she and Tom left the infirmary and headed towards the main hall, but she kept her chin high and bit it back.
If she were to kneel, then so be it. As much as she hated doing it, if she were to survive in this place, she had to keep on following the rules, and hopefully that would keep her out of Negan's path.
Negan, now that she thought of it, had still kept his distance since then – much to her relief – yet despite this, Abigail couldn't shake the inexplicable feeling that time was running out. Call it instinct, call it paranoia; call it what you will, but Abigail was convinced that something – or someone – was coming for her.
There was no denying the thrill that came with exercising power; whether it be over people or territory, Negan thoroughly and selfishly relished in every second of it. The feeling was reminiscent of warm honey trickling down your spine and ending with a cool shiver in the depths of your lower gut – if he were to wax poetic about it. But Negan wasn't the type to do such a ridiculous thing, so if he were to be his usually crass self about it, he would say that the rush made his balls tingle.
And he loved that feeling.
Today, for example, would be one of those days. Two nights ago he'd come to the decision to start expanding their territory beyond their current borders after much consideration about their position on the proverbial chess board; his men were strong, well-armed, and more than capable enough to handle anything that they might come across in their new travels.
It wasn't a decision he'd come to lightly, however; Negan had considered expanding for the last two months after a particularly spectacular weapons and ammunitions haul, but had to first expand his people and distribute both them, the supplies and ammunition accordingly. More territory meant that more men and women were required to cement his claim on the newly acquired land, and the subsequent task of assigning those people to scout the new territory and guard the new outposts wasn't a decision he would make lightly, either.
Pen in hand, Negan had spent the better part of the next two days reassigning his people, both within the Sanctuary and at the outposts. Some names were crossed out and shuffled through the old lists while others were added to the new lists labelled Supply Distribution, Scouting Team C-1 and New Outpost before rearranging and condensing the delivery of supplies and placement of weapons in order to distribute them to the new outpost once a suitable location was decided. After that was done, he'd handed the initial draft to Simon, who later suggested that they run it by the other lieutenants before making the changes absolute.
The latter thankfully took a small portion of the afternoon, and so by approximately three-thirty that day, Negan had ordered Simon to call for a public address in the Sanctuary's main hall at three-forty-five and not a minute later. Another cool rush churned in his lower gut as Negan watched as the people – his people – crowd together on the ground floor, talking animatedly with one another; some appeared fearful while others seemed excited for what their leader was about to address to them.
And as Negan neared the edge of the railing and watched as the room fell silent, each person slowly taking a knee to the ground, that same feeling was amplified as his eyes suddenly locked with a particular set of dark ones that were framed by a head of equally dark brown hair. This was only the second time he'd seen Abigail kneel since she had arrived at the Sanctuary and he let his smirk grow wider at her obvious discomfort and the small lick of defiance that she still dared to show him, yet it was only a sliver compared to the hatred in her eyes the first time she was ordered to kneel.
Negan greedily let his eyes roam over the sea of kneeling bodies before tapping Lucille's head against the steel walkway with a single, sharp crack, signalling for them all to stand. One by one they all stood, eagerly awaiting the words he was about to speak.
"Our prosperity," he began in a loud voice that thrummed throughout the entire hall, "has known no bounds these past few months. We have fought to earn what is ours, and although those achievements are not without loss, we have thrived in a world that is not meant for us anymore."
A chorus of soft agreement hummed around him before he held up his hand, effectively gaining silence once more.
"This new world is not without sacrifice, and we acknowledge those who we have lost as we took this world back from the dead. Our job as Saviours is to keep the peace, to ensure that we keep this world as our own, and to ensure that one day we thrive not as a community, not as a town, but as a fuckin' city."
A thunderous applause suddenly erupted, and Negan allowed his people to finish of their own accord before getting to the main point of his speech.
"And in order for that dream to become a reality, I am here to inform you all that we will be expanding our borders as of tomorrow. Those of you involved in weaponry, munitions, scavenging and scouting are to report to your respective lieutenants before dinner as most of you have been permanently reassigned. As for everyone else, tonight's meal is half off!"
Another deafening round of applause echoed throughout the hall and was accompanied by several cheers and cries of joy. Negan then turned on his heel, intent on squeezing in a quick screw before dinner with whoever was up for it – which usually was Tanya or Frankie – though he sincerely hoped for the latter as his mind began replaying images of her tiny yet skilled hands roaming all over his body, bathed in warm oils…
He stifled a groan; four days without the touch of a woman was already wearing him down, though he assured himself that relief was only a short time away as he quickly made his way back to the main compound.
Abigail, currently down in the depths of the still-cheering crowd, stood with her arms crossed over her chest and refused to clap as Negan had departed from the upper level. Tom, on the other hand, was much more enthusiastic; giving a few loud cheers and even a high-five to the guy who had been standing next to him at the time.
"Did you hear that?" Tom suddenly cried out, hand coming to grip her shoulder, blue eyes alight as he smiled at her. "Half-off food!"
Abigail managed a weak smile at Tom's sheer excitement of Negan's offer, and quickly made her way through the crowd as Tom continued to stay celebrate with the others.
The afternoon sun was warm on her back as she exited the hall, grateful to be out of the strangling confines of the crowd and was intent on showering and maybe even a little reading before dinner. But as she walked up the stairs and back to her room, a frown creased over her features.
How… strange, Abigail mused thoughtfully as she reflected on Negan's generous offer – the last person on the planet she would ever consider to be even remotely generous, let alone nice. Negan, as she knew him, was cruel, cold, and heartless – but today, she'd witnessed no such emotion cross his features; instead, she had only seen appreciation, and even a little arrogance, but that was it – because no matter how she looked at it, no matter how much she analysed his words and the expression on his face as he said them, that's just what is was: a nice gesture.
And it left a bad taste in Abigail's mouth. Despite his apparent sincerity, of which she was still very much sceptical of, she still didn't trust him – not by a long shot. However, his people clearly appreciated him and even trusted him to a certain extent, that much she couldn't deny – and while she was thankful that some of her points would live to see another day, it certainly wasn't enough to win her over.
Negan groaned at the sound of a sharp knock at the door. Cracking one eye open, he glanced at the door in annoyance, trying to figure out just who in the hell had enough balls to come knowing during his time with one of his wives. A very naked Frankie was currently on her knees, languidly working both her mouth and hands on the throbbing erection between his legs. She dutifully ignored the knock, much to his delight, but when the knock repeated itself, more insistent than before, Negan sighed gave her a quick tap on the shoulder, signalling for her to stand.
The redhead stood and wiped her mouth with the back of her mouth, looking at Negan expectantly.
"Wait here," he said gruffly, hitching up his pants and rebuckling his belt.
Whoever is on the other side of that door better have a damn good reason for interrupting me.
Lucille in hand, Negan opened the door to see Simon standing on the other side.
"We got a problem."
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, because I actually had a lot of fun writing it – and I'm also surprised at how many words I managed to get out in just two short days! Anyway, what do we all think of Abigail and Tom so far? Do you think Tom is a good buy or a bad guy? Also, first interaction with Negan and a wife! What did you guys think?
Before I leave, can I just say, HOW EFFING HEARTBREAKING THE MID-SEASON FINALE WAS?!
*cries*
Anyway, leave a review with your thoughts and, as always, be kind to one another!