Bitter Murmur | Abby Anderson x Male Reader

Chapter 11

Since the guard fell asleep, she unlocked the cell door, the metal groaning in protest. Y/N stepped out, his eyes never leaving hers. The whispers grew louder in his mind, a cacophony of fear and anticipation. He knew this was their chance, their only hope for a future together.

They moved quickly, weaving through the sleepy camp. The early morning light painted the world in shades of grey, the shadows hiding them as they slipped away from the prying eyes of the WLF. Each step felt like a silent declaration of rebellion, a promise of a life beyond the confines of fear and prejudice.

The whispers grew quieter as they put distance between themselves and the cell block, as if the dead understood the gravity of their situation. The camp was coming to life, the smell of cooking fires and the clang of metal on metal a stark reminder of the reality they were escaping.

"This way," Abby whispered, leading Y/N through a maze of tents and shipping containers. They stuck to the shadows, their footsteps silent on the packed earth. The whispers grew faint, the dead distracted by the bustle of the waking camp.

They reached the supply room, where Abby had hidden their gear. She tossed him a backpack, the weight of it feeling like a lifeline. "Take this," she murmured, her eyes searching his. "We're going to need it."

Y/N caught the bag, the weight reassuring. He knew she had packed it with care, with everything they would need to survive outside the relative safety of the camp. He slung it over his shoulder, his movements swift and practiced. They were both soldiers, accustomed to the rhythms of escape and evasion.

They didn't speak as they moved through the shadows, the whispers of the dead guiding their steps. The camp was coming alive now, soldiers stretching and yawning, the smell of breakfast wafting through the air. They had to be careful, their every movement a silent dance of life and death.

But as they approached the supply room, the whispers grew louder, more insistent. Y/N's head snapped up, his eyes scanning the horizon. "We're not alone," he murmured, his voice taut with tension.

Abby's grip tightened on her rifle, her senses on high alert. She saw it then, a figure lurking in the shadows between the containers. A WLF scout, alerted by the whispers of their escape. "We've been discovered," she breathed, her voice a warning.

Y/N's eyes narrowed as the figure took a step towards them, his hand dropping to the knife at his side. "Take cover," he murmured, his voice low and deadly. The whisperer's world had always been one of constant vigilance, and his instincts had honed his reflexes to a razor's edge.

Abby nodded, her eyes darting around for an advantage. The supply room was a maze of crates and barrels, perfect for an ambush. She took a deep breath and stepped back, her muscles coiled like a spring. The scout emerged from the shadows, his gun raised, his eyes wary.

"You can't leave," he said, his voice gruff. "Lilly will want to see you again."

Y/N's eyes met the scout's, his hand tightening around the knife. "We don't have time for this," he murmured, the whispers in his mind growing louder, a warning of the approaching danger.

Without a second thought, the scout lunged at them, his gun firing. The shot echoed through the supply room, the sound deafening in the enclosed space. Y/N felt the heat of the bullet pass by his ear as he dove to the side, his knife slicing through the air. The scout grunted, stumbling back as the blade grazed his arm.

Abby returned fire, her rifle barking in the quiet of the dawn. The bullets tore through the crates and barrels around them, sending splinters and shrapnel flying. The scout ducked behind a stack of supplies, his eyes wild with fear and confusion. Y/N took advantage of the momentary respite to whisper to the dead, his voice a gentle coaxing in the chaos.

The whispers grew in his head, a cacophony of voices that grew clearer, more focused. He could feel the pull of the dead, their hunger a living force that he could manipulate. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the nearest walker shambling towards the scout, its moans echoing through the camp. The scout's eyes widened in horror as the creature stumbled into view, its decayed hands reaching for the living flesh.

Y/N didn't wait for the scout to react, instead he pounced, his knife flashing in the dim light. The scout fired wildly, his shots going wide as the walker closed the distance. The creature's teeth snapped shut on the man's arm, tearing through fabric and flesh. The scout screamed, his gun clattering to the ground.

Abby stepped in, her rifle butt cracking against the scout's skull, silencing his cries. The walker's grip tightened, and the scout's struggles grew weaker until he slumped, lifeless. Y/N whispered to the creature, his voice a strange, soothing lullaby that calmed its hunger. It released the body, its eyes glazed over once more.

They moved swiftly, adrenaline pumping through their veins. The camp was stirring now, the sound of the gunshot spreading like wildfire. They knew they had minutes, if that, before the alarm was raised. The whispers grew louder, the dead converging on the disturbance.

Abby led the way, her eyes scanning the path ahead for any signs of danger. The fence loomed in the distance, a stark reminder of the freedom they sought. Y/N's grip was tight on her arm, his eyes never leaving the shuffling forms that approached from the periphery of the camp.

The whispers grew to a crescendo as they approached the exit, a horde of walkers drawn to the scent of fear and chaos. Y/N took a deep breath, his mind a whirl of strategy and survival instincts. "Stay close," he murmured, his voice a calming balm in the face of the horror.

Abby nodded, her trust in him unwavering. Together, they burst from the shadows. The walkers staggered under the sudden noise, but more kept coming, drawn by the commotion. Y/N focused his whisper, a soft, haunting melody that seemed to slice through the air. The undead stumbled, their movements erratic as they turned away from the escapees and back towards the camp.

Abby and Y/N didn't pause, sprinting towards the fence. The sound of the horde grew fainter as they distanced themselves from the camp, the whispers in Y/N's head guiding their path. His heart hammered in his chest, a mix of exhilaration and fear. This was their one shot at freedom, at a life together beyond the walls of mistrust and prejudice.