forgotten roses (negan)

part 05 - the trip to the pharmacy

I walk through the forest, Buster scampering besides me at my heel. Listening intently for any walker groans, I glance up to see the several places I am to go look for supplies in.

I grab the list Negan had given me, sat in the pocket in which I keep my handgun, Negan's Lucille engraved on the handle.

Several stray walkers hear my boots clicking as I walk and roam towards me, hissing and growling as they do so. Soon, they all lay on the ground, taken down by yours truly.

The first place I am set to loot is a pharmacy. As I step inside, I can already smell the reeking scent of rotting flesh and mold. For safe measures, I tie a bandana around my mouth and nose, in an attempt to free myself of the mold spores that fly about in the air.

With my baseball bat in hand, I begin to crush the brains in of several walkers; some dressed in stained white uniforms and the others clad in everyday attire. I continue to take them out, one by one, until I am alone with Buster.

I hop behind the counter and begin to grab everything, stuffing the medications into a duffel bag.

Oxycontin, Penicillin, Xanax.

I am able to take a considerable amount of what is left of the medication and it weighs down my free arm painfully.

Buster licks my jeans, wagging his tail as to coax me to explore someplace new. Scratching behind his ears, I listen to his call as we head out onto the cracked, whitewashed concrete and into the next store. A grocery store.

I set the duffel bag down on a checkout counter before taking the backpack off of my shoulders in order to start filling it with anything useful I find.

Walkers start to file out from the aisles in groups.

"Sit," I warn Buster, "stay!"

The dog follows my orders, sitting next to the counter while I begin to smash in the heads of the decaying corpses, who fall to the ground as I hit them with my bat.

As I prepare to take down yet another walker, I hand grabs my ankle, pulling me down to the ground.

Shit!

Struggling to escape it's grasp, it begins to crawl on top of me, mouth prepared to bite and rip my flesh off of my bones. I fumble with my pocket, slipping the handgun out and shooting the walker square in the face.

Blood and brain matter splatter about my body, its cold, dead body resting upon my own. I push the body off of me before shooting another walker.

This walker is different, though. It had blonde hair and a small frame, one not unlike my own. I stare intently at it, recognizing myself in the rotting flesh. I think of my inevitable death and what is to come afterwards. As I hear more walkers groaning, I am quick to escape the daze and take them all out.

Buster patters to my side, licking my hair as I sit on the ground with my arms covering my head.

-

"I'm back!" I announce to Negan, Buster collapsing in his basket with obvious exhaustion.

"I had no fucking idea," Negan jokes, walking towards me with a smile. He looks me up and down before licking his thumb and rubbing specks of blood off of my face.

"I'm going to go shower," I reply, "if you don't mind."

"Oh, I don't fucking mind, Luce. When you're done we're heading over to the Oceanside to kill all of their men."

"Why?" I ask, grabbing a fresh pair of clothes from my drawer and placing them on the bathroom counter.

"Why? Luce, they ransacked our post. That is un-fucking-acceptable."

"Oh," I reply, beginning to undress, "alright. I'll be out in five minutes."

"See you then," Negan replies with a quick kiss on my neck. He turns on his heels and leaves me to shower, whistling a tune as he does so. I am quick to close the door and undress, turning on the water and hopping into the shower.

The water is warm, quickly turning my pale skin pink. I begin to wash my hair, making sure to erase all evidence of today's raid. I watch the dried blood seep down the drain; some of it goes down in clumps, and the rest goes down with the falling water.

➹ flashback ➹

"Bye, Lucille!" Heather exclaims, hugging me tightly and shaking me.

I'm to go on a business trip to Virginia to examine and treat some man's pet tiger with alleged Feline Calicivirus. I'd never treated tigers before; the biggest animal I'd treated was a giraffe, which are known to be more docile than tigers, especially captive tigers.

Heather. Heather was my best friend. She was taller than I was, with pin straight black hair and pale skin. Her eyes were a striking green and she was never seen without her signature look of pinup makeup, including red lipstick and an exaggerated wing of black eyeliner. She smelled of pine and lavender, a concoction of heavenly delight. In short, she was gorgeous; her smile could light up an entire room.

"Heather, before I go! Here's a picture of the tiger. His name is Desmond," I giggled.

"That's one kitty I don't want you to bring home," she grinned, pulling me into another hug.

"I'll see you on Wednesday!" I chirped as she let me go.

"See you later, Reid!"

And with that, I was off.

-

If I had any idea that the world would turn to shit in the blink of an eye, I would have never left her. Tears start to wet my cheeks as I brush my dampened hair, throwing it up into a ponytail. I tie a red bandana on my head and wipe my eyes.

What if she's still out there?

My thinking session is cut short by Negan yelling, "Lucy! Hurry the fuck up, please!"

I sigh sadly and walk out from the bathroom, baseball bat in hand.

"Thank you," Negan says slyly, "let's go!"

He takes my hand and we walk to his truck together, Buster trailing happily at my heels.

What if she's still alive?