new beginnings

Walking

That next day I was awoken from my sleep by some pounding on the door. I quickly got up and into my chair to answer the door, since Jordan was clad in her underwear and bra. That's how she usually slept, if we were in a warm environment like this. And I was in my boxers, too. So I threw on my shirt and pants as fast as possible. Another series of knocking, and in a few seconds I opened the door to Negan himself.

"Morning," I looked up to him, who had to look down to me. He smiled at me, like something was hilarious. I immediately felt self-conscious, since I guessed it was directed towards me.

"What's so funny?" I asked, kind of serious. He just pointed at my head, which I guessed was my bandage had slipped off or something. "My eye?"

"No, your damn hair. Christ, it looks like you tried to make it all stick up," Negan snickered. I felt my hair, and realized it was sticking up. Probably because I fell asleep with my hat on, and it made it look all weird. I went back and found my hat by a still-sleeping Jordan. Then I went back to him.

"You likin' your new house?" he genuinely asked, crossing his arms. I nodded yes.

"Well, I personally went over here because I gotta show you something. And, just wondering, did you get any last night?" his eyes focused on Jordan, who was covered up in the other room. I didn't know how to respond.

"How fucking scared are you of me? I just want to be friends. Maybe it's because of Lucille that you act like I killed your parents, but seriously, chill out," he said, and I was confused. Something just then felt familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

"Lucille?" I directed my mind to a different question that I was thinking about.

"This is Lucille," he held up the bat for me to see. I thought he was crazy, giving a barbed-wire covered baseball bat a name.

"Oh," I replied, trying to sound enthusiastic.

"Well, anyway, I just wanna show you around more. I couldn't do it with that girl by your side, that'd be embarrassing. I believe we could have a real connection, you and I. Hell, you could be my damn sidekick. You're terrifying as fuck, dude. How the hell old are you?" he asked, and I didn't know if it was sarcastic or not.

"Sixteen," I replied. He appeared to be blown away.

"Holy shit. Damn, if I didn't know better I would of thought you were in your twenties. That makes you even more scary. You kill anyone with that gun?" he nodded towards my pistol, which was by my side. I nodded yes.

"You're cool as fuck. Now, let's go. Hope you don't mind leaving her," he said, and edged outside. I did mind, but I didn't want to resist him, so I followed. I took a chance and just went down the steps in my chair, and it worked without fail. We went into the factory, into the cafeteria where people were eating breakfast, they all went to their knees when they saw Negan.

"As you were!" he yelled, and everyone went back, just like yesterday. Then they resumed their breakfast and I continued to follow. We went down a hall and ran into a man in dirty sweats, mopping the floors silently. He looked miserable, and had a big "B" spray-painted on his front. I didn't do anything but ignore him.

Negan opened a door, and I went in. It was a big room, with all sorts of medical things everywhere. Some people were passed out in beds.

"Marsha!" Negan yelled after a couple seconds of no one showing up. I heard feet running, and an overweight woman appeared and knelt down to him. Then she stood up nervously.

"My man Carl here has an appointment. And you were fucking late," Negan said rudely. I tensed up. Marsha shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Negan," she looked at the floor.

"Damn right you are. Any-fucking-way, Carl is here for his fitting," he said, patting my shoulder.

"My what?"

"Your fitting for your prosthetic. We got them here, and I figured you wanted one. How long have you been without one?" Negan replied. I was surprised, I was always told I'd get one, but never did. Maybe he was actually nice.

"A really long time. Probably since summertime, I never had one," I replied, containing my joy.

"For fuck's sake, where did you live? I would've had that shit done when you lost it," Negan said, exasperated.

"I used to live in Alexandria," I replied, not knowing if he even knew what I was talking about. His eyes widened for a second but he said nothing.

"Why did my men find you on the side of the road, then? Oh, we'll save that gossip for later. Hurry the fuck up, Marsha. I ain't made of time," Negan yelled the last sentence. Marsha ran back after leaving to find a box of which I assumed contained prosthetic things.

Marsha lifted me on a bed, despite her struggling, due to Negan's orders. She rolled up my pants and examined my leg.

"I think I have the perfect one for you, Carl," she said and pulled out a leg-looking thing. It was all black on the calves, and on the foot it was a rounded foot shaped thing, that didn't have much details, which was all silver. Marsha took my bandage off my leg and put a compression "sock" on it. Then, she slid my leg into the prosthetic, which felt weird and uncomfortable. She tied this thing that she said was a "thigh corset" with a bunch of shoelace looking things on it which she tied.

"You have to keep the corset tied so it stays down," she instructed me. Negan asked if it was okay, and I said yes.

"Let me take a look at your cast. How long has your foot been broken?" she asked. I didn't know.

"I can take it off, but I'm not sure if it's healed. Want to try that?" she asked another question. I nodded, because I felt it might have been long enough. Then she brought this machine thing that would cut it off. I was nervous, but it worked and the hard part of the cast was off. She took off the bandages and examined it with her cold hands.

"It looks fine to me, I think it's healed. Try walking," she put her arm around me and I stepped off the bed, landing on my foot. It was healed, I felt no pain.

She left me alone after I sat on my chair, not daring to try to walk with my other leg yet. And, she came back with crutches. I thanked her, and once more, she ran off. Now, she returned with socks.

"Holy shit, how do you have all of this?" I asked, amazed.

"Big community," Negan chimed in. Marsha asked what shoe size I was. I couldn't believe it, but I told her and she came back with hardly-worn boots. I marveled at them and put them on both feet after my socks. I shoved the other sock in my pocket since I had no use for it. The boots fit comfortably. I was elated.

"Want to try walking with your crutches?" Negan asked, in a nice tone, without sarcasm or cussing. He sounded like a whole different man.

I put the crutches under my arms and stood shakily, then took a few steps on my foot, then decided to try the prosthetic leg. It was surprisingly difficult to walk.

But, hey, at least I could.