Days Gone Oneshots

Deacon St. John || Someone Worth Living For

A/n: I can thank my sissy for this idea! Love you, sis! Gonna drop a warning for a couple of sensitive topics.

⚠️MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION AND SUICIDE. DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER IF THESE TOPICS ARE SENSITIVE OR TRIGGERING⚠️

Besides that, I hope you all enjoy! Love you all!!!
~✨Celestial✨~
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***HAS NOT BEEN PROOFREAD! PLEASE NOTIFY ME OF ANY ERRORS!!!***

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Prompt: Deacon and Boozer come across a massacre of people in the middle of the highway. While searching for who could've committed such an act, they discover you—the lone survivor of the massacre.
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~3rd Person POV~

Deacon and Boozer drove their bikes through the Cascade region, taking in the fresh air that was tainted every now and then with the foul smell of Freaks and rotting corpses. The trees rustled in the breeze, creating a peaceful ambiance until the sound of infected ravaged the tranquil atmosphere.

On the highway near Horse Creek, the drifters braked harshly when a gruesome sight laid before them. Bodies scattered across the road and blood seeping into the cracks of the asphalt created a small blockade. The heavy stench of iron filled the air from the immense amount of blood painting the highway and abandoned cars alongside the shoulder.

"Jesus..." Boozer sighed in disbelief, eyes wide in horror. "Who the hell could've done this?"

Deacon dismounted his bike and slowly approached the bloody massacre. He kneeled beside one of the victims, examining the deep gashes and three letters carved into his forehead. "Fucking Rippers. That's who did this."

"Murdered all these people in cold blood... I've never seen them kill this many people at once, though," Boozer commented as he cautiously stepped over the bodies of the deceased.

"Yeah, well..." Deacon stood up with a scrunched up nose from the smell of blood. "Rippers always know how to hit an all-time low. The bodies are a few hours old."

"Which means they couldn't have gotten far," Boozer adds.

"You up for some Ripper hunting?" Deacon inquired.

"Always am, brother," he responded with a smug grin.

When the drifters turned on their heels to return to their motorcycles, a hand lunged out and gripped onto Deacon's ankle. Frightened by the unexpected touch, he whipped out his handgun and aimed it by his foot with a fierce glare. Seeing who the hand belonged to, his eyes widened and he swiftly withdrew his pistol. "Holy shit..."

"Please..." The woman begged, voice hoarse and weak. "Kill me..."

Deacon was flabbergasted at her request. "What—no. No, no, no, no. We're gonna get you help." He examined her tattered, bloodied body. By the way she was crawling, he knew she couldn't walk. "Boozeman!"

William heard Deacon's shout and ran over. He spotted the woman on the ground, who was struggling to keep her eyes open. "Jesus... She's still alive."

"We need to get her to Cope's. It's the closest encampment with medical supplies," Deacon said as he hoisted the injured woman to her feet. He grabbed one of her arms and tossed it across his shoulders while his other arm went around her waist to keep her from tripping.

"They don't have a proper doctor," Boozer brought to light. "Her best bet of surviving is Lost Lake. Addy's the only person who can help her."

"She can't possibly make the trip in her current state." Deacon slowly helped the woman over to his bike with Boozer a few feet behind in case he needed help. "We'll take her to Cope first and see what someone can do. Once she can handle the ride, we'll take her to Addy. Hopefully it won't be too late."