Chapter 3
It took more food and sleep before Harry’s magical levels were high enough to heal the beating he took. He did have a few cracked ribs, heavily bruised organs, a broken ankle and plenty of pulled muscles, not to mention the various bruises marring his skin and throat. He feels like he was trampled on by something large and stupid.
Zoey is perfectly fine, snoring on the other end of the couch. Harry feels incredibly grateful that his shitty luck doesn’t extend to her because their encounter with that violent group could have gone so much worse. There were so many ways for it to go incredibly wrong, so many ways Harry could have lost his little sister to monsters. Hell, Harry had his own brush with it. He doesn’t have many nightmares in this life but he knows they have fresh material to work with now. He won’t be forgetting that rotten voice or the smell of his rancid breath, the feel of-
“Hey, you okay?”
Harry snaps his head up even as his shoulders slump. Lucille is standing next to the couch, one hand hovering down slowly until it rests gently on his shoulder. Harry nods to her, his eyes returning to Zoey, “I’m fine.”
“Hm,” Lucille replies noncommittally.
“She’s okay so I’m fine,” Harry extrapolates helpfully.
“Okay,” she answers.
“Could have been worse,” Harry blurts out, his fingers clenching the blanket.
“It could have,” Lucille agrees.
Harry lifts his head to the older woman, “It was close, you know?”
Lucille smiles comfortingly, leaning over to plant a kiss on his head. The spot she kisses warms considerably. “You’re a good older brother. She’s lucky to have you.”
Harry didn’t know he needed that reassurance and feels himself relaxing into the cushions.
“It’s okay not to be fine, you know,” Lucille tells him lightly as she squeezes his shoulder and pulls away.
Harry catches her hand before she can retreat entirely and holds it gently, “I know.”
Zoey seem to soak up their parental affection like a plant needing sunlight but Harry is too old for someone to step into that role for him. However, Lucille and he have become something like friends the last month or so. He cares for her greatly, Negan too. Harry can’t imagine surviving out there with just Zoey and him for all this time. It feels like they’ve slotted themselves irrevocably into each other’s lives. Harry no longer thinks leaving them behind for Zoey’s safety is the best thing to do.
Lucille just smiles and squeezes his hand. They both look at Zoey, drooling into the back of the couch with her mouth wide open and adorable snores drifting up. Lucille snorts with an amused grin, pulling away from Harry with one more pat. She gently pulls the blanket up and tucks it around Zoey’s sleeping form, a gentle hand smoothing her short curls back. The look on her face is soft and loving. The sight makes Harry happy; Zoey has other people to love her now. She won’t be alone, as long as Negan and Lucille are around to take care of her.
Harry’s smile gains a sad edge.
Lucille utters a soft oh as she stands back up and says, “Wait, I just remembered. Be right back.”
Harry watches her hustle away, disappearing into the bedroom. She’s back moments later, holding something that’s small enough to be hidden by her hand. She holds it out for him, “Here, I found it in your jeans when I cleaned them. I completely forgot to give it back to you.”
Tilting his head, Harry holds out his hand and Lucille deposits a familiar necklace. Abuela’s necklace.
Harry turns it over, examining it with surprise, “I forgot about it, too. Thank you, Lucille.”
She smiles, “You’re welcome. Mind if I ask where you got it?”
Harry’s lips twitch back up, recalling the Vatos, “This is Abuela’s.”
Lucille hums, tilting her head, “That’s... Zoey mentioned her a few times. Who is she?”
“Abuela was a lovely woman in our old group that Zoey really liked. They spent a lot of time playing poker together.”
“Ah, right,” Lucille giggles. “Negan was wondering how she was so good at it. Zoey said someone named Abuela taught her but didn’t go into detail. She seemed sad, now that I think about it.”
“They died before we met you guys,” Harry replies, wrapping the chain around his palm absentmindedly. “It was sudden. We didn’t have much time to process it before we were whisked away.”
“Oh... that’s...” Lucille seems to catch on to what he was saying, extrapolating on what they told her - not to mention what she and Negan shared with each other in private - about how they got to Washington. Though Harry has been trying to get Zoey to talk about it, she has been reticent, preferring to train or watch a movie or go on a run instead. “That’s horrible. I’m sorry.”
Harry shakes his head, unwinding the chain gently, “I’m okay, actually. I wasn’t very close with them; I was busy on runs for supplies or training or security... Zoey got to know them far better than me.”
Lucille looks a little blown away, “Security? Training? There were no other adults there that could do that instead?”
Harry quirks a small smile, huffing a chuckle. He was expecting her to say that. He’s more fond of it than irritated; he knows she doesn’t mean it in any negative way. She just worries, “Not anyone with my experience, no.”
“Experience?” Lucille sounds gobsmacked. “How does a teenager have more experience than an adult?”
Harry sobers, his fingers closing over the necklace, “You’d be surprised...” before Lucille can respond, Harry looks up and asks, “Can you do me a favor?”
Lucille twists her lips at the change of topic but lets it go, “Sure. What is it?”
Harry hands back the necklace, “Can you put this with the rest of your things? In the attic?”
“Okay,” Lucille nods with another smile.
“I want to give it to Zoey for her birthday,” Harry supplies willingly, his eyes dropping to his sister. She sleeps on, oblivious.
“That’s sweet,” Lucille replies, voice warm. “When’s her birthday?”
“December 13th,” Harry answers. “I figured she’d appreciate it more when it’s not so... fresh, you know?”
Lucille’s brows go up a bit but she nods, “Good idea, I think. Okay, I’ll go put this away.”
“Thank you, Lucille,” Harry whispers as she turns to leave.
Instead of replying, Lucille reaches back down and gently squeezes his shoulder. Then, she quietly pads away.
---
A soft thud wakes Harry.
He opens his eyes, feeling vaguely confused. Zoey’s warm weight is gone but before he can look around for her, she stands with a sleepy murmur. Her hand is rubbing her eye as she shuffles to the bathroom, the door closing behind her.
Knowing she’s going to be a while – and exactly why Harry opted to shower the night before – he stretches and stands as well. Lucille will be up soon; she seems to a naturally early riser, even without the aid of the sun or alarm. Negan, on the other hand, needs to be woken up more than once before he rolls out of bed. It’s oddly amusing to watch Lucille get increasingly flustered with every trip into the room to wake her sleeping log of a husband. Harry decides to make what Lucille left out for breakfast, so that she can concentrate on lighting a fire under Negan’s arse. They need to leave somewhat early to make the most of the day. Besides that, one last breakfast in this place wouldn’t go amiss. Give them a good, strong start. Give Zoey something to look back on, in the coming days; Harry isn’t naive about how hard it can become, especially on her now that she’s regained a sense of security.
At one point, Harry asked himself if leaving was really the best choice after all. If they hadn’t run into that gang, would he still be doubting himself? Nearly six weeks ago, he had stated to Negan and Lucille that he would do anything to keep Zoey safe, even if it meant they weren’t in the picture. He isn’t sure if they got his underlying point but now... now he can’t even think about doing something like that to them. How did they worm under his skin so far?
“Harry?”
Pulling out of his thoughts, Harry pauses in his stirring. Surprisingly, it’s Negan standing there, sleep pants but no shirt. Harry gives the tattoos on display a cursory glance as he turns back to the food, “Miracles do exist.”
“Ha, ha,” Negan mocks with a sleepy eye roll. “I can get myself up in the mornings, you know.”
“So Lucille doesn’t go in three or more times to wake you up nearly every morning?” Harry asks in a curious deadpan.
Negan grins out of nowhere, the one he gets when he’s thinking of something inappropriate, “Well, before we had kids, she’d come in with no-”
“Yeah, I don’t want to hear that,” Harry cuts him off, knowing the man far too well at this point. He studiously ignores the before we had kids joke. “Set the table before you say something you might regret.”
Negan chuckles, moving to the cupboard where Lucille put four plates, cups and forks aside for this very morning, “I’ve regretted many things in my life, Harry. Lucille was never one of them. So...”
“So,” Harry copies, giving Negan an exasperated look. “I’m not interested in hearing the naughty details of your relationship in the wake of the collapse of society.”
“I was going to say, she came in with no robe,” Negan waggles his eyebrows, eyes gleaming in humour.
Harry shakes his head with a puff of exasperation, “You are incorrigible.”
“You know it,” Negan laughs as he comes back around to the stove.
“How are you awake before Lucille?” Harry asks as he turns the stove off and allows the older man to take the piping hot pan.
“Would you believe me if I told you I only pretend to go back to sleep so that Lucille will have to come in to wake me up?” Negan replies, voice sounding a little too giddy to be a lie. He heads to the table and starts dividing up the food.
“You are a troll,” Harry states dispassionately.
“Who is a troll?”
Negan’s face takes on a distinct panicked look, eyes darting to Harry as his wife pads out of the room. Harry decides to let Negan have his fun; it’s not like Lucille ever gets angry or irritated about it, “Negan. His jokes continue to be not funny. Good morning, Lucille. How’d you sleep?”
Though Negan doesn’t seem to appreciate the dig at his jokes, he clearly takes the pass Harry granted him. He puts the empty pan down with a large grin, “Lu! Good morning, gorgeous!”
Lucille gives her husband a narrow eyed look as she accepts his hug and kiss but doesn’t say anything about it, “Mmm, good morning you two and fine, thank you, Harry. How’d you sleep?”
“Like a log,” Harry replies with a small smile.
Negan’s smile takes on a naughty edge and he opens his mouth to reply when Lucille primly holds a finger over his lips, “Please don’t ruin such a nice morning, honey.”
Harry snickers, listening to Negan whine. Zoey pads into the kitchen, freshly showered. Her short, short hair is still a bit bizarre and jarring but Harry will get used to it. He really is proud of her for taking the initiative to protect herself. Her hair will grow back eventually.
“Good morning,” Zoey chirps as she moves in for a hug.
“Morning, Zo,” Harry and Lucille say at the same time, Harry taking an extra moment before letting her go. Negan replies with a trollish grin, “Morning, Thumbelina.”
Zoey glares at him as she gives Lucille a morning hug, “NegNeg.”
Negan grins, unrepentant.
“Negan,” Lucille sighs, gently smacking his arm. “Come on, be nice.”
“I am nice!” Negan insists, his grin widening.
Lucille shakes her head, “Just eat. Harry was nice enough to cook for us.”
Negan half shrugs. Everyone sits down and digs in. Negan and Lucille hold hands as they eat and Harry and Zoey kept kicking ankles under the table. The normality of this breakfast, even though it is their last in this house – and hopefully not their last overall – allows Harry to harden his resolve. They will find a safe place. They will have this again. A slice of normal life amidst so much uncertainty.
For Zoey.
For them.
---
Harry pulls on his fingerless gloves, securing the straps to his wrists and pulling his sleeves down. A beanie appears in his vision, Zoey's hand attached and he takes it, carelessly plopping it on his head. Zoey looks up at him and smiles. Her short hair is still a little jarring but he’s starting to get used to it. He feels the loss of their ritual though, the urge to fix her wild curls making his fingers twitch. He smiles back, reaching out to mess the curls up even more.
Zoey doesn't dodge his hand, leaning into the contact instead. She must be nervous about leaving as well.
Lucille tsks when she comes back in, drawing Harry's attention and nearly startling as she's suddenly in front of him. Her lips are drawn into a simple fond smile as she reaches out, "Boys. Always needing something adjusted."
Harry can only smile in amusement as Lucille's fingers comb his hair into place and gently places his beanie back on properly. She must be, "Nervous?"
Lucille pauses and nods, the lines around her eyes growing deeper with her worries, "Yeah, something like that."
Harry catches her wrist and holds it gently, "You remember the plan?"
"Well, yes but-" Lucille replies, sounding mildly flustered.
"And you remember the rules?"
"Of course-” Her shoulders drop a little from the tense line they were.
"How to use your weapon?"
Lucille huffs with a smile, "Yes, Harry, how is this-"
Zoey takes over, "He's trying to say you have nothing to worry about. Just remember all the stuff he taught you and we'll be fine."
Lucille hesitates and glances between them. Then, she smiles and lets out her breath, relaxing her shoulders. "Okay."
Harry pulls her into a hug, feeling the minute tremors Lucille just can't stop in her nerves. Lucille huffs again, bringing her arms up around him in turn. Harry can feel her finally calming down from the tizzy she worked herself up to. He says calmly, "We'll be fine."
"Harry, you’re fuckin’ lucky I know what kind of man you are," Negan says as he comes out of the bedroom, shaved and dressed in clean clothes. "Else I'd be pretty unhappy right now."
Lucille giggles, pulling back, "Too late, hon. We already made plans to elope."
Harry flushes hard under the implications, unable to help the knee jerk reaction to completely drop his hands from any part of Lucille's body and blurt out, "No, we didn't!"
Negan and Lucille burst into laughter. Zoey, the traitor, giggles into her palms as Harry tries to will his flush away.
"I'm just teasing, Harry," Lucille snorts, her hand grasping his arm. She’s still giggling.
Harry knows, he was just unable to help it at the time. The implication of Lucille and him… he feels shivers of revulsion go through him. He doesn't know if it's Lucille or just being with someone in that way. Regardless, he doesn't have time to dwell on it.
Harry catches Lucille’s gaze and then motions to her wig, “You sure about that?”
Her face falls, sudden realization at the prospect of leaving her wig behind. Negan slings an arm over Lucille’s shoulders in comfort and says defensively, “Hey, now...” Lucille touches his arm and Negan pauses, looking down at her.
“He has a point,” Lucille smiles tremulously, hand snaking up slowly to pull the wig off. The blonde fuzz of hair is still quite short but not in a bad way. Harry can already see how the strands naturally part at her temple. Lucille’s smile slowly drops as the wig falls into her grasp entirely, eyes down as her fingers weave through the strands delicately.
Zoey steps forward and throws her arms around Lucille in a sudden hug. The older woman makes a surprised sound and softens with a stronger smile. Zoey looks up and says seriously, “We’re Twinsies now.”
Lucille laughs softly, squeezing Zoey firmly in response, “We sure are. Thank you, sweetheart.”
“If it makes you feel better,” Harry says conversationally. “By the time you come back for it, you won’t need it.”
“I think my Lulu is gorgeous no matter what she’s wearing,” Negan boasts haughtily and then leers with a brow waggle, “Or not wearing.”
Lucille snorts and covers her face, shoulders trembling in mirth, “You are terrible.”
As they talk, Harry looks at them: Zoey, his little sister, her hair shorter but starting to suit her, Negan, who, despite the danger he was in, risked his life to pull two teens out of a burning helicopter crash and Lucille, his wife and someone who had given up on life. She found a reason to live, Harry didn't ask her what and though he's seen her thin shoulders occasionally bend under the strain of her decision, she doesn't break. Leaving with them feels more right than without.
"We ready?"
Determination steals over their faces and they nod, glancing at each other.
Harry nods, "Let's go."
They file out into the stair hall. Lucille is last, hesitating at the door. She pets the wig one more time, then very deliberately hangs it on one of the wall hooks and walks out, locking the door as she does. No one says anything. Harry takes off his beanie and hands it to Lucille wordlessly. She hesitates again but takes it, pulling it on with a thankful nod.
Negan rigs the upper corner of the door with some masking tape so that when they come back for their stuff, they will know if someone has been here. Once upstairs, the basement door is padlocked, Negan giving the key to Lucille to keep. She quickly puts it on her necklace with all the other keys to the house and their old life.
Harry and Zoey wait, side by side, as Negan and Lucille lock the house up. Then they stand together and say one last goodbye to their home. Harry knows Zoey needed the stability more than he but it's still hard to turn away.
—
Harry and Negan got their hands on maps of the city streets on a run two weeks before and had been meticulously planning their route since. Negan gave accurate, detailed information on the more immediate streets, what road would be better and where the shortcuts are. They weren't able to physically determine safe buildings to take shelter in but they made many points on the maps as potential rendezvous spots.
Harry wanted to head as far south as possible. The winter chill can be felt creeping its cold fingers up one's back and on the wind. They will need to find a way to get sustainable food and enough space to grow it, as well as warm enough clothes and shelter. Negan wanted to stay in the area, sure that the further they travel, the worse things will be. It's been a frequent argument between them but Harry knows Negan has a very fair, very legitimate point. Harry and Zoey had been flown this far north by the military, unintentionally, so he doesn't know what's between Washington and Atlanta any better than Negan. It would be stupid to risk the unknown when the known is safer.
The four of them had been making good progress, keeping to the shadows despite Harry's ability to hide them from the Biters. They had other survivors to worry about more and thus took their time traversing the many streets and corners, keeping an eye and ear out for threats.
The closest rendezvous is an apartment building. The doors are inaccessible; bolted and locked tight, the window on the side showing piled furniture. The fire escape yields a way up, Harry boosting Negan up to drop the ladder. Harry makes sure all three go up before him, the dead shambling in place around them, reaching up for them now that they are beyond his bubble. He made sure to pull the ladder up after.
Harry immediately vetoes the first floor. The window emits a rank smell as soon as he opens it and decides that he will not find out what that is today. So they go up another level. Harry and Negan clear the apartment quickly, being a single bedroom with barely there living-room and single person kitchen. Negan locks and blocks the door quietly as Lucille and Zoey set up for the night. Harry secures the window and uses a blanket to cover it. Zoey insists on taking first watch, so Harry volunteers for last and surprisingly, Lucille takes the middle watch before Negan can. After a quick meal, Harry tucks in, knowing sleep will likely be hard to come by in the coming days.
Harry wakes to Lucille shaking his shoulder. Dread lingers in his gut, clawing lines of anxiety up his stomach. Thankfully the older woman can’t see in the dark because he’s sure he wasn’t able to keep his troubles to himself. After Lucille lays down next to Negan, Harry sits up and watches out the window, ears peeled for strange sounds. Even as the hours pass, the bad feeling only increases. He wonders if perhaps they should stay in place and lay low for a while; it’s hard to say because this feeling isn’t very particular and it could be that they need to leave instead.
In the wee cracks of the morning, maybe less than an hour from sunrise, Harry wakes the others for breakfast. It’s a quick, quiet affair. As they are getting ready to go, though, Harry knows he needs to let them know.
“Just a minute,” Harry blurts out as their preparations finish. Everyone pauses and Zoey’s brows scrunch in confusion. “I have a bad feeling.”
Zoey’s face pales several shades, like she suddenly sees a ghost walk behind Harry. As Negan and Lucille tilt their heads in confusion and the older man asks, “Bad feeling?”
“You sure, Harry?” Zoey asks over Negan, sounding scared. Rightly so, as the last time Harry had a bad feeling, Amy was nearly killed and the Vatos murdered in cold blood. Harry and bad feelings equalled bad things happening.
Thinning his lips, he bobs his head, “Woke up with it.”
“Can I get an explanation about all this feeling crap?” Negan demands crossly, sounding put out from what seems to be double speech.
Zoey ignores him again, anxiety making her look to the floor uncertainly. Harry answers, instead, “The Vatos was the group we were with before we met you guys. We left because I had a bad feeling.”
“That’s it?” Negan asks in askance, blinking rapidly. “You get a... bad feeling and left safety and shelter because of it? Am I hearing you right?”
Rolling his eyes, Harry looks down at Zoey and nudges her, “Think he’s going deaf in his old age?”
Zoey smirks, giggling a little at Negan’s expression of outrage, “Definitely getting up there in years.”
Lucille, slightly behind Negan, has a hard time controlling a snicker. Her lips keep twitching as Negan blurts out, “Hey, now, I’m a perfectly respectable age you whippersnappers.”
Lucille can’t control the snicker any longer and lets out a snort. Negan turns to her with an expression of such abject disbelief that she can’t hold back at all. She bursts out laughing, immediately covering her mouth to muffle herself. Negan’s face softens into fond betrayal, then morphs into tenderness as Lucille bends over to control her giggles. Then, she recovers, straightening with a deep breath and smile. Negan pretends he wasn’t just watching his wife laugh and returns his gaze to Harry, “So, what happened to the feeling?”
Zoey blurts out in a thick voice, “They killed everyone...”
“What?” Lucille asks a little sharply in surprise, all signs of mirth gone. “Killed...?”
Harry tugs Zoey into a one armed hug. She wraps both of her arms around his middle and hides her face. Harry replies slowly, “When the bad feeling went away, we walked back to the Vatos base. When we got there... we found everyone dead.”
Horrified silence pervades for a few long moments. Then-
“So when you have bad feelings...” Negan says slowly, testing reactions by bobbing his head slightly. “What? You sense disturbances in the Force?”
“In the what?” Harry asks in complete confusion. How does this pertain to what they were talking about? Harry feels a flare of irritation; is right now really the time to be making a joke?
Zoey snorts and giggles into his sweater, absolutely no help whatsoever. The irritation flows away at her amusement. She’s going to be okay if she can laugh.
“The Force, you know?” Negan raises his hand and shakes it a little as if it clears away all the vagueness of the moment. Lucille lifts her hand and lowers her forehead, hiding her face behind her fingers. She shakes her head with a deep sigh.
“No...” Harry says slowly and deliberately, inwardly amused by Lucille’s exasperation. “I wasn’t allowed on the telly growing up.”
Negan can’t seem to believe that Harry knows nothing about whatever nonsense he seems to be pulling out of his leg today. The teen just decides moving on is the best thing to do.
“Anyway, I had a bad feeling this morning when I woke and it’s only gotten worse. With the Vatos, I felt the need to leave but now? I just have a bad feeling. I don’t know if we need to leave or to stay.” Harry says, looking down at Zoey. “What do you think we should do, Commander?”
Zoey pulls away and shrugs, “I don’t want to decide. You decide.”
“I’m not the leader here,” Harry says mulishly.
Zoey throws up her arms, “Let’s vote, then. I don’t know what to do, we can’t stay and we can’t go!”
Lucille cuts in soothingly, “Hey, hey, we’re going to be fine. Think of it like... an early warning system for... for FUBAR situations!”
“FUBAR?” Zoey and Harry ask at the same time.
Lucille shrugs, “I heard it on TV before all of this. It don’t really know what it means but it seems suitable?”
They look at Negan and he laughs, “It’s a military term. I don’t know what it means, either, but it sounds like a messed up situation or some shit.”
Harry considers, “I guess so...”
“So when you get a bad feeling, we’ll know to be prepared for some bad... stuff,” Lucille settles on saying, lacking a word that fits better at the moment and unwilling to emulate her husbands atrocious habit of swearing. “If we’re prepared, we can’t be taken off guard!”
Liking her enthusiasm, Harry agrees, “Alright, if you say so. What do you guys vote? Stay or go?”
Negan pipes up first, “I want to get out of here.”
Zoey shakes her head, “I want to stay.”
Lucille’s face takes on a pained turn as she says, “I think we should leave. I heard some far off gunshots during my watch.”
Shrugging, not knowing if it’s the right thing to do to stay or go, Harry picks up his bag, “Okay. We’ll be extra vigilant going forward.”
Zoey snorts, “There’s such thing as extra vigilant with you, Harry?”
Harry reaches out and pushes her off balance, “You’ll see shorty.”
“Hey!”
---
Once back on the street, they head out towards the next rendezvous. The bad feeling doesn’t get any better but it doesn’t get worse, either. Harry ponders on what that could possibly mean. A few blocks away, they cross an open parking lot but the rumble of an engine firing up nearby has Harry’s heart thudding hard. Negan and Lucille pause, looking around but Zoey's eyes widen into round saucers, threatening to pop right out of her skull. She freezes, breath picking up instantly. Harry's mind races but can’t think of anything as two more engines fire up. They are quite literally in the middle of nowhere, with nothing to hide behind and his little sister on the verge of a panic attack.
The bikes come into view, down two from the five and the man Harry vividly remembers choking him spots him immediately. The man points at them and revs his engine, immediately accelerating forward. The other two follow instantly and Harry knows he's out of time and options. The only thing he can think to do is shove Zoey into Negan and shout, "Run!"
On their many runs together, Harry and Negan came to an understanding. If something happens to Negan, Harry will take care of and protect Lucille to the best of his ability. Likewise, if something happens to Harry, Negan would take care of and protect Zoey with his life. As Zoey crashes into Negan's middle, the other man's hand clamping down on her upper arm blindly, their eyes meet. Silent words exchange and Negan nods with a grim, tight lipped expression. He forcefully yanks Zoey along - ignoring any protests - and makes a break for it, Lucille hot on his heels.
Harry pivots and sprints for his life. He can barely hear cruel laughing under the rumble of the engines loud and heavy in his ears. Adrenalin surges through his system, allowing him to pump his limbs faster. A quick glance over his shoulder thankfully shows all three following him. Relieved, Harry concentrates on his surroundings and makes a hard turn into a long alley. The delay is unfortunately too short and they are soon in hot pursuit through the trash filled hall. Harry doesn't look, knowing if he does, he will most likely trip. He emerges on the other side, turning hard again and then skidding to a halt when one of the bikers turns the corner ahead. Lungs aching from the desperate flight, Harry tries to scrabble back the way he came.
Harry practically tastes the diesel on his tongue when a hand harshly slaps his back and he goes tumbling. His hands scrape the asphalt as he lands, his knees jarring on impact. A glance up shows all three bikers circling him with their bikes, laughing meanly as they taunt him over the roar of their engines. Harry gets to his feet and assumes a defensive position, following the bikers with his eyes.
They stop, pulling out guns and aiming at him. Their bikes remain idling and a glance tells Harry that the nearby dead are rallying but he isn't sure he can buy enough time for them to shamble over.
"Give up, kid," the leader sneers, cocking his gun and holding it steady. "Come with us quietly and I won't go find your cute girlfriend."
Knowing he’s lying, Harry hesitates. The chances of him taking out all three at once is very small. That magical blast of energy he used the last time was desperation with incredible, overwhelming anger that he’s not sure he can replicate on the sly. Plus, it wiped him out so bad he was unable to heal himself properly in the aftermath. If he goes after one, the other two will shoot him and then take him anyway. The element of surprise he had over these guys is long gone. They won’t take chances this time.
Harry decides he can escape later and straightens, casually lifting his arms halfway up.
"Smart decision, kid. Frank, cuff him," the man orders, motioning with his gun.
One of the bikers behind Harry gets off his bike. Harry pales as the man that had him pinned down comes around to his front, roughly pulling the teen's arms forward to cuff them. Harry grits his teeth as the metal bites into his skin. Then Frank leans forward, breath rancid, whispering menacingly, “Remember what I said."
Harry flinches as Frank pulls him forward and then shoves him towards the leader, who leers with a mean grin, "Nice to finally make your proper acquaintance, kid. Sorry for the rough first meeting, you understand why I did what I did."
Harry locks down his emotions and says nothing… at least, he hopes he did. The man laughs and shakes his head, crushing Harry's hope, "You mumble? How the fuck do you keep anything a secret? You get this kid?"
"Craven, we need to go,” Frank says out of nowhere.
Craven glances over his shoulder and curses, "Time's up!" He grins meanly and the gun drops lower, going off. The gunshot echoes through the streets.
Pain ripping through his knee, Harry cries out as he collapses. He blindly reaches for his knee and covers it with both hands, healing it desperately. He feels his magic drain significantly and a shadow drops over him. Harry looks up-
—
The wind rushing through his naked hair rouses Harry, blinking his eyes against the migraine taking residence in his head. He's pressed against a large body, his arms wrapped around someone's waist. Something metal keeps his wrists tied together and he feels something tied around his head, muffling him. Harry lifts his head and groans, squeezing his eyes shut against the slowly receding pain. The side of his face hurts badly, throbbing in time with his heart. Familiar grey hair whips him in the face and Harry realizes they did exactly what he thought they would do.
Shoot and take him anyway.
Harry glances around, unable to place what part of the city he’s in. On each flank, the others ride as well, fierce scowls in place. Harry drops his eyes down to his knee but he can’t make out if he healed it properly. It doesn’t hurt at the moment but he knows that doesn’t really mean anything. He has a higher pain tolerance than a lot of people and the vibrations likely made everything numb.
Harry blearily realizes the bike is slowing down and as the others follow suit, he can hear Craven laughing, "-st perfect!"
Harry peeks out over the larger man's shoulder and spies the bottom half of someone jutting out from under the hood of a car. The streets are oddly clear, Harry notes, watching the figure get closer and closer. Then, as the bike slows to a stop, the person stands up and reveals a woman with a dirty face and wide eyes, wearing a cap with frizzy brown hair peaking out. She looks so relieved as she says, "Oh! Can you guys help me?"
Craven shuts off his bike, quickly followed by the other two and replies, "Well, what seems to be the problem, little lady?"
She heaves a great sigh, motioning to the engine with a pout, "My car broke down and I don't know how to fix it. Do any of you big, strong men know?" Harry has a bad feeling; she must know how bad it is out here. Why would she risk herself, out in the open, with the way the world is right now?
Harry doesn't like this. He grunts, drawing her attention but Craven straightens and tugs on Harry's hands harshly. Harry is forced entirely against the man's back as he replies, "Don't mind him. Fun night. I'm sure Frank can help you with your little problem. Frank?"
Harry tries to pull back on his hands but Craven squeezes his wrist so tightly, Harry gives up. The hold remains for a few more seconds and then relaxes. Frank dismounts and approaches the girl, distracting her as he looks under the hood of her car. Craven grins and nods at the brunet man on the third bike. Harry jerks as the other man dismounts with his own demented grin. Harry knows they are going to hurt her. He pulls on his arms again, grunting loudly, gaining a harsh elbow for his struggles.
The girl looks over and is caught off guard by the second man. Frank leers as he and the brunet crowd her in against the car. He tilts his head and says, "So, instead of this, I was thinking we go have some fun elsewhere, hm?"
Harry struggles harder, grunting at the second elbow. He doesn't want to watch the girl get assaulted and these men are cruel enough to make him heal her for another round. Harry can’t say how much he doesn’t want that.
The girl suddenly smirks, "Who said anything about you guys having fun?" The click of many guns has Harry stilling entirely. Craven goes stiff as a board, his hands slowly raising to the sky. Harry peeks around and feels dread icing down his spine; they are literally surrounded by women, all bearing guns and all aimed at them. The girl he had initially been wary of proves his instincts correct. She saunters between Frank and the brunet, her hand reaching up to caress Frank's cheek as she goes. She laughs, "No, I think all the fun will be entirely ours."
Frank and the other man are subdued at gunpoint and tied up. As that's happening, the girl - woman - approaches Craven and Harry and asks mockingly, "What's this, now? You take this poor kid from his mommy?"
Craven hisses through grit teeth but he doesn't reply.
She smirks and gives Craven a mocking cheek pat that turns into a hard, open palmed smack, "Answer me!"
Craven scoffs, "You didn't say please."
The brunette cocks her head to the side, looking Craven up and down and asks the blonde next to her, "Do we need all of them?"
The blonde shakes her head, "The Matron expects some collateral."
The brunette nods and aims a smug smirk at Craven, "Take the kid. Give this piece of shit to the Girls."
Craven snarls as many hands descend on him. Harry is pulled from his seat, cuffed hands having been pulled over and off. The leader of the Vipers is then dragged away. It's barely seconds later, when Harry spies Craven's head being bashed in with a bat, that he gets an inkling for the mess he finds himself in. It's the screams and cruel giggling that give Harry the idea that he should not piss these women off.
Harry remains docile as the women hold his arms. One decides to get handsy, boldly feeling his arms and upper chest with sounds of appreciation. More revulsion sweeps through him at the touch, though Harry is sure he knows the reason for it this time. He reluctantly allows it, eyeing the many, many guns that are at the ready. The first woman, seeming to be this group's leader, is snapping out orders. Frank and the other man, thoroughly tied, are loaded into a nearby truck Harry figured was as dead as the others.
"Hey! Get your fucking hands off!" The girl stops feeling him up immediately. "He's for the Matron!"
Harry does not like the sound of that. Who is the Matron?
"Aww! Why?" She asks in a whine, pouting at Harry like it’s his fault.
"Nevermind!" the Leader snips. "Let's go! We've got a good haul!"
A good haul?
The brunette leader grabs Harry's upper arm and jabs her handgun into his side, leaning in close to hiss, "I will shoot you if you struggle. Give me a reason!"
Harry, still gagged, nods, eyeing her in wariness. She pulls back with a pleased hum, "Alrighty."
She pulls him towards a car just behind a truck. Harry glances at it and reels back at the many faces staring back at him. They are all men; dirty, gaunt, some even feral looking. Some snarl at him, others plead for help. Harry feels helplessness settle in his chest. He can't help or save any of these people. Not with his hands bound and outnumbered. Hell, he's out gendered. He doesn't want to find out how it feels to be beaten to death by killer women.
She leads him to a car with two other teenagers in it. She opens the back door and shoves Harry in, slamming it shut before even checking to make sure his feet are in. As a result, he's practically laying in their laps.
The boy in the middle has bright blond hair and green eyes. He has a large discoloration over most of his face and a large nose. Harry can't quite place his age but he has no doubt they all share similar ages. The other boy is small and mousy, with lanky brown hair and grey eyes.
The blond's face grows angry as the leader leaves again and he clutches two fistfuls of Harry's shirt. "How many people these skanks gonna take?" Harry makes a muffled sound of surprise as the boy lifts him into his own seat.
"Don't let them hear you say that," the mousy boy warns quietly
The blonde rips the gag off Harry's head as he haughtily replies, "I'm not scared of those bitches."
"You should be," Harry blurts out, making them pause. "They just beat a man to death."
Mouse goes pale and drawn, "What?"
“What d’you mean?” Freckles demands.
Harry shifts, tucking his wrists together in his lap, "They just beat a guy to death out there.” They both look at each other, horrified. Harry asks, “What are you doing here? What's going on?"
Freckles shrugs, motioning to Mouse, "Gene was already here when they grabbed me. Now you. I don't know why they are gathering so many guys."
"I was outside looking for my Dad,” the mousy boy says sadly. “He left to look for the other adults and never came back. They were passing through to the city. They pointed their guns at me, made me get in the car.” Gene’s lower lip trembles, tears welling but not falling. He sniffs, “I heard them talking about a Matron but…" he says hesitantly, shrugging. "I don't know what that means."
Harry feels that sinking feeling again and replies, "Nothing good."
The brunette from earlier comes stalking up to the car, prompting all three teens to shut up. Well, the other two did considering the confused glances he was gaining. She rips the car door open and slides in, not even doing up her belt as she pulls away. Harry sees four other vehicles line up behind and wonders if the size of the raiding party is a good indicator of the size of the community they are undoubtedly part of. If so, they are in deep shit.
“Shut up, kid,” she snaps after a few minutes.
“It’s a verbal tic,” Harry explains in an even tone. “I can’t help it.”
She glances at him in the rear view mirror and then sighs in aggravation, “Keep it down!”
She takes a few streets and then hits a major highway, leaving the city behind in barely any time. Harry feels his heart sink lower and lower, acutely aware that he will likely never see his sister again. He hopes Negan made good on his promise and got Zoey someplace safe.
She rolls down both front windows with another aggravated sigh. The loud blasts of air entering the car effectively hides Harry’s muttering and does wonders to cool the interior down. Neither of the other teens murmur a peep. The woman seems perfectly fine with it. Not even the radio plays, not that Harry thinks the radio would even work. Nothing works much these days.
After an hour, she takes a turn onto one of the many roads that branch off the main highway and drives for another hour or so. Gene whimpers, just barely audible over the buffets of wind, when they pass by a town. Harry doesn’t catch the name but knows that must be the younger teen’s hometown. Some time after that, Harry spies tall brick walls pushed into thick brush, the tops of houses the only thing visible. As they get closer, small figures can be made out walking the top of the walls. The boys all exchange wary glances, even Freckles' fake bravado is gone.
Harry realizes this is bigger than he thought when she drives through the opened gate. Behind brick walls are sprawling grounds lined with houses and fields full of growing food. The commune is huge, probably several acres in size and women of all shapes and sizes walk the dirt roads. As the car pulls through the throng of women, it's more than obvious that this place is a strict matriarchy. There are very few men, dressed in sacks, hairy limbs on display. They all look absolutely miserable and filthy. They are hauling things around and working the fields, forcefully enslaved.
Harry watches a woman trip a large man carrying a few heavy sacks and winces in sympathy when they point and laugh. Strangely, another lady comes up and viciously kicks the man in the ribs, yelling at him. Harry turns his head to watch the man try to get up amidst bruising abuse. Bare seconds later, they leave the incident behind. The street opens for a moment, giving Harry a glimpse of a crowd of people gathered around something. Just before his sight of it is gone, arms go up and cheer. Then, a large house, larger than the others by far, sprawls out carelessly, looking immaculate and clean.
This… really doesn't look good.
The brunette stops the car. She gets out with a brusque- “Don’t fucking move.” -leaving them inside as she starts barking out more orders. The other two vehicles are gone but the truck holding the many men comes rumbling to a stop. The engines cut off and several gun-bearing ladies prompt, threaten, beat and seriously injure any that resist lining up in front of the door. They were all made to kneel - one way or another - and then the brunette pulls the teens from the car.
Instead of making them kneel, she sets them in a line to the side just as the door opens.
A striking woman with long, curly bright red-orange hair comes clicking down the stairs in tiny, sharp heels. Her face is done up immaculately in makeup and she's dressed in a white pantsuit, her arms bare. The material billows around her in the slight wind of the day. She has a knife strapped to her upper thigh and two guns on her waist, holstered. She wears jewellery on her hands and neck and a long, gold chain around her waist that hangs between her thighs. Her stature is tall and straight, tightly controlled and disciplined.
Harry feels like she isn't one to be messed with.
"Matron, we found these ingrates in the city," the Leader informs the woman now identified as the aforementioned Matron. "We liberated a few sisters, too."
Matron glances over to the three teens before turning to the woman, "Good. Pick one."
Pick one? Harry frowns in confusion as the girl’s face brightens and she pulls a terrified, lanky man from the line up. "Thank you, Matron."
Matron smiles tightly, "You're welcome, Sahara. Deal with your new pet quickly, alright?"
"Pet?" The lanky man whimpers, even more terrified.
"I will, Matron!" Sahara chirps, kicking the man to the ground and then reaching down to grab him. The man cowers as she gets a hold of his shirt and literally drags him away.
The Matron hums, going to the far side of the line of kneeling men and intently studying each one. She would stare down at them from her nose and then say, "Pet, Pit, Labour or No Good." The men that looked the roughest would go to the Pit, the stronger ones Labour, the most strikingly handsome ones were designated Pet and one received No Good. The No Good man is shot, point blank to the face.
Gene whimpers, shaking and crying. Harry doesn’t feel remotely safe comforting him. He clenches his fists in helpless anger. He's aware this world is much more dangerous to women but that doesn't mean they can turn around and cold murder someone who hasn't even hurt them yet.
When the last man is sent to the Pit, the Matron turns to them. By then, Sahara returns, her clothes askew and hair messier. Matron tilts her head and Sahara sheepishly explains, "Sorry, Matron, he didn't want to work with me."
Matron takes in Sahara’s state, "I hope you showed him a strong hand. You know the rules."
Sahara lowers her eyes, "Yes, Matron. He's strapped down, I'll make sure the lesson sinks in."
Harry's eyes widen at the loaded conversation. What the hell were these women doing to the men?
Matron heaves a delicate sigh and gently places her hand on Sahara's shoulder, "That's a good girl. Now then, what are these?" She regally motions to the three teens.
Sahara perks up at the contact and she speaks excitedly, "They are gifts! For you!"
"Gifts?" The Matron scoffs, eyeing the three of them with derision. Her gaze stops on Harry; he sees how she stills and her face blanks out for a split second. Then her eyes drop to his exposed knee, with the torn hole and blood caked shin. "What on Earth would I want with three ugly teenagers?"
Despite the earlier show, Freckles seems to gain a fresh surge of courage, "You ain't so hot either, you old crone."
Matron smiles smugly in return, "You would know, wouldn't you?" Harry mentally shakes his head. Not good. "My goodness, look at that mess on your face," Matron croons. Harry catches the flinch the other teenager gives at the reminder of his facial mark. Matron tilts her head, "Let me help you clean that up, hm?"
In a second, Matron whips her gun out of its holster, brings it up and shoots Freckles in the face. Harry freezes in place entirely, warm, fresh blood splattering all over him. Freckles' corpse falls back and doesn't move. Gene grasps Harry's arm in a tight, tight hold and whimpers, hiding his face in Harry's upper arm. The raven can't even think-
She shot a kid for mouthing off.
Matron considers her handiwork with a detached sort of satisfaction. Then, she looks at them, or rather, him, "Do you have anything to add, my dear?"
Somehow Harry shakes his head, swallowing repeatedly to keep the bile down, "No, ma'am."
"Matron," she corrects with a smile. The fact that she can smile like that after what she just did… he glances down at Freckles. If he fights in any way…
Harry lifts his head and looks at her, "No, Matron."
Matron seems pleased with his compliance and steps closer, holstering her gun, "Good. Are we going to have issues?"
Harry senses a trap. He glances down at Gene and back at her, "No?”
A full, pleased smile blooms on her face, transforming it entirely from cold detachment to genuine pleasure, "Good! Smart lad."
She steps delicately over Freckles' corpse, which two women came around to deal with. Reaching out, Matron pulls Gene from Harry's space, ignoring his whimpers. Harry flinches at the control he had to place over himself not to attack her or defend the kid. Doubly so when Matron harshly shoves Gene to the ground, "You remind me of a mouse," Matron mocks Gene, tilting her head again. He looks up at her in mounting horror. "I don't like mice."
Harry can't help jerking forward, his hands coming down hard on the gun the Matron whips out. The bullet hits the dirt between Gene's legs and the teen cries out in terror. Before the Matron can react, Harry steps between her and Gene, shoving her to the ground. Matron sits back up, hair in disarray and white clothes sullied with dirt. She gives him a withering look.
Harry scowls as two women run up, turning to meet them. One aims a gun at him but the other tries to physically put him down, in which Harry throws her over his shoulder. He keeps ahold of her arm and twists, causing her to yell in pain. He applies enough pressure to cause her to whimper in pain, the sound making the first woman hesitate. Harry keeps her pinned to the ground and glares at the other, "I will rip her arm out. Back off."
The woman snarls and raises her gun but Matron stands, waving at her, "That's enough, Tori."
"He doesn't need to die," Harry tells the Matron. The girl at his feet pants from the pain, unable to even twist around to attack him.
Matron shrugs her delicate shoulders, "And?"
"He's just a kid!" Harry snaps, taken aback by the callous response.
A slow smile crosses her face, "Regardless… " she snaps her fingers and Harry is tackled to the ground from behind. He’s forced to release the pinned girl to defend himself. Harry grunts as he fights the surprise attack off, getting his feet up and kicking her away.
She yelps as she goes but a bang! has him flinching and whipping his head around.
Gene chokes, blood spurting from the hole in his chest. The fountain of blood quickly soaks his shirt in red, which continues to grow even as Gene weakly collapses back to the ground. Harry scrabbles towards the teen, needing to help, anything, he's just a kid!
Gene clutches at Harry as he crashes to the ground next to him, "You'll be okay, stay with me, yeah?" Gene looks so terrified as life literally drains out of him. He pulls at Harry's shirt, choking up blood, his struggles getting weaker. Harry places his hands over the hole and wishes, feeling the magic draining harshly. Hands grasp his shoulders as the magic slows, ripping him away from the process before it can finish.
"Oh my God!"
"What?"
"Whoa!"
"You see that?"
"Let go!" Harry finally snaps, twisting in the hold. He bites down on the arm within reach and struggles to get away. Now that he's revealed his powers, he needs to go. "I said-!"
Bang!
Everything stops.
In the ringing silence, Harry pauses in his struggles. Gene lay still, head turned towards Harry, a line of blood dripping from the neat hole in his forehead. Harry feels an open, gaping maw of absolute fury open in his breast that he had never felt before. The world shifts - Death appears over Gene's body but before it can take his soul, Harry snaps out, "No!"
Death pauses as it looks at Harry, skeletal hand the only part of it visible from the black rags it wears. Harry's heart pounds in the moment and blurts out, "He's not supposed to die here."
Death turns back to the body, uncaring, and for some reason, that makes Harry apoplectic, "I said no!"
Death stops moving entirely. Harry pants through the sheer anger he feels, glaring at Death and daring it to try again. It doesn't. It bows and fades. Harry feels a sag on his magic as the world shifts - and the teen whips his head towards the Matron, the weight of the girls on him no longer felt, "You better stick a bullet in my head too, bint."
The Matron expresses sheer disbelief that smooths into reluctant amusement, "Oh?" she asks, carelessly waving her gun around. "Or what?"
Harry channels his magic and powers to his feet, quite literally throwing the women off him. His eyes practically spit green fire as he takes an aggressive step towards her, taking great satisfaction in how quickly the Matron pales, "Or I will kill you."
She freezes and then laughs, "Oh, you had me for a second there. You? Kill me? Ha!" The mirth washes away the fear the Matron had felt in a second.
Just a second.
Harry rushes her, bearing down on the Matron with a nasty snarl on his face. The Matron pauses in her mirth but doesn't get a chance to utter a sound. The terror writing itself across her face makes the dark part of Harry's psyche purr-
Bang!