-Riley-

"So, how many 'other camps' do you have?" I inquired, trying to make conversation as we trek cautiously down a large slope toward the "Saviours'" headquarters. 

"We have two others at the moment," Negan explained, "technically, they aren't ours, but we have the largest arsenal of weaponry I've seen from any camp in North America, and we offer our protection against herds and rival groups in exchange for other supplies, like medicine and fuel."

I nodded in understanding, interested by the prospect of a continued trade between survivors. Usually, if a group of people want something these days, they'll kill whoever has it - the idea of a mutually beneficial solution is rarely heard of and even more rarely is it utilized. 

"We're on the verge of striking a deal with another camp," he continued, "and it's the largest camp yet: the Alexandria safe zone, it's called. They're making it difficult though; keep complaining about terms and conditions, shit like that."

I nodded once more, just to prove to him that I'm still paying attention, although other thoughts were also on my mind.

I was thinking about my parents - again. I recalled that my dad used to work at a factory - it looked a lot like this one in fact, only it was far down south, in Oklahoma. I remembered how I used to get so frustrated when he promised he'd be home by a certain time and was never able to keep his word.

"Tell you what," Negan spoke once more, drawing me away from my thoughts and back to reality, "we're having another... 'negotiation' with the leader of Alexandria tomorrow - gonna try and work something out - you can tag along if you want."

I nodded eagerly, to both please Negan and to see how he handled negotiations and diplomatic situations. To me, he looked like the sort of man who would rather force his way into the 'safe zone' than come to a peaceful conclusion, but perhaps not.

By this time, we had reached the base of the hill, and the factory was only a kilometer away at most. I was nervous to see how others reacted to the arrival a new survivor, and I could only pray they were as inviting as Negan had turned out to be, at least for now. I wouldn't mind being forced to leave after I'd recuperated and recovered, but until then I couldn't afford to step out of line.

"Do you think they'll take kindly to another survivor?" I asked, unable to keep these troubling questions that plagued my mind to myself. 

Negan nodded with a hint of uncertainty. 

"We're fine with other survivors," he elaborated, "but some people have only survived thanks to others - they themselves aren't the survivors, they're only burdens. We don't tolerate that."

The manner in which he expressed that final sentence - with a sneer and a low growl of a voice - forced a shiver down my spine. He must have noticed this, because he then continued with his explanation.

"But you've survived for the last... how long did you say it was? Three months?" 

I nodded.

"In my opinion, fending for yourself in a world like this is the defining point for a true survivor. I was like you, Riley - I spent the first whole year of the apocalypse with nothing but a photo of the wife for company."

He paused briefly, as though he was reflecting on it.

"It was difficult, I won't deny it, but it was also a turning point. Being alone for that long, it changes you. It gives you courage and confidence - it lets you find hope when nobody else can. It builds you into an overall stronger person. That is why I didn't let that walker kill you back in the woods."

I would have pointed out that I was malnourished, weak and exhausted - I had hardly survived well on my own - but his intentions were clearly on giving me hope and praise, and I woudln't squander that, since I hadn't been given praise for a long, long time. 

"Not far now," he pointed out.

---

About twenty minutes later, we reached the vast metal gates of the factory exterior. Two guards stood atop it, both armed with military-grade rifles and a similar outfit of riot gear to Negan.

They didn't react to Negan's arrival, but both men instantly trained their firearms upon me as soon as I emerged over the horizon.

"Boss, who the hell's this?" one of the guards, a young woman, inquired suspiciously.

"This here's Riley," Negan explained, patting me forcefully on the back as he greeted the guards on my behalf. I peered up at the guards nervously, the severity of the situation highlighted by the ominous storm clouds congregating once again in the distance.

"I thought you -" the other guard began to protest, but halted almost instantly as Negan glared up at him, swallowing nervously before apologizing, "sorry boss."

"The constant bitching is the reason you're out here on guard duty in the first place," Negan reminded the two guards sternly, and I looked back down at the gravel track to hide a smirk, humored by the authority Negan held, and how the guards clearly feared him.

"Dinner's almost ready by the way, boss," the female guard changed the subject as she clicked a button on the wall. The vast steel gate retracted with a metallic hum, granting us entrance into Negan's stronghold. 

The leader - or 'boss,' as he was apparently referred to by his people - led me inside the confines of the factory walls, whilst my stomach growled ravenously at the prospect of a decent sized meal. 

Maybe, after 14 weeks of solitude and sorrow, things are finally looking up...

---

Two chapters in one day!!! You people must love me ;)

So Riley has finally reached the 'safety' of Negan's compound, but his adventure has only just begun!

I'll upload another chapter tomorrow, or maybe even two if I'm feeling up to it.

See you soon.