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Survival Isn't An Option	By : Pilgrim Category: S through Z > The Walking Dead Views: 6774 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead or any of the characters from the series. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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         The days passed slowly at the gas station, a steady repetition of eating, sleeping and resting in the cool sun as the mare grazed. She’d found an old leather jacket, fur lined with old biker insignia plastered over its arms and big enough to fit the extra jumpers she’d also foraged. Her energy was returning slowly and the mare no longer hobbled on sore feet or winced whenever her back flexed. Isabelle had raided the pharmaceutical section and sourced some cream which had helped them both with their wounds. Pressure sores no longer wept and chapped skin slowly stopped peeling. Frayed freezer gloves had been one of her favourite finds as well as the piles of socks. Most had been added to her sleeping pile but her boots had also been filled in more and her feet were no longer constantly freezing. Once the horde had passed she had reinforced the Plexiglas front of the store with the pallets and strapped the metal roller cages to the paddock fence for added security. The store was as impenetrable as it could be to human, corpse or beast. She had heard dogs or wolves howl a distance away but so far they had stayed out of sight, the pickings easy enough in the forest.
         Water was getting low, a lot of the bottles had been pierced in the ceiling collapse and as far as she was aware there was no local stream. Between her and the horse they were going through the amount left rapidly. The mare was looking well, her belly slightly rounder with the grass and Isabelle’s was no longer swollen and painful. Her muscles still ached and she couldn’t stand for long without her head swirling almost into unconsciousness but every day was getting a little better. Every day she stood a little longer, walked a little further and lifted a little more, the rest invigorating her soul as much as her body. Although the silence was starting to press in. No corpses had appeared since the horde had passed and although she was more than grateful at their absence it also drove the point home at just how alone she was. If not for the horse she firmly believed her sanity would have left her. That responsibility for another life was the only thing keeping her going, keeping her strong. At the end of a fortnight in the silence she was beginning to feel restless and the water was down to the last bottle. She held it up to the light of the sun and sighed in resignation. It was time to move again.
         The mare stood patiently as she was tacked, Isabelle piling blankets and pillows underneath the saddle and the saddle bags, extra rucksacks strapped to them that she’d laden with cans. It meant she couldn’t ride as the saddle was sure to slip with the added foot of padding but it also meant that it couldn’t rub the poor horse anymore. Right now, she needed a pack mule more than a riding horse and the mare seemed happy to oblige. Patting her neck Isabelle turned to the doorway and for all her restlessness and the need for water, the trepidation of leaving the small sanctuary was almost enough for her to delay leaving. She had escaped the ever-present horrors in this small building, the fear and the haunting of the constantly hunting corpses that plagued the world now. Water was necessary though and already she was getting thirsty, she glanced at the bottle in her hand, already half empty. To delay the departure a little longer she double checked the remaining empty plastic water bottles strapped over the mare’s flanks. They were secure, netted together to stop from clattering against each other. With a heavy sigh, she pulled the barricade of wooden pallets from the door and led the horse through. Instantly the mare was hobbling, her hooves not yet recovered enough to tolerate the rough grating of the tarmac road. Slowly they made their way to the grass and paused as Isabelle decided their path. The horde had headed along the road; Isabelle wasn’t sure where they had ended their trudging parade but she knew she didn’t want to meet them again.
         Overbearing doubt flooded her mind. She could follow the road and use the open space of it to see far ahead to get advanced warning but she would also risk being seen by others, be they alive or dead. The other option was to head into the forests and use the added camouflage but that would also risk an ambush. There was more chance of finding water inside the forest though, she doubted the road would clash with any streams and the living were more likely to patrol its smoother path. With one last look at the gas station that had sheltered them Isabelle led the horse into the forest. The sun rose, hit its peak and was nearing the horizon before she found a stream and they were both beyond thirsty and grateful at its chill in their stomachs, the bottle long since emptied. Simultaneously they drank from it until they were quenched. Once sated Isabelle removed the tack from the mare and piled the blankets at the base of a tree, resting the saddle against it to once more serve as back prop and pillow.
Quietly she filled the water bottles as the mare grazed a few feet away, her ears flickering nervously at the slightest sound. They were both severely on edge outside of those comforting walls. As the sun finally set Isabelle clambered into the pile of blankets before piling leaves over them as she realised that perhaps the blankets were a mistake. Sure, they kept the mares back in better condition and would keep them both warmer during the colder nights but there was a major issue with the smell that now erupted from them with the slightest movement. The distinct waft of horse and horse sweat was encompassing her, which although Isabelle didn’t mind, the corpses might find just too tempting. The nights were getting gradually warmer; spring was around the corner and she contemplated just what she was going to do with the blankets. Would she even be here next winter to use them…?
Her thoughts trailed off down that familiar dark path of doubt. The chill of the night and her dread making her shiver uncontrollably and her fingers clamped into her hair, pulling tight as if to draw the thoughts away. Isabelle pressed her head back against the tree with a moan. She’d been through what she once thought was worse than anything bar death, but now all those past experiences seemed trivial. All those things she had once thought failures were now irrelevant, completely useless events and skills. Not that anyone had anticipated the world turning out this way. The mare issued a worried wicker and hurried back to Isabelle’s resting place. Silence fell between them as Isabelle struggled out of her blankets to stand by the horse. Her eyes peering desperately into the dark forest, her ears almost ripping from her head as she listened intently for the slightest sound. A twig snapped and instantly she moved to put the saddle on, rushing to strap the saddle bags as she grabbed for an armful of blankets before realising how cumbersome they were going to be whenever she needed to move quickly. There was no time. The corpse was snarling closer with every second she wasted debating the blankets fate. Isabelle leapt into the saddle deciding immediate survival was more important than the blanket decision and urged the mare forwards as the corpse fell over a branch and snapped at their heels.
It was hard to see through the trees in the dark, the moon was no longer full, barely silvering the upper leaves. Isabelle trusted the mare’s eyes and they made their way steadily away from the corpse who also sounded like it was having trouble. Once again they were running, once again her heart was in her throat and her breath was ragged with fear. For the first time though she felt alive and she wondered what had happened to her since the apocalypse came. Since when did running for her life, fearing death and not having food or water mean life? Yet here she was, terrified, and alive with energy running through her body like electricity. Without warning the horse screamed and shied, almost unseating her before she bolted, fast as lighting and completely out of control. It was all Isabelle could do to grip onto the saddle, her hands aching as they grasped the saddle horn and her thighs on fire gripping for life around the heaving ribcage of the mare. Whatever had scared the horse had done a great job, they were moving faster than she had ever travelled before.
Without warning a thick branch whacked into her shoulder, throwing her from the saddle and tumbling her over the horse’s rump. She tucked, old instinct kicking in, and she landed heavily on her side, eyes facing away from the horse and back the way they’d come. Her ribs ached but it wasn’t worse than she was used to and her breathing was still just fine. In the faint moonlight, there was the glint of something in the distance. Pushing herself upright Isabelle felt her blood run cold as the horde revealed itself to her through the trees. She hadn’t outrun it, she hadn’t avoided it or hidden from it, the forest had been the wrong choice and now she was back where she had started with corpses on her heels and nowhere to hide. Cursing under her breath she turned and ran after the horse who had slowed to a stand a short distance away at the loss of her rider. Isabelle whistled as the mare screamed in fear, she wouldn’t come back to her but she might just wait. The horse nervously prancing on the spot, her head tossing impatiently as Isabelle raced, her arms and legs pumping desperately. She just had to grasp the saddle horn, she could mount if she could just grab the horn. Tears broke from her eyes as the desperation stole her breath, her lungs were screaming and her throat was on fire as the mare started to back up fearing for her own life more and more. With one last gasp, her hand landed on the horn and the mare didn’t wait for any more urging as she started to jog off. Isabelle pulled and ignored the rip of pain in her damaged shoulder as she writhed undignified into the saddle. Once on her back again the mare didn’t pause as she ran from the nearing danger.
Only when her energy failed did the mare slow and stumble to a halt almost throwing Isabelle from the saddle once more with the sharp stumbling stop. Isabelle had no idea how much time had passed but dawn was close, the birds were chirping as steam rose from the horse’s drenched coat. Isabelle slid from the saddle and fell to the floor, her legs too shaky to take her own weight. Every inch of her was trembling with fear and exhaustion. The pain in her shoulder was throbbing, her thighs were aching and tears escaped from her eyes. She looked at the mare, her sides heaving and steam billowing from her nostrils and wondered why she had ever risked leaving the gas station. Shakily after the few minutes of self-pity she got back onto her feet and pulled a bottle free from the netting. Holding the bottle to the horse’s lips letting her drink deeply before she pulled a second bottle free and downed most of that herself. Wearily Isabelle took the reins and slowly they kept walking, they had to keep a good distance between themselves and the horde.
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Survival Isn't An Option