Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

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
- 24
- 25
- 26
          Isabelle stumbled backwards and away from the second time dead corpse, her belly had been ripped into and part of her rib cage was poking out. Quelling the nausea Isabelle gripped her dagger more tightly and headed towards the prison. The closer she got the more chaotic it became until she felt as if the world was ending right before her eyes. People she barely knew were fighting off those she knew, now dead and rabid with hunger. Even as she blinked the chaos ended in the courtyard and the noise dimmed in the cell block. She knew he’d been in there, at the source of the commotion. Whether he was well, injured or… she couldn’t contemplate the other option as she ran full tilt to the cell block door. Pushing her way through she took in the scene of death and once again skidded to a halt her hand to her mouth.
          Bodies littered the cell, people she knew, people who had cared about her at her worst, and children. There were those who had turned and been killed and those who were mauled to death, the tell-tale crossbow arrows littered through skulls. She needed to see him, needed to know… one way or the other she had to know. Frantically she glanced into cells, Carol was within someone she barely knew, comforting them and Isabelle knew it was someone who had no more time left. She turned her attention away and checked the other cells on the ground floor. A lilt called her attention from the second floor, a lilt she knew and she ran, her dagger falling from her hands in her haste as she took the steps two at a time and stopped at the first cell she came to. It was filled with men, they were talking about sickness but the words were lost on her as she saw Daryl.
          A shuddering breath left her, he was alive, he was unharmed and tears traced down her cheeks with relief. She wanted to barge past them, wrap her arms around him and never let him go. Surely he would always be safe there, safe pressed against her. Enough of her decorum remained with her to know this was not the time, but she wanted him to see her. Wanted him to know she was back, she was also safe. Carefully she stepped sideways and met his sideways glance around Hershel, a glint of something in his eyes greeted her and she nodded as she turned her attention to the cell block.
          Sickness, something to do with sickness. Her eyes took in the devastation, they needed to do something with the bodies though. Carefully she made her way back down the stairwell cautious of touching any surface that might have some form of contaminant on. She needed to get some supplies to stop everyone on the clean-up crew from getting contaminated as well. Austin had already beaten her to it by the time she got to the doorway and handed her a set of gloves and a long apron.
“We’ll be burning our clothes as well after this,” He informed her.
          Isabelle glanced down at her swamp water covered clothes. “Not a problem,” She smirked, plucking at the sodden jumper. Tugging her gloves on she fastened the apron and grabbed a bucket and mop. Others were already tackling the bodies of their friends and loved ones, she would have felt too involved trying to help them with that aspect. Tears were falling from most of their faces, from shock as much as loss. They had all thought they were so safe here, with the high prison walls and the outer face. To be taken out by their own, from within… it was almost unimaginable. Her eyes were drawn to Sonia’s husband, his sallow face paler than usual. Carefully she placed the mop against the wall and stepped towards him.
“Isaac? Hi,” He turned lost eyes to her and she felt part of her heart break at his expression and the pain in those eyes. “I’m sorry about Sonia, she was a lovely lady. Would you like a cup of coffee and a biscuit?”
          Slowly he nodded and she peeled away all of her protective gear and tucked his hand into the crook of her elbow as she did her fingers registered a texture she hadn’t been expecting. There was blood on her finger tips, fresh blood, not yet clotting. Gently she peeled back Isaac’s sleeve to the bite on his lower arm. Their eyes met and she read the sorrow in his gaze. They both knew he wouldn’t survive an amputation, he was too old.
“Come on, let’s go and sit down in your room,” Isabelle whispered, wrapping an arm about his shoulders and guiding him back to the cell.
          Once he was settled she headed for the small kitchen and made the strongest coffee she could find. She knew he suffered from diabetes but she added the sugar regardless and selected three of the most chocolate covered biscuits she could find. They both knew this would be a last meal. With the small plate she headed back to the cell and dropped onto the bed facing him with a soft smile as he passed the cup and biscuits over. A twinkle of surprise and delight was there within the sorrow. What they talked about for those five minutes was the most pointless chatter ever.
          Isabelle shuffled forwards as Isaac’s eyes began to droop with tiredness. Carefully she hugged him as he slowly went limp in her arms as the drugs took effect, lulling him into a deep sleep. They were only sleeping pills, and there had only been enough to put him to sleep, the rest was down to her dagger. Pulling it free she pressed the tip to the base of his skull and with a shaky breath pushed it upwards full force. For a moment his eyes shot open then fluttered shut for the last time. Brushing the blood off on the sheet she laid him down and covered his face with the bed sheet.
          From ballerina, to survivalist, to suicidal, to murderer, and now to euthanasia. She rested her back against the cold post of the ladder at the end of the bed and stared at the slowly growing pool of blood. Three years now, three years since she had danced on a stage, three years since she had been truly innocent. She had thought herself so worldly, travelling, seeing so many cultures, tasting so many things… she had known nothing. This world, still part of the old but so polar opposite was tearing apart her knowledge of everything. A shadow fell over her and she looked across at the man in the doorway, Daryl had clearly taken in the scene already.
“I killed Sonia when I came back, she’s in the courtyard,” Isabelle whispered, her eyes returning to the pool of blood. “He’d been bitten on the arm, we had chocolate biscuits, he shouldn’t have had them… he’s diabetic, it would make him so ill.”
          Hands grabbed her upper arms and pulled her upright into a bear hug as the tears fell. She wrapped her arms around him and clung, desperately as her very knees quaked with the horror. He was saying something, she couldn’t hear over her hiccupping breaths, her face pressed into his chest. She focused on his steady heartbeat until her breaths returned to normal and she ran out of tears. Slowly she pushed away, realising he wasn’t going to let her go until she was ready, no matter how long it took. With a shaky breath she offered him a smile, his thumb brushing the last tear track from her cheek. His finger hooked under her chin and tilted her chin up. With some trepidation he pressed his lips to hers briefly.
“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” Daryl’s gruff voice broke into her consciousness.
          Silently they made their way out of the cell block, Daryl shutting the door behind them and locking it. Apparently anyone from that cell block was staying put. Isabelle glanced back as they kept working, the bodies piling up at the entrance way, ready to be either buried or burned. Fingers locked with hers and tugged her away.
“I need to go to the council meeting,” Daryl whispered. “Burn those clothes and stay away from the cell block.”
“Is it a sickness?” Isabelle questioned.
“That’s what we’re going to try and sort out,” Daryl released her hand and strode away, his crossbow still over his shoulder.
          The shower made her more awake, the fresh clothes helped more and not smelling of swamp and blood and death finished the job. There was no movement between cell block D and the rest of the prison. It was still on lockdown with no sign of let up and there was an increasing sense of panic within the prison. An undercurrent of terror was just ready to burst through the typically calm demeanour. It was as if everyone was waiting for anyone to just drop dead and then leap up and rip flesh. Isabelle stepped up to Beth, bouncing Judith on her knee and apparently the only one that was oblivious to the growing explosion around them. With a smile the younger woman looked up at her. She wasn’t a girl anymore to Isabelle, Beth was a woman, who coped better than most people twice her age with infinitely more experience. If you wanted to get through this you needed a Beth with her sweet disposition and hardworking attitude. Isabelle dropped onto the bench next to her and watched as the baby bounced and giggled.
“Do you think she has any idea what’s happening around her?” Isabelle wondered out loud watching Judith.
“No, she’s just a little baby. Probably just wondering why she can jump so high,” Beth smiled sweetly.
“I suppose,” Isabelle whispered, still watching her. “I wonder who she’ll play with as she grows up.” Beth stopped bouncing her and instead stared at Isabelle.
“Well, there’ll be others,” Beth stated. “Just might take a while longer but there’ll always be others for her to play with. If not, we can play with her, she’ll never be lonely.”
“How do you stay so positive Beth?” Isabelle half demanded, half whispered in awe.
“What else is there to be?” Beth smiled, that sweet smile that promised such hope for the future. “It makes it easier to cope. If everyone thinks you’re happy, it doesn’t matter how you feel on the inside because when people think you’re happy you start to be happy.”
“Perhaps we should tell Daryl and Rick that,” Isabelle teased.
          They both shared a giggle at the thought of either of them being less serious. A door smacked open behind them, Beth nodded towards whoever had emerged. “Why don’t you go and put it into practice?” She whispered as Isabelle glanced over her shoulder to see Daryl, avoiding everyone’s gaze and heading for the open field in thought. Isabelle squeezed Beth’s hand and mussed Judith’s hair before heading after the dark cloud that consumed Daryl. Something told her that faking positivity with him was paramount to dooming yourself to a decade of misery. She caught the slumped shape of him against the wall, crossbow at his feet and approached slowly, suddenly questioning if it was such a good idea to talk to him. Too late for her to retreat his eyes caught her and he straightened slightly. It would look too strange for her to back off now, forcing a soft smile to her lips she walked forwards cautiously.
“You ok?” Isabelle whispered, afraid her voice would break him as she got closer. He looked so fragile, and at the same time she could see the strength quickly returning to his frame as she stepped next to him.
“Yeah, just tired of losing everyone,” He avoided her eyes at the admission and she knew if she hadn’t chosen that moment to slide onto the wall next to him and press her shoulder to his, he would have walked away.
“Me too,” Isabelle admitted, meeting his eyes. “All I could think when I saw the walkers in the prison was… were you ok. I figured it didn’t matter what happened to anyone else, I’d be ok as long as you were ok.”
“Yeah? How does that work?” Daryl queried, his expression not giving away anything.
“I have no idea,” Isabelle smiled crookedly.
“Hard for you to be ok if you’re not here,” Daryl pointed out.
“I know, I didn’t mean to stay out,” Isabelle moaned, thinking back on her night away and how close she had come to death. “It nearly didn’t end well. Although, saying that, I don’t need you to always save me Daryl. I can save myself sometimes too.”
          That smile was back, the casual lazy smile that broke her heart every time. It was just the tiniest crook of the corner of his lips and a slight almost twinkle to his eye. She let her breath shudder out and looked away, he would be the death of her. His eyes were burning into her and she felt her cheeks colour as she turned back to meet his gaze. There was a quietness there again, whether she’d said something to help him or just her presence had soothed she didn’t know.
“So I don’t need to find a white horse just yet then?” He whispered.
“Hey have some respect for the British ballerina here, I am holding my own… most of the time,” Isabelle nudged his shoulder. “I’m not quite as much of a delicate flower as I was when you first had the misfortune to meet me.”
“Don’t lose it all,” Daryl murmured, his fingers brushing the same strand of hair from her face and lightly touching her cheek.
“Don’t lose… what?” Isabelle whispered, slightly lost in the delicate touch.
“You,” Daryl stated as if it was obvious.
- 24
- 25
- 26
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Survival Isn't An Option