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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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*AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you for the lovely reviews, they are much appreciated! Enjoy the chapter! Pilgrim x
          Despair was the first emotion to register after the shock started to wear thin. Dawn was starting to break; she’d dozed fitfully in the relative safety of the cell block but her hand had never strayed from the kitchen knife. Isabelle watched as the colours broke through the bars. She had no supplies except the clothes on her back and the knife in her hand. The remaining water in the barrel was barely enough for one more bottle and there was no food left. Sliding from the cot again Isabelle searched the cells for anything, a bag from Caleb’s cell and a handful of drugs. Flip flops of all things from another cell, too big but they would do for now. She found two more daggers, neither hers, and a handful of bullets scattered beneath a bed but no gun. Some rope and a dressing gown, blood stained and stinking of death but it at least might work as a distraction to the walkers. The final cell gave her a torch and a tin of beans.
          Silently she sat at the picnic table and spooned the beans free with her fingers. It might be her last meal for a while, she doubted that the food stores would be accessible and her plan wasn’t to go through the courtyard but instead risk the path through the prison itself to the shattered end of the other cell block. She was hoping the noise and chaos that must have come from the courtyard would have drawn them away from that exit. The maxi dress was hardly appropriate wear in an apocalypse and was made even more ridiculous with its dressing gown topping. Taking a dagger, she slit the skirt up the sides and pulled the material through her legs to make a trouser wrap instead. It was hardly the glamorous couture attire she’d worn on cruises but this would have to do. The dressing gown got slits up its sides to make movement easier also. Slinging the bag over her shoulders and across her chest Isabelle sighed in resignation and looked at the door. Once she was through there, that one doorway, she could never return. Everything she knew, all the safety, all the people would be left behind.
          Had Daryl made it out? Isabelle tore her attention from that thought, what were the odds of her seeing any of the group again. For all she knew, they had willingly and knowingly left her. No, she needed to forget them and just make sure she survived. Easier said than done. She glanced back at the door that led to the courtyard, if he was still here he was either a walker or a mess of blood and guts. Either way, he would be out there, not the way she was going. Was it better to know or not to know… It was certain death to chance finding him out there though. Her eyes turned back to the other doorway and she headed for it with a heavy sigh. This wasn’t her time to die, this wasn’t her time to just stop and give up. Even if he had died there was no honouring his memory by letting walkers tear her up without even trying to survive, without even putting all the knowledge and training he had graced her with to use. Even if she only lasted five minutes she had to try.
          Isabelle looked calmly at her hand on the door handle. With a determined sigh and her other hand tightening its grasp on the dagger hilt she yanked it open and stepped into the darkness. Nothing moved, nothing made a noise and she flicked the torch on. The corridors were eerie, empty and echoing with the slightest movement and her head was already trying to psych her out. She banished all the horror stories she had enjoyed as movies, all the books she had read and all the stories she’d shared on those nights in boarding school at the academy. There was no greater horror story than the reality that surrounded her. What could have barely been an hour felt like days before she spotted the daylight of the broken wall. Hurrying forwards, she slid and stumbled through the rubble until the sun of the early morning on her face caused her to pause, it was a mild balm to her psyche. For just a moment the terror was washed away. There wasn’t time to waste though, those walkers in the prison would be milling around here as well. With one last look back at the smoking shell of the prison she headed into the woods, fighting back the tears, wrestling with her fears and dismissing the horror, the despair and the distress at being abandoned.
          It could have only been a mistake surely, but that tank… who used tanks now? How had it been working and where had the amount of fuel it would have needed come from? What happened to everyone? The questions swirled through her mind, answers and more questions splattering through her attention like wayward children at a theme park. They ran rampant, distracting her from her surroundings, tearing at her sanity until she was sure she was going to lose her mind. Pausing she finally looked at where she was. Middle of nowhere, a road to her right and nothing but trees around her. She needed to get a grip. This was not the world to be wandering aimlessly around in. She needed water, food and shelter, a plan of action to at least get her through the day. It might be early morning now but it wouldn’t take long for night to hit and with it, the monsters of the world and her mind.
          The prospect of a night alone, in the wilderness again, surrounded by walkers shattered her heart. Tears broke through and trickled down her cheeks as the despair settled heavily into her stomach. How was she going to survive this? Slowly her knees gave way and she huddled on the floor, holding her head in her hands as the tears fell freely. She knew she was making too much noise but right now she didn’t care. Walkers, people, dogs, what did it matter?! What were her odds, what were her chances? By the time she had got herself together the sun was at its peak and her morning was gone. Brushing away the tears Isabelle slowly pushed herself to sit cross legged, her back to a tree trunk. Shakily she drew her water bottle free of the bag and downed a good half of it. She needed to keep it together or she’d just be another easy meal.
          Logic was slowly returning, if she’d made it from the prison then others would have too. If others had then Daryl would have been among them, he was a survivor, if anyone could handle this world he could. They would be looking to reunite somewhere; the prison group was a tight knit community. They would find some way of getting back together, there was hope even if she didn’t know how much of a lead they had. Surely they would try to regroup nearby, there must be something. She wracked her brain for any memory of the surrounding areas. How many times had she and Daryl patrolled this area? They’d looked into the barns, the houses, and the gas stations, as well as raiding the shops, but she hadn’t paid attention to anything but him. Watching how he’d moved, how he’d smiled and that quirk to his lip whenever he had caught her staring. She slammed the heel of her hand into her forehead in frustration. There was no point thinking about him, the likelihood of her ever seeing him again was slim to none. Annoyed and frustrated beyond normal apocalypse levels Isabelle threw herself onto her feet and headed for the road. Other people would be on it, the likelihood was that the prison group would have headed for it and there would be shelter and buildings. She’d have a good view around her to give her plenty of time to run or hide even if it meant she would also be exposed. Eventually she would reach a town or a village and there would be something to eat, drink and probably wear.
          Trudging on Isabelle’s eyes stuck to the road, occasionally she glanced over at walkers on either side. They plodded through the woods, one wandered over to the road but didn’t come close enough to be concerning. The stench of the dressing gown still acting as a pheromone shield. Houses appeared on the distance after several hours of constant trudging, blisters from the flip flops stinging with every shuffling step. Nothing and no one but the odd walker presenting themselves to her, cementing her isolation firmly in her mind. The houses were dilapidated, several clearly ransacked already and her hopes of finding supplies dwindled. Her eyes trailed to the sky. The sun was low; these would have to do for shelter there would not be time to find another town. It wasn’t as if she was short of options, it was just a gut instinct that she did not want to be here. Pulling her dagger free Isabelle headed for the first house on the right, it was clearly ransacked with furniture torn up and fairly fresh blood in the kitchen.
          At least whomever had been here wouldn’t be returning soon. She checked the lower rooms carefully, searching every possible hidey hole, every cupboard but there was nothing more than a few empty bullets and empty food packets. Her eyes were drawn outside, a fruit tree heavy with apples was just outside the door. Someone had raided it but not taken everything. Cautiously Isabelle approached it and took as many as she could reach, piling them into her bag until it barely closed. Finally, she headed to check out the upstairs, having every intention of sleeping on a mattress. No walkers presented themselves and no signs of recent human occupancy. The main bedroom presented the best option with two windows for extra escape options and an ensuite to potentially hide in. Dropping the bag onto the bed Isabelle set to pushing the large wardrobe in front of the door, happy it would at least give her time she turned her attention to the bed. The sheets were dishevelled, most likely by someone having the same idea as herself. Throwing towels and spare clothes onto the bed she made a nest and settled into it, softly crunching through several apples to quieten her grumbling stomach.
          First light she would have to move again, whoever had raided this house was obviously still active in the area. Friend or foe would remain to be seen but she wanted to make sure the arena of meeting would be in her favour Silently she hunkered down deeper into the pile of material, her fingers tight around the handle of her dagger as she watched the sun set through the broken windows. What she would have given to have Daryl here. She would survive this, it wasn’t debateable and it wasn’t an option, it was a necessity and she would find Daryl Dixon if it took her until the end of days.
          The following days passed more quickly, she needed to get supplies together, give herself a fighting chance before venturing out again. Isabelle settled for checking the houses in the estate to keep her mind occupied. Every house was the same story, ransacked and some form of stain left, blood or otherwise. As the light began to fade Isabelle spotted a motion, too smooth for a walker. Three days had passed without even a walker sighting make her senses even more heightened as the possibility increased; the area had obviously been cleared recently. Crouching she watched as the person moved carefully through a kitchen in the house on the opposite side of the street. Isabelle had already raided whatever was left and knew the layout well. She could stay hidden but what if it was someone from the prison? What if they knew where the group was? What if they would only want her blood though…?
          It was a risk worth taking, if it meant the safety of the group and the chance to find Daryl she had to take that gamble. Carefully Isabelle made her way over the street in the dimming light and slipped into the house. She peered around the corner of the door, a slight female figure presented itself. Whoever the woman was she was determinedly trying to get into a dented tin. She didn’t look dangerous; she didn’t even look to have a dagger or surely she would have used that to get into the tin?
“Hey,” Isabelle called quietly as she stepped from the shadows. Instantly the woman tried to run but Isabelle caught her wrist and hurriedly assured her she meant her no harm.
          Slowly the woman calmed, her dirty hair hung in clumps over her face and frantically darting eyes gave away her terror at being caught. Isabelle took the can from her clenched hand slowly and pierced it with her dagger. Silently she offered it back, the woman drank the soup desperately as Isabelle sank onto the floor. Eventually the woman joined her, still desperately chugging at the hole in the tin. Isabelle settled to eating an apple and watched her curiously, she wasn’t part of the prison group but that didn’t mean she hadn’t seen them pass through. They would have to find somewhere safer before the night fell completely. There were rooms upstairs but they weren’t terribly secure. They might just have to do; the other woman was only just less emaciated than herself.
“My name’s Isabelle,” Isabelle whispered softly, offering her an apple.
          The woman watched her suspiciously before taking it and devouring it with such urgency Isabelle feared she’d snap her teeth off at the core. Quietly the woman licked the juice from her fingers and wiped at her chin. “Corinne,” She whispered in a broken voice obviously not used to talking.
“Hi Corinne, do you want another?” Isabelle reached for another apple and passed it to her. “We need to get somewhere safer, do you have anywhere?”
          Corinne shook her head as she mulled over the apple, her eyes locked with Isabelle’s. She wondered how long she’d been on her own, what she’d seen or been through. Still, it was safer with company than without and somehow this woman was surviving just as Isabelle had that first year, against all odds. “Come on, we can talk upstairs, there’s a bed and some extra clothing that we can use for covers,” Isabelle slowly stood and offered Corinne a hand. She smiled winningly as the other woman nervously took it and they stumbled up the stairs together. The wardrobe was heavier than the last and took both of their effort to get it to cover the door. There was only one window in this room and no ensuite. Isabelle swallowed her trepidation and smiled again in false confidence.
“Do you have a group?” Isabelle whispered as they jointly piled clothing onto the bed.
“They died last winter, we got sick,” Corinne explained as she clambered into the pile. “Do you?”
“I was with the group that was in the prison but something happened and they abandoned it,” Isabelle whispered back as she pulled an old leather jacket over herself and made a mental note to take it with her in the morning. “Did you see any groups pass through recently?”
          Corinne shook her head and was clearly struggling to keep her eyes open in the relative comfort of the bed. Isabelle let her doze off, she rolled over and looked out of the window. Night had fallen but there was a flickering glow, there was a fire lit nearby. Doubt creeped into her mind, the prison group would not be so careless. She didn’t dare go to the window to look for fear the light would cast her shadow, for all she knew whoever they were might have already seen them. For now, she and Corinne were safe for the night, morning would bring what it may.
          A hand on her shoulder was gently shaking her awake all too soon. Isabelle mumbled and brushed it away only for the unfamiliar voice to stir her to consciousness. Corinne was leaning over her, she looked concerned and slowly Isabelle blinked herself fully awake. “What is it?”
“They’re here,” Corinne whispered in terror.
“Who?” Isabelle hissed, reaching for her dagger and passing one to Corinne as she looked around the room. “Walkers?”
“No… the men!” Corinne was visibly trembling with abject horror.
          Isabelle rested a hand on her shoulder and tried to calm her but it was clearly going to be a futile effort. The woman was almost beside herself with fear, her eyes almost rolling like a trapped wild horse. Silently Isabelle pulled the leather jacket on, took the dagger back and motioned for her to shut up as the noise of someone in the rooms below broke through. Corinne was all but vibrating on the bed as she trembled with distress and Isabelle wondered who these men were or if Corinne was just afraid of everyone. Their voices were loud, they were shouting and swearing. Someone thundered into the bedroom door, it smacked hard into the wardrobe and Isabelle’s blood ran cold as Corinne shrieked. The frantic tears, the screaming, if it didn’t draw all of the men it would draw every walker from miles around. Isabelle stared at her in horror, she couldn’t leave her but the men were storming up the stairs. It wouldn’t take them long to push the wardrobe aside.
“Shit, it’s women! Dan get up here and get us in!” The nearest man was screaming.
“Corinne, listen, we have to run,” Isabelle hissed at her, grabbing her wrist and trying to tug her to the window. “Corinne, MOVE!”
          She stared at the hysterical woman, still shrieking and screaming while tears ran freely from her eyes. Corinne wasn’t going to move; she was completely lost. Isabelle gritted her teeth and ran for the window, she hit it hard with a chair from the dressing table and pushed the glass away with her leather covered elbow. She glanced back and tried once more to drag Corinne as someone big and heavy slammed into the door and wardrobe, they moved it a couple of inches and she stared at a man with soulless eyes through the gap. A wicked grin spread over his lips.
“Len, you didn’t say they were pretty,” The one she assumed was called Dan chortled.
“Corinne, come on, please,” Isabelle pleaded before the wardrobe moved a couple more inches again.
          Hysterical laughter was pouring through the gap now, there was at least five different voices out there. Someone shouting about order and to keep everything equal. Isabelle grabbed her hair staring at the now completely lifeless Corinne, sat in silence, her eyes staring blankly at nothing and hands limp in her lap. There was nothing left to be done other than carry her and she wasn’t strong enough. She turned and ran, her hands on the windowsill ignoring the prickle of broken glass as she pulled herself up and out onto the roof. The heavy thunk of splintering wood and the clatter of a door told her the wardrobe had finally given way and a group of men piled in. Their greedy eyes took in Corinne, still on the bed and then turned to her and they became greedier still. Isabelle moved to run along the roof only for a hand to clamp onto her ankle and drag her screaming backwards as her nails raked across the tiles desperately.
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Survival Isn't An Option