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
- 36
- 37
- 38
          Isabelle stared after him before jogging to catch up. She walked alongside him, the crickets chirping and a soft breeze rustling the leaves as they headed deeper into the forest towards the cabin. “I’m not trying to push you or anyone else away Daryl,” she whispered into the silence that hung heavily between them. They cleared a ridge and the path Rick had trodden through the undergrowth suddenly dropped into a shallow valley.
          At the centre a small wooden cabin sank heavily onto its foundations, the walls upright but rotten. The rickety door swung open, causing everyone to jump back and reach for weapons. Only for Tyreese to step through, the baby firmly held in his arms. The celebrations at everyone being together again exploded in a moderate amount of noise as people tried to contain their excitement for fear of attracting walkers or any survivors of the train depot. The group surged forwards, running the last few feet to join up with their final member.
Isabelle skirted around the group, heading for a pile of bodies that someone had disposed of, the celebrations were sweet but she would only get in the way. She tugged at the boots of one walker and they slipped free easily, the laces long since rotted. Pulling them on she then searched for a shirt or anything with which to cover her top half with, at least then she could return Daryl’s angel wings to him and not have the jerkin flapping open every three seconds. Out of the three potential shirts one was pierced through and drenched in blood and the other came away with a free sample of skin which turned her stomach far enough to stop her from trying the third body. Forcing the nausea down she instead tugged a belt free from one of them, wrapping it twice to hold the jerkin in place. It was far from fashionable and barely comfortable. The leather rubbed at her stitches and the arm holes sank past her waist in its oversize. Still, it was better than walking around presenting nothing more than a bra.
          Satisfied with the meagre rations of clothing she’d managed to cobble together she returned to the group. They were in the throes of dealing out weapons and survival gear, making sure no one was overburdened or not pulling their weight. Rick tossed a rucksack to her, heavy with cans and other bits and pieces, she shouldered it silently. She would be useful to this group; she would stay safe. Her confidence in herself and her abilities had increased exponentially during her solo foray but at the same time she knew the group was the best way forwards for extended survival. She couldn’t face another night running from that gang and possibly facing them alone again. Additional to that, there could be worse out there. People were getting more desperate, ready sources of food were dwindling and the walkers were moving in larger groups than ever before. They might be more detectable as a group but at least they had a greater chance at defending themselves if they were all together.
“We should rest here for the night,” A voice called out followed by another and then another, everyone arguing a different point.
          Isabelle bit her tongue, she wanted to get as far away from the train depot and the site of Nathaniel’s death as quickly as possible. The memory combined with the threat of the walkers and any potential survivors of Terminus was enough to make every iota of her being scream to keep on running. She stepped towards Daryl, stood silent at the edge of the clearing, his eyes back towards the smoke plume signalling the smouldering remains of the train depot. Slowly she eased the rucksack from her shoulders and sank onto her knees in the leaves and moss. After a few moments he joined her, watching her curiously. He reached for the rucksack and removed several of the heavier items into his own.
“I’m not weak you know,” Isabelle muttered, torn between gratitude and annoyance at the assumption.
“I know you’re not weak,” He muttered back, moving two more cans over. “Just you don’t move as fast as the rest of us, don’t want to lose the food.”
“Oh look at the serious archer making a joke,” Isabelle drawled and sat beside him, their arms pressed together lightly as they rested against a tree. Silently they listened to the conversation of the group, rising in tension and easing in equal waves as they debated their future.
“I’m sorry you had to kill your friend,” Daryl murmured so only they could hear.
“It had to be done, I couldn’t have let him suffer,” Isabelle sighed heavily, feeling the pain again as a sharp stab through her heart.
“No, I mean I wish it hadn’t been you that had done it,” Daryl clarified looking at her softly.
“Well I wouldn’t have let anyone else,” Isabelle pointed out. “He was my responsibility, so it was my job.”
“Abraham or someone, anyone else, could have done it,” Daryl stated calmly. “You’ll have that blood on your hands for the rest of your life.”
“I’d rather kill out of pity than in self-defence,” Isabelle mumbled, scuffing her foot into the leaves and watching a spider run away.
“It’s easier to get over a death caused by defending,” Daryl plucked at his trousers absently, not quite brave enough to meet her gaze again. “Come on, we’re moving,” Daryl heaved himself upright and shouldered his pack before offering her a hand.
“You know, you don’t always have to be a knight in shining armour to me,” Isabelle smiled slightly. “I can cope,” She held onto his hand for longer than she had meant to as she lifted her rucksack before realising it was empty. “Hey!”
“What?” Daryl smirked and walked ahead leaving her to jog to catch up. “Told you, don’t want to risk losing the food.”
“That’s just patronising,” Isabelle muttered with no real annoyance. She nudged his shoulder gently with her own before slowly unwinding her fingers from his as she pulled the straps over her shoulders.
          Isabelle snapped the tab on another tin and stared at it in annoyance, why did they always break on her? She reached for her dagger only for someone to take the tin from her hands, the sound of a dagger piercing and peeling it back followed. There was a clank of a spoon and she folded her arms over her knees to glare through the gloom at whomever had dishonoured her tin. Carol smiled back, handing it over with most of the contents still intact before she sat opposite her, back also to a tree trunk. They were camping in the open, huddled together in close proximity without a fire for fear of attracting attention. Daryl, Rick and Abraham had hunted walkers to lie in a circle around them, the stench pervading every sense but also working to cover their own scent. Walkers that had shuffled after them from Terminus, suitably deterred, stumbled onwards into the depths of the forest. Hungrily she finished the tin and buried it under leaves to conceal the smell of food before licking her fingers clean.
          The darkness was almost absolute under the heavy cover of the leaves and branches; she was sure there wasn’t even a moon tonight it was that gloomy. Turning to Carol one last time she saw she was already asleep, propped against the trunk, dagger in hand. Isabelle smiled at the sight and dropped carefully to her right hand side, looking away from the group but protecting her injured side. She folded her arm under her head and tried to get comfortable among the roots and twigs that littered the floor. There were several conversations being held behind her and she let the lull of various voices carry her off to sleep. Fitfully she drifted between the world of horrors and the world of nightmares until soft footsteps through leaves drew her attention. Her hand trailed to the dagger still in her belt and her fingers slid around the handle.
Silently she glanced over her shoulder, acknowledging the crick in her neck as it cracked. Memory foam mattress… one day she would have to find a memory foam mattress. Her eyes more accustomed to the dark found the outline of Daryl, draping a blanket of some form over Carol. The woman mumbling something in her sleep as he adjusted her hands and made sure she couldn’t hurt herself with the blade in her lap.
His footsteps came closer and she felt him drop down behind her. An arm reached over and collided with hers on her dagger. She released it, glancing back at him as he slid it from her belt and placed it within arm’s reach above them.
“Better safe than sorry,” He mumbled into her ear as he wriggled to press his left arm under her head before wrapping himself about her back.
Without question Isabelle wriggled to fit against him, happy to get as close as possible. His arms curled protectively about her, his breath skirting over her shoulder. The rhythmical breathing, the firm sensation of muscles and warmth against her back lulled her. There wouldn’t be any more nightmares tonight, not with her own personal guardian in attendance and morning would come far too soon.
Sure enough it was dawn long before she was ready to stir from the leafy nest. The tickle of breath on her shoulder was all she needed to know that Daryl was still fast asleep even though there was movement behind them. With a groan she realised what had woken her and reluctantly removed Daryl’s right arm from about her. Carefully she made her way onto her feet and stumbled through the half-light to relieve herself behind a bush. She wrinkled her nose at the dead walker not so far away, at least it’s smell would still be covering any the group made.
Rubbing at her eyes she made her way back to the camp, cursing as her boots flopped and snagged on a branch sending her sprawling to the floor. They were at least four sizes too big and she still didn’t have laces for them. By the time she’d stumbled and wallowed her way back Daryl was stirring. Led on his back, arms stretched over his head he sat up as she approached, frowning at the leafy addition to her hair. Not wanting to admit the new day was here she flopped down next to him, pushing him gently backwards from his seated position as she curled up against his side, head on his chest. “It’s not morning,” She mumbled against the firm muscle.
“You might want to let me go,” Daryl muttered back, keeping his voice low.
“I know of no such desire,” Isabelle yawned widely, wriggling closer before realising he would be facing the same situation she had and reluctantly released him from her grasp.
          She watched him saunter away to the outer edge of the temporary camp. Stretching she let the remaining joints crack as she glanced across at the other sleeping members. There was a suspicious amount of movement where Glenn and Maggie were and she turned her eyes quickly away, suspecting they didn’t know anyone else was awake.
“You thirsty?” Startled she glanced up at Daryl, his grin confirming her suspicions as to what that movement was all about. “Found a stream just a few metres away, looks clean.”
“Parched,” Isabelle stated as she scrambled free of the leaves once more and followed him away from the group.
          It was more than a few metres away, they were almost out of shouting distance of the others and Isabelle suspected there was a deeper motive to his retreat from the group. “Figured you might want a wash before everyone else wakes up,” Daryl informed her, confirming her suspicions of an ulterior motive. “Don’t worry I won’t look.”
          Isabelle fought the urge to say he could look if he wanted and just smiled in gratitude instead. Unbuckling the belts from her waist and hips she dropped Daryl’s jerkin, her jeans, and underwear in a messy pile before kicking her boots off next to them and dropping the ring into the right one. The stain of dried blood at her waist caught her attention and she brushed at it with a grimace before noticing her wrist bones were protruding disgustingly. How long had they done that for?
Her eyes glanced down her body, hip bones just beginning to push through skin and ribs starting to make a skate park of her torso. She was used to being skinny, uncomfortably so, but this was too extreme. That fortnight of scavenging and the illness had left her a wasted skeleton again. At least it explained why everything had taken so much effort recently and why Daryl had been so insistent on emptying her rucksack. She glanced over her shoulder, noting he still had his back to her and his crossbow in hand. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this, they’d be even more obsessed with how weak she was than they already were.
          Turning back to the water she sighed resolutely, it was going to be cold but it had to be done. This was not a tan on her skin. Holding her breath to stop from screaming Isabelle ran full force into the river, pushing her head under water before she could cry out at the chill. Coming up she gasped and cursed more vehemently than she had in her life ever before. Daryl glanced backwards with a raised eyebrow at the language. “Just a tad chilly,” Isabelle spluttered, wiping water from her face and struggling to control the shivers.
“Bottle of something just by the rock,” Daryl informed her. “Didn’t check what it was when I grabbed it.”
          Isabelle swam towards it, raised her eyebrow at the well-known brand and instantly squirted some into her hands. She wasn’t going to stay in this river any longer than she had to, the current though mild was stealing any warmth her body managed to generate. Scrubbing at every millimetre she could reach she watched her hands alternate between blacks, browns and eventually pink as she cleaned around the stitches. Her teeth were starting to chatter as she furiously rubbed at her grease streaked hair, one wash was hardly going to cut it but she didn’t want use up all the shampoo. Plunging under one last time she rinsed and swam the short distance to the shore. Something brushed against her ankle gently, pausing she glanced back before dismissing it as nothing more than a weed. It brushed again more firmly and clamped down, dragging her under too quickly for her to shout or do more than gasp a single half breath in.
          Wriggling around in the water she fought against the grasp of a walker. Its horrifically bloated body too close for comfort as it pulled her nearer to its open jaws, teeth askew but gnashing. Fighting against the current and the grasp she struggled and screamed, losing what little air she had left as the walker clamped a second hand about her ankle.
- 36
- 37
- 38
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