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Survival Isn't An Option	By : Pilgrim Category: S through Z > The Walking Dead Views: 6773 -:- 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 cold was biting at her feet again, through her leather boots and the several pairs of socks she’d scavenged to fill in the oversize. With a groan, she pushed the piles of leaves and scraps of material aside and stumbled onto her feet. A gentle wicker drew her attention as the mare she’d rescued greeted her in a puff of warm air. Isabelle smiled, she had grown dependent on the sole company of the mare. The smile fell upon hearing the distant sound of corpses heading towards her and she hurried to get the horse tacked up. Buckling the cinch, she rolled into the saddle clumsily as the dead began to appear through the trees. The mare knew her job and set off at a steady trot to outrun the shuffling bodies before Isabelle even had her feet in the stirrups.
         Before them an open field stretched out, sparse and barren. Slowing the mare, Isabelle dropped from the saddle, saving the horses back was a deepening concern. The constant travelling was taking its toll on them both, neither were scavenging enough food. Their bones were prominent and they each were rapidly losing energy. Once again she stripped the horse of her tack and let her loose to graze on the sparse grass in the woods. Folding her legs underneath her, Isabelle pierced a can of cold beans with her knife and slowly picked at them before drinking the juice. Her eyes constantly scanning the horizon as she ate. It was hardly a meal, but she was getting used to the even smaller portions than usual. She had about five cans left in the saddle bag, she needed to find a town or a house and get more soon or she wouldn’t survive a week. The sun was approaching midday steadily; slowly warming the air around her but she was still fighting the urge to shiver. A shuffling noise drew her eyes back to the horizon. There, just breaching the field’s border was the first line of a horde of corpses.
         Isabelle whistled quietly to get the mare’s attention and she trotted over. Quickly the tack was replaced and Isabelle was in the saddle as the field began to fill with the smell of the approaching dead. Stale blood, decay and death permeated the air as they made their way from the field. Several hours passed as they continued leading the increasing column of death. The shuffling feet and snapping jaws echoing in a cacophony behind them, always on their heels. The mare was struggling, tired and hungry from the constant hounding but she was still faster than the corpses as the fear pushed her on. Isabelle glanced back, they were gaining space slowly but surely but she doubted they would get chance to stop for the night. Her fingers brushed through the mare’s mane gently, there was a light sheen of sweat on her neck from the strain of continuing.
         Without a second thought Isabelle slid from the saddle and pulled the reins over the horse’s head. They could keep going longer if the horse had less weight on her. Not that she was much extra weight nowadays. As they kept walking Isabelle pulled the saddle bags from the saddle and draped them over her shoulders. She ignored the snag of the metal rubbing against her collarbones and pulled her jacket closer about her. At least she might get warmer if she was walking rather than sitting and the mare seemed to move a bit easier. Again, she threw a glance over her shoulder and was relieved to see the gap increasing more. The corpses rapidly losing interest as they got further away.
Darkness began to fall before Isabelle dared risk stopping again, their pace was almost snail like. They needed to rest and although she knew the horde was still close she also knew the mare couldn’t keep going for much longer. Her flanks were drenched in sweat and her ribcage was heaving with the need to breathe. Isabelle eased the saddle and bridle from her and watched as the mare instantly dropped to her side and fell into a deep sleep. Quietly she gathered leaves and rubbed the sweat from the horse, before piling others on top of her. Carefully she covered the tack also and piled more near the horse’s belly before settling against her and covering herself also. So far the leaves had worked well at conserving heat and they seemed to mask their smell also, corpses rarely approached and if they stayed still they usually just wandered past. It didn’t make it any less frightening but it was her only survival tactic so far, that and staying as quiet as possible.
         Sleep didn’t come easily that night or the following one, whenever they woke the horde was close again. Isabelle wandered, her feet dragging and the mare trudging beside her down the road. She’d eaten her last can of food, cold and unsatisfying and not enough to sustain her. Every limb was shaking and her vision was barely clear, nothing quite in focus. A glimmer of something red ahead drew her attention, an old gas station, it’s partially collapsed roof sparking in the falling sun. She didn’t dare hope and the horde was still close behind them, always on their heels. Isabelle urged the mare into a jog, the dull hoof falls not loud enough to draw attention as they reached the forecourt out of sight of the horde. She rubbed the dust from the door and pressed her face to it. Tears and a sob cracked from her as the almost pristine interior greeted her. There was mouldy food yes but also cans, bottles and most importantly just dead bodies, no corpses were walking or moving. The smell would be enough to disguise her and the horse’s smell from the horde if they got curious enough. Brushing the tears away Isabelle wrenched the door open and urged the mare through into the shelter.
         Carefully she stripped the tack from the horses back and brushed away the matts of fur, the sores on the mares back were worse but thankfully not infected. Instantly the mare led down and fell asleep. Isabelle pushed her belongings behind the cashier desk and then turned her attention to the mess of the building. Swallowing her nausea, she started to move the dead bodies outside the windows, to where the horde would approach first. The smell and feel of the dead as she grasped the mummified skin kept threatening her ability to keep her meagre meal down. Eventually the shop floor was clear, the cracks in the ceiling obscuring part of the shelving units towards the back. Sunlight, faint and pale was creeping in from somewhere behind the mess of concrete and she knew she’d have to investigate before she could risk stopping and relaxing. Her hand rested on her knife as she made her way towards the back of the building. The soft breathing of the horse the only noise in the otherwise silent building.
         Her fingers tightened on the hilt of the blade as she stepped around the corner to where a door stood partially open. Gently she pushed it further and stepped through into the storage area, the roof completely collapsed with only a few beams still stretching across. Wooden pallets and metal roll cages rested under slabs, most shattered but some intact. As her eyes readjusted to the light she saw perfection before her. There was the equivalent of a field behind the gas station. Completely secure with a chain link fence, reinforced. Isabelle felt her knees give way in relief as she stared at the small piece of heaven that now surrounded her. There was food and water for her and her horse. It wouldn’t last forever but surely long enough for her to recover and her horse to heal. Tears ran freely down her cheeks as she stifled a sob. Isabelle pushed herself back to her feet and headed back into the shop. She pulled car blankets, throws and travel pillows and piled them behind the cashier desk. The thickest fleece she draped over the sleeping mare and stroked her neck gently. Pushing and pulling blankets and pillows around, Isabelle finally dropped into the pile. The shelter of the building, the warmth of the blankets and the comfort of the pillows finally lulling her into the truest sleep since all this horror began.
         The rising sun bathing her face with a gentle warmth woke her, Isabelle stretched carefully feeling every joint crack and groan. She moaned softly at the sensation before opening her eyes as a shadow blocked out the sunlight. Instantly she froze as realisation sank in, the horde was outside the gas station. Their moans, groans and stench reverberating into the building. Slowly she lowered her arms and rolled onto her belly to peer over the top of the counter. There were hundreds, thankfully they were still shuffling past, but so slowly and the line of them spanned further than she could see. Isabelle glanced towards the mare, she was still asleep, her breathing slow and peaceful. There was grass hanging from her mouth and the fleece was now underneath her. Clearly she’d found the pasture behind the gas station during the night and had her fill of the rich grass out there. Isabelle’s stomach growled and she pressed her hands to it afraid that the slightest sound would either wake the horse or alert the horde. She needed to eat, her stomach was swollen with hunger and the pain was starting to get to her. Carefully she extracted herself from the muddle of blankets and pillows and crawled on all fours towards the shelves of tins.
         Ready meals in tins glittered at her temptingly but she knew she’d have to be careful and eat slowly to avoid wasting the food by losing it as quickly as she ate it. Carefully she pierced the can and slowly chewed and swallowed the contents, cheap sausage meat, beans and a tart sauce. It tasted phenomenal, better than any meal she had eaten at a restaurant at any time. Barely half way through the can and her stomach started to ache. Despite her mind screaming at her to keep eating she put the can down and returned to her pile of blankets. Her eyes were already heavy as she flopped onto the pile and again fell into a deep dreamless sleep.
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Survival Isn't An Option