Hey there :) Thanks for clicking on my story :D This will eventually follow the aired seasons of The Walking Dead but the first few chapters will be backstory on my OC :) Tell me what you think :D

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead or any characters therein. I only own my OC and specific plot concerning her. :)

Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Endless Numbered Days

My lungs were on fire; each breath a hot iron carving out a pound of flesh from my chest. It hurt, God it fucking hurt, but I had to keep going. I couldn't stop. Stopping meant quitting; stopping meant failure.

Stopping meant death.

And I haven't survived this long to just give into the weakness of my body.

So, I pumped my arms faster; I pushed my legs to the limit; I heaved gulps of air into my burning lungs even though it tasted of death, thick, cloying and decaying as it slid down my throat like fetid water.

I was not going to die here. I refused. This god-forsaken city that had forsaken me long ago would not claim the remainder of my life. It had taken the first half; I wasn't about to let it take the rest.

Breathing fast, I darted across the street, dodging the burnt out shells of cars and the crush of panicked people, my feet crunching over shattered glass and broken things. A snarl twisted my lips as shadows danced in the streets, created by the towering fires flaring throughout the city, by the flocks of people, running, screaming, pleading for help. But I didn't stop, even when I wanted to; even when I could hear children crying; even when I saw someone go down hard, hurt and bleeding. Because I couldn't know; couldn't know if they were safe, if they were healthy, if they were alive. So, though I knew it saved me a special spot in hell, I kept running, not stopping, not letting myself even look.

It felt as if I had been running for hours. How long could I keep this up? My body wasn't made for this kind of endurance. How much farther could I run before my lungs just collapsed from the strain of pulling in jagged breaths? How long was it until my legs buckled underneath the strain of this frantic, full tilt sprint?

How long was it until they caught me?

I shuddered at the thought. No, I wouldn't think of that. I would keep running, keep moving. Left, right, in, out. Keep running. Keep-

Suddenly, my foot caught on something, and I went sprawling into the ash-covered asphalt, rocks and grit digging into my cheeks and the heels of my hands. A grunt of pain slipped past my chapped lips but I was already scrambling up, adrenaline and panic eclipsing all else as the noises behind me grew louder and louder.

Those noises, they sent shivers through my body as I rounded a building, my pack slamming into my spine with every jarring step. It wasn't the sound of pain and panic that the city was fraught with, though those would haunt me until the day I died. It was the other things, the things that shouldn't be but inexplicitly were. Everyone who was left was terrified of those noises, the moans and growls that made your hairs stand on end and your heart skip a beat. The feral snarls of wild things that wanted to devour you, tear you open, feast on all you had been and all you ever would be.

They were the sounds of demons, of monsters. They were the sounds of…

All of the sudden, I rounded a corner, ratty converse skidding on debris, and ran headlong into something soft, something putrid. A yelp clawed its way out of my throat as I stumbled backwards, understanding causing my right hand to shoot over my left shoulder, grappling and searching. My eyes were quick to adjust to the gloom of the alley, pupils dilating as I saw the thing I had slammed into jerk forward, reaching for me with clenching fingers. Instinctively, I tried to twist away, terror acidic in the back of my throat, but my feet stuttered, unbalanced, and a bony hand grasped my wrist. I screamed as I fell forward, my hand still clutching behind me as I looked up into the thing's face.

It was the image of a nightmare. The eyes were wide and bulging, rheumy and bloodshot above the gapping hole of his nasal cavity. Its skin, the parts that were whole and intact, not hanging in decaying tatters, was sallow and streaked with gore, painted red and brown and all the other colors of abject carnage. But it was its mouth that I stopped on, that froze the blood in my veins to the coldest of ice. The lips of this thing had been ripped off, by whom or what I would never know, but the teeth were still solid and they snapped at me with a horrible, frenzied, clicking noise that echoed over the roaring of blood in my ears. Horrified, I stared as the thing's mouth grew closer and closer, gaping wide as a slew of growls and snarls issued forth. I screamed and struggled but it paid me no mind, its mouth closing in on my neck.

Then, an indescribable feeling coursed through every inch of my body as my hand found what it had been searching for, moments before the thing pulled my wrist into its mouth. Gritting my teeth, I yanked my hand forward and swung with all my might at the monster's head, my right arm coming around in a great, wide arch.

There was a flash of silver and then a jarring collision before my arm continued through its momentum, smashing into the wall to my right. Warmth splattered me, a spray of fetid liquid, and then I was released, my body flying back. The fall slammed my head into the side of a car, the impact causing my vision to flicker and my ears to ring. My breathing thundering in my ears, I pushed myself into a sitting position, holding my head as it swam, and gazed at the remains of the thing that had tried to kill me.

I couldn't see the body, it was hidden in the shadows of the alley, but the head lay not three feet from me and, I blinked in abject revulsion, bile roiling in my gullet, because, God help me, it was still moving. Heaving, I flung me head side to side, searching for my weapon, hysteria building like a tsunami in my chest. However, a flash of silver beside me alerted me to its presence half under the car I had fallen against. Reaching out with shaking hands, I grasped the handle, and pulled, the gore-stained sword coming free with a rasp and the blood streaked steel gleaming in the light of the burning city. Biting my lip, I turned back to the snapping head that was attempting to squirm its way towards me and got unsteadily to my feet.

Time seemed to stop as I stood there, staring down at this creature. The burning city faded into the background, the screams and moans all bleeding into white noise. The rheumy eyes gazed up at me and I gazed right back but…there was nothing…human behind them, not hatred, not anger…not anything. It just writhed there, slow and mechanical and empty as it moaned for my flesh and blood. I looked down at the creature, lip curling in revulsion, fury, and something akin to pity.

This…monster was no longer human. It used to be, used to be someone's son, maybe someone's father, but not anymore. It was less than an animal now, driven by the most basic instincts to feed and feed and feed. Killing it would be a mercy, a god send.

And yet…and yet…

Images of the past few days flickered through my head, a horrific film that I wish I could erase. All those faces, faces I had known, I had loved, all gone. I wish I could forget, I wish I could obliterate the events of the last hours from my memory. But I couldn't; it was over, done.

And I had to live with it. Just as I had to live with this.

Tears built in my eyes, caustic and acidic as I bared my teeth in a snarl and brought the sword high above my head. My soul was already damned. I…I had to do what I needed to survive.

"See ya in hell," I growled at the thing biting and moaning at my feet. There was another flare of steel, a splash of warmth against my ankles, and all was silent.

My eyes snapped open with a gasp, heart hammering a stucco pattern against my rib cage as I fumbled for the hilt of my tanto. (1) Within seconds, I found the cool metal attached, as always, to my left hip. A few breathless moments slid by as I sat there heaving, fingers clenched tight on the handle, the lingering remnants of my nightmare swirling in my hazy mind, throbbing like a writhing, dying, thing. When most of the adrenaline had faded from my muscles, I swallowed past my parched throat and slumped in my position, jittery and still high strung.

"Fuck," I exhaled shakily, rubbing my eyes with my left hand. I fucking hated that dream. It was bad enough I had to live through that crap once; I didn't need the memory of that night cropping up every time I closed my damn eyes.

I stayed like that for a while, hunched over and shaking as I held my head and took deep breaths to calm myself. But soon, too soon, I became aware of the day breaking around me. Turning my head slightly to the side, I wearily opened one eye and watched as the sun broke the eastern horizon, bright, orange, and blinding. The black silhouettes of birds swarmed the pink tinged skies, the rustling of the trees they were vacating only eclipsed by the awakening songs that issued from their beaks. I couldn't repress the slightly bitter smile that tugged at my lips. Talk about Nature being indifferent to man.

"And so begins another day," I thought. Sighing, I stretched my hands above my head, listening with satisfaction as my back and shoulders popped. Sleeping in a tree, while safer than the ground, was arguably a lot less comfortable. Especially with a hiking pack digging into one's spine all night. Once I had succeeded in waking by sore body up, which took a few minutes, I shook my head vigorously and leaned over the side of my perch, glancing down to the forest floor nearly ten feet below.

All clear. God's small mercies.

Relieved that I wouldn't have to risk my life to get down, at least not in the way I had been fearing (the height now was a different matter) I leaned back and relaxed in my seat once more. Reaching behind me, I dug around in my pack for a few moments before pulling my canteen and a bag of trail mix into my lap with a triumphant sound. A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips as I stared down at the half empty bag of nuts and melted chocolate. Breakfast of champions this was. But it would have to do.

As I ate my meager meal, I also pulled out my tattered map, laying the flimsy paper across my knees, the bright orange letters that had once said "Welcome to Georgia!", long since faded. Frowning, I traced along the lines of interstates and rivers, fingers dancing across the countryside. By my reasoning, which wasn't very sound I'll admit, I was somewhere near what had once been Marietta. I think I might have passed it two days ago.

Or maybe that had been this other little ho-hum town a bit to the left…crap. I chewed on my lip as I poured over the map, trying to remember if the highway signs that I had seen yesterday had said 20 or 75.

Ten minutes later and I was no surer than I had been at the beginning. Aggravation wrinkled my nose. Why was this so difficult? I knew how to read and I knew how to walk in a straight line so why couldn't I put the two together and follow the line of the interstate to Atlanta? It had been over a month since I left Dalton and I was still wandering the wilderness like an idiot. If Mom could see me n-

I blinked as I slammed my thoughts to a halt. No. I couldn't think of her, of them. I had things to do; I had Atlanta to navigate to; I had the journey to survive. There would be a time for her later. But it wasn't now.

Grunting in irritation, directed as per usual at myself, I turned and tucked my supplies away, shaking my canteen at the last minute to check the amount of water I had left. By the weight and noise, I would estimate half remained. My brow furrowed, and anxiety ate at my nerves. Would that be enough? Atlanta was still a day or so away and it was getting hotter by the minute. Being lost with no water in a Georgia summer is nothing I wanted to experience so maybe I should double back to the creek I had crossed yesterday and restock. It would only take a few hours.

But, on the other hand, those few hours meant that I would have to stop again once it got dark and find yet another tree to sleep in. That was something else I didn't want to do unless absolutely necessary.

Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Contemplating my options, I reached up absentmindedly and wrapped my fingers around the black harness hanging on the branch above me. With a few deft movements, I had unknotted the strap and pulled the long black sheath into my lap, the bright casing catching the shining light of the morning sun. All my worries, the sprinting thoughts within my brain, quieted at the sight, a bout of nostalgia washing over me as the memory of the day I had first seen this katana (2) flickered through my thoughts like the remnants of an old film.

"A sword is not just a weapon," I had been told. "It is not something to be used lightly and then tossed aside to be neglected, to lie prone in rust and ruin. You must care for your sword as you care for yourself because if you do not treat it with respect, how can you expect it to respect your wishes and work for you when it is needed most?"

It sounded cheesy but, from the bottom of my heart, I thanked the man who had told me this most absolute rule because without it, without him, I would have died a long time ago. A depressing thought but the truth nonetheless since I knew that the only reason I was yet living was because of the steel in my hands and the rules that had been drilled into me time and time again. Granted, having to scrub and scrape the gunk off that same steel every night was more than a bit tedious, something he would have berated me about forever for saying, but if it kept me alive I'd somehow manage.

Smiling to myself, I reverently ran my fingers against the polished scabbard. "You're still alive and kicking old man," I thought to myself with a chuckle. "Kicking my ass at least." With that, I slipped the sheath over my head and tightened the strap, sighing at the familiar weight of my katana against my back.

Ok. Enough wallowing in the past and things that would never be again. I had current problems to attend to.

Such as my water vs. shelter dilemma.

They were equally important, that much I knew. Without water, I would become dehydrated and be more prone to mistakes, both in direction and defense. But staying one more night in the woods was similarly problematic as it made me vulnerable to the things that prowled the night.

So, all in all, I was fucked either way.

….

"Ugh!"

Cursing at the hard decision I was faced with, I slid my pack on my shoulders. Of course these things could never be easy. Where would the fun be in that? "Fuck it," I grumbled. I'll just have to make do with the water I had. I knew how to ration; it shouldn't be too difficult.

Besides, the refugee camp in Atlanta was sure to have a plethora of supplies. I just had to get there and I'd be right as fucking rain.

Resolved, I swung my left leg over the thick branch I had slept on and shimmied down to the one below me, and the one below that one, and the one below that one, all the way down until I was sitting about five feet off the ground. And here came the hard part. Eyeballing the distance, I decided it would be easier to just jump straight down and roll to the side, letting my knees absorb the impact. Not the most comfortable of choices but hey, what are you gonna do. Taking a deep breath, I scooted to the edge of the branch, grit my teeth, and let myself fall.

The ground came up a lost faster, and was a lot harder, than I originally anticipated. "Oomph!" As I slammed into the hard earth the air was forced out of me, the expulsion coming out as a wheezing grunt. I winced as the rest of my body experienced the impact, my bones shaking with the collision. Great. From the feel of it, I'd be sore for a while. "But what's new," I thought bitterly. One way or another, without fail, one part of my body was always aching. You learn to just deal with it after awhile.

Shaking myself, I straightened and rolled my shoulders, trying to ease the discomfort my pack had caused when I jumped. When I came to the conclusion that I would get no more comfortable, as I said you just learn to deal with it, I decided it was time to get moving. It was no use fucking around here. There were only so many hours in a day and I needed every single one of them to reach Atlanta before dark. Turning my body southeast, I skirted the tree I had been sleeping in; about to begin my long and arduous trek to the salvation that was Atlanta.

Only to come face to face with a fucking walker.

I didn't even have the chance to inhale, let alone scream. The second I rounded the tree, the thing was on me, desperate, frenzied and starving. Its skeletal hands, because the meat had either rotted or been torn off, clutched at my shoulders, my chest, anything it could reach. Fear and revulsion roared through me as its fingers tangled in my shirt and I knew I only had moments to defend myself before the thing sunk its teeth into my flesh.

Mind racing, I instinctively discarded my sword as an option; the walker was too close, I wouldn't be able to draw it. The left me only one-way out. Hand flying down to my left hip, I grasped the tanto that hung there, fingers curling around the hilt. The walker snarled at me, as if it knew what I was about to do, and redoubled its efforts to bite me.

"Not today you son of a bitch," I snarled right back. Maneuvering my left arm between the walker's body and mine, I shoved it back with all my might, simultaneously jerking the blade out of its sheath and in an upward arch. The steel opened a wide gash along the walker's chest, blood and other viscous liquids splattering everywhere, but, as expected, the creature didn't even flinch. No matter; I still hadn't reached my intended target.

However, as my blade continued its momentum to the walker's head, tip aimed straight for the underside of its chin, something unexpected happened.

I fucking fell.

One second I was grappling with this nightmarish ghoul, just about to kill it, and the next, the world was tipping backwards, the walker tipping with me. Some distant part of me pinpointed the shove I had executed as the culprit of my decline but the thought was quickly obliterated by the indescribable terror that filled me.

Because I knew, I knew it with more certainty than the keenness of my blade that, the second I hit the ground, the walker would devour me, its teeth locked into my skin before I could even bring the tanto back around.

And then, the realization hit me that I…I was going to die. Right here, right now, so close to my destination. And there was nothing I could do but close my eyes and accept it.

However, milliseconds before I smashed into the ground, just as I was throwing in the towel, a voice rose up from the depths of my mind, echoing and haunting. "All the rules I have taught you are important but this, this is the most significant: you must never, ever, give up. No matter the trials, no matter the tribulations, no matter the difficulty, you must endure, you must continue on. Remember this Audrey Lara Bennett. Remember this and never forget it."

"You must never give up."

"You must endure."

"You must continue on."

"Must continue on."

"Must…"

At the words, strength, a determination to live that I didn't previously have, roared through my veins. Baring my teeth in an unholy expression, I lashed out with all I had, hands and feet thrashing to get away even as I slammed into the ground. Winded, but not down, I continued to flail, trying to wrench my right arm from between the walker and I.

I was not going to die here. I was NOT GOING TO DIE HERE!

The walker, who laid on my legs and pelvis, clawed at me, teeth snapping in a feverish manner. I hit at the top of its head as hard as I could with the heel of my left hand, hoping to buy enough time to get my tanto into the equation, screaming in rage all the while. My chance came a few agonizing seconds later when the thing on top of me shifted to crawl closer and, unknowingly, freed my right hand.

Knowing this was my last chance, I ripped my arm out and brandished the tanto, the morning light glinting menacingly off the tainted steel. In that split second, I summoned all the power I could muster and brought the blade down on the crown of the walker's head.

Now, the tanto isn't as sharp or as powerful as the katana. It was made for stabbing and renting flesh in two. Slicing straight through bone, especially one as thick as the skull, was not what the Japanese had in mind when they had created it. Nevertheless, put enough force behind an object and even bone can be shattered.

With the first hit, there was a spray of blood and my whole arm vibrated with the impact. But, thankfully, I also felt the giving away of the walker's skull. Encouraged, I kept hacking, kept slamming the tanto down over and over and over again until the thing stopped moving on top of me and I was seeped in its blood. Reviled and still frightened beyond belief, I shoved the corpse off of me, scrambling away and casting my eyes about, searching for more walkers, more threats, heart racing and blood singing.

But, all was quiet.

All was still.

All was dead.

But not me. I am still alive, I am still fucking breathing.

I am still enduring.

"Remember this Audrey Lara Bennett. Remember this and never forget it."

"I remember Sensei," I panted to no one, dropping my head back against the trunk of a tree, eyes closed in exhaustion. "I remember."

1) tanto- Japanese short sword. 5-12 inch long. Basically a dagger.

2) katana- Japanese long sword. Curved and usually only sharp on one side.

Alrighty then. So how was that? :/ I've had this idea floating around my head for awhile and since i am in love with TWD, and i have nothing to currently do, i decided to post it. Any comments, questions, or concerns? :) If so please press the lovely little button below. :D

No seriously, please review :( I want to know if i should continue this.

~Shadows