A/N: Greetings readers new and old! I decided to dabble my hand at an twd fanfic cause... I'm kinda obsessed with it in general at the moment. Who knew a recommendation from a friend could skyrocket? Kinda like 'Life Is Strange'... both are games that coincidentally got me hooked.
Anyway, I'll cut it short there. Enjoy the first chapter (more like a prologue) to the upcoming fic.
Till next time,
D.L.D
Chapter One: Fight or Flight
Fight or flight: that was the natural human response to danger, manifested within a spike in the heartbeat or a twitch to the muscles. Whenever someone sensed danger they would always become alert, every little noise suddenly audible and every flicker of movement registering within their wide eyes. Every cell within the body would always prepare to kick into action; every neuron in the brain would prickle with urgent signals to analyse every nearby detail.
Adrenaline was the main factor of fight or flight. When all else failed and you were backed into a corner, your surroundings were all you had to rely on. If you assessed them well enough, you could stand your ground. If you chose wisely enough, you could escape with your very life.
Every day, in every moment, animals all over the world used the very same basic mechanism to navigate their wild and unforgiving world. Every moment, every day, they used their own surroundings to their advantage.
Driving down a midnight-lit highway, the powerful thrum of her well-used car's engine buzzing in her ears, Clementine couldn't help but think of it all. Animals. Predators. Prey. Just like humans they also relied on fight or flight. When it came down to the simple things, to matters that revolved around life or death, everything was a selfish being. Nothing ever wanted to face death; nothing was ever brave enough to stare death right in the eye.
Not even the most fearsome of predators.
Glancing into the backseat, her hazel eyes reflecting in the overhead mirror, Clementine dared to peep at the tiny figure sprawled across the backseats. AJ. Young, impressionable AJ, curled up on the hard seats with a thin fleece blanket thrown over his tiny body. Like a tiny cloud of cotton, his fluffy afro poked out from the top, squishing beneath the weight of his head.
When they had left he had no idea why. When she'd told him to pack up what little he had and to leave his new life behind, he didn't even question it. Wordlessly, used to the routine, AJ had simply done as he was told. Piling up his few possessions, saying goodbye to the minuscule apartment that had perpetually smelt of garlic, he'd followed Clementine's directions to a tee. Just like he always did. Just as they'd always done.
Sticking around in one place for too long was never good for them. That rule had been established after Kenny. That rule would stay that way. They didn't stick around. They'd never stick around.
Not until the danger was gone.
Focusing on the road ahead, aglow with the twinkling flash of endless headlights, taillights and floodlights, Clementine tried to calm herself down. They were alone now. They were safe. Out here, on the road, the danger couldn't follow them directly; out here, in a sea of endless matching family cars, they were a single polka dot on a thousand metre-long roll of dotted fabric. Finding them should be impossible.
Still, she found her hands shook. Each breath came out a little too harsh. Even out here on the highway, only AJ's light snores and the thrum of the vehicle's engine in her ears, Clementine could feel the panic sitting in her veins.
"I'll always find you, Clem," Staring at her, a dark gleam of wicked brown eyes, his face grinned in the overhead mirror. Scruffy beard, hair kept clipped short. "You can't keep family apart."
Ever since that night, he'd lived in her brain. Looming in the doorway, a shadow of a man that followed her and AJ about wherever they settled down. When he did truly come back, bringing his men and forcing them into hiding once more, it was never pretty. Once it had been too close - Clementine desperately seeking refuge in the stench of a local dustbin, one hand clamped over AJ's whimpering mouth and the other wrapped around her little penknife.
In that moment she wasn't even sure if she was going to use it. But, filled with a heart that beat too fast and nerves that quaked too much, Clementine had to feel as if she had some kind of protection. Even if it wasn't used. Even if she'd waited, straining her ears to trace lingering footsteps, before lifting that rancid bin's lid.
Part of Clementine had wondered why she didn't strike that day. He had been there. Right there. In her hands was the knife. In her hands was the chance to finally fight back, to fight instead of fly away from everything that she and AJ had built in those five years. But, instead, Clementine decided to run away.
When it truly came down to it, Clementine was a coward: she always chose to run away.