And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder. One of the four beasts saying, "Come and see." And I saw. And behold a white horse.
Richard had always liked Johnny Cash. Never in her wildest dreams did Gabry ever think she'd hear him again. Of course, it wasn't Johnny Cash she was hearing, but the voice of a woman singing out those words. She would have opened her eyes if she could, but her eye-lids were just too heavy. She would have gotten up if she could have felt her arms, spoken if her mouth wasn't so dry.
"Everybody won't be treated all the same,
There'll be golden ladder reachin' down,
When the man comes around..."
There must have been a dozen of them they way the ground vibrated beneath her. She had slumped herself against a tree, hoping to stay out of sight of the road and perhaps eventually pass into the afterlife peacefully. She wasn't sure how many days had passed, but her body still held on when all she wanted to do was let go.
"Excuse me?" The woman's voice had stopped singing, and the little parade had stopped. She had been spotted. "Miss?"
Gabry lifted her groggy head, and with some work was able to open her eyes. She groaned.
"I could have sworn you were dead. Great camoflauge." The girl couldn't have been twenty. She sat upon a tall white horse, and ponied a red one behind her. She looked like any average trail rider with her gear loaded down on the red horse, except for the fact that the heads of the dead were hanging loosely on her saddle as well as her gear. She had two dark streaks under her brown eyes that matched the war paint on her horses. "You need help?"
What kind of question was that?
"Are you bit?"
Gabry weakly lifted her wrist. The girl reached back and rummaged through her saddlebags. She pulled out a bottle of water and threw it at Gabry's feet. When Gabry didn't move for it she said, "Come on, don't make me get off this horse." Seeing that Gabry wasn't going to respond she got off anyway. She tied her horse to a tree, and then squatted down a couple of feet from her.
"You feel like death because you haven't drank anything. Where's your gear?"
"Stolen." Gabry whispered.
The girl sighed, and ran her tongue across her lips. "You wanna go get it back?" Gabry peered at this mystery girl, wondering if she were joking, or serious or just plain stupid. "Or we could sit here and die, your call."
"What's wrong with you?" Gabry muttered in a dry voice. She began to cough and heave, and she reached for the bottle. The girl nudged it closer to her fingers.
"Nothing like what you've got going on. How long ago were you bit?" She watched Gabry chug down the whole bottle.
"Two...three days. I...I can't remember." Gabry wiped her mouth. "Please shoot me."
The girl shrugged. "I can't. I don't have a gun."
"How have-"
"Let's take this conversation elsewhere, shall we." She moved to lift Gabry, but she protested.
"I don't know you."
"I'm Bexley. There, now you know me and it's not like you can do much to fight me." She hoisted her up to her feet. "You think you can get on the horse?" With some patience from both Bexley and the horse, Gabry was able to crawl into the saddle. "We're not going far. Just try not to fall off."
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Panacea - {Daryl Dixon Fanfiction}
FanficPan·a·ce·a : (noun) - a solution or remedy for all difficulties or diseases.