Reliance, Part 3
FFFFF I UPDATED. 8D
Title: Reliance
Author: millionminds
Chapter: 3/4
Pairing: Nick/Ellis
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence, cursing, angst.
A/N: You're all gonna notice something here. LOCATIONS. See, when I wrote the previous two chapters, I hadn't played the game yet, so I had no exact placement of saferooms and campaigns and whatnot. I tried to keep writing it like that, but my knowledge of what happens in the game overpowered my urge to keep the trend going, so HERE YOU HAVE IT. .___. I apologize in advance.
Disclaimer: I don't own L4D2. Don't sue me, please.
Despite Nick’s claim the previous day that they probably wouldn’t reach an evacuation unit in time, the survivors still pressed on. The con-man may have made a declaration that all hope was lost, and it very well may have been, but they hadn’t come this far just to toss their hands in the air and give up. The infected still clawed at them and the wind still roared through the trees. It took a bit of getting through to the only female survivor in the group, but just because a dear friend had been lost did not mean the world had stopped. Coach probably wanted them to know that above all else. That didn’t make his death any more unfortunate, though.
What a depressing way to throw their asses into gear, but what else did they have? Ellis’ stories were forced and uncomfortable and Rochelle’s smiles were even worse. She looked better today since she’d slept, but that didn’t stop the hurt from leaking through her headstrong demeanor. But with Ellis by her side and Nick shooting infected away from her when she wasn’t looking, they managed to keep moving.
Before departing from the safe house, Ellis had found a pen in one of the rooms, and among all the other scribbles on the wall, wrote out some sort of crazy eulogy for Coach, which was promptly signed by Rochelle, and after a bit of quick thinking, Nick.
What had happened served as a wake-up call to the survivors. The next several safe houses-straight through a disgusting swamp and in the direction of a plantation house-were approached quickly and there was no stopping for rest. Ellis stole the last remaining candy bar from one of the machines at the carnival and they’d split it on the helicopter ride to what they’d thought was safety, but all three of them were a bit uneasy to touch anything in the run-down shacks of the swamp. There was the little store beforehand, but after a jerky crash downward from the helicopter, the group had decided that none of them were hungry enough to stop. The zombies swarming around helped to keep them moving.
Now, ahead of them, the survivors could see the massive plantation house. This had been where the people were scribbling all over the safe houses about going to, right? It certainly looked in better condition than the other broken-in shacks they’d passed through to get here, though it had its own abundance of boarded windows and shattered doors. Infected poured from them the minute they heard the voices of the survivors, throwing them promptly into motion.
“There’s a radio over here.” Ellis noted aloud as they took down the horde, and Nick and Rochelle agreed to cover the kid while he radioed whoever he could get to.
And after a rather lengthy radio conversation with a man who called himself Virgil, the three had landed themselves a ride to New Orleans. Despite Nick’s and Rochelle’s angry calls for help from Ellis, the southerner still said his friendly goodbye to the man on the radio before flipping it off and stepping in to help. He got the last few of the zombies and Nick and Rochelle took a breather while the infected weren’t pouring in like Niagara Falls.
“Virgil’s gonna blow up the door when he gets here, so step back.” Ellis warned, and the other two obeyed, reloading their guns as they moved.
“Virgil, eh?” Nick questioned with an eyebrow raised. “He sound like a trustworthy guy?”
“He’s gonna get us outta here, ain’t he?”
“Good point.”
No words were exchanged afterward, because the group found themselves at the mercy of a tank and several scattered infected. It was convenient, how these things chose the perfect moments to show themselves. But all three of the remaining survivors were adamant about pressing on, now. They sped backward and unloaded on the tank. One of them would aim sideways and take out a stray infected every now and then, but for the most part, their focus remained on the massive creature flailing and roaring before them, and much to their relief, they eventually took it down.
It was shocking how close they’d gotten to being pummeled by the thing and at the same time, infuriating how easily it had fallen, considering his cousin somewhere had done irreversible damage to Coach.
Rochelle bit her lip at the thought.
After nearly ten minutes of fighting off the horde, the door leading out of the plantation finally shattered and the group made a beeline for it, where Virgil could be heard hooting and hollering on what sounded like a megaphone.
Ellis cheered aloud and shot down a hunter before it could leap. “WOOHOOOOO! YOU MADE IT, VIRGIL!” Already, the kid acted as if he was best friends with this guy they’d never seen before. Ellis was truly astounding.
For the most part, the survivors disregarded the infected pursuing them in favor of reaching the boat. They tore around the wooden walkway, shooting zombies from in front of them, their bodies pleading for them to pick up the pace upon hearing another tank crushing its way closer to them from behind.
Rochelle and Nick made it to the boat first. Ellis, who turned to sprint backward and knock back some of the infected, ended up tripping and falling right into the water. Nick and Rochelle barely managed to tug the boy onto the boat before the machine tore off and hurried its way down the river.
Ellis cheered again, and Nick chuckled. Rochelle just grinned. All they had to do was get to New Orleans. Hopefully, rescue would be awaiting them there.
………………………………
Sleep came more easily with the threat of infected removed, even if only temporarily. The boat wasn’t huge, but Virgil had provided the group with some blankets to rest under, and the room may have been kind of small, but the three found it comfortable. There were no zombies and the walls were completely devoid of depressing little scribbles. And better yet, there was no need for safe room doors, and the lack thereof was relieving. Food was still in short supply, but Virgil was happy to share, even if it was rationed greatly. And it was cooked. None of the survivors could even come up with the proper words to express their gratitude.
Without the need to reassure people that they’d be okay, Ellis spent a lot of his time at Nick’s side, and his stories returned completely. The con-man was quickly tiring of the boy’s clingy behavior, but he didn’t complain aloud, especially considering said closeness was something they’d been deprived of for a while. Even Nick knew the kid deserved some relief.
But with Rochelle talking to Virgil and the two alone in the small room in the lower region of the boat, Nick couldn’t help but bring it up.
“You’re awfully clingy lately, Overalls.” The older man spoke calmly from his spot, leaning against one of the walls. Ellis was poised next to him for no real reason, gaze fixed elsewhere, at least until Nick spoke. He quickly stepped aside.
“Sorry.” There was no embarrassment or remorse in his voice as he crossed his arms. “I was just enjoyin’ things while I could. Before, y’know, we have to go back out there and shoot more zombies.”
Nick shrugged. “I thought you liked shooting zombies.”
“I do.” Ellis nodded honestly, and he grinned briefly before biting his lip. “But that don’t mean I don’t need a break every now an’ then.” He smiled faintly and let his arms unlace, falling to his sides. “Besides, you know you like havin’ me around.”
Nick turned his head and found himself face-to-face with one of Ellis’ lopsided grins. It was that type of look that the boy gave when he was having the time of his life or just knew he was right about something. Like when he brought up the idea of fueling up Jimmy Gibbs Jr.’s stock car. The young mechanic had been positively beaming at the idea of driving his wannabe man-wife’s car straight out to safety.
The con-man merely rolled his eyes and looked away, grinning a bit himself. “Don’t count your chickens, Overalls.”
Ellis gave a short laugh. “I ain’t countin’ nothin’.”
Nick rose an eyebrow, gaze fixed at the hunched-over wall on the other side of the boat. “What makes you say that?” The words were spoken lazily, and the older man’s mouth looked as if a lit cigarette desperately needed to be dangling from it.
“Well,” Ellis started, pushing off the wall, feet padding softly against the thin carpeting of the floor, “You ain’t said a lotta mean things to me lately, that’s fer sure.”
Nick rolled his eyes again. “I also haven’t said anything mean to Rochelle, either. You’re no more special than she is.”
Ellis shook his head. “I know that. But yer never even half as mean to her as you are to me-“
“-I hit her, Ellis.” The words stung on Nick’s lips, and he felt bad saying them. “There are times I’ve really wanted to bash your face in, but I haven’t.”
“Now,” the mechanic laughed, “yer just provin’ my point that you like havin’ me around.”
“Your sense of logic is absolutely ludicrous.” Nick groaned.
And after that, it was silent. Ellis toed at the floor, arms crossed, and Nick watched him idly, still leaning back against the wall and wishing he had a cigarette. In the stillness, the boat could be felt bobbing ever-so-slightly on the river, metal groaning slightly as it did so.
And then Ellis, as usual, had to go and ruin it.
“You let me hug you.” Nick faced the kid fully and frowned. The mechanic’s arms were still crossed, but he’d stopped moving and was staring intently at what the con-man was sure was just one strand of carpet on the ground from the mere fixation on the boy’s face. He was on the verge of a snarky response when Ellis turned his head upward and loosened one hand from his arms’ embrace on his chest, holding up two fingers. “Twice.”
Nick scowled. This was starting to get annoying. “What’re you getting at?”
“I’m just sayin’,” Ellis shrugged, “yer not as mean a guy as you make yerself out to be.”
“Now isn’t the best time for this.” It was a standard response trained on Nick’s lips from days spent with the mechanic, though his impatience had turned what was normally a question into a statement, harsh and uncomfortable, because the last thing he wanted right now was to get all emotional and start having feelings about things.
“Don’t seem that way to me.” Ellis said, and Nick may have been caught a little off guard from the lack of his usual, ‘okay.’ “Ain’t no zombies around.”
“Why in the hell,” the older man started, shaking his head in frustration, and by now, he really needed a cigarette, “are you so determined about this anyway?”
Ellis shrugged. “’Cause I like this.” His ears tinged red, and he continued, “I like hangin’ around with you and, well, it’d be kinda nice if you liked it too.”
Rochelle chose that precise moment (much to Nick’s relief) to show up.
“The boat’s almost out of gas.” She stated plainly, and both men looked up to meet her eyes.
“Okay, so where’s he going to get it from?” Nick questioned, and judging by the way Rochelle looked down at the floor and focused on the same damned strand of carpet Ellis had been looking at a minute ago, he knew the answer wasn’t going to be pleasant.
“He’s not leaving the boat.” She finally answered and had there been a cigarette in Nick’s mouth, it would have fallen out at this point. “He’s gonna drop us off at one of his usual stops and wants us to get it for him. It’s just across the street, he says, so we should be able to get there just fine.”
…………………………………….
It was just across the street. But it was also empty, so that plan immediately went downhill, and the group had settled on finding another gas station-previous survivors (or maybe they were infected at this point?) had scribbled on the walls about another gas station a little while out, beyond the sugar mill, so that was their destination.
It started raining when they passed a playground, and Rochelle was the one to start complaining. But hey, at least the light spray was washing some of the zombie gore from their bodies, right?
But it was kind of chilly in the autumn weather. Even in the south, it wasn’t comfortable to be soaking wet in the middle of October. Lucky for them, the humidity kept things tolerable and they weren’t freezing their asses off.
“Let’s just get there and get back.” Nick had decided, and the other two agreed, pressing on.
The rain had apparently disagreed. By the time they’d reached the gas station and retrieved the gas, it had gone from a soft drizzle to a full-out downpour. Ellis had warned them earlier (“We are in for a nasty damn storm!”), but neither Nick nor Rochelle had really taken it to heart. Their minds had been on the task at hand, rather than everything else around them-especially the witches. Ellis had taken it upon himself to count just how many they ran past, and when they got to the gas station, he’d gotten to eight. The same eight they’d probably have to avoid on their way back.
Great.
“We got the gas.” Nick stated as he gathered a conveniently-placed health kit and some more ammo. “Let’s get the hell back to the goddamned boat.”
“I like that idea.” Rochelle agreed, and they pushed the door open, stepping out cautiously. Ellis followed behind, axe in hand.
The rain poured around them. Now, not only was it ‘pissing down’ as Nick complained, but the wind was blowing violently, tossing leaves and small tree limbs around like limp noodles. Lightning flashed, and in the split second that it did so, infected could be seen, like an omen, speeding toward them in the distance. Even from half a mile away, their arms were stretched toward the survivors.
Nick’s suit jacket billowed in the storm and arched around his features, and it created a sense of surrealism when combined with the machine gun in his hands that lit up his eyes with every explosion from the barrel. Zombies collapsed around him.
Ellis was astounded his hat hadn’t been torn from his head in the storm (especially since his hands were clasped around his weapon, rather than his hat), but he didn’t bother dwelling on it. Too many zombies were surrounding him. Too many were clawing at his skin and trying to tear his face off. Though, if they took his cap, the irony would piss him off.
Rochelle called out for the other two survivors, but her voice was barely audible in the wind and rain. She couldn’t see the others. The rain was in her eyes and nose and ears and seeping through her shirt and despite being in the south, she realized she was freezing fucking cold.
They were halfway through the sugar mill when the rain died down, just in time for Rochelle to hear Nick scream.
“Overalls, what the hell did you-FUCK!”
She looked over just in time to see Nick toss his empty machine gun aside and start sprinting off in some direction, both handguns firing relentlessly.
“Shit, shit, ELLIS!” The explosions from the handgun shots fired, briefly lighting the scene up like some kind of morbid strobe light, and with each split second occurrence, Rochelle could make out more of the scene. Once she caught on, she was barreling toward the pair as well.
Ellis had startled a witch. There was no telling if it was intentional or accidental at this point, but now also wasn’t the right time to be thinking about it. Ellis was in danger. Rochelle could see the blood flying and that was never a good sign.
She arrived just in time to see the witch stumble sideways and shoot them a wistful glance, then collapse onto the muddy, rain-soaked concrete. Her gaze followed the witch downward, and next to her corpse, Ellis was sprawled out, eyes wide with shock.
“You fucking idiot.” Nick growled, and Rochelle knelt to inspect Ellis’ wounds while the con-man covered them.
“I’m sorry-“ Ellis whimpered-and not the playful, mock-sad kind of whimper. The one where you just know you fucked up and everyone’s life was at stake because of it. Oh, and pain. He was in a lot of pain right now. “I was swingin’ at a zombie an’ I didn’t even see her an’-“
“Hush up.” Rochelle said, opening her health pack.
“Something’s gonna hear us if both of you don’t shut up.” Nick ground out through gritted teeth.
Ellis’ wounds were serious, to say the least. His left arm was a torn, mangled mess of claw marks and missing (or just dangling) skin and there were gashes all over his chest and stomach. His shirt looked like it’d been through a meat grinder. Rochelle tore it the rest of the way off.
“It’s dirty.” She covered immediately upon noticing the look of shock on both Ellis’ and Nick’s faces. “He’s covered in gashes-I don’t want to risk his wounds getting infected.
Nick shrugged and picked off a stray infected with his pistol. Among the sounds of gauze stretching and wounds being cleaned, its body could be heard collapsing somewhere in the distance.
Rochelle patched Ellis up the best she could, but his condition wasn’t good by any means. It was going to slow them down tremendously. All three of them knew this, and they exchanged uneasy glances, each of them wondering if Ellis should just remain here like Coach had done before. Better one than three, after all. Even the mechanic was starting to agree.
Nick was the first to move after nearly a full minute of silence. He yanked his jacket from his own arms, then slung it over Ellis’ body and then knelt before the boy, back facing the southerner.
“Grab on.”
Ellis looked shocked. “Yer gonna carry me?”
“What other choice do we have?” It was almost as if he’d completely tossed the idea of leaving the kid out the window. Pretty damned uncharacteristic, but at the same time flattering, and Ellis seized the moment while he could, scooting closer to the older man and taking hold of him so he could be hoisted up.
“Thanks.”
……………………………………………………………
“Burger Tank sign’s on!” Rochelle called from the top of the roof, and Nick nodded. He and Ellis had come up with an odd way of still being able to fight, and it was strangely successful. Nick supported the boy in a piggyback style while Ellis fired two pistols, hands slung over the con-man’s shoulders. The mechanic had surprisingly good aim despite his condition. Nick was surprised that left arm could even move, let alone hold a gun. But everything about Ellis surprised the con-man.
Hell poured in and Rochelle threw a pipe bomb into the ensuing chaos. They’d planned everything out before turning on the signal. Rochelle had gathered at least five pipe bombs, a couple molotovs, and some gas cans and stuck them atop the roof. Since Nick couldn’t climb ladders while holding onto Ellis, the two would stay below, and Rochelle would use her arsenal of weapons to cover the two men. They’d watch her back from below.
It went smoothly, much to everyone’s relief. Rochelle eyed the rear entrance of the Burger Tank station every now and then, watching out for Virgil, and when after two tanks and countless zombies he still hadn’t returned, she found herself very frustrated. Her pile of weapons was empty, too. That made things a little more unnerving.
“Let’s get closer to the dock!” She suggested, and Nick obeyed, starting into the building to cut through. He could hear Rochelle’s footsteps from the roof and he emerged just in time to hear her land on a nearby truck, then on the ground.
The third tank roared in time with Virgil’s boat. He was finally here. Well, not quite-he was still a good thirty feet from the dock, but he was close, and goddammit, that was relief in itself.
Thirty feet became twenty, and the survivors hovered close to the water, ready to leap on the boat when it got close enough.
The tank was close by the time twenty had dwindled into ten, and it was swinging and roaring and throwing rubble as it went. Rochelle narrowly dodged a swing, then blasted away a piece of flying concrete with her grenade launcher before it could hit Ellis and Nick, and by then, the boat had arrived.
Nick could see it glistening like light from the heavens, and he took the steps two at a time before leaping and landing, crumpling to his knees from the weight of both himself and Ellis. He lowered the boy to the ground just in time to turn and see Rochelle make it onto the boat, and then Virgil was driving them back out into the middle of the river.
Nick wasn’t sure if Lady Luck was smiling or pissing on them at this point.
Title: Reliance
Author: millionminds
Chapter: 3/4
Pairing: Nick/Ellis
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence, cursing, angst.
A/N: You're all gonna notice something here. LOCATIONS. See, when I wrote the previous two chapters, I hadn't played the game yet, so I had no exact placement of saferooms and campaigns and whatnot. I tried to keep writing it like that, but my knowledge of what happens in the game overpowered my urge to keep the trend going, so HERE YOU HAVE IT. .___. I apologize in advance.
Disclaimer: I don't own L4D2. Don't sue me, please.
Despite Nick’s claim the previous day that they probably wouldn’t reach an evacuation unit in time, the survivors still pressed on. The con-man may have made a declaration that all hope was lost, and it very well may have been, but they hadn’t come this far just to toss their hands in the air and give up. The infected still clawed at them and the wind still roared through the trees. It took a bit of getting through to the only female survivor in the group, but just because a dear friend had been lost did not mean the world had stopped. Coach probably wanted them to know that above all else. That didn’t make his death any more unfortunate, though.
What a depressing way to throw their asses into gear, but what else did they have? Ellis’ stories were forced and uncomfortable and Rochelle’s smiles were even worse. She looked better today since she’d slept, but that didn’t stop the hurt from leaking through her headstrong demeanor. But with Ellis by her side and Nick shooting infected away from her when she wasn’t looking, they managed to keep moving.
Before departing from the safe house, Ellis had found a pen in one of the rooms, and among all the other scribbles on the wall, wrote out some sort of crazy eulogy for Coach, which was promptly signed by Rochelle, and after a bit of quick thinking, Nick.
What had happened served as a wake-up call to the survivors. The next several safe houses-straight through a disgusting swamp and in the direction of a plantation house-were approached quickly and there was no stopping for rest. Ellis stole the last remaining candy bar from one of the machines at the carnival and they’d split it on the helicopter ride to what they’d thought was safety, but all three of them were a bit uneasy to touch anything in the run-down shacks of the swamp. There was the little store beforehand, but after a jerky crash downward from the helicopter, the group had decided that none of them were hungry enough to stop. The zombies swarming around helped to keep them moving.
Now, ahead of them, the survivors could see the massive plantation house. This had been where the people were scribbling all over the safe houses about going to, right? It certainly looked in better condition than the other broken-in shacks they’d passed through to get here, though it had its own abundance of boarded windows and shattered doors. Infected poured from them the minute they heard the voices of the survivors, throwing them promptly into motion.
“There’s a radio over here.” Ellis noted aloud as they took down the horde, and Nick and Rochelle agreed to cover the kid while he radioed whoever he could get to.
And after a rather lengthy radio conversation with a man who called himself Virgil, the three had landed themselves a ride to New Orleans. Despite Nick’s and Rochelle’s angry calls for help from Ellis, the southerner still said his friendly goodbye to the man on the radio before flipping it off and stepping in to help. He got the last few of the zombies and Nick and Rochelle took a breather while the infected weren’t pouring in like Niagara Falls.
“Virgil’s gonna blow up the door when he gets here, so step back.” Ellis warned, and the other two obeyed, reloading their guns as they moved.
“Virgil, eh?” Nick questioned with an eyebrow raised. “He sound like a trustworthy guy?”
“He’s gonna get us outta here, ain’t he?”
“Good point.”
No words were exchanged afterward, because the group found themselves at the mercy of a tank and several scattered infected. It was convenient, how these things chose the perfect moments to show themselves. But all three of the remaining survivors were adamant about pressing on, now. They sped backward and unloaded on the tank. One of them would aim sideways and take out a stray infected every now and then, but for the most part, their focus remained on the massive creature flailing and roaring before them, and much to their relief, they eventually took it down.
It was shocking how close they’d gotten to being pummeled by the thing and at the same time, infuriating how easily it had fallen, considering his cousin somewhere had done irreversible damage to Coach.
Rochelle bit her lip at the thought.
After nearly ten minutes of fighting off the horde, the door leading out of the plantation finally shattered and the group made a beeline for it, where Virgil could be heard hooting and hollering on what sounded like a megaphone.
Ellis cheered aloud and shot down a hunter before it could leap. “WOOHOOOOO! YOU MADE IT, VIRGIL!” Already, the kid acted as if he was best friends with this guy they’d never seen before. Ellis was truly astounding.
For the most part, the survivors disregarded the infected pursuing them in favor of reaching the boat. They tore around the wooden walkway, shooting zombies from in front of them, their bodies pleading for them to pick up the pace upon hearing another tank crushing its way closer to them from behind.
Rochelle and Nick made it to the boat first. Ellis, who turned to sprint backward and knock back some of the infected, ended up tripping and falling right into the water. Nick and Rochelle barely managed to tug the boy onto the boat before the machine tore off and hurried its way down the river.
Ellis cheered again, and Nick chuckled. Rochelle just grinned. All they had to do was get to New Orleans. Hopefully, rescue would be awaiting them there.
………………………………
Sleep came more easily with the threat of infected removed, even if only temporarily. The boat wasn’t huge, but Virgil had provided the group with some blankets to rest under, and the room may have been kind of small, but the three found it comfortable. There were no zombies and the walls were completely devoid of depressing little scribbles. And better yet, there was no need for safe room doors, and the lack thereof was relieving. Food was still in short supply, but Virgil was happy to share, even if it was rationed greatly. And it was cooked. None of the survivors could even come up with the proper words to express their gratitude.
Without the need to reassure people that they’d be okay, Ellis spent a lot of his time at Nick’s side, and his stories returned completely. The con-man was quickly tiring of the boy’s clingy behavior, but he didn’t complain aloud, especially considering said closeness was something they’d been deprived of for a while. Even Nick knew the kid deserved some relief.
But with Rochelle talking to Virgil and the two alone in the small room in the lower region of the boat, Nick couldn’t help but bring it up.
“You’re awfully clingy lately, Overalls.” The older man spoke calmly from his spot, leaning against one of the walls. Ellis was poised next to him for no real reason, gaze fixed elsewhere, at least until Nick spoke. He quickly stepped aside.
“Sorry.” There was no embarrassment or remorse in his voice as he crossed his arms. “I was just enjoyin’ things while I could. Before, y’know, we have to go back out there and shoot more zombies.”
Nick shrugged. “I thought you liked shooting zombies.”
“I do.” Ellis nodded honestly, and he grinned briefly before biting his lip. “But that don’t mean I don’t need a break every now an’ then.” He smiled faintly and let his arms unlace, falling to his sides. “Besides, you know you like havin’ me around.”
Nick turned his head and found himself face-to-face with one of Ellis’ lopsided grins. It was that type of look that the boy gave when he was having the time of his life or just knew he was right about something. Like when he brought up the idea of fueling up Jimmy Gibbs Jr.’s stock car. The young mechanic had been positively beaming at the idea of driving his wannabe man-wife’s car straight out to safety.
The con-man merely rolled his eyes and looked away, grinning a bit himself. “Don’t count your chickens, Overalls.”
Ellis gave a short laugh. “I ain’t countin’ nothin’.”
Nick rose an eyebrow, gaze fixed at the hunched-over wall on the other side of the boat. “What makes you say that?” The words were spoken lazily, and the older man’s mouth looked as if a lit cigarette desperately needed to be dangling from it.
“Well,” Ellis started, pushing off the wall, feet padding softly against the thin carpeting of the floor, “You ain’t said a lotta mean things to me lately, that’s fer sure.”
Nick rolled his eyes again. “I also haven’t said anything mean to Rochelle, either. You’re no more special than she is.”
Ellis shook his head. “I know that. But yer never even half as mean to her as you are to me-“
“-I hit her, Ellis.” The words stung on Nick’s lips, and he felt bad saying them. “There are times I’ve really wanted to bash your face in, but I haven’t.”
“Now,” the mechanic laughed, “yer just provin’ my point that you like havin’ me around.”
“Your sense of logic is absolutely ludicrous.” Nick groaned.
And after that, it was silent. Ellis toed at the floor, arms crossed, and Nick watched him idly, still leaning back against the wall and wishing he had a cigarette. In the stillness, the boat could be felt bobbing ever-so-slightly on the river, metal groaning slightly as it did so.
And then Ellis, as usual, had to go and ruin it.
“You let me hug you.” Nick faced the kid fully and frowned. The mechanic’s arms were still crossed, but he’d stopped moving and was staring intently at what the con-man was sure was just one strand of carpet on the ground from the mere fixation on the boy’s face. He was on the verge of a snarky response when Ellis turned his head upward and loosened one hand from his arms’ embrace on his chest, holding up two fingers. “Twice.”
Nick scowled. This was starting to get annoying. “What’re you getting at?”
“I’m just sayin’,” Ellis shrugged, “yer not as mean a guy as you make yerself out to be.”
“Now isn’t the best time for this.” It was a standard response trained on Nick’s lips from days spent with the mechanic, though his impatience had turned what was normally a question into a statement, harsh and uncomfortable, because the last thing he wanted right now was to get all emotional and start having feelings about things.
“Don’t seem that way to me.” Ellis said, and Nick may have been caught a little off guard from the lack of his usual, ‘okay.’ “Ain’t no zombies around.”
“Why in the hell,” the older man started, shaking his head in frustration, and by now, he really needed a cigarette, “are you so determined about this anyway?”
Ellis shrugged. “’Cause I like this.” His ears tinged red, and he continued, “I like hangin’ around with you and, well, it’d be kinda nice if you liked it too.”
Rochelle chose that precise moment (much to Nick’s relief) to show up.
“The boat’s almost out of gas.” She stated plainly, and both men looked up to meet her eyes.
“Okay, so where’s he going to get it from?” Nick questioned, and judging by the way Rochelle looked down at the floor and focused on the same damned strand of carpet Ellis had been looking at a minute ago, he knew the answer wasn’t going to be pleasant.
“He’s not leaving the boat.” She finally answered and had there been a cigarette in Nick’s mouth, it would have fallen out at this point. “He’s gonna drop us off at one of his usual stops and wants us to get it for him. It’s just across the street, he says, so we should be able to get there just fine.”
…………………………………….
It was just across the street. But it was also empty, so that plan immediately went downhill, and the group had settled on finding another gas station-previous survivors (or maybe they were infected at this point?) had scribbled on the walls about another gas station a little while out, beyond the sugar mill, so that was their destination.
It started raining when they passed a playground, and Rochelle was the one to start complaining. But hey, at least the light spray was washing some of the zombie gore from their bodies, right?
But it was kind of chilly in the autumn weather. Even in the south, it wasn’t comfortable to be soaking wet in the middle of October. Lucky for them, the humidity kept things tolerable and they weren’t freezing their asses off.
“Let’s just get there and get back.” Nick had decided, and the other two agreed, pressing on.
The rain had apparently disagreed. By the time they’d reached the gas station and retrieved the gas, it had gone from a soft drizzle to a full-out downpour. Ellis had warned them earlier (“We are in for a nasty damn storm!”), but neither Nick nor Rochelle had really taken it to heart. Their minds had been on the task at hand, rather than everything else around them-especially the witches. Ellis had taken it upon himself to count just how many they ran past, and when they got to the gas station, he’d gotten to eight. The same eight they’d probably have to avoid on their way back.
Great.
“We got the gas.” Nick stated as he gathered a conveniently-placed health kit and some more ammo. “Let’s get the hell back to the goddamned boat.”
“I like that idea.” Rochelle agreed, and they pushed the door open, stepping out cautiously. Ellis followed behind, axe in hand.
The rain poured around them. Now, not only was it ‘pissing down’ as Nick complained, but the wind was blowing violently, tossing leaves and small tree limbs around like limp noodles. Lightning flashed, and in the split second that it did so, infected could be seen, like an omen, speeding toward them in the distance. Even from half a mile away, their arms were stretched toward the survivors.
Nick’s suit jacket billowed in the storm and arched around his features, and it created a sense of surrealism when combined with the machine gun in his hands that lit up his eyes with every explosion from the barrel. Zombies collapsed around him.
Ellis was astounded his hat hadn’t been torn from his head in the storm (especially since his hands were clasped around his weapon, rather than his hat), but he didn’t bother dwelling on it. Too many zombies were surrounding him. Too many were clawing at his skin and trying to tear his face off. Though, if they took his cap, the irony would piss him off.
Rochelle called out for the other two survivors, but her voice was barely audible in the wind and rain. She couldn’t see the others. The rain was in her eyes and nose and ears and seeping through her shirt and despite being in the south, she realized she was freezing fucking cold.
They were halfway through the sugar mill when the rain died down, just in time for Rochelle to hear Nick scream.
“Overalls, what the hell did you-FUCK!”
She looked over just in time to see Nick toss his empty machine gun aside and start sprinting off in some direction, both handguns firing relentlessly.
“Shit, shit, ELLIS!” The explosions from the handgun shots fired, briefly lighting the scene up like some kind of morbid strobe light, and with each split second occurrence, Rochelle could make out more of the scene. Once she caught on, she was barreling toward the pair as well.
Ellis had startled a witch. There was no telling if it was intentional or accidental at this point, but now also wasn’t the right time to be thinking about it. Ellis was in danger. Rochelle could see the blood flying and that was never a good sign.
She arrived just in time to see the witch stumble sideways and shoot them a wistful glance, then collapse onto the muddy, rain-soaked concrete. Her gaze followed the witch downward, and next to her corpse, Ellis was sprawled out, eyes wide with shock.
“You fucking idiot.” Nick growled, and Rochelle knelt to inspect Ellis’ wounds while the con-man covered them.
“I’m sorry-“ Ellis whimpered-and not the playful, mock-sad kind of whimper. The one where you just know you fucked up and everyone’s life was at stake because of it. Oh, and pain. He was in a lot of pain right now. “I was swingin’ at a zombie an’ I didn’t even see her an’-“
“Hush up.” Rochelle said, opening her health pack.
“Something’s gonna hear us if both of you don’t shut up.” Nick ground out through gritted teeth.
Ellis’ wounds were serious, to say the least. His left arm was a torn, mangled mess of claw marks and missing (or just dangling) skin and there were gashes all over his chest and stomach. His shirt looked like it’d been through a meat grinder. Rochelle tore it the rest of the way off.
“It’s dirty.” She covered immediately upon noticing the look of shock on both Ellis’ and Nick’s faces. “He’s covered in gashes-I don’t want to risk his wounds getting infected.
Nick shrugged and picked off a stray infected with his pistol. Among the sounds of gauze stretching and wounds being cleaned, its body could be heard collapsing somewhere in the distance.
Rochelle patched Ellis up the best she could, but his condition wasn’t good by any means. It was going to slow them down tremendously. All three of them knew this, and they exchanged uneasy glances, each of them wondering if Ellis should just remain here like Coach had done before. Better one than three, after all. Even the mechanic was starting to agree.
Nick was the first to move after nearly a full minute of silence. He yanked his jacket from his own arms, then slung it over Ellis’ body and then knelt before the boy, back facing the southerner.
“Grab on.”
Ellis looked shocked. “Yer gonna carry me?”
“What other choice do we have?” It was almost as if he’d completely tossed the idea of leaving the kid out the window. Pretty damned uncharacteristic, but at the same time flattering, and Ellis seized the moment while he could, scooting closer to the older man and taking hold of him so he could be hoisted up.
“Thanks.”
……………………………………………………………
“Burger Tank sign’s on!” Rochelle called from the top of the roof, and Nick nodded. He and Ellis had come up with an odd way of still being able to fight, and it was strangely successful. Nick supported the boy in a piggyback style while Ellis fired two pistols, hands slung over the con-man’s shoulders. The mechanic had surprisingly good aim despite his condition. Nick was surprised that left arm could even move, let alone hold a gun. But everything about Ellis surprised the con-man.
Hell poured in and Rochelle threw a pipe bomb into the ensuing chaos. They’d planned everything out before turning on the signal. Rochelle had gathered at least five pipe bombs, a couple molotovs, and some gas cans and stuck them atop the roof. Since Nick couldn’t climb ladders while holding onto Ellis, the two would stay below, and Rochelle would use her arsenal of weapons to cover the two men. They’d watch her back from below.
It went smoothly, much to everyone’s relief. Rochelle eyed the rear entrance of the Burger Tank station every now and then, watching out for Virgil, and when after two tanks and countless zombies he still hadn’t returned, she found herself very frustrated. Her pile of weapons was empty, too. That made things a little more unnerving.
“Let’s get closer to the dock!” She suggested, and Nick obeyed, starting into the building to cut through. He could hear Rochelle’s footsteps from the roof and he emerged just in time to hear her land on a nearby truck, then on the ground.
The third tank roared in time with Virgil’s boat. He was finally here. Well, not quite-he was still a good thirty feet from the dock, but he was close, and goddammit, that was relief in itself.
Thirty feet became twenty, and the survivors hovered close to the water, ready to leap on the boat when it got close enough.
The tank was close by the time twenty had dwindled into ten, and it was swinging and roaring and throwing rubble as it went. Rochelle narrowly dodged a swing, then blasted away a piece of flying concrete with her grenade launcher before it could hit Ellis and Nick, and by then, the boat had arrived.
Nick could see it glistening like light from the heavens, and he took the steps two at a time before leaping and landing, crumpling to his knees from the weight of both himself and Ellis. He lowered the boy to the ground just in time to turn and see Rochelle make it onto the boat, and then Virgil was driving them back out into the middle of the river.
Nick wasn’t sure if Lady Luck was smiling or pissing on them at this point.