How to Breathe

Night had fallen and replaced the burning sun with iridescent skies. The only female in a survivor group of four would usually enjoy the sensation of the serenity in what the world had blanketed them with, but for the past few weeks, she had been a little too preoccupied with the squishy innards of the undead and trying to stay alive.

Otherwise, it was a beautiful night with a few scattered clouds.

"Well, goddamn, Annie Oakley!"

She couldn't help but grin slightly at the praise from the Georgian as she whipped around and shot three zombies trying to reach at him. She wasn't sure about what was going to happen to them before they reached the safe house, but she knew that the hordes were getting stronger and stronger and that she needed a reason to keep going. If protecting the other people in the group was enough for her to keep going and strive on until there was a place where she could rest her head, then she was going to fight for it.

"You alright back there, Nick?"

Coach had called out to the conman that was lagging behind, his gun half-propped up on his knee. The heavier man stooped momentarily to allow Nick to catch up with the rest of them.
"Yeah, doing real well back here."

He replied with a slight grunt. He had refused help after a Charger had managed to force him down a flight of stairs and nearly pin him properly against a car. If it hadn't tripped last minute on the last three stairs, he would have ended up with worse injuries than a few bruised ribs. The man was too damn proud and stubborn for his own good. Always having something to prove to the group and rivaled even Ellis sometimes in thinking that he was invincible at the worst of times. It wouldn't have happened in the first place if he weren't trying to protect Rochelle from it and manage to muck it up. The woman was grateful, but the action had annoyed her, to say the very least. Not because he tried to be a hero, but because he tried and managed to get himself hurt in the process. And that irked her. She didn't want anyone to sacrifice themselves for her.

Nick swore under his breath as he shook his head and straightened himself up as best as he could. They were still a while away from the safe house and he was the one holding everyone back. And he hated that idea. He didn't want them to see anything else but his tough demeanor. Ellis had been walking beside him, military shotgun being carried in both hands in an all-too light manner that managed to further agitate the man. What really put the cherry on the top of the cake with the man was the fact that Ellis was humming some goddamn Midnight Riders song.

Rochelle returned her focus on the task ahead, growing slowly impatient with the fact that the area was void of any zombies. It was more nerve-wracking than calming. Her finger rested on the trigger as her eyes scanned for the slightest movement and ears open for familiar grunts or snarls. But there were none. It was too quiet.

"I think…we can spare a moment to take a break…" She turned to the others and rested her rifle on her hip for a moment, her face breaking out into a slight smile as if trying to reassure them. Although she wasn't sure herself that she wanted to stop for the sake of trying to get to the safe house in one piece. She watched Nick finally catch up to them and lean back against a car, looking around the area with a small scowl. There was no one in sight and although he preferred it that way, he was feeling the same as Rochelle and knew that there had to be something amiss. His eyes wandered over to the female who was obviously eyeballing the area with a hawk's gaze. Sometimes he could swear that she had a third eye.

No one spoke. They, too, were ensuring that their moment's rest wasn't about to give them more trouble than they bargained for.

"How are you feeling?" Rochelle suddenly asked, looking over at Nick with a worried glance. Coach and Ellis both looked back at Nick and the man felt like he was suddenly under the scrutinizing glare of prosecutors. "I'm fine." He huffed out, earning a small grin from Coach as Rochelle began growing agitated herself. "I'm going to go look ahead. Too goddamn quiet for me. Young'n, come with me." The two of them knew well enough that the woman was quite at her limits and one more push would set her off and they didn't want to be there when that happened. Nick had no time to scowl as his gaze turned up to the reporter in front of him.

"What?!"

"Oh, you know what." She snapped. The impatience in her chest bubbled over at his last remark. "You're limping all over the place and you're going to tell me you're fine?" A smirk crossed his face as he lowered his gun a bit more, the pulling movement making him wince back a bit.

"Worried about me?"

"Boy, we need you to stay alive. If we lose someone, our chances of survival goes down. Look at you, you're all messed up! And besides, I can watch myself!"

"Wouldn't have gotten in this situation if Ellis hadn't shot that Charger when he had the chance. You wouldn't have been in that position." A light trickle of rain began to fall and bounce off the hood of the car. The starry sky was quickly being replaced by the cotton candy clouds and soon enough, it had turned into a drizzle in a matter of a minute. "Ellis was taking care of his own problems. Don't go pinning this on him."

Rochelle shook a finger at him, the bangles on her wrist clinking together almost musically.

"And now it's raining. Perfect. I don't know about you, but I don't want to get wet." He had completely cut her off from ranting after him and offered an apologetic smile. He had a point, she knew, and the only thing she could do about it was sigh and accept the fact. The man was an ass half the time, right the other half, and had his heart gold-dusted an even smaller portion of the time but that still shone brightly in the night. She lost all steam of wanting to get mad at him and let out a heavy sigh, expelling all anger.

"Fine…" She let the man get a head start up the ramp and towards the building where there was definitely no rain. Unease grew in the pit of her gut as something rustled in the fence behind her, her chocolate eyes darting around wildly in search for the source. Nick was well up the steps now and almost out of view. Her feet carried her sideways up the stairs, hearing Nick not too far away. He had gone off on a charger rant and was unaware that she was further away from him than he thought. "…and you know, I get it that you weren't able to help, but Ellis was…"

The rest of his dialogue had gone unheard. Something thick had wrapped around her mouth, throat, and body and had begun yanking her backwards. Her eyes widened as her gun fell to the ground with a clatter. Whatever oxygen she had in her lungs had been quickly emptied. And Nick was still blissfully unaware. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and eyelids slid shut.

She didn't want her last conversation with Nick to have been about something so silly…so stupid…

Fighting about a charger.

And bruised ribs.

It wasn't a fight, really. It was just…she was tired of seeing him and Ellis take all the hits. She was stressed out because she had tried her best to be of some use to them, to try and gun down zombies as if she were competing with them, but there was just nothing she could do against people who had already held guns before.

She wasn't completely useless, but anytime she would see one of the boys trying to take a hit for the woman, she found herself worrying uselessly and causing more of a commotion than anything. There was no helping it, though. She wanted to make sure that they stayed safe, too. Not just them trying to make sure she stayed safe.

She blinked open her eyes for a moment and saw the world through speckled dots. Her nostrils flared to try and suck in air but it simply wouldn't pass into her lungs.

'Am I going to die?'

She found herself wondering, the world beginning to fade slowly in front of her. The pavement and cars melted into the same color, the rain muffling any sounds she made in attempt to get help. She wasn't just going to resign her faith to a damn zombie!

But what could she do…?

Everything was already growing dim. Was her last words to the man going to be that of a petty fight? She didn't want that…that would be the worst way to leave someone with memories of.

Nick's rant had momentarily stopped long enough for him to realize that there was no second set of footprints echoing with his own. He didn't know why, but he turned around to see nothing rain pattering on the deserted pavement. His heart skipped a beat and suddenly adrenaline coursed through his veins, the pain in his torso becoming near-absent as he made his way to the top of the stairs to see Rochelle hadn't even begun to climb them. His jaw slackened as his green eyes shot up from the stairs and he began to push himself forwards. An unmistakable cough caught his attention and he was suddenly sprinting towards the noise. His gun was lifted high as he searched for the smoker—for her…for Rochelle.

His mind didn't register there being a zombie to his right. It was as if his gun had a mind of its own and had unloaded itself into the Smoker. There was a moment where the first bullet seemed to have unfazed the zombie, and his heart sank. The world went in slow motion and it was as if he could see each and every bullet making its way towards the Smoker. Without even having time to process what his own body was doing, he had to see the recoil of his gun out of his peripheral to realize that he had relinquished it of more bullets. His mind reeled for a split second as he watched it go up in a smoke cloud, the body flying out from its own explosion and out of view. Nick ran over to the now fallen Rochelle and pulled her out of the smoke cloud. Slowly, his hand sliding under the side of her smooth cheek and gently turning her to face upwards. He kept his hand there for a moment, waiting for her breath to touch the back of his hand, but it never came. His eyes flickered over to her chest and realized that it remained motionless. He threw his gun off to the side and wrapped both his hands around her face now, his eyebrows drawing close together. "ROCHELLE!" He screamed her name, hoping to earn a reply from the woman—to see her eyes open and reflect the glistening night sky. But his wish wasn't coming true. He let out a tortured yell and felt a growing panic sink in his gut.

'This isn't the time to panic.' He could almost hear her say and to which he would reply, 'I thought panic was invented for these types of situations.'

But she was right, yet again. But he couldn't help it. He wanted to know she was still breathing even though it was clear that she wasn't.

He scooped her up and brought her over a knee, her entire body limp as he held her there and pressed his ear next to her mouth while watching her chest lay still.

It was hopeless.

He had to do something. Anything. He had to bring her back.

With the little knowledge of live saving skills he had picked up before his life during the apocalypse, he had laid her flat on the ground once more. He could almost see the black breath of death oozing vapor through her lips and sullying her lungs; trying to rob her of her existence.

With one hand folded on top of his other and his entire frame looming over the now small-looking woman beneath him, he began the process of revival.

Thirty compressions to the chest: pinch the nose, mouth cover mouth, and slowly exhale two breaths. Stop, stare at the chest for movement with your ear to the unconscious mouth to listen for breathing, and if nothing; start again.

Rain rolled off the woman's smooth face as he stared into her face throughout the entire process, her long eyelashes collecting mist. Nick's gut dropped after he had gone through a second set of rescue breaths and compressions and was already getting tired. His breathing came in ragged gasps as he counted them out and suddenly heard a loud crack.

He had broken her sternum.

Fear trickled down his spine for a brief moment but realized that it was suddenly easier to complete the chest compressions. Almost too easy…

Nick leaned in and began exhaling air into her lungs once more, her chest heaving upwards for a moment before decompressing.

Come on, black mist…leave the lungs…stop dirtying them…death, retract your hands! She can't-!

Once more he breathed in and immediately tore backwards when she suddenly choked in copious amounts of air and coughed violently. She turned to her side, towards Nick, and had her eyes shut tightly, trying to gasp in as much dew-sweet air as her lungs would allow her at the time. A hand was rubbing small circles on her back and she looked up into the face of her white knight.

"Are you alright…?" He asked her slowly, almost afraid that if she were to talk, she'd lose all the air she had managed to recollect in her lungs. Her coughing died down to small spurts and she nodded.

"Yeah…you…thanks…did I…"

"Yeah. Almost lost you." His voice was gentle and had a low rumble to it that was enough to send goose bumps trailing along her arms. He fell back onto his rump and sighed, wiping the rain from his face and throwing her a small smile.

"Don't scare me like that."

Rochelle returned the grin and sat next to him, leaning over and giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Thanks, sweetie…" His smile suddenly changed to a grin and one eyebrow rose up. "That's it? A kiss on the cheek? I saved your life, don't I get a little bit more?" Rochelle gave a single 'ha' and grinned back. "Don't push it, boy. I'm grateful, but-"

"Are you two okay!? We heard gunshots!" Coach and Ellis had come clopping back from wherever they had managed to hide to. They took one look at the two and earned a half-hearted wave from Rochelle.

"Nothing we couldn't mana-"

"You assclowns left and nearly got Rochelle killed! We're moving now, and no more goddamn scouting ahead or so help me, I'll kill you myself!"

Nick stood up and pointed an accusing finger at the two of them, eyebrows furrowed together. Ellis and Coach exchanged glances and looked over at Rochelle, frowning slightly.

"Are you okay, baby girl?"

"I'm fine. Let's keep going, alright? I think we're ready to keep going." She threw Nick a warning glare before standing up and trying to steady herself on her feet, her chest in pain from the broken sternum.

Push back the pain…the others are watching…

You can't rest anymore…

Nick inhaled sharply and rubbed his ribs a bit. The two were morons in the making in his opinion. As they pushed ahead, Rochelle stopped momentarily so Nick could catch up with her and gave him a slight smile once more, grasping onto her chest. "One word to these guys and you know we'll never hear the end of it."

Irritated, he nodded anyways. He knew that she was right but he still wanted the others to take responsibility. Because if he wasn't there…

He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about her being dead.

He never wanted to experience having to teach someone to breathe again.

AN: Listen to Birdy-Shelter when reading this. This is where the inspiration came from.