Zoey tried to scream, but a violent impact with the dirt knocked the breath from her lungs. The Charger's huge fist was wrapped around her sternum, and each crushing impact sent stars wheeling in her vision.
WHAM!
Pain rocketed through her as a few ribs snapped. Spots were starting to appear in her vision from lack of oxygen.
WHAM!
This is it, she thought vaguely, her mind swimming in a fog. I'm actually going to die. There was no fear in the thought. No panic. It was as if she was looking at someone else from the outside, a passive observer. Disconnected. Time slowed to a crawl, and she spent what felt like an eternity studying the face of her murderer.
It - no, he - was probably in his mid-thirties, his skull deformed beyond all hope of recognition. His eyes, still bearing hints of their former ice-blue color, were sunken deep into their sockets, blazing with rage and pain. His jaw was wide and powerful, but twisted to the side, completely dislocated. It still bore a stubble of dark hair, and a small scar that ran from his chin to his lip.
The Charger lifted her up again, and she closed her eyes. I'm coming home, Mom, she thought, almost happy at the thought, her dazed mind groping for purchase in the fuzzy, confused world that it was about to leave. I've missed you so much.
Thunder sounded, absurdly loud in the mire of her mind, blasting her thoughts into confusion and disarray. She felt herself falling, the Charger's grip gone from around her torso. Why did he let go? her addled mind wondered. Drops of liquid sprinkled her face, warm and sticky, but she couldn't muster the will to open her eyes. The dirt slammed into her, and her mind recoiled from the hideous pain as her frail, broken body hit the ground.
She did not feel the powerful arms wrapping around her thin frame, did not hear the panicked voice running on overdrive, apologies and prayers spilling out like water from a breached dam. She was barely conscious of the wind on her face as she was lifted gingerly into the air, and blackness swallowed her thoughts as she started to move.
-O-
"Francis, move!" Bill yelled over the screams and howls of the horde, cutting loose with short, controlled bursts from his M16 as he walked backwards. The woods churned with infected, the dirt was muddy and slick with spilled blood, and the swarm of grasping hands and gaping mouths was circling around, trying to surround them.
The big biker didn't notice any of it, though. Without a second glance, he brushed past the beasts trying to grab him, stormed through the mob of clutching, leering monsters as if they weren't there. Every thought, every action was devoted to the bloody, battered form held to his chest, curled in on herself in a ball of misery, seeming absurdly small and vulnerable.
He talked as he ran, even though he knew she couldn't hear him, his mouth running almost without his conscious thought. "Stay with me, babe. Come on, just a little farther. You're gonna be fine, baby, you're gonna be fine. Just stay with me, I'm gonna get you through this."
"Fire in the hole!" Louis shouted, pitching a pipe bomb into the woods. The small grey tube sailed over the heads of the mob, bouncing once and landing with a wet thud in the corpse-choked dirt. The infected swarmed around it, howling and roaring, and then the bomb detonated with a thunderous roar. Limbs and blood sprayed in all directions, and the survivors earned a few precious moments of peace.
"Safe house, around the corner!" Bill yelled, pointing through the woods towards a dim yellow light, half-seen through the trees.
Francis didn't look up, didn't make any indication that he had heard except for a minor lengthening of his stride. His gaze was locked on the bloody form laying her head against his chest, all his attention held by the woman in his arms. "See, babe?" he said, out of breath. "We're almost there."
-O-
As Louis slammed the door and shoved the bolt into place, Bill rested his rifle on a table nearby and walked over to where Francis stood, still holding his priceless burden. "Son," the old 'Nam vet said, "Set her down on that table over there. We can take a look at her wounds there."
Grudgingly, as if unwilling to release his hold on her for fear that she would slip away forever, the big biker set Zoey down on the proffered table, as gently as one would set down an armed bomb.
Bill bent over her, hissing in his breath as he took in her injuries. "Pass me the first-aid kit, son," he said, extending a hand. "I think I can still save her."
"No," Francis said, and Bill's head snapped up, a furious glare etched on his features. "No!" he yelled. "What the hell do you mean, 'no'!"
His face was set, hard and emotionless, but Francis's eyes were swirling with grief, guilt and fear. The big man took a step forward, slung the first-aid kit off of his back, and said simply "I need to do this."
Nodding in grudging acceptance, Bill took a step back and watched as the big man set to work. His large, calloused hands moved with a tenderness that Bill would never have thought to see in the musclebound, self-proclaimed badass. He was completely focused on his work, and Bill's eyes widened as he heard Francis murmuring softly to his charge.
"That's it, babe, I just gotta bind up your ribs… I'm sorry, but this is gonna hurt." A few deft movements later, and Francis continued "There we go… almost done. See? You're gonna be fine. I'm gonna take care of you, don't worry."
Bill swallowed against the lump forming in his throat, turning away. He walked to stand next to Louis, who was giving Francis a curious look. Moving his gaze to Bill, the lanky office worker whispered "What's goin' on with Francis? Ain't seen the dude this focused since the rooftop of Mercy."
Bill sighed, and leaned against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. "The poor bastard really cares for her," he whispered back, shooting a glance over his shoulder at Francis, who was still talking under his breath as he worked.
Louis's mouth opened in a silent 'oh', and he gave Francis's back an appraising stare, as if seeing the biker for the first time.
-O-
Once Francis was done, he threw himself into a chair after moving it as close to the table Zoey rested on as possible. Bill and Louis came to stand before him, and the latter tentatively said "Look, we've been on the move for the better part of a day now. We need to rest here and-…"
"Screw that," Francis snarled, cutting the other man off. "We need to get Zoey better treatment, and we need to get it for her now. You two pussies want to wait around in this shithole while she dies, fine. I'll go without you."
Louis widened his eyes, and Bill held up a placating hand. "Now, son, you don't know that…"
Francis was out of his chair before Bill could even finish the sentence, slamming the older man into the wall with a roar. His face not more than two inches from Bill's, his eyes blazing with desperate rage. Through clenched teeth, Francis growled "You don't get it. I am not going to dick around here while Zoey slowly dies on a goddamn table! You can either come with me or stand aside, but you will not get in my way."
The rage left as fast as it had come, and Francis slumped back down into his chair, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. Once Bill had gotten over the shock of Francis's outburst, he cleared his throat and said "Well, we can't send you out there alone. Our odds plummet if we split up." Pausing to think, Bill sighed and reluctantly nodded "Fine. We'll go with you. Just give us a few minutes to catch our breath."
Nodding, Francis stalked over and sat next to Zoey's unmoving form, turning the chair to face her. Her chest rose and fell with weak, shuddering breaths, and Francis reached out, brushing a hand through her dark hair in an attempt to straighten it. "Just hold on, babe," he whispered, trailing his hand down her cheek in a butterfly-light caress. "Just a little longer."
-O-
"There! A hospital!" Francis shouted, pointing.
Sure enough, sitting in the middle of this little town nestled in the woods in the ass end of nowhere, was a squat, one-story cinderblock structure bearing a sign that read "HOSPITAL" in large, bold letters. The front doors were caved in, and corpses choked the entryway.
Starting forward, trying his damnedest not to jostle Zoey as he ran, Francis jogged across the crude, unpaved road, and ran through the front doors before Bill could shout a warning.
The hunter leapt from the shadows with a screech, slamming into Francis from the side. Zoey tumbled from his arms, landing limp as a rag doll on the tiles. The hunter bore Francis down the floor, tearing at him and howling.
Pain lanced through the big biker as the hunter's claws bit into the flesh of his abdomen, and Francis roared in impotent fury, shielding his face from the hunter's claws. Louis's rifle chattered, and the hunter was blasted off of him, tumbling to a halt in the middle of the room.
Frantically crawling over to where Zoey lay sprawled on the floor, Francis cupped her in his arms, cradling her like a child and frantically putting an ear to her chest. Her heartbeat was still there - unsteady and weak, but there. "Please, baby, stay with me," Francis murmured frantically, getting to his feet with Zoey in his arms, heedless of his own injuries. "We're almost there. Not much longer now."
Bill and Louis came charging through the front door after him, and Francis started off down a nearby hallway, reading the signs hung from the ceiling. "Reception… bathrooms… trauma ward! There we go!" Turning right without looking first, Francis ran straight into a mob of infected.
Backpedalling hastily, he yelled "Ah, shit! Bill, Louis! Little help!" Uttering a string of curses, Bill opened up into the crowd. Blood sprayed onto the faded plaster, and the crowd surged forward towards their helpless prey.
Francis planted a boot in the chest of a charging zombie, knocking it backwards and sending it sprawling. Ducking beneath a swing, he rammed his forehead into the offending zombie's face. It lurched backwards, blood spurting from a broken nose, hissing and spitting with rage. Francis kicked it in the ribs hard enough to break several of them, and the zombie fell backwards to land next to its struggling comrade.
Before long, the small horde had been put down by the survivors, and Francis charged off down the hallway, heedless of Bill's cry of "Goddamn it, Francis! Wait!" Eyes flicking around the blood-splattered hallway, he finally found his quarry, and skidded to a halt before a door marked 'Trauma Ward'. Bringing up a booted foot, he gave the door a sharp kick that smashed it open, and dashed in.
The room was large and rectangular, a row of hospital beds lining the far wall. The only illumination came from several narrow, grimy windows above the beds, and scattered about the room were metal tables and desks with various pieces of medical equipment sprinkled about atop them.
Gingerly laying Zoey down on one of the beds, he put an ear to her chest again, and his blood froze. Eyes widening, he looked up as Bill and Louis entered the room, and screamed "She's not breathing!"
"Shit!" Bill cursed, gazing around frantically for anything that could help. Francis desperately scanned the room, and his eyes fell on something that sent a flicker of hope through the icy mass in his gut.
Charging forward with speed born of desperation, Francis snatched up the defibrillator, barely restraining himself from cheering when he saw that the power gauge read 'full'. Dashing back, the biker didn't pause for such pleasantries as zippers, merely tearing open Zoey's red sweater, revealing the white tank-top beneath. Rubbing the paddles together, Francis placed them on Zoey's chest and yelled "Clear!"
Zoey's entire body twitched as the electrical charge flowed through it, but no life bloomed within her eyes, no heartbeat moved her chest. "Come on!" Francis roared, waiting a few seconds and then placing the chest paddles back on Zoey's unmoving form. "Clear!"
Again, her body convulsed but she showed no signs of life. Tears left glistening contrails down Francis's cheeks, and in desperation he started giving her CPR, counting the compressions and then leaning in, placing his lips on hers and blowing with all his might.
Straightening, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs, he placed the paddles on Zoey's chest one last time. Taking a deep breath, he swore to any gods that might be listening that if this didn't work, he would personally hunt them down and shove his foot so far up their ass that they would taste the zombie blood on the sole of his boot. "Motherfucking CLEAR!"
-O-
Zoey floated in a void of impenetrable darkness, broken by the occasional disorienting flash of lights and sounds that threatened to overwhelm her. She could make out snippets of speech, Francis mostly, talking to her. She fervently wished with every ounce of her heart and soul that she could respond, let him know that she could hear him. And then she would sink back into the nothingness for a while, only to come to half-consciousness again as she was jostled or moved about.
But this time, when she drifted off again, she knew it was different. She could feel her grasp on life start to slip, feel herself sliding deeper and deeper into an oblivion from which there was no return. And then she didn't feel anything at all.
Pain flooded her veins, electricity arcing across her flesh as her heart leapt into frantic action, making up for lost time and threatening to burst out of her chest. Her eyes flew open, and she lurched upright with a strangled cry.
She didn't even have time to take in her surroundings before she was enveloped by a crushing grip that threatened to re-break her partially-healed ribs. Taking deep, gulping breaths of air, she panicked for a moment, thinking that some infected was trying to squeeze the life from her.
Then her eyes focused, and she saw the shuddering form of Francis pressed against her. Returning the embrace, she suddenly realized that Francis had his face buried in her shoulder, sobbing almost uncontrollably.
"Shh… shh, it's okay," she murmured, feeling tears threatening to escape her own eyes. "I'm here. I'm here."
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Francis straightened without breaking their embrace, resting his forehead against hers. "Don't you ever," Francis whispered, voice quavering, "scare me like that again. I don't think I could take losing you, babe."
Closing her eyes and pulling her savior tighter against her, Zoey replied "I'm not going anywhere, love. After all, I've got you watching out for me, don't I?"