Disclaimer: I only own the nameless CEDA workers. One of them can be Bob.

Author's note: Inspired by a period of RAEG caused by a malfunctioning sewing machine and the line in the last run of Parish where the guy over the radio calls them "carriers".

I hope I got their personalities right. I was surprised I didn't struggle with Ellis and his chattiness- I usually don't handle dialogue well.

The Last Escape

Safe.

The word seemed foreign to him after all the time they had spent with their lives at stake. All the running, shooting, screaming, crying (not on his behalf, of course), cursing... They were finally safe.

Then again, he wasn't exactly an optimist, so he decided he'd believe it when he saw it for himself.

However, it was pretty hard for Nick to argue that they weren't when he was laying on a fairly comfortable hospital bed, head resting on a soft pillow in a sterile white room. When was the last time he was able to relax? He found himself unable to remember after all he had been through.

Not that he was completely relaxed, mind you. The fact that everyone that had approached the group was wearing a hazmat suit did little for his confidence. Then again, God knew what they all had on their clothes, so he supposed he could forgive the CEDA workers and their caution. As far as he was concerned, they could take his suit and burn it. It wasn't even white anymore; just an ugly smattering of green, yellow, brown, and red.

Health risks aside, CEDA seemed to be treating them pretty well. They had offered them food (which they had all refused, on account of the fact that they hadn't showered in who knew how long, much less washed their hands) and said they could have a nice, long rest once they were done with them here. Nick liked the sound of a decent sleep in a comfortable bed- no doubt they'd have nightmares, but that was still more rest than they had been getting.

Although he questioned just how well Ellis would be able to sleep. The kid was practically bouncing on the bed, rambling on and on to the CEDA nurses, who seemed to be taking the noise all in stride.

"She wuz wearin' a red jacket, brown hair up inna ponytail, an' she's got th' most beautiful eyes yew'd ever seen!"

"Ellis- you didn't get close enough to her to see her eyes," came Nick's rebuttal from the next bed to his right. Coach and Rochelle were on his left.

"Ah saw enough a' her tuh know she's th' most beautiful girl in the world," came the response, almost dreamily.

Nick rolled his eyes, but couldn't help the slight smirk at the kid's swooning. He was young, after all, and he supposed, somewhere in the back of his mind, that was why he had taken to Ellis as a little brother. A talkative, very annoying little brother, but still someone to watch out for in the big bad world. Growing up in sleepy Savannah, there was a lot he didn't know when it came to danger. Hell, the kid acted like he was invincible.

Heh. Coach the dad. Rochelle the protective older sister. Ellis the kid brother. And Nick- well, Nick didn't particularly care where he fell in the group.

A chuckle from the woman in the hazmat suit. "Sounds like you really like this girl."

"Ah'm gonna marry her," came the answer, definitive and sure. "Her name's Zoey- y' seen her?"

"Brown hair, red jacket, Zoey... You know, I think she was in here not too long ago. Maybe you'll get to see her when we're done."

With a seemingly happy wiggle he settled down onto the bed, finally holding still long enough for the nurse to swab his arm. "Boy, ah can't wait 'til ah see her again! Then ah can tell her all th' awesome stuff we did since we saw 'em. Like goin' to Whisperin' Oaks an' goin' through th' pettin' zoo!"

"All the animals were dead,"deadpanned Nick to the nurses.

"An' rode th' Screamin' Oak-"

"We ran along the track from a horde of infected," clarified Rochelle.

"-An' went down th' big slide-"

"With a Tank on our asses," grumbled Coach as he watched his own blood fill the nearby bag.

"-An' the bridge tuh get t' th' escape helicopter- oh-ho man! Th' road was fallin' apart from all the bombin', an' there were Hunters an' Chargers everywhere! An' just when we're gettin' tuh th' end, a Smoker went an' snatched me up, an' ah thought for sure it wuz gonna throw me intuh th' river an' then ah really woulda been-"

"Ellis, sweetie, why don't we let the nice doctors get back to work so we can get some rest, okay?" interrupted Rochelle, trying to remain patient.

Still brimming with enthusiasm and the joy of the prospect of seeing Zoey again, he settled enough to remain quiet.

"Why're you collectin' our blood, anyway?" came the question from Coach as Nick rolled up his left sleeve after undoing all the buttons.

"We're collecting blood from everyone we find that's immune," explained the lady as she gently swabbed the inside of his elbow. It smelled like a pretty strong disinfectant. "So we can compare them all and see just why you're immune. Then we'll use what we learn to see if we can make a cure. We're trying to collect as much as we safely can, since most people are squeamish of needles and don't want to go through the process twice."

"Shucks- ah ain't 'fraid of needles, ma'am," offered Ellis.

"Then you're a brave one," she smiled through the face shield.

The doctor that was attending to Coach and Rochelle- apparently male- kept an eye on their bags. Once enough had been gathered (and Rochelle said she was starting to get light headed) the bags were collected, labeled, and set aside. Nick and Ellis were about halfway through by this time, Ellis recalling another time he had felt light headed, when a Hunter had pounced him when they had stopped at an abandoned gas station to refuel Jimmy Gibbs Jr.'s car. It was the one time Nick got to drive, since the Savannahite was stretched out over the back seat to recover from the shock.

"Must be a talker," the male CEDA worker had murmured to the other in the midst of the story.

"He only shuts up when he's unconscious," affirmed Nick quietly.

Once all the bags of blood were collected- and all four were correspondingly woozy- the female nurse took the blood and walked out, her steps brisk and precise. The group of four survivors lay complacent, awaiting the next development.

"Hope ah can find Zoey; she's gotta love me when she learns about all th' zombie's ah took out!" beamed Ellis.

"Once we get cleaned up, I'm headin' straight for the cafeteria. Sure hope they got cheeseburgers in there, because I'll be a one-man buffet slayer."

"Once we get cleaned up, I'll be sleeping for the next three days," threw in the woman among them. "I could use a good nap."

"Here I figured you'd go looking for your biker boyfriend," smirked Nick, not even turning his head to look at her.

"Good idea- he can be my pillow."

"And how is everyone?" asked a different male voice, the attached hazmat suit-clad body walking in.

"Peachy keen, doc- when can we get out of here?" came Nick's response. As he turned his head to look, he noticed the other nurse had a syringe in his hand full of some kind of clear liquid. Noticing the look he was getting a gloved hand raised in a placating manner.

"This is something that'll help you sleep. After what you folks have been through, you need all the rest you can get. Just a little shot into your neck- that's all. You won't feel a thing."

"If yew wanted tuh put us t' sleep, why don't yew just bring in a TV an' put it on th' History channel? That us'ally works on everybody in mah family," offered Ellis helpfully.

Coach chuckled as the doctor approached him first. "I hear you there. All I need to do is see the logo an' I start driftin' off."

"As useful as that would be, it wouldn't do any good if it put us to sleep as well," humored the other. "Go ahead and get comfortable; you'll be sleeping for a while."

With no further prompting they did so, Rochelle pulling her hair free and letting the long since sullied tresses fall to her shoulders. She sighed as she settled again. "A nice, soft bed... I'll take this over a hard floor any day."

Coach merely hummed in agreement as he shifted a little before settling. "Night y'all; I'll see ya when I can pull this tired old body outta bed."

Ellis took the opportunity to fluff his pillow a little bit, turning towards Nick as he did. "Nick, be honest with me, man- d'ya think ah got any chance with Zoey?"

"Depends." A smirk as he turned his gaze towards him. "Are you going to actually talk to her this time?"

Propping himself up on one elbow, the hand of the other reached up and scratched under his hat. "Well... Maybe..."

The smirk disappeared and a brow raised. "You can't be serious. Ellis, you just survived a goddamn zombie apocalypse and you're afraid to talk to a girl?"

He fingered the edge of the pillowcase in a nervous display. "Ah dunno, it's jus'... ah jus' get so nervous when ah see her, ah can't think of anythin' tuh say..."

"Well, I could talk to her for you..."

A hopeful glint in the blue eyes.

"... But I'm pretty sure she already hates my guts."

The hope vanished, and the kid flopped back down onto the bed before rubbing his face, knocking his hat askew. Ah damn- he hadn't wanted to bum the kid out...

"Oh come on, kid- you're a bona-fide badass zombie killing machine, right? Just get some sleep, and I'm sure you'll think of something when you wake up."

He peeked out from under the bill of his hat, in the process of straightening it. "Y' think so?"

A knowing smirk. "I've watched you take on a Tank. This'll be no sweat."

A flash of a beaming grin before he settled into the bed, tugging on his hat a little to pull it down over his eyes just enough to block the majority of the lights overhead. He laced his fingers together and rest his hands on his chest, much like how he had when they rested in a safehouse. Nick himself lifted his head and adjusted the pillow, pulling it down so it would support his neck as well. The two doctors approached, syringes in hand.

"All cozy?" asked one.

A sleepy "mm-hmm" came from the southern boy on the bed, and one of the hazmat suits approached him.

Nick turned his head to face him, about to ask if he was planning on wearing his hat while he slept, when he noticed the irregular white shapes on the beds on the other side of Ellis. The one in the back had a larger bump towards the middle, while the other two smaller ones at about the first quarter of the length. Then he realized the shapes were where Coach and Rochelle had been, only now with white sheets covering them entirely.

And their chests weren't moving.

"The HELL-?"

The exclamation had startled Ellis, who had jumped at the noise and dislodged his hat. The gloved hand of the CEDA nurse attending to him suddenly clamped around his face, fingers under his jaw and thumb on his forehead and holding him down, further removing the tattered blue headpiece.

The other CEDA nurse moved quickly, pinning Nick down with an arm against his throat and another across his waist, holding his arms in place. He thrashed underneath the hold, cursing.

The boy's arms jerked with a startled sound and he began to move to reach up and struggle. They only got about halfway, as that moment the plunger of the syringe was depressed, sending the fluid into his veins. His whole body tensed for a moment, hands gripping at nothing, before they fell limply to his sides.

Nick had adjusted his gaze just in time to see the dying gesture. Amidst the sudden alarm and panic, he felt a sharp twist in his chest. "ELLIS!"

Ellis was released, his head rolling towards the conman with eyes struggling to focus, hat left behind on his pillow and curly brown hair left exposed. A shallow inhale accompanied his mouth opening just a little in preparation to say something. But the exhale only came out as a soft sigh, the green eyes dulling and glazing over as his chest fell. It didn't rise again.

The terrible wrenching in his chest became unbearable, and so Nick sought to relieve the pain by physically fighting back against his captors. "You BASTARDS! YOU KILLED THEM!"

"It's necessary," came the simple response from the other nurse as he approached, taking the syringe from the one holding him down.

"SCREW YOU, YOU SONOFA-" The rest of the insult was cut off as the forearm against his neck increased in pressure, making him choke. He kicked, but he ultimately hit nothing.

"You must understand- it's for the good of the survivors. You may be immune, but you were still in contact with the infected. You're a carrier. We can't risk you spreading the infection to the ones that evacuated."

Twisting his arms, he managed to edge them so they weren't pinned against his body, meaning he could now at least bend them at the elbow. The rest of his body continued to thrash in an effort to get free.

The syringe-holding of the two CEDA workers reached for his head. "It's for the good of the human race; your sacrifice won't be forgotten."

The arm at his throat lifted, instead shifting to hold him down at his shoulders. His hands scrabbled at the hazmat suit, trying to get a grip on it to pull. His voice was a little hoarse from his throat being restricted.

"JESUS CHRIST- NO! I WANNA LIVE, GODDAMNIT!"

The heel of the gloved hand came to his forehead, fingers under his jaw to hold his head still. He felt a cold pinch in his neck, and his hands struggled to get a grip on the suit at a more panicked pace. If he could just get a hold of the suit enough to tear it a little bit, he could distract them enough to get away-

Ice water suddenly spread from a point in his neck, swarming to his spine, where it then shot to the rest of his body. Within moments it had flowed to his arms, his hands giving up their fight with a final desperate twitch. He vaguely felt his left arm slip off the edge of the bed, hanging limply over the side. The hand came away from his face, but the world was blurry; vague shapes indicated the lights and hazmat suits overhead. He couldn't feel the rest of his body when his head lolled to his left.

The last image his mind would register would be the lifeless stare of Ellis before black enshrouded everything.

The End

Author's note: You didn't honestly think it would have a happy ending, did you?