Ellis could barely see for the dust. And the sun- so bright that it had scared all the blue out of the sky, beating down on his back and stifling the air, smothering them in wet heat. The stench of rotting flesh and sweat that clung to him was enough to make him nauseous. How could it have gotten hotter since they landed? The wounds he bore fresh from fleeing across Veteran's Memorial Bridge ached and seeped sticky blood, but he did not complain.
Never complain.
The sharp barrel of a shotgun struck his back, made him stumble on the rocks, made Nick and Rochelle glance at him. He drew a ragged breath through gritted teeth and forced his feet to move to the pace that the soldiers set. Sweat dripped from his hair into his eyes. They couldn't afford to be weak now.
Where are they takin' us?
Actually, he didn't want to know.
He gathered Nick was right though. What he wouldn't give to be back in that whitewashed saferoom at the bridge. They could backtrack home, to sweet Georgia; they could find the Jimmy Gibbs Jr and drive all the way down Route 95 to Miami, go find Louis and Francis and Zoey at the keys. Oh Lord, she was so beautiful... Yet now he remembered no more of her face than wispy bangs and distant green eyes. What he wouldn't give to see that girl again.
He watched the wall spring up out of the dust storm like a phantom from a lake and couldn't supress the weary smile that escaped his lips. Down to the last detail, Nick was always right.
'They're going to line us up against a wall, and shoot us.'
They had all known the risk. And hell, they'd used up enough luck to last a lifetime by the time they got to Louisiana. It was bound to happen sometime... Better to accept it now than die miserable, he supposed.
It hurt like a bitch, though.
"Line up."
Wordlessly, they each moved to a spot on the wall. There was an unspoken agreement, he was sure: To die as they had lived. Don't let them see the fear, and never say goodbye. The mantra that had gotten them this far.
Ellis reached his hand out to Rochelle, to his right. She squeezed back weakly, but did not look at him. Nick stood silent and unflinching to his left, staring at the red stone wall as if he could see right through it. Stoic to the end. Ellis would miss that. He didn't dare turn his head far enough to see where Coach was, but was pretty sure that he would never see him again.
Goodbye, Coach. It's been a pleasure. I ain't a praying man no more, but I hope to God that you got your seat in Heaven.
You'll be fine, Ro. Everyone you love is up there waitin' for you. An' even if they ain't, well, I guess we just won't suffer no more.
Nick... Thanks, bro. For everything.
The men in the white Hazmat suits were talking to them, but the wind and the muffling effect of their breathing apparatus made it hard to hear. Ellis didn't particularly want to end his life listening to these two sons of bitches anyway. He wiped absently at his eye, trying to evict a grain of dust.
"Any last words?" One soldier asked, devoid of emotion. He'd probably pulled the trigger on a hundred poor bastards before them, the ex-mechanic mused. The filters on their masks kinda made them sound like Darth Vader... He shook himself mentally and tried to push the image of the Dark Lord of the Sith holding them at gunpoint from his mind. That would be a shitty final thought.
"I have." Coach said, as bold as he would have been if a shotgun wasn't aimed at his head. He cleared his throat and spoke deliberately, like he wanted his final words to be his best.
"Forgive them, Father... They know not what they do."
A cold sickness grew from Ellis's belly up to his throat, threatening to choke him. This was it. At twenty-three years old this was it, and he wasn't ready for it. No matter if it meant being reunited with his Grandparents, his childhood pets, his best friend from second grade who got hit by a car- he wasn't ready to die. Not yet. He wanted more time with his new friends, wanted to know them inside out. Even in a world full of death, there was just so much more living to do.
In an effort to calm himself, he closed his eyes and reached for the first happy memory that his mind handed him. The soft, sweet smell of his Mama's gingerbread baking, like she always made for them on Thursday nights when she got paid. His little sister's laughs as he chased her around the yard barefoot, threatening tickles. The first time he and Keith had snuck beer into the house and gotten so drunk that Keith threw up on the cat, and they had to bathe her in the bathtub without waking anyone. Keith had to go to hospital for a tetanus shot the next day to ward off infection from the cat scratches covering 90% of his body.
There was no place like home.
But then that just made him think of Dorothy in her red shoes, and that was an even shittier final memory. Well, too late now.
Bang, bang. The sound of bodies falling, sickeningly familiar.
...Yet wrong. Ellis knew a pistol shot when he heard one. Didn't the military guys have shotguns?
He looked to his right, to see who still stood with him. Ro did, unmoving but eyes wide open.
He looked to his left. Nick? Twinkling green eyes met his. Surely not. The older man had a grin as wide as the day was long on plastered on his face, and his hip jutted out to the side like it always did when he was pleased with himself. Ellis's eyes dropped to the glock in the man's hand, then followed through to the two soldiers now crumpled in the dust. Two and two made four.
We're going to live.
A grin to rival Nick's spread across his face- he couldn't decide whether to whack him for being so god damn cocksure and right all the time or kiss him for being such a sneaky bastard, but that could wait. Behind him Rochelle uttered something incredulous, and he heard Coach- Coach, you're alive! – give a short bark of laughter, and applause. Nick stage bowed.
"I hid this in my pants." The conman explained casually, spun the gun on his finger and tucked it back into it's holster. Ellis shook his head in disbelief. Suave. Like cheating death by shooting a couple of goddamn Marines between the eyes was no big deal.
You are one slick son of a bitch, Nick.
Wiping his sweaty palms on his jacket Nick strode over to the two bodies.
"No more of this 'lamb to slaughter' bullshit, okay guys? Gotta move fast- here," Ellis blinked dumbly and caught the shotgun Nick threw to him reflexively. Now that the shock was wearing off the adrenaline had started pumping, overriding the pain and exhaustion. How long did they have to pull this off? Nick's plan needed no explanation- as quick and as silent as they always were when preparing to ambush, they stripped the soldiers of their Hazmat suits and Ellis and Nick slipped into them. They were stiflingly hot inside and covered in blood, but once the head protection was on they became unidentifiable; the only sign of struggle being the holes where the rounds had entered and exited. By the time they were close enough for those to be noticeable, it would be all too late. Ellis handed his hat to Rochelle for safekeeping, and Nick fired his gun twice at the wall for appearance's sake.
The chopper pilot was sure going to be in for a surprise.