Lately you've been acting in a role that's unbecoming of the girl who taught me there was so much in this world worth living.
The part that you've been playing has me dazed and missing you, but now you're gone, gone, gone.
Their arguments had become more and more frequent nowadays. The safe room was always filled with their voices, harsh and loud. Rochelle and Coach sometimes had to pull the two off each other when anger sparked violence. Ellis, sweet, kind, Ellis was now bitter and resentful. Nick remained as stoic and cold as always. He hardly talked anymore, not even the occasional snide remark left his lips. Ellis stopped talking about Keith, to the relief and worry of Rochelle. Even when she asked to hear something about his crazy friend, he merely shook his head and turned away.
So, Rochelle went to Nick. She yelled and pleaded with him to do something just to ease the tension between the two.
"I don't know what the hell went down with you two, but just fix it!" He sighed dropped his eyes as if to admit defeat. "I can't Rochelle." he said softly, but this only aggravated the woman even more. "Why the hell not?" she shouted, but only received silence. She snarled and walked back to Coach out in the main room.
That night, she and Coach was asleep, Nick stepped into the main room where Ellis was currently on watch. He looked up and scowled. "Go back to bed, Nick." The conman only shook his head. "Look, Overalls-"
"I don't want to hear it." The mechanic snapped, cutting him off. Nick narrowed his eyes and growled. "Just hear me out!" It was a moment before Ellis finally responded with a reluctant sigh. "'M listenin'" The man in the white suit bit his lip and sat down next to his companion, taking a deep breath.
"I'm sorry I pushed you away like that." He began with a heavy sigh. "It's just… we- I can't afford to get close to anyone, and a kiss brings people together…" Ellis's face softened. "Well, shit, Nick. I was hopin' to get closer-" Nick raised a hand to silence him. "I know, kid. But if one of us dies out there or worse… it'll emotionally destroy the other and here, during the goddamn apocalypse, we can't afford that. It'll put everyone at risk." The hick lowered his eyes and nodded. "But… we can wait til' after th' infection, right?" He looked up, eyes hopeful. Nick nodded, feeling a painful lump in his throat. "Yeah, sure, kid. Now go sleep, I'll take watch."
"But-!"
"Go." The cardshark said more firmly and Ellis reluctantly stood. "Mkay. G'night Nick!" He smiled and bounded to his room, murmuring "Rochelle 'n Coach will sure be happy tha' we made up." Nick lowered his head into his hands and whispered. "Yeah."
After making sure everyone was asleep, he slung his M-16 assault rifle across his back and holstered his dual pistols. With a quick glance back to his team's resting quarters, he mumbled "I care about you too much, that's why I have to go." as if to answer the inevitable questions come tomorrow morning.
With that, the conman slipped out the door and vanished into the morning fog.
The promise never harvested in fallow fields shall lie in a shallow grave of stubble field and half remembered lies.
A burning heart deceived me and you really put me on, but now you're gone, gone, gone.
Morning light filtered through the dingy windows and filled the safe house with warmth. Ellis sleepily blinked the sleep from his eyes and stumbled out into the main room just as the other two were waking up. "G'mornin' Rochelle." he smiled as the dark skinned woman walked in from her room. She returned his smile with one of her own, glad to see the old Ellis finally coming back. "And g'mornin' to you, Coach." The large former football player raised his eyebrows at the hick's warm greeting.
"And where would the world's most irritating gambler be?" Rochelle mused, leaning against the kitchen counter and opening a breakfast bar. Ellis shrugged. "I went ta bed last night after he said he'd take watch. "'Prolly got tired 'n fell asleep." he chuckled and rummaged through the supplies. "Would ya mind fetchin' him? We need to get moving soon." Coach grabbed something to eat from one of the cabinets and seated himself by Ro. "Will do, Coach."
Ellis pushed open the door to Nick's room and knocked on the wall. "'Ey, Nick! Gotta git up!" He frowned, seeing the bed empty. "Nick?" He pulled off the blankets and felt his heart stop. The room was empty.
The memories are bittersweet, the taste you leave is still stuck in my mouth.
I wanna touch you, wanna breath you, say "Fuck you, I don't need you, get out… right now."
"COACH! ROCHELLE!" Ellis ran back into the room, eyes wide in panic. "He's gone! I can't find him, I…" He ran to the safe house door and pulled it open, looking frantically around but finding no sign of the enigmatic man in the fancy white bloodstained suit.
Rochelle wrapped her small hands around his arm and pulled him back inside. He caught her muttering "I knew this would happen… Why did he wait so long to leave?" Ellis looked at her, horrified. "Ro, we gotta find him! He'll die out there alone!" he said frantically. "Ellis, sweetie, we should get going." The reporter said softly. "What? But Ro-!"
"Ellis." Rochelle firmly cut him off. "We don't know when he left, or where he went. New Orleans is a big city… he could be on the other side of the city by now. He's gone."
We were strangers when we met and we were strangers when you left into a shadow world of painted girls and marionettes.
Used to pride myself on living a life without any regrets but now that's gone, gone, gone.
Ellis broke into a sob, collapsing onto the safe house floor in a wail of anguish. Rochelle kneeled beside him and rubbed his shoulder, whispering small words of reassurance into his unhearing ears.
Coach stood wordlessly by the door, keeping his gaze locked on something through the bars, wanting to watch anything but the scene of the mechanic breaking apart in front of them. Silently, he said a prayer for the safety of Nick. The man destroyed Ellis by leaving them all, but Coach knew there was a reason for it. He knew not even an asshole like him would rip apart the innocent mechanic's heart for no reason. Nick always had reasons.
He turned to say something to Rochelle, but noticed something he didn't see earlier: a note folded on the counter top.
How can such sweet kisses come from such a poison tongue?
How can a bed of roses hurt so much to lie upon?
It was the thorn underneath the flower that I wasn't counting on and now you're gone, gone, gone.
Nick moved silently through the streets of New Orleans, ducking behind buildings and down alley's to avoid contact with the Infected as much as possible. The day before, the bite mark on his arm held no pain, but now it swelled up and burned like hell. It was covered in a sickening greenish purple colour and he had already spiked a fever. Still, he kept moving as far away as he could get before he turned into one of those freaks. The conman didn't intend to wait until he was stumbling around looking to chew on the first living thing he came across. He had a plan for when it got too bad and his cure lay holstered on the side of his leg.
After a while, he noticed two things. One, the zombies didn't bother him anymore. Two, water began to fall from the sky. Coach? Did you tell St. Peter to ready that chariot for me? Is God really that forgiving? Nick smiled at the thought. Even when he was bitching his head off, the older man always had a watchful eye over them all. He would probably spot his farewell note and parting gift first.
Remember when I said I was immune? I lied through my fucking teeth.
Rochelle, you're one hell of a girl and you got a wicked swing with an axe. I'm glad you never used that thing on me. I'm sorry for getting on your nerves, sweet heart. Take care of yourself.
Coach, man, thanks for always having my back out there even when times got tough. Keep an eye on the kid for me.
Ellis, I'm sorry man, I really am. I'll see you again in due time, so don't you fucking dare come chasing after me. You'll all make it to the evac, no matter what you have to overcome.
P.S. The Midnight Riders aren't all that bad.
-Nick
The city's not the same, but all the streets, they know you're name.
They ask me all about you but my answers pull up lame.
I'm staggering in last night's clothes and it's starting to rain and you're gone, gone, gone.
Somewhere on the streets of New Orleans, a group of three people shuffled in a funeral march past brightly colored signs and decaying bodies laying unceremoniously on the side of the road. In front was a small dark skinned woman wielding a submachine gun and an axe strapped on her back. She wore a torn, bloodied bright pink shirt that said Depeche Mode on the front, a black belt tied around her waist, tight jeans and brown boots. Behind her walked a taller, younger man. His curly, copper hair was hidden by a blue and white cap. His tan Bull Shifters shirt was spattered with a manor of things and his coveralls were torn in several places. In one hand he clenched a note and on the other was a large gold and silver ring that just didn't seem to fit him. Keeping watch behind them was an older, burly black man in a purple and yellow shirt and tan dress pants. The man, armed with a auto shotgun and two pistols, stared warily across the deserted streets, keeping the group under a watchful eye.
They had to pick up the pace, knowing that at the other end of that bridge was the helicopter that would finally carry them to safety. Mercilessly, the group of three fought their way to freedom. It should've been four.
If parted by a river that was running deep and wide, I'd build a boat to get to you or else I'd drink it dry.
Could fill it back up right now as the tears fall from my eyes and you're gone, gone, gone.
Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the city, a sick looking man in a white suit limped into a building with a secure looking red door that marked safety for any still living passersby. Around him, bombs fell and Infected howled but none of them gave a care at the single gunshot that echoed across the abandoned city.
Babe, if we should meet again way on down the road, do me this one favor and pretend we never knowed.
I'll say that you remind me of a girl I knew so long ago but now she's gone, gone, gone…
A/N:
Eeek! I'm alive! D:
So, my first L4D story and I kill off a main character. BUT THE SONG WAS PRACTICALLY BEGGING FOR IT.
And DAMN. This took me all night to write. It's currently 6 AM. WHOO, ALLNIGHTERS.
Anywho, I'm working on the 100 theme challenge for L4D so as soon as I can get off my lazy ass and finish the first 10, I'll put them up.
Soo, like it? Hate it? Please-write-more-I-love-you? Go-jump-off-a-bridge-you-pathetic-human? Let me know!
Strange jittery mood from staying up all night is strange.
Song:
Gone, Gone, Gone - John Ralston