She wished he hadn't died. She wished he hadn't jumped in front of her at the last second.
But most of all, she wished she had never fallen for him. It was the middle of a goddamn zombie apocalypse, it was a stupid time to fall in love. If they hadn't loved each other, she wouldn't be the one here kneeling on the floor of some abandoned building, failed defibrillator unit lying beside her.
It was stupid. And so unbelievably unfair.
She looked over to Coach and Nick. Nick had a sniper balanced on the ledge between bars on the door, every few seconds pulling the trigger. Coach was fixing up his arm, every so often giving a worried look in her direction.
She got up, shaking, and walked over to the door where Nick stood. He was silent for a time, just continuing to snipe distant infected. Finally, he looked over at her. "Life goes on."
Rochelle didn't take the gambler's words bluntly, she knew he didn't mean to hurt her. She shook her head. "I know, it's just –"
"You miss him, I get it," he said, with another pull of the trigger. "Still, life goes on."
Rochelle nodded, knowing he meant well. Coach walked up behind her. "You should get some rest. There are sleeping bags in the back." He patted her shoulder, and she smiled a bit at how well his nickname fit him. She retrieved one of the sleeping bags, and laid it down in the middle of the room. Unstrapping her guns, she set them carefully within arm's reach. She unzipped the sleeping bag and slipped in, making sure not to face – making sure to not face where she had just been.
"Safe house ahead!"
She had never been happier to hear those words. Her leg was killing her, and Coach didn't look like he was in very good shape either. Ellis was walking behind her, covering all their backs. Rochelle kept her eyes forward, staring at the safe house as it got ever so slowly closer.
"WE GOT A TANK!"
Rochelle winced, she heard the thundering behind her. She hobbled even faster, trying to get to the door.
"RUN!"
Coach ran up beside her, and wrapped his arm around her waist. He started to pull her towards the safe room.
"ROCHELLE, NO!"
She turned her head, the Tank had seen her. It was going right for her.
She bolted upright in her sleeping bag. Looking around, she remembered they were in the safe room. Coach and Nick were standing at the door, looking outside. And Ellis... all at once she remembered about Ellis. She put her head on her knees, sighing, and willing herself not to cry.
"Ready to go?" Coach asked her, seeing her sit up. He gave her an understanding look, and she could tell he knew about her nightmare without her having to say a word. She quickly got up, and started strapping her equipment on. She had reloaded everything last night, in case they had to make a quick escape.
Soon she, Nick, and Coach were standing at the door. Thanks to Nick's constant sniping, there were no infected in the nearby area. Coach pushed open the door.
"One second, I forgot something. I'll catch up," Rochelle said, as the two men walked out.
She turned, and walked over to Ellis' body, already fighting back tears. The feeling of the tears slipping down her face was painful, in a way. She quickly wiped her face with the back of her hand. Ellis' body looked peaceful, she realized. Even dead, he seemed to glow with boyish charm. She sniffled, and then glanced out the door. Coach and Nick stood guard outside, waiting for her. She took another look at Ellis, and slowly eased his bloodstained t-shirt off his body. Tears were streaming down her face, she didn't even bother trying to wipe them off. She folded the shirt up as compact as she could, and then slipped it in the old first aid kit she kept her few remaining possessions in.
"I love you, Ellis," she said, putting a hand on his cheek. "I'll really miss you."
And, with one final tear-blurred look at his body, she re-joined Coach and Nick, to continue their journey, minus one.
