AN: I'm hoping to make a oneshot out of this unless only. I've too many stories to write and this just played on my mind for a while.

Someone to Rely On

Nick's gun rattled in between his hands as he shot down a charger mere milliseconds before he could pound the young Georgian senseless. He released his breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and lowered his gun, massaging his shoulders as he watched Ellis get to his feet unsteadily, clutching onto a bruised collar.

There was no time for the hick to nurse his bruise nor for the conman to try and massage the kinks from his muscles, a new horde descended upon them.

They were merciless. Unrelenting. Never-ending.

Just everywhere.

He focused as hard as he could, trying to analyze the faces of the ones he was killing and came to realize that he was doing so in vain. They were nothing to him. Okay, nothing was a bit harsh. They were enemies trying to kill him. And he had to defend himself.

"NICK! WATCH OUT!" The mechanic dove over to the side of the conman and was quickly grounded as a hunter began to rip at his clothes, trying to get to the sweet, tender, gooey innards. Nick spun around and released a round of ammo into the hooded zombie, it falling dead on his comrade. "Dammit, Overalls, shove it away next time! Shove it!"

"Well if you ain't payin' attention none, I'mma have to protect yer ass all th' time!" He replied in a loud voice over the sounds of his shotgun. They pressed their backs together as they tried getting at the zombies that had them surrounded but were quickly becoming exhausted. They could see the safe house, it was right in their sight! And yet it seemed so very far away. Coach and Rochelle had been trying to protect themselves from their own mini-horde that collected around them and were having more problems than them.

The Southern's teeth clenched tightly in trial. Usually he would have been laughing, taunting the zombies even. But not right now. He knew that he had to get to the other two with Nick, but the conman had managed to get himself scratched up by a witch earlier and he was still pumping out fresh blood from a wound in his chest. The white clad man hated to admit that he was hurt, but when he could barely manage on his own or get himself out of a tight spot, he knew he'd have to fall back on someone. Fortunately enough for him, Ellis was there and somehow sensed the amount of pride he had and volunteered himself to guard him. Meaning that he was taking all the hits he could for the older man and hope that he wouldn't end up too hurt. There was too much on the line or them to lose one man. They had run out of health kits and the safe house was their only haven they could get themselves to.

With a final ratta-tatta-tatta-ta, Nick's gun smoked out the final bullets and left them to look at the unholy mess they left behind. Ellis turned to Nick with his fanged smile and grasped onto the bill of his hat in between his thumb and forefinger, letting out a small whistle. He looked over his shoulder to see Rochelle and Coach had finally managed to rid themselves of the last of the zombies and stared at the other two men. Nick grasped onto his wound and looked down at his hand sticky with blood.

"Shit, man, we gotta get you somethin' right quick. C'mon." Ellis offered his shoulder, Nick scoffing but knew that he couldn't refuse. He slung his arm around his neck and began hobbling away, clutching his chest the entire way. Ellis looked at his pained expression and grabbed the adrenaline shot hanging off his hip. "Stings, huh?"

"What?" Nick looked at his sly grin and felt a sharp pain enter his thigh, his eyes widening. He looked down to see Ellis pulling the shot out of his thigh and an almost instantaneous rush of adrenaline coursed through him. His pain was lessened and he was able to go on, giving Ellis also an easier time to carry him.

"You didn't have to do that, there should be kits in the safe house."

"I don' like seeing you limpin' like that." He responded, "cause we're bros, and bros gotta stick together, am I right? Hey, man, when this apocalypse shit is done and over with, we gotta get them bro tattoos."

"In your dreams, Overalls." Nick grinned at the thought as they approached the other two who had already sought refuge behind the impenetrable door. "Come on, hurry up!" Rochelle called, eyes wide with fear that they were to be attacked again. Nick took a quick glance behind him and saw nothing, so he deduced that the female was still running high on adrenaline and panic. Coach was standing firmly where he was, eyes stuck on the distance to ensure that there were no back up forces ready to attack them.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Nick heaved a sigh of relief and was gently lowered against a bag of dog food. He opened up a first aid kit and begun the treatment of healing up the conman's wound, seeing him wince every so often. "How are you feeling, baby?" Rochelle placed her hand on Ellis's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. The mechanic shrugged and gave her a smile. "I'm pretty good."

"You sure? You got charged and pounced on. Nothing at all?"

"Not at all, miss." He gave her a wink and continued his job, hearing her bracelets clink against each other as she removed her hand and went over to Coach to help him with his wounds. Nick watched Ellis fuss over his wounds for a few seconds longer until he finished the job and flashed him another one of his smiles. "That was one hell of a rush, eh, Nick?"

"Oh, which part? The part where we were attacked by a witch? Or maybe that jockey that took you for a ride halfway down the road before we realized he had your mouth covered and you couldn't call for help?"

"Hey, hey, them back humpers don't care which parts of you they grab, they just grab n' go."

Nick was about to answer back but heard a familiar grunting. The four survivors instantly tensed up and exchanged worried glances. Wordlessly, they all grabbed spare kits and slung them onto their back and refilled their guns. "Anyone got an extra molly?" Coach whispered, looking around at his comrades and earning a shake of the head from all of them. Nick stood up and swallowed the lump in his throat. The safe house was almost literally a box in every sense of the word. One of those traveling offices that companies had out in from of new condos or apartments going up. And it was the perfect place to be if they wanted to get attacked by a tank—perfect for the tank that is.

"Boys, young lady, there ain't no time like the present t'pray to God that thing don't find us." Coach began, firmly grasping onto his gun and hearing it squeak against his gloves. Nick scoffed and stared outside, trying to scan for the tank in vain. "That thing sounds close…why can't we see it…?"

"It's almost too dangerous to be in here…we should get out and take it on." Rochelle suggested, dancing from foot to foot. She was nervous. The safe house wasn't safe from tanks.

"Well, let's go then. I ain't stayin' in here if that thing's gonna flip us on our backs." Ellis replied, unlocking the door and rushing out. As soon as the mechanic swung himself to look behind him, his gun went off and began releasing a splatter of bullets into an unknown force above the safe house. The three survivors inside the office had mere moments to react but panic made them fail. The tank dropped down in front of the door, blocking their view of Ellis. The three instantly began shooting at his face but had stopped when the entire safe house was picked up and thrown backwards. It spiraled ungracefully five times, sending papers fluttering about the office like a burst of feathers. Nick's eyes shot out of the doorway for a few precious seconds to see Ellis releasing as many rounds as he could into the tank. He was yelling as testosterone pumped through his veins mixed with fear as he continued shooting.

And then the office hit the ground once more and the view was blocked until it flipped once more and he could see Ellis being thrown to the side against a tree. Nick wanted to shout. Wanted to move. But his body was screaming in pain. He wasn't able to move, and even his voice seemed as if it had managed to stop working.

But he had to.

He had to save Ellis for once.

He pushed himself up off the ground, blood seeping through his clenched teeth and falling onto a few snow white sheets of paper under him, quickly absorbing the red liquid. He coughed a few times and held onto his side and tried to gather his bearings. After a few previous moments, he looked up and saw Ellis at close quarters with the tank and released three more shots, sending it sinking to its knees. The tank face-planted into the ground.

He did it!

The mechanic coughed a few times and began limping towards the safe house, his entire body hunched over as his hand grasped onto his ribs tightly.

He was hurt. Once again. He took another one for the team again.

And then it began getting dark for the conman. He felt the world around him beginning to dim out and fade. He looked over at Coach and Rochelle, who were already unconscious. Rochelle had managed to land herself in a heap on the ground with dog food covering her and Coach was buried beneath a mound of papers.

But there was Ellis. Hurt and still going. Not giving up even after taking down a tank on his own.

And as the world dimmed, Nick knew that he'd be safe. Ellis was the type to stay awake even if his life was on the line if he knew that his friends were in jeopardy. He wouldn't have to worry about dying. He was safe. And for the first time, he knew that he wasn't going to be betrayed and left behind like his ex-wife had one done. His teammates would ensure that they all made it through. No ifs, ands, or buts. No man would be left behind.

It was comforting.

"Come on, Nick, let's get you right proper." As Ellis leaned down to help out his friend, Nick had lost all his senses and passed out.

He was not alone in this fight.

AN: Bleh, I dunno how the ending looks. It's late here and I'm super tired. I just had to get this out of my system. Enjoy!