Confessions of a survivor.
He had only admitted it one other time in his life.
"Keith… M'scared…" and it was to his best friend in the whole world.
His father, a known violent alcoholic, was on a rampage, throwing dishes, kicking furniture over. It was horrendous. On these occasions, his friend Keith would always help Ellis sneak out his window, to get away from his father's abuse. But, the night his father pulled his gun out, it was all Ellis could do to get his young legs to run to Keith's house, where they both huddled in his room while Keith's mother called 911.
That night, he had told his best friend the words he wouldn't even admit, if only because of his young child stubbornness.
But now, with most of his stubberness gone, and being an adult, he could truthfully say he'd never uttered those words again.
Until the green flu.
He felt it. He felt it every goddamn day. But he would never say it.
His team needed the drive to keep going, and having Ellis cry like a baby after every close call wasn't going to help. All he could do was keep optimistic… even when his smiles felt forced. Even when Nick kept glaring at him for spouting his optimism. Even when Rochelle was knocked unconscious for a whole day. Even when Coach had gone missing for three.
To be perfectly honest, Ellis was starting to feel scared most every day now. But he didn't dare tell any of them, because the odds were that they were scared too and there was nothing they could do about it. Half the time he was sure Coach didn't care about what he thought and he was certain Rochelle was tired of him and if he even so much as whimpered at an injury he was sure Nick would tear him open for not being a man.
Of course these were unhealthy thoughts, he only had them every now and then, when he felt especially hopeless. It seemed they were having more and more of those close calls as the days went on. It seemed more and more of Ellis' optimism was corroded away with each passing hour, with each click of an empty gun or the look of desperation when one of them realizes the health kit they just found is empty on the inside and they're still left bleeding.
Ellis hadn't ever doubted there was a God, he just hadn't ever been serious about his religion. He hadn't ever felt the need to test it. He'd attended Church with his family, he'd say grace before dinner and he'd say a ritualized prayer every night before bed… But he soon realized he might not have actually believed in any of it. He realized he did it because it was expected, and he liked the thought of an unseen being having his back in a tight situation.
He wasn't sure to believe there was a God because they woke up each day or believe there wasn't because they were afraid they wouldn't each night.
Then one day he decided that just for now, until these dark days were behind him, the safest thing to do was to believe in himself and his compatriots. So then he would have no one to blame but himself when he gets hurt or when he fucked up. He'd try and rationalize the things that God did if he thought about it too much. And that thought in itself would cause too much heart ache.
Why did it take such an event for Ellis to realize his life had been spent so uselessly. All the mundane things he did, all the people he had befriended, all the accomplishments he'd achieved meant jack-shit at that very moment. None of it was worth anything in the world of the apocalypse, where you could get killed by another human being if they even suspect you of being infected, or if they wanted the food you had and they didn't, or because the clothes on your back were warmer than the ones on their's.
Ellis wasn't cut to live in a world like this. He'd tried one too many times to reason with people like that and all it got him was a slice on the arm and the man who had become a threat got a bullet in the head.
To Ellis, he might as well have been the one to pull the trigger, because it had been his own fault the man jumped him. He shouldn't have pushed to let him join their group. To the group, it meant a scrap more of food and a new knife.
When had they become these kinds of people? Had it been instant? Overnight? Or had it been a gradual thing, so gradual that they didn't even notice it had consumed them until they began killing other people because there was no more food to be scavenged from stores anymore, and the next person they came upon could either fork it over or get killed.
Thankfully, they hadn't turned that violent. But Ellis was starting to have his suspicions ever sense that day, when that man attacked him and the others didn't so much as talk about it afterwards. Ellis was afraid civility was long gone. All it took now to get what you want were bullets and muscle. No matter how hard Ellis tried with his reasoning words, it always ended the same way.
Rochelle had been on his side at one point. She had believed in his cause, too kind hearted to put a man to death so easily.
But soon her eyes had grown dark, shaded with a sense to survive. She had stopped vouching for Ellis after some time. She had gone too many nights without eating and as soon as the next survivor tried putting their hands on any of them, she was the first to slam down the execution card.
It stopped mattering when it seemed there were no more safe houses to run to, as if the government had just stopped caring at some point. As if the trail of hope had ended. It was rare for them to find an actual fortified safe room and even rarer if it was still stocked with health kits, guns and ammo.
For a long time Ellis had started feeling as if he wasn't afraid anymore. As if he'd accepted his fate and now it was just about seeing how far he could get, how much father he could get than the others. It was the only thing that seemed to motivate him for a long time. Once he caught himself hoping Nick's injury on his arm would get infected.
He caught himself and felt disgusted.
Then one day they lost Coach, and this time for good. He'd been pummeled by a Charger and driven straight into a swamp. He'd been carried so far away, and the others were still trying to fight off a horde, they never had a chance to save him. By the time they had fought themselves out of a corner the three of them knew it was too late and they unanimously decided to carry on, without saying a word. Just a quiet stare to one another.
It was then that Ellis realized he was still afraid. Still very much afraid. He might not be afraid of the hazards of their new day to day lives, or even if he would live to see tomorrow. But now there were only the three of them. Soon it might just be two of them. And sooner still, Ellis might be the only one left.
He found his worst fear in this apocalypse was being alone. He knew he wouldn't be able to carry on if he had to fight alone, knowing there wasn't anyone to have his back or attack a Smoker or Jockey that got a hold of him.
It was that fear that finally made him feel alive again. Made him feel like fighting with a new vigor. It was the only emotion he had anymore, all his optimism dried up in his throat, and nothing left but cold realization.
It was the fear that he clung to, and if he had to admit it to himself every day that he was scared shitless of being left alone then he'd do it if it meant he could pass himself off as still being human.
Because without it he was no different from the infected they fought every day of their meaningless lives.
I just felt like trying something different for once.
(BLD)