Wondering where I've been
Been watching the sun go down
Took care of everything
God, his head hurt. And that blaring fucking alarm wasn't helping.
Groggily Nick reached across the bed and slapped at the clock. It tumbled off the nightstand and onto the floor. The conman groaned into the pillow before reaching blindly for it. Finding it, he yanked it hard to disconnect it from the wall and threw it across the room. It shattered on the far wall into three pieces.
The alarm was still screaming. Unabashed, loud and horribly blaring. Mixed in with all of it were a choir of voices—all yelling and irritating.
Nick lifted his head, blinking blearily. His terrible hangover made it nearly impossible for him to process things normally. He was pretty sure he was still drunk. Nick rolled onto his back. Yeah... definitely drunk still. He kicked away the blankets, not all together surprised to find himself fully dressed, shoes and all. He was, however, surprised to see that the lovely lady he had brought back to his hotel room was gone. Then he saw the puke. Then he wasn't surprised anymore.
Nick pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, stumbling towards the door. Fucking... god damn... noise. He jerked the door opened, fully ready to tell everyone outside to shut the fuck up. But it wasn't a rowdy group of college students stumbling through the halls like a bunch of drunk frat boys at seven in the morning. It was a horde of terrified, screaming and quite hysterical men, women and children.
Nick shook his head hard and ran his fingers through his messy hair. Before he could collect himself enough to ask what the fuck was happening, the horde of people were gone. There was only silence. Well, that blaring alarm silence. And the smell of smoke.
Nick started. Smoke? Jesus fucking Christ.
He started down the hall and used the wall to guide his still clumsy feet. As he drew closer to the intersection, he heard more voices.
"It's this way!"
"Are you sure, young'un? Everyone else was going the other way..."
"I'm totally sure, man! I've been to this hotel before for all kinds of stuff. This one time my buddy Keith and I—" The young man came to a startled stop as he stared down the hallway to Nick. Behind him, two others—a man and a woman—also came to a halt. Nick squinted back at them. "Hey man..." the young man in the hat started reluctantly. "You all right?"
Nick came to a stop before the trio. He glanced down one side of the hall and then the other. "What's... going on?" he asked. He reached out to steady himself on the wall. God his fucking head hurt. He rubbed his forehead, wincing. His head was pounding in his temple and right behind his right eye socket.
The other three shifted uncomfortably and stepped away, giving each other uneasy looks. "Have you been bit?" The hefty black man asked.
"What?" Nick rubbed his eyes. "No." His attention drifted but snapped back once finally processing. "Wait, what?"
The young black woman stepped forward, eyeing Nick up and down menacingly. She may have been pretty if she softened her lips. The woman then let out a noise of disgust. "You smell like a bar. He's just drunk. Idiot."
"Whoa, now." Nick wagged one finger at her while his other hand rubbed at his throbbing temple. He tried hard to find something clever to say, but fuck... the headache. "What... the fuck is going on?"
The young man shifted his hat nervously. "We're evacuating, man. Green Flu. You better come with us. I'm Ellis by the way. We're just headin' to the evac right now. Come on, guys." Quickly he gestured for the others and the three followed him.
Awkwardly, Nick introduced himself. The woman—Rochelle— simply scoffed at him and he took a mental note that she was a big black guy was Coach. He seemed reasonable enough. Nick liked him. As for the kid... Well, at least he was serving a purpose.
"Does is smell like smoke, or is it just me?" Nick muttered.
Coach sighed quietly. "Fire's been engulfing the city ever since they announced plans for evacuation," he said. "Rioting, panicking..." He shrugged. "All I know is I'm gettin' the hell out of here while I still can."
The group came to a slow stop as Ellis opened the fire door to the stairway. "Sorry guys..." he said. "Everywhere else is blocked. We gatta go up to the roof." Ellis leaned across the railing and looked up. "God damn..."
God damn indeed. There were thirty-two flights of stairs to be tackled. Nick would have liked to think he was in good shape, but by flight eight his head was pounding worse than it was before. By fifteen his legs were shaking. By twenty-four flights he could hardly breathe and by the last flight, he was ready to drop kick whoever had organized this evacuation site in the throat. Close behind him, Coach was panting and wheezing with sweat pooling down his chest.
They poured outside to an empty landing. They stared, breaths heaving collectively.
"Where... where is everybody?" Ellis asked quietly. He ran his arm across his sweaty forehead. His breaths were still leaving him in shaky gasps.
"They left us," Nick replied flatly. He reached out for the wall just outside the door and eased himself down. Left them. Not even a 'fuck you' or anything. They just... left them. Nick suddenly knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of a con.
"They'll... They'll come back," Rochelle said quickly. She patted Ellis reassuringly on the shoulder and smiled then to Coach. "They'll come back for us." She seemed unconvinced.
"They're not coming back." Nick rested his head against the building. The sun was burning through his closed eyes. He grimaced. "If there's an outbreak... They've left us." He tried not to laugh, but he couldn't help himself. He didn't even get laid and he was left to die. What a fucking shitty week it's been.
"What are you laughing about?" Rochelle snapped. "This isn't... This isn't funny."
"No," Nick agreed, still laughing. "It's really not. But man, we are pretty fucked. About as fucked as I'm going to get, am I right? Am I right?" Ellis, at least, grinned.
Coach's frown was severe as he moved to Nick. "You're dehydrated, aren't you? Drinking, heavy exercising... Not a good match. You should drink some water." Coach glanced to the table of scattered crap left behind by CEDA. He picked up a water jug and snapped off the safety cap. "This may do it." He crouched down and shoved the entire thing into Nick's arms. "Drink it." Nick didn't see a reason to argue, so he complied. The water was lukewarm and unsatisfying. Coach sat back on his heels, sighing. "So, what do we do now?"
"Well... there's some stuff here we can use." Ellis tested the weight of a crowbar in his hand. "We could fight our way to the next evac."
"Yeah," Rochelle said, nodding excitedly. "Yeah, that's a good idea! I know there's another evacuation station in the mall."
"That ain't so far from here," Ellis said. "I know how to get there. We can do it. Together and stuff. Fight our way." He began rummaging through a black duffle bag left on one of the tables. "And... dayuuuum. We can really fight now." He held up two pistols. "I guess they came prepared an' shit. Got some ammo in here too." He continued to tear apart the bag excitedly.
Coach nodded to Nick. "Feelin' better?" Nick nodded, squinting up at the other man. The sun was so god damn bright. It cast dark shadows across Coach's face. His look of concern looked more menacing. "Are you sure you weren't bit...?"
"Yeah. Just." Nick shrugged. "Still feeling a lovely night." A couple of beers, some half dozen shots, a few white russians here and there... and well, it was enough to leave the night a blur. At least he couldn't quite remember why he had drank so much. That had been the point. He just didn't expect to wake up to the blaring siren of evacuation and an outbreak of the Green Flu. He had thought he was ahead of the Infection. Had been for the last two weeks.
"Listen, guys," Rochelle said. "I'm in the reporting business. I've seen the kind of stuff we're getting into."
"Yeah, you're that new chick with the," Nick gestured to his own face, grinning, "that look like you're always staring into the sun. Or biting a lemon."
"For one, fuck you." Rochelle flipped him the bird. "Secondly, the lighting guy is... was... new." She trailed off quietly, hands fidgeting. "...But, seriously. We should get moving. Like... now. Before it gets dark. I've heard they get more active in the dark." She sidled up beside Ellis and stared down at the assortment of weapons and aid he had collected. Two pistols with six extra clips, a crowbar and a fire axe. One first-aid kit. She touched the cross on the red pack. "I'm not sure if... if we'll even need this. If we get bit... It's over."
"Just in case," Ellis said, smiling. He held up one of the pistols. "Ever shot a gun 'fore?" The look she gave him indicated that, no, she hadn't.
He had been given the axe. He had complained, of course. But his complaints fell on deaf ears. He may be the only other one beside Ellis with experience, but no one was willing to hand a hungover man a loaded gun. They had given it to Miss Lemon over there. She held the weapon between two clenched hands, raised and always pointing at him.
"God damn it," Nick swore, throwing himself back. He raised his axe menacingly. "You point that fucking thing at me one more time and so fucking help me."
"The safety is on!" Rochelle snapped back.
Ellis laughed nervously. "No it ain't," he said. He pointed at it. "That red there means it's ready to fire." Ellis had spent a good fifteen minutes giving Rochelle the basics of gun safety. Apparently, it had fallen on deaf ears.
"I thought red meant..." Rochelle trailed off sheepishly.
"Y'all get your shit together," Coach said. He readied his crowbar. "'Cause here comes some more."
Two Infected came snarling towards them. Coach swung his crowbar directly into the first ones face. Its nose splattered and its eye socket shattered in a spray of blood. It clawed at the metal embedded in its face as it crumpled awkwardly to its knees. Coach jerked the crowbar free and met the Infected's skull with it again.
The second, Nick took. He licked his lips, axe raised and cocked back. When it moved close enough he swung hard. The head came clean off, the body took two more steps and then it toppled over. Blood pulsated weakly from the neck. Nick grinned down at his handiwork and Coach gave him a hard pat on the back.
Their first encounter had gone much differently. There had been a lot of screaming and cussing among them, pointing, dodging and "what if's" strangling their actions. Even though the woman had been missing her entire right arm, was foaming blood and spit from her mouth and sporting one mean ugly face, she had been... human. At least, had been. Surprisingly enough, it had been Ellis to take her down. One bullet between her eyes. It had been merciful. They had made a pact to never hesitate again.
Now they moved through the abandoned hotel with relative ease. The place was burning everywhere now. Smoke filled their lungs, the heat burned the tiny hairs on their skin and their eyes watered painfully. The Infected didn't seem to notice the fire. More than once they simply walked right through it, flaming human torches screeching and clawing their way after them until they fell over in a sizzle of blackened flesh. The smell was torturous.
The four came to a halt. "This is the only way?" Coach asked. He gestured to the elevator. Ellis nodded. "Ain't supposed to use these in a fire." He sighed, waving for the other three. They piled in nervously.
"I guess that doesn't apply during a zombie apocalypse," Nick said. He punched the lobby floor. "But if we get stuck in here... Ellis, I want you to shoot me." He looked to Rochelle. "I don't trust your shot. You'll probably miss, cupcake."
"I'd miss on purpose," she said flatly. She gestured as she spoke. "Shoot you right in the dick."
"Ouch," Nick half-grinned, half-winced mockingly. He could learn to love this cold hearted bitch.
Coach sighed loudly, rolling his eyes. "You kids play nice. Ain't no one shootin' no one."
"Unless one of us got bit." Nick looked between the three. They all gave each other uncomfortable stares. "None of you got bit, right? Isn't that how this works?"
"We'll worry about that later," Coach muttered. "Our floor's here."
The second those doors opened they were greeted by a blast of hot air that sucked the oxygen right out of Nick's lungs. He tried to inhale again after recovering from his initial shock, but the burning did not ease. He pulled his dress shirt over his mouth. It eased the pain a little, but not much.
"Now fucking what?" Nick yelled. The sound of the fire burning was like a roar. He vaguely recalled drunken bon-fires back in college. That sound a really big fire makes when it first ignites? That was what it sounded like—continuously. The heat was about ten times as intense. Every so often something pop and sizzled. Pipelines and other things seemed to be exploding by the minute.
"This way! Follow me!" Ellis gestured for them. He had the gun pointing their way with one hand, while the other held his shirt over his mouth. The smoke still stung. Their eyes, their lungs, their throat, their noses. It fucking hurt. They moved as fast as their feet would carry them. The Infected had seemed to die in the fire. Probably too stupid to navigate around it. Ellis led them faithfully through the burning lobby, under the sky-light ceiling, past the reservation desk and out the front doors.
The second their feet hit the streets outside and the cool fall breeze hit his sweaty skin, Nick collapsed to his knees. Immediately after, he gave into the unstoppable urge to puke his guts out.
A/N: EDIT: I'm expanding/editing the first six chapters before I continue this. Some will get more expanding than others. Thanks for being patient.
Song is "Friends of Mine" by Hugh Dillon, Nick's voice actor.
As always, thank you for reading and reviewing. I love y'all.