I've really been in a bender and it shows. So why don't you blow me a kiss before she goes?

The sky was treetops with patches of deep grey clouds. The ground was a small dirt path and large puddles. The air was the cries of the almost dead and gunfire. His skin was a mix of blood, sweat and rain.

It was all a blur to him; a mesh of colours and sounds and sensations. His mind only focused on two simple words: run and shoot. And so he did.

Aim, fire at will, watch the bodies fall to make sure they're dead, reload and repeat. The words inside his head turned into action in real life. The sequence seemed to play out in an infinite loop. The other members of his group were mimicking him out of instinct and adrenaline. They were all in front of him, clearing a path of monsters that hid within the darkness of the woods.

One by one, the sickened people fell. One last sweep of guns from each survivor finished them off.

It was over for the moment. Take deep breaths; get in as much air as you can hold. The motions cooled his burning legs and lungs. Roll call. All present with only minor injuries.

Except for him. He noticed a spot of thick deep red on his pant leg, which was sticking to his calf. One of the bitey bastards must have gotten him when he was distracted with killing its brethren. He'd live.

The hick didn't seem to think so. Ellis walked towards him, first aid kit in hand, pulling out bandages and gauze.

"No."

"You shouldn't let that git' infected."

" I think there's more important things be worrying about during the apocalypse than a little scrape."

"Weren't you the one that said all this coulda' bin' prevented if people woulda' just washed their hands?"

Touché.

Rochelle and Coach pretended to not smile at Farmer Joe's little quip. They weren't doing a very good job at it. He sighed loudly and allowed Ellis to start wiping away the blood. It still looked disgusting. Without having something else to focus on, he was starting to notice how much the little scrape hurt.

He saw the antiseptic come out.

"This is gonna hurt a bit."

"Just get it done with."

"Alright, I git' ya'."

Chipper with an underlying tone of disappointment.

A sharp intake of air and a bitten inner cheek followed the healing sting washing over his injury. The look upon the younger man's face was apologetic. Then fearful.

He didn't have time to register it in his brain. He didn't have time to register the sudden change in mood from everyone or Rochelle's screams or the gunfire that was drowned out by the sound of cracking trees and bones

His body was flat upon the ground. A shadow blocked out the darkness of the clouds. Something was moving fast towards him. Against the protest of his aching body, he rolled left. He felt the wind from whatever it was ruffle the hairs on the back of his neck.

Another blur of movement. No time to waste.

Get out of the way, get out of the way, move, move, move, MOVE!

He did so in agony. He was on his feet now. He was running as fast as he could. Each step was fire in his veins.

He dared a glance back at his tormenter. Green-grey skin. Massive right arm. Blood soaked overalls. Charger.

Oh great, Ellis' long lost cousin.

He grabbed his SMG from the holster on his back and made sure that every inch of its ugly face was covered with bullets.

The Charger howled out with pain. With each shot, the beast slowed down. It was still coming at him at an alarming rate. He wondered where the hell his back up was. There were a few stray bullets coming his way, but not nearly the amount he needed.

That thing was taking too long to die. The first clip was gone. No time to reload. He grabbed the axe that he found earlier that day from his belt. The ax was a decent replacement for the pistol that had gotten destroyed after it fell in Spitter acid. He waited patiently for the monster to get close enough.

Some would call it suicidal, but he'd done crazier things in his life time.

10 feet. 5 feet. 3 feet. He could see the whites of its eyes. He swung. The water of the rain turned into a shower of blood. The bastard finally went down. He glanced down at himself. No amount of stain remover would ever get rid of the red that soaked all his clothing. So much for his $3000 suit.

He was about to turn around and see where everyone else went, but he didn't need to use his eyes to know that had happened. All he needed to do was listen to the sound of the almost dead and his fellow survivors.

An ambush. They were coming from both ends of the dirt path and from the small amount of space in between the trees. They were jumping over the cracked stump where the Charger had come through. Infected were literally on top of everything. 2 hordes within a 5-minute period. Just his freakin' luck.

They were coming for him now. He threw his ax to the ground and made a go to replace the clip in his sub while he had the 10 seconds to spare. Release, reload, press the trigger. Click. Nothing. What a perfect time for his gun to jam. Piece of shit. He tossed it to the ground next to his old weapon.

He dove for the ax just as they came on top of him. In what looked like a move he had done a thousand times before, he grabbed it and rolled into a crouch. He sliced the lower legs off Infected. It bought him enough time to stand up as quickly as he could. Everything hurt. It was difficult to do, but survival always triumphed over pain. Always.

He went back to disconnect their heads from their bodies. Not even that. As long as they were dead and he was alive, he didn't give a fuck how he did it. There was no time to worry about the others. He wouldn't do them any good six feet under. He was used to looking out for number one and this time was no exception.

Swing, contact, death. An endless cycle. They would get in hits and push him backwards. He'd stop them by kindly smashing their faces in. It only worked for so long though. The Infected were the only things he could see. Dozens of them all against one lone man with an ax. The odds weren't in his favour and he couldn't cheat his way out of this one.

One step back, two, three. And then there was nothing for him to step back on.

The rush of air he felt as he fell back first over the edge of the small cliff was both terrifying and exhilarating. The realization that some of the zombies had followed him off the edge was just plain terrifying. The landing he made into the water below 5 seconds later was painful.

The creek was a lot deeper than it should have been. What was only supposed to be a few inches deep was up to his knee. The rain from last night must have caused the creek to turn into a rushing stream. He was almost pulled away by the surprisingly strong current. He heard splashes in the water from Infected running towards him.

He knew there was going to be another fight. He got into an offensive position only to realize that his weapon was no longer in his hands. He saw a splotch of red at the corner of his vision. The ax was on the other side on the creek bed. He could try and make a dash for it, but at the rate the Infected were coming towards him, he wouldn't make it in time. He could fight off two or three at best, but not dozen that were starting to surround him.

There, on the edge of the water. A large rock. Well, something's better than nothing.

Just as the Infected reached him, he grabbed his make shift weapon and started beating on the sickened flesh of Infected. A few lucky blows to the head caused one of them to go down in a spray of blood and brains. There was no time to celebrate. Victory would only be achieved when he was in the safe room a half mile away and still breathing.

Another Infected came at him. He got as low as he could and struck the thing in its knee. It howled in pain. He used the moment wisely. A swift kick to its chest and it feel down into the water and was washed away downstream.

The next one came. Then the next one and then others after that. He killed as he made his way towards his prize. With each step, it became more difficult to move. Infected were pulling on his limbs and neck and everywhere to try and bring him down. They were successful.

He managed to land on his elbow so that his face was just above the water's surface. An Infected stepped on his hand and caused the rock to drop. He had nothing now. It took all of his strength to not slip under. There were a couple of them that were pounding at his side. He pushed himself up onto his knees. The small rocks embedded into the muddy bottom of the stream were painfully jabbing him in his calves. One of them was stabbing at the cut that Ellis had been trying to wrap.

Shit, Ellis. Rochelle. Coach. They probably had no idea that he was down here. They were still fighting off the horde in the clearing. He was on his own. Just like the good old days.

An Infected tried biting at his neck, so he thrust his elbow forward into its face and broke its nose. Another one tried going for his chest, so he used his hand to hold himself up and kicked the fucker in the stomach.

Fatal mistake. He lost his balance. The current pushed him back under the water. The Infected had enough brains left to use their advantage over him. His head was under the surface and the damn things were using their numbers against him. He couldn't push himself back up.

Despite all the chaos going on around him, everything seemed to slow down underneath the stream. His mind went through all the scenarios. They all went back to dying. He could drown. He could have his flesh ripped apart by Infected. Too much blood loss. Trauma. The possibilities were endless. He didn't like any of those options.

He stretched his arm out as far as it could go. The feet of the undead were smashing it mercilessly. He tried to ignore the throbbing. His fingers found the jagged tip of the rock he had been using. He somehow managed to get his hand wrapped around it. He went in for a swing, but the water and his sore muscles were resisting the movement. The seconds were ticking by, seconds that brought a burning into his lungs that screamed at him to just breathe, but he knew better. There were new cuts and scratches forming on his skin that brought on a different kind of burning.

Everything was on fire. There was no warm glow. No light. Only blackness snaking its way onto the edge of his vision.

There weren't as many blurs of colour as before. He could begin to see the distorted grey sky amongst the disappearing masses above him. His vision was being clouded with red. Blood. He could barely make out his name being called. He felt like his lungs were going to explode right out of his chest. Not now, god dammit. Not when he was finally getting some fucking back up. Too little too late.

He took a breath. His last one. One that wasn't a real breath at all.

Everything grinded to a hault. His panic, his blood, the movement of the water. Everything.

Drowning. What a stupid way to die.

"Nick!"

Shit, shit, shit, not Nick, not Nick, why hadn't he noticed that Nick wasn't shooting with the rest of them?

Ellis had only just seen the conman fall over the edge of the clearing. He hadn't seen what direction the Charger had taken Nick. He had drawn his gun to shoot the monster, but then the whole place became overrun with Infected and there had been no break from their attacks. The last thing he saw was the 'just-a-scratch' Nick had and then he was gone and replaced by angry hordes trying to rip him apart.

And then they were gone after a long time of hitting and shooting and so was Nick. The southerner began looking for him frantically, ignoring the intense throbbing in his shoulder. He heard a shout amongst the second round of Infected. They weren't done yet, not by a long shot. And that's when Ellis saw them going after the one man he needed to see. He saw him falling and then there was yet another swarm coming after him and then he didn't see Nick anymore.

He was shooting and running and trying to not panic, but the damn things wouldn't die! For everyone that Ellis shot down, it seemed like another two popped back up in its place. Normally, he wouldn't mind the extra challenge, but when the conman was possibly hurt and on his own, it was more like a pain in the butt.

A flash of light and everything got really hot really fast. From the thinning, scrambling bodies, he saw Coach throw another Molotov and Rochelle inserting bullets into Infected that were surrounding them while yelling at him to "Go get him!" and so he did. She didn't need to tell him twice.

The southerner rushed over to the edge and saw that it was on a pretty deep incline. It was nothing that he couldn't handle. He slid down the slope like him and Keith used to do when they were kids and went rolling down hills, only to fall right into a trickling creek that ran through the mounds of earth. That creek wasn't deeper than it looked like this one here. He wasn't with Keith now. Keith got on one of the whirly birds at the start of everything.

No, Ellis was going to save a man that he really didn't want to see die. Not that liked seeing anybody die, but Nick was different. It hurt in his chest just to think about something bad happening to him.

The pain grew worse when he saw Infected howling and clawing in the same spot where there as a pool of blood mixing in with the stream and flowing down to where he was standing. 15 feet away. It was much too far a distance.

Ellis knew what that blood meant. He inserted fresh clips into his pistols and started shooting the things down with each step he took. It was too difficult to run in the high water.

"C'mon!" This was taking too long! Each second that was ticking by could be another second of Nick getting worse. Water was splashing over his face and shirt as he tried to pick up speed. Soaked undead that were on top of the card shark were now running towards him. He shot them down with ease. No nonsense, no enjoying the thrill of the kill until they were all dead.

He finally got up to where he could barely see white and blue underneath all the red. His eyes were closed. He was floating in between the surface and the bottom. Nick wasn't getting up. Why wasn't he getting up, why wasn't he getting up, why in God's name wasn't he getting up?

Ellis reholstered his guns and practically fell to the conman's side in the water, trying to get his face up where he could get some air. His head rolled to the side at an uncomfortable looking angle.

There was so much blood on him. No one should ever have that much blood coming out of them. No one should have been underwater like that not moving.

There were so many rushed thoughts going through Ellis' mind that he couldn't process them all at once. But there was one thought that was sticking in his brain that his body was already working on: get him out of the water.

He grabbed Nick underneath his arms and dragged him to the side of the creek bank. He saw an axe laying at the very edge of it. Nick must have dropped it when he went over. Blood was draining from multiple wounds on his chest that weren't there before. The bleeding didn't look like it was stopping any time soon. The hick felt his stomach drop.

He tried to lay the older man down as quickly and gently as he could. He went right back to his side, tapping the sides of his face trying to see if he'd get any response. Nick still wasn't moving. Not so much as the twitch of a finger or the blink of an eye.

No. No, no, no.

In a scramble, he put his ear to Nick's blood covered chest and listened. The weird feeling Ellis normally got around the conman was replaced by a rising sense of dread at the serious situation. He prayed to God to let him be breathing, just please let him be alive and breathing.

He waited impatiently to feel the rise and fall of his lungs expanding and contracting. Nothing. He waited impatiently to hear the beating of his heart, even though he could still hear gunfire from Coach and Rochelle coming from above. Nothing. He turned his face towards the injured man's own to see if he could feel the warmth of his breath on his skin. Nothing.

"Dammit Nick, yer not allowed ta' die on me,"

All of the first aid training that his mama made him learn after the first couple of incidents with Keith was going into full drive. There were no thoughts, only action. He didn't have a defib on him. No one else did either. He was going to have to do this the old fashioned way.

Ellis just hoped that Nick wouldn't kill him if-when he woke up.

Without further delay, the southerner began moving his blood soaked hands around the conman's chest until he found the bone he was looking for. He put one hand on top of the other and started pushing down on the dead man's sternum.

During the CPR class, the poor boy had been so nervous about getting the procedure down right that he froze and it took him 5 tries before the instructor was finally able to pass him. But the nerves that he had now weren't over some trivial matter. Ellis knew that if he screwed up, it wouldn't be a dummy that ended up dead. It would be Nick that he'd be burying 6 feet under and that thought alone pushed his anxiety down into some deep dark place where it would remain until the conman was gasping for air.

With each compression, he counted out loud "1, 2, 3, 4," partially from the training, mostly to keep himself focused on his task. It was one of the hardest things he had ever done in his life; harder than when the Infection hit and he still didn't know what happened to Keith, Dave, and his mama. The mechanic wasn't exactly someone that handled death well, yet here he was, trying to bring that which had already gone into God's kingdom back to Earth.

"Twen'y eight, twen'y nine, thirty…"

Ellis knew what he had to do next, but it still didn't keep him from becoming flustered just the same. Nick didn't like the southerner being near him in the first place; then again, it wasn't like Nick was going to be able to complain about it.

"Just git' it over with,"

How ironic that that phrase was his motivational speech to himself. He pinched the conman's nose, leaned back his head and then he placed his mouth over Nick's and breathed into him with everything he had because he was not allowed to die, he was not allowed to be dead, and Ellis was going to go until his own last breath before he let that happen.

After two breaths, he pulled back. As optimistic as he was, it was a guarantee that he would have to do this more than once. Nothing worth fighting for ever came that easily. So he continued on with his task, breathing in and out, breathing into Nick and coming up to beat on his chest as many times as he needed to until he woke up.

After 2 long minutes of CPR, Ellis felt for a heartbeat for what seemed like the ten thousandth time. Still, there was silence.

Why wasn't it working, why the hell wasn't it working! He'd only turned his back for a second, one measly, stupid second and Nick was a grown man and he could take care of himself but he couldn't this time and it was all Ellis' fault.

He allowed himself to tear up ever so slightly because he couldn't stand to hold in his frustration and sadness anymore and he couldn't even comprehend the thought that he might be-but he still had to try because he'd never ever forgive himself if he gave up now.

The southerner took a few shaky breaths to calm himself down so he could focus, dammit, this is Nick and you need to focus. He breathed in calmly and prayed to every single God that was thought to exist to give him the strength to do the only thing in his life that's really gonna matter.

He locked his calloused hands one on top of the other and pumped Nick's still heart as if he was ripping into the dead man's chest, taking it into his hand, and squeezing the life back into it. With every compression he grit his teeth and said a part of the Lord's prayer for the conman, even though he knew Nick wasn't a Catholic or an anything, but he needed all the help he could get at this point.

He reached thirty much too long after he should have reached thirty. His tear-filled eyes looked at the closed ones of the man below him. He moved forth to press his lips upon Nick's colourless ones and kept them there for just a moment because he needed to and then he breathed life into him. He breathed into him his every thought and emotion and desire because that is what life was to Ellis, not some meaningless puff of air that was so important for no reason.

He lingered once he pulled away to check for any signs of life. He couldn't hear anything anymore, but the mechanic didn't know whether that was because the chaos around them had finally ended or because this moment was too surreal for his brain to focus on anything else.

No, no, no. Please. Pleeease.

He couldn't hold it in anymore. He involuntarily choked out "Nick-" and felt himself start to collapse in on himself because he tried so hard, so, so hard and it didn't even matter because he was gone, gone and never coming ba-

The first thought he had when he came back from the blackness was Jesus Christ, I'm going to throw up, and then he proceeded to do so. He flipped over on his side before he choked on it and half of the ocean must have fucking come rushing up out of his mouth because it took him a while to stop.

Even though his vision was still fading in and out, he could feel a pair of eyes watching him closely. He turned his head as far as it could without having it snap off his neck and saw the kid on his knees looking at him from 5 feet away like he'd seen a ghost and an angel all together in one. His mouth wouldn't close and his eyes wouldn't move away from his own and he had fresh blood smeared over the dry blood that had been caked onto his shirt permanently.

Then he noticed how red his scleras were, how puffy the skin underneath his eyes were, and how he had gone to No Man's Land for god only knows how long and it didn't take him long to put two and two together despite the fact that he could barely think at all.

"Ellis."

"You weren't breathin'!"

His exclamation gave him a bigger headache than he already had, but the hick didn't scream unless he was either really excited or really scared and he really didn't have it in him to make a remark about it right now. He barely had it in him to sit up.

They sat there a moment, the slowing of gunfire and his own heavy breathing were the only interrupters. Ellis was still staring at him and he couldn't stand being on his hands and knees anymore covered in his own blood and bile, so he tried pushing himself upwards and came crashing back down when his muscles decided to become non-existent.

Fuck. It figured he'd be fucking useless after he died and came back.

He felt himself being lifted from under his shoulders and then supported against the hick's body when his legs gave out from underneath him, which was really goddamn hilarious because Ellis was such a shrimp and even when this kid was dragging him around, he was still a head taller. He would have chuckled if it didn't hurt to move so fucking much.

He didn't have the strength to hold his head up. It was an advantage for the he had no choice but to look into those obnoxiously blue eyes of his that were reeking of shame.

"You weren't breathin'." he whispered and then he looked away because that's what the country bumpkin always did when he felt bad about something.

"You weren't breathin', Nick. You weren't breathin' and I don't know what I woulda' done if you hadn't…"

For once, he didn't know what to say to him. He hated feeling fucking guilt out of everything he should be feeling right now, guilt should not have been one of them. He scared the shit out of Ellis, big freaking deal. He had been crying and was practically speechless right now, which would have been a blessing in disguise, except it was so out of character for him that he was, fuck, worried.

He was worried for this stupid kid after he was the one that got run off the edge of a mini-cliff, drowned, and was brought back to life…by the stupid kid, and he was still on the verge of passing out again.

Fuck.

"M'sorry, Nick." Oh Jesus Christ, don't start crying. He was making eye contact again and it was killing him all over again to see his eyes shining like that. He hated himself for it.

"You didn't do anything-"

"But I did! I-I was watchin' ya' and I only looked away for a second and then you weren't there anymore, Nick."

"Ellis…"

The southerner stopped supporting him and more or less began holding onto him like his life depended on it. He didn't oppose it as much as he wanted to, mostly because he knew that it meant more to the kid than it did to him, partially because Ellis had started growing on him.

He felt a tickle on the crook of his neck where he'd settled his face into, a whisper of what the youngest of them all had been fearful of more than anything. "I thought you were dead, Nick."

He was dead. He had been dead. He sighed, more for himself than anyone else. He moved his sore arm from around the kids shoulder down to his waist. This stupid, stupid kid. "I'm not anymore though, am I?"

"N-No." he hiccupped.

He leaned down and rested his lips against the sweat soaked top of that stupid ass hat he never fucking took off. The dark curls peaking out from the fabric of it were mixing in with the blackness that still lurked at the corners of his vision. "Then what're you crying for, Overalls?" he mumbled.

They stood together like that for a moment, Nick practically kissing the top of the head of the stupid hick kid that drove him crazy in more ways than he liked and said stupid hick kid was finally calming down because he realized that the conman wasn't going to be leaving the Earth anytime soon, or at least for the rest of the night now that all the zombies had been wiped from living existence.

And then his legs started wobbling and they couldn't hold him up anymore and he started to go down again, but Ellis readjusted himself so that he could carry most of his weight for him once more. He looked nervously at him, like he was doing something wrong by holding his body the way he was: arm wrapped around his waist his hand holding onto the one that was draped around his shoulder.

Stupid kid.

They started making their way back towards Coach and Rochelle who were calling to them from up above. It hurt a lot. It fucking hurt a lot, but he was still moving and breathing, and that was better than what he had been. Watchful blue eyes were drinking in every inch of his body like he still couldn't believe that he'd brought him back to life. He was looking at him like he was going to disappear if he even dared look away from him.

"Ellis?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna be fine." He lightly squeezed his hand for reassurance.

The mechanic looked at him briefly, contemplating what he had just said. He gave a slight smile at him as he squeezed back.

"Yer' gonna be fine."

They continued onward to the safety of their friends and the safe-room just ahead.