Ohey, kids. I know it's been FOREVER since I've been around. But hell, better late than never, and I'm a master procrastinator. Dead serious. If procrastinating was an art, I would be a damn Leonardo Fuckin' Da Vinci.
Onto the story~
The bad thing about not being from the South for Nick was that he really didn't know his way around. At least where he was from even a state away was somewhat easy to navigate for him. But something about shitty Louisiana was getting him frustrated. Mostly Coach led the way through the empty streets, telling the other two New Orleans had been a vacation spot for him a few times. Nick and Coach both took turns near-carrying Ellis, why that Southern hardhead didn't want them to attach the damn splint was beyond him, but the drug store was a good ten miles behind them now, and so far they hadn't found any place else that looked hopeful in supplies. There weren't too many infected out and about until a small horde found them, which was quickly dispatched by Nick's pistol and Coach's shotgun handling, and Nick only gave up with the shotgun because he couldn't very well use it without both hands.
It was when the buildings were beginning to give way to houses that Ellis had been switched over to Nick for more supporting that he spoke, "I know this ain't really the time, but ya'll remember what the pilot said to us on the other side of the bridge? Well, I been thinkin'… He asked that other army guy if he was 'equipped for carriers'. What in the hell's a 'carrier'?"
Nick looked at him strangely; he really had been more focused on getting the guy on the other end of the radio to shut the fuck up and just lower the bridge besides asking stupid questions. But the term sounded familiar like he'd seen it somewhere or read it somewhere- bingo. "I've seen it written sometimes on safe room walls, I think."
Coach shook his head. "'Kill all carriers' is what I remember." He looked like he was concentrating on the road ahead of them.
"Oh, right! I remember that too. Now, why would they call us carriers? I mean, they asked if we was immune too… I didn't know how to answer that none though. How are we supposed to know anyway?" Ellis asked, and he seemed a little pouty.
"Well, this is a virus. Someone's immune then they ain't gonna get it, if they ain't immune, then they would get it…" Coach drifted off a bit, thinking some more. "If a parent's got a disease sometimes they don't even show it, but it shows up in their kids. And sometimes people say that the parent carries the disease, but they just don't show no symptoms. Maybe it's like that, maybe some people carry the virus and they's basically like the zombies, 'cept they ain't aimin' to kill nobody, and they look like regular folks."
Ellis laughed, albeit in amazement. "Wow, Coach."
The big man grinned. "Just thinkin' out loud, boy."
Nick nodded a few times. "Uh-huh, so basically if the military guys thought we were carriers, then what? 'Kill all carriers', right? Carriers are basically zombies then, and the military would have blown our heads off." He scoffed. "That chick, black guy and greaseball biker weren't joking. How perfect, the military can go to hell." The conman's voice practically dripped with liquid spite.
"Hold on now, Nick, we may just be immune to it. That's why we haven't gotten turned into infected folks." Coach tried to reason more optimistically.
But Nick was never the optimist of the group. "Or we could be spreading it around like diseased lepers." He couldn't believe there was a possibility that they had the virus inside of him. It was behind enough they had been running through fucking sewers and getting covered in Boomer vomit, but now they could be infected? "Goddamn zombie-fucking-apocalypse." He muttered resentfully, adjusting his grip on Ellis, who staggered in pain in response. Nick was ashamed he felt a lightning strike of impatience and annoyance sear through him at the young man's predicament. "Are you okay?" He asked.
Ellis' crowbar suddenly clattered to the ground. "I gotta sit, I gotta sit." His voice cracked loudly and suddenly and turned into a groan of pain. "Nick!" He cried as the man sat him down as carefully as he could, but apparently not carefully enough.
"Shit, Ellis, I'm sorry." He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, unable to think clearly.
Coach nudged him aside and pulled the pack around from his back, zipping it open. A bouquet of supplies bloomed before him, and he had to shove some snacks aside to pull out a bottle of aspirin. "I guess we gonna ignore the recommended dosage." He mumbled in bitter amusement, and spilled out five little white pills, folding them in Ellis' palm. "You need water too."
But Ellis was already shoving the medicine into his mouth, and he swallowed them down hard, gritting his teeth. "Oh my God." His accent was a little thicker when it took on a pained tone. "Please work, please, please, please." He gripped his leg and moaned, rocking slightly.
Nick felt sick watching him, and he could barely do that much. His elbow in that sling seemed minor compared to the pain Ellis was feeling. As Coach stepped back a little, he approached him, gesturing with his good arm exasperatedly. "We can't stay here." He hissed, even though the thought of making Ellis continue on was in the back of his mind.
Coach looked at the youngest sadly. "He needs to sit there 'til those pain pills make 'im feel better, Nick."
There was a resounding groan from Ellis. "Don't ya'll be talking about me like I ain't here." And as the two turned, Ellis was staring back at them, the hurt apparent in his eyes that were softened with oncoming tears. "I can keep goin', really." He told them and picked up the discarded crowbar. "I'll be fine, c'mon, I'm ready, I'm good, I-I…" His voice strained into a grunt when he started to get up.
Nick rushed over to him and supported him with his good arm. "Ellis, stop, you can't continue on like this. You're a fucking mess, just rest for a second."
"We don't got a second, Nick! I don't got a second! If we don't keep… keep moving, then we're-" He panted, giving up on trying getting up and going limp against the conman. "We'll die." Ellis voice broke in a whisper, and Nick felt a pain in his chest at the utter despair he saw come fresh in the kid's body, in those blue eyes, in his voice.
Nick tore his gaze away from that sight and looked up at Coach. "He's right, we've gotta move." He regretted those words just as much as he himself needed to hear them.
"Alright, but he ain't gonna be able to walk." Coach said and slung the pack over to Nick. "But I'll carry him." No one seemed to object to that.
It took quite a bit of false tries and maneuvering, but finally Ellis was perched somewhat comfortably on Coach's back, piggyback style. Ellis was holding onto that shotgun and even the crowbar. He looked tired, like that whole ordeal had sucked his energy dry, but his eyes stayed wide, and Nick sadly realized that the kid probably never wanted to close them in the situation they were in. Coach was supporting Ellis' thighs with his elbows, and the group was entirely thankful that they could move a bit faster without Ellis' limp slowing them down. It probably would have been easier to leave Ellis there in the street, leave him there for death to come on him with the force of all those flesh-hungry zombies. Nick shuddered at the very thought, clenching his eyes shut for a few seconds as if to squeeze the images pouring into his mind out. They weren't going to leave Ellis, ever. No one was getting left behind.
After getting lost in a neighborhood for some time during high afternoon, they finally got back on track and in a few hours the road was slowly giving way into the desolate gray river of highway. They would need to find a gas station to hold up in before they set out on that long road. It would have been amazing if they had found a gun store in New Orleans like the one they had found in Savannah, but unfortunately no one knew about any nor did they see one. Finally, they found a smaller gas station that wouldn't be as hard to defend themselves in. Walking inside after a careful inspection by Coach, the three hobbled in gratefully to no zombie company. Like the drug store before, the gas station was mostly cleared out with a few items here and there. Ellis found a neat switchblade left behind where he guessed a whole bunch more had been next to it and tucked it in his pocket. Coach was automatically refilling their stock of supplies from what little they found.
Sunset came quickly, and they all were a little surprised, but then of course their judgment of time was probably long thrown off anyway. Since the gas station was no safe house, they decided that the bathrooms would be their safest bet. Just stay there until daylight and stay quiet; that was all they had to do, which seemed simple enough. Before they distributed sleeping arrangements, they all sat together and had - at best - morsels. Coach was content with a snag of beef jerky and some BBQ chips. Ellis devoured a couple snack cakes and a bag of chips, and Nick stole a half of Ellis' last snack cake and some pretzels. They even managed to find soda cans in the back.
"Now, it would be crowded if I came in there with ya'll in that restroom. So I'm gonna be in the one over, alright? Holler if you need me, and be sure to lock the door behind ya." Coach said before going into the ladies' room, and Nick and Ellis squeezed into the men's room afterward.
Ellis thumped against the wall next to the toilet, Nick sighing as he turned the lock and jiggled the handle to make sure it would stay that way. He turned and immediately caught his own eyes in the mirror. He looked terrible. His hair was disarranged severely, his face dirty, circles under his eyes, his collar haphazardly crinkled and his dress shirt unbuttoned near the top. It would do him good to wash that muddled face of his, and so he did. Ellis stayed quiet the whole time, and after Nick was done smoothing his hair back into place and drying off the water from his skin he realized the kid had fallen sound asleep. He took a wet another paper towel and kneeled beside Ellis. He hesitated at first, watching Ellis sleep. He'd done it last night too, or tried rather because it was darker in that safe room.
But with the light on, Ellis looked like a mess even in sleep. He looked pale, face sticky with grime and sweat. Finally though he smeared the damp paper towel gently over Ellis' forehead, then down the bridge of his nose, across his cheeks and then over his jaw line, and afterwards Nick dabbed the wetness away with the drier end of the towel. There, now he didn't look so bad. And at that moment the kid stirred a little with sleepy, disgruntled noises. He said something more clearly, but it was too quiet and muffled for Nick to hear, so the conman put his ear closer to the Southerner's face.
"Nick." His voice was hard to make out, but it sounded like Nick's name. "Why're ya in my face?" This came out more pronounced, and sounded like no sleep talking Nick had ever heard.
The conman backed up to see Ellis looking at him. "I cleaned you up, I mean, your face." There was no biting sarcasm in his voice; it came out flat and even.
Ellis rubbed his chin and cheeks in turn. "Well, thank ya. I guess we ain't thought about showerin' for quite a while. Hell, we probably got used to each other's stink too."
Nick grimaced, not wanting to think about how bad he stank or how long it had really been since he'd bathed. "Yeah, well, at least there's not so much goddamn dirt clogging up your pores now, huh?" He meant it as a joke, but he couldn't really make his voice sound all that convincing because Ellis didn't even grin. "But, more importantly, I think we're supposed to be quiet and turn out the light." He knew Ellis didn't like that by the little panic that flickered in his eyes. "The door's locked, Ellis." He couldn't help that slight impatience that wiggled out.
"Ah, Nick, I know, but-"
"Kid, c'mon, you gotta trust me." And Nick felt déjà vu accompany those words. He remembered back at the hotel with everything around them burning. They were barely acquaintances when Ellis slipped on the ledge and would have taken a serious tumble all the way down four stories were it not have been for Nick being right there, grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt and his arm and trying to haul him up, but Ellis kept struggling against him more than anything, legs dangling helplessly. "Kid, fucking cooperate with me here. Trust me, I'll pull you up, but you gotta stop fucking around." Then they had locked eyes, and Ellis relaxed and stopped flailing to help out with Nick saving him. Now, look where they were.
Ellis seemed to scoot closer to the wall. "Okay." He answered softly and closed his eyes.
Nick frowned, reached for the light switch, his finger resting on that small jut of plastic. For the love of anything they could have possibly been holding dear to them now, he did not want to shut off the light. If it comforted Ellis, he wanted to keep that little beacon of hope lit for him. They lost Rochelle, Ellis' leg was broken, and they were practically without supplies and weaponry. Any sliver of goddamn hope he could fit into that tiny room would be enough to get Ellis to not be so afraid. But he couldn't do that; that light shedding through the crack beneath the door might attract infected; it was too risky. The small click of the light switch was deafening in that small space.
The conman slumped beside Ellis quietly, and it was a little unsettling how it was so dark in that restroom. But despite the fear of the infected outside, Nick felt very tired. His eyelids drooped immediately, and he yawned. He felt for the pistol in his slacks' pocket for good measure, and once he'd done that he was going to settle the back of his head against the wall and-
"Nick, we ain't really carriers, right?" Came Ellis' whisper.
Nick looked at him even though he really couldn't see him, barely making out the shiny whites of his eyes. "I sure hope not, Ellis. Because that means…" He blinked in the darkness; he really didn't know what the military did to them. But… of course they would kill them. They were practically zombies. They would line them against the fucking wall and shoot them dead. That's how it worked. No survivors. Hell, they probably shot all the immunes too, for the hell of it, for the hell of being the military.
"That means we ain't goin' to no army for help." Ellis said.
Nick heard him shift around and then a sharp intake of air rang in his ear accompanied with a hiss. "You alright?"
"Goddamn, I hurt." Ellis leaned heavily against the older man for support. "Coach give ya any of them painkillers?"
Nick frowned. "No. Try not to think about it, Ellis."
Ellis groaned in response. "Tell me a story, Nick."
"What?" Nick looked at his companion in confusion.
"To distract me, please."
So, Nick pulled out a story from his nonexistent hat and began to speak. It was one that he hadn't told anyone else, and one he hoped would completely take Ellis' mind off that broken leg. After what seemed like an hour of storytelling, Ellis was finally asleep, and it took another fifteen minutes for Nick to notice. Ellis' cheek was rested on his shoulder, his hands limp at his sides. So, not wanting to move the injured Southerner he just put his own cheek on top of Ellis' dirty hair. Sleep took him almost immediately, enveloping him in nightmares that would leave him even more tired in the morning.
Nick all but gently woke, jumping in place with his eyes flying open. The tremor woke Ellis too, who seemed to have slept more peacefully, on the other hand. He looked around at his surroundings, a small sliver of light leaking in from the closed door making the room slightly brighter, and he wondered what time it could be. "Fuck." He cursed, rubbing his eyes with his tattered sleeve. Beside him, Ellis gave a big yawn, stretching out his one good leg. The sensation hit Nick just as the words left his mouth, "I gotta piss. You mind?" Ellis shook his head. Nick did happen to mind, but it would be more trouble to move him. Nick stood up and walked in front of the toilet and unzipped his slacks, pushing his boxers down with his one hand enough to get his dick out, but not enough to reveal too much skin to Ellis, if he were even watching.
Once he was done he shook himself and grabbed the nearby toilet paper to dab himself dry. Tucking his manhood back in his pants, he turned mid-zipping and buttoning his trousers. Ellis was staring up at him, his thighs brought together tightly. Nick sighed in realization. "Really, Ellis?"
"Well, shit, I heard you pissin' an' now I gotta go." Ellis whined.
Nick's first response was something like, "Why don't you get up and do it then?" but then he stopped himself and felt bad for thinking that. So instead he said, "I guess you need help then." Without waiting for Ellis' reply he stepped over to the Southerner and grabbed him by the arm, who then in turn gripped the back of his shirt. Nick more or less took all of Ellis' weight as he got up and led him to the toilet. Ellis took the hand that wasn't holding onto Nick and undid the knot on his overalls, pushing them down along with his underwear hurriedly. As Ellis got his manhood out, Nick immediately looked away. It was enough he was helping him, but he was not going to look at another guy's prick. Well, this was better than having Ellis piss himself, at least. When Ellis had finally tucked himself back in his drawers, Nick helped redo the knot in the overalls, and they both washed their hands in the sink.
"Think Coach is awake?" Ellis asked, leaned against the wall.
"Who knows. Hang on," Nick got on the floor, pressed his face into the cold linoleum and looked through that small crack in the door. He couldn't see shit, but that was probably a good thing, maybe a bad thing. He got up. "Only one way to find out." He said, and his hand undid the lock on the door, fingers folding around the knob. For a split moment he looked back at Ellis, who nodded back at him in reassurance. Not that Nick really needed that anyway, and he was barely sure why he'd looked back like that. Holding his breath, he turned the knob until it had no more give and then slowly began to open the door. It groaned suddenly, causing Nick to flinch and stop his movements completely. He glanced back again at Ellis, whose eyes had gone wide. Then he returned his gaze back to the crack he'd made in the door.
Except, there was something blocking out the light from the crack, a whole person, in fact. And Nick froze up completely. It was only a common infected, but he didn't want to move or say anything, because it was just fucking standing there, staring at them with those empty, glowing eyes. For some reason, Nick didn't know what to do at that point. That is, of course, until it lunged for him with an angry scream. His heart sped up into full throttle, and he caught one of the creature's arms with his good one and tried to heave the thing backwards to no avail. With a loud blast, blood splattered onto him and the infected was sent to the ground in a spiraling mess of screeches and squelching noises. Another shot was fired, and the zombie finally stilled. Nick looked to his left to see Coach standing there, the shotgun smoking at the end.
The large man wiped his bandaged forehead. "Things don't know when to give up." He rested the shotgun against a shelf and sighed. "I looked around the store and looked outside some too, but I ain't seen nothin' 'til this one went and snuck past me." Coach stepped forward. "Lemme check out Ellis' leg." He pushed the still recoiling Nick aside softly and approached Ellis.
While the two were busy with that, Nick stepped over the dead infected and grabbed the shotgun for good measure. He began walking up and down the aisles a little aimlessly. At the last aisle he had found another bottle of pills, a pack of gum, cookies and when he went behind the register he even found a goddamn pack of cigarettes. Nick couldn't help kissing the front of the pack and grinning. He was dying for a smoke. After scouring the whole place for a lighter he finally found one, and shucked out a cancer stick, shoved the rest in his pocket alongside the pistol and then took the lighter and watched with eager eyes as the end glowed to life.
He took maybe the longest drag off that thing he'd ever taken off a cigarette in his entire life. He exhaled thankfully, blowing the smoke towards the roof and watching it spread and disperse into the air. He couldn't help but laugh; all this time they had been fucking going from Georgia to Louisiana he'd never searched for cigarettes, but in a way he supposed that was kind of good thing since the damn zombies were bad enough. Then again, why not have a fucking cigarette because who knew when he would die? Standing there, smoking the shit out of that cig, he remembered several times where he would've have died been it not for his companions: Ellis, Coach, Rochelle. Nick frowned when he thought of her though, and he wished he hadn't.
Once he finished smoking, Nick flicked the cigarette from his fingers and snuffed it with the sole of his shoe. And, after adjusting his arm in the semi-comfy sling, he stuffed what he found in his pockets and slung the shotgun over his shoulder, his stride a little more back to normal than the past couple days. He didn't want to think about what could happen in the next half hour when they would leave, making their long journey down the seemingly endless highway. All he knew was that he would be content to make the trip with the remainder of his team. After all, they were the two people he trusted most out of his thus far lifetime and that was saying quite a bit for Nick.
A/N: And that's it for now! My apologies that this one is basically freaking pointless, but I got the urge to write it and took the opportunity in stride! Hope you enjoyed!