The molotov eventually burned out, and when it did, there were still infected that started thumping and clawing at the door. Not nearly as many, but that wasn't much of a consolation when all of them were this close to being out of ammo.
Nick nervously twirled his magnum in his hands. Six shots. He'd called the count, tallying the other three's numbers in his head solemnly.
Ellis still had the nine in his hunting rifle, glock empty. Rochelle had two shots and a last clip for a total of seventeen. Coach somehow still had nineteen shells.
Fifty-one zombies, that was all– less than they had encountered on their uneventful trip down from Yulee. Unless he could manage to line more than one up and pierce multiples again, and the football player was able to get a few at once as well with the spray of his weapon, then they could maybe pull off seventy or so. But after that it was down to their respective melee weapons and how well they could beat heads in. Nick frowned. There were probably a good dozen waiting outside he'd wager from the sounds of the screams muffled by the door, though perhaps eventually they'd stop, or forget, and shamble away or whatever the fuck zombies did when their meal managed to hide and elude them for long enough… if they did anything at all.
From the pounding, they seemed pretty persistent about getting their dinner.
Nick shifted on his feet. The good thing was that, for the moment, they were technically safe. Not in a great position, no, but plenty alive. He combed his fingers through his greased hair, sweeping it back, losing its stick from the morning's application of gel. Ellis had sustained a number of small cuts and scratches to his forearms while bravely leading them to their little sanctuary, but beyond that there had been no injury from the flight they had been forced to make. The young man had resisted Rochelle's desire to patch the wounds at first, claiming they might need the supplies down the road for much worse, and with the way things were looking, Nick was sort of inclined to agree with him. But the girl made a good point about the cuts getting infected and requiring more supplies as a result and at last Ellis relented.
Of course, still covered in vomit as she was, she wasn't going to be the one to do it.
So Nick pulled out a kit from the duffle and got to it before Coach could step up to the plate and offer.
Ellis took a seat on the stairs leading up further into the control tower; the room that made up the base of it was rather open and large, but the space gave them a little privacy and he was glad for the mechanic's choice. Nick hunkered down in front of him, sweeping off his coat to fold over one of the steps and rolled up his blue sleeves before taking out the necessary supplies for the task. The mechanic smiled softly– almost wistfully– at him, extending his right arm first, which had done all the swinging and thus found the most abrasions. Nick procured the bottle of iodine and twisted off the cap to start eye-droppering the dark brown liquid sparingly into each of the incisions that decorated the mechanic's flesh. The task took his mind of the relentless pounding that went on behind the barricaded door, thudding with reminder that it was the only thing separating sanctuary from hell.
Ellis winced at every administration of the antiseptic; Nick watched his cute little nose scrunch up, but he stoically withheld any further evidence of pain– iodine had a notoriously unpleasant sting, but infection didn't stand a chance against the powerful chemical. Nick stoppered it up and began to wind gauze snugly around the hick's forearm, not enough to inhibit bloodflow, but tight enough to hold fast to the appendage. All the while Ellis remained wordless, and Nick found it a little eerie the southerner seemed to have nothing to say– he yearned for one of his cheery grins or ridiculous stories, something to cheer them up, but it simply wasn't there. His mind struggled to find something to fill the gap between them.
"Quick thinking on the molotov," he complimented the younger man, tying the knot on the gauze, the dressing finished.
Ellis' small smile became a brief grin, his gaze averting to the ground for just a second in bashful gesture before he gave a little toss of his head– removing those dirty blonde curls from his eyes– and extended his left arm. "Quick thinkin' on the pipe," he shot back, blue eyes shining back at him.
Nick chuckled sardonically. Yeah, after they'd been practically surrounded on all sides. Ellis' gory trail-blazing was still fresh in his memory, machete glinting as it swung back and forth, growing more and more flecked with blood, and if he hadn't been so goddamn mesmerized by the sight, he would have thrown the damn thing earlier; he was still kicking himself for that mistake and it was El who had paid the price. He shook his head with the smallest of scoffs and a shrug of his left shoulder. "Eh, if I had thought of it sooner, I could have saved you some of these," he murmured, letting his hands linger on Ellis' un-bandaged arm. There was quiet between them a long moment as he caressed the undamaged flesh between the cuts with the blunts of his fingertips.
Their eyes lifted and connected again; Ellis seemed to register his apology and concern. "S'alright, they're jus' scratches," the mechanic assured him. "They won't take too long tuh heal. Maybe a couple'a days."
A couple of days, sure. And in that time, how much more could happen to the four of them? There was no guarantee of safety anywhere, especially not in greater Jacksonville, not until they were out on the highway away from residential areas, and even then... Nick's breath caught harshly in his throat and he had to swallow down the resulting lump. "I just don't like to think about what could happen–" he cut himself short. Now wasn't the time to talk like that. Not with the banging. Fuck, couldn't those zombies give it a goddamn rest?
Ellis' eyebrows both gave a tweak at his words, temporarily knotting just above his nose before readily smoothing back out again. "I told'ja before, don't'cha remember?" he spoke in an almost forced sounding laugh. "We're gonna be fine, we got one another's backs."
Yeah, he remembered, before the destroyed bridge. When Ellis had acknowledged that Jacksonville might be closed like the other evacs, that they'd get to spend more time with one another if it was.
Oh, this seemed a bittersweet paradox.
Nick squeezed his eyes shut and angled his face toward the floor.
He opened them again when he felt a rough calloused palm skate across the side of his jaw, catching on every whisker that adorned it as Ellis lifted his chin and gaze. Nick froze. Ellis' blue eyes blinked, cupping his face. "It don't look too good right now," he spoke, "but I know we kin do this."
There was so much strength and bravery in those words… in that touch. Ellis' bandaged arm seemed to lift him up, lend him that strength; a sigh nearly escaped his lips before his brain registered how intimate the touch was, and as he looked up at the mechanic seated on the stair, he imagined Ellis directing his lips to his own plump ones, gliding his tongue between them and into his open mouth… imagined the southerner sliding his fingers into his hair, gripping him tight around the back of his skull to pull him into a heated but tender embrace.
But no amount of imagining could make it come true.
Ellis drew his hand away at last and tapped his noggin through the cap with a forefinger. "After all, we're a heck'uva lot smarter than them mindless zombie motherfuckers," he tacked on with a grin.
Nick laughed, recovering from his flight of fancy. He set his jaw and gave a firm nod. "Right you are, kid."
Ellis leaned back against the step, holding out his left arm as Nick began to take care of it like the first. His fingers worked hastily, but nimbly, discarding his former thoughts, putting them out of his mind for more important things, concentrating on his task. Ellis rubbed the underside of his nose. "Ya reckon we should search upstairs?" he asked.
"Might be something useful up there," Nick wondered aloud as he wrapped the bandage. "Plus it will give us a good viewpoint of the airfield."
"That's what I'm thinkin'," Ellis agreed.
"Well, I'm almost done," Nick said. The mechanic nodded and he quickly finished up the second bandage and put all the things neatly away as they had been before. He snatched up his coat, sliding his arms into the sleeves and quickly adjusted it on his shoulders. Ellis rose and stepped around the corner of the stairwell. "We're gonna check the upstairs," he reiterated as the other two survivors likely hadn't heard, "Y'all comin'?"
"You youngin's run along, I'm going to keep an eye on the door," Coach asserted, steadying his weight with an arm on the table as he made to sit at it. His brown eyes fell upon Rochelle, who had taken a seat on top of some seemingly abandoned luggage stacked haphazardly alongside the wall not too far away, postcard held in her fingertips; she didn't move and Coach's brow furrowed. "Ro', go with them," he commanded.
The reporter looked up at him, obviously a little surprised by his sudden order, but she nodded wordlessly and stood, tucking the piece of mail away.
Ellis turned, almost huffishly, jogging up the steps.
He wasn't sure what was up with that.
Meanwhile, Nick had to wonder if the big man hoped the two of them could pull her out of her funk– if he thought Ellis was seeming melancholy, she was at least three times more so, and appeared to be growing worse and worse. Not that the incessant banging on the only exit was helping any of their nerves. Nick grumbled. Regardless, he put on a clever half-sided smirk. "Ladies first," he said, standing aside and motioning his palm upward towards the stairs so she could follow Ellis. Rochelle gave him a smile and a playful shove to his chest for the out-of-place chivalry.
Her feet found the steps. "Wait up, sweetie!" she called up at Ellis as she moved to catch up, a little more energy already evident in her manner for the short interaction.
Nick's eyes flicked to the football player and the man gave him a single approving nod that confirmed his suspicion.
He returned it and made to climb the steps.