Ellis took it upon himself to go scope things out while the others were busy inside, saddling up.
In spite of recent events, he found himself grinning smartly to himself, touching the brim of his hat with a prideful nod as he quickly scouted the area. He had started to doubt himself, that he had been right about the whole 'bile-attracting-zombies' thing at all, but now it was clear his inference had saved them the remainder of their ammunition and a messy– and potentially hazardous– exit from the tower. He may have only gotten a few scratches, but hell if he wanted more cuz the ones he had were already starting to itch like a son-of-a-gun under the gauze. He fussed with the bandages, trying to scratch through them with his short nails but had little luck finding much relief.
"Fuck," he heard the curse before anything else. Ellis turned in place. The older man had come out from the control tower behind him and now scowled at the skyline, forehead wrinkled with the grooves of annoyance. "Nearly sundown," he elucidated.
Ellis frowned at the west and lifted an arm; the sun a mere hand length away from the horizon, less than an hour to setting. It should be enough time for them to check out the armory, but they were not getting out of the NAS tonight, that was for damn sure. The control tower had already proven itself to be a safe hideaway, though he was god-awful sick of it, so he could only assume they would be staying until morning. It was frustrating how one single misstep at the gate had cost them the entire day, forcing them to bunker down rather than make progress. "Guess we're gonna hafta spend the night here," he mumbled.
"Not what I wanted to do," the older man groused, echoing his thoughts. Ellis watched the gambler comb his hand through his hair. Though the gesture was made in irritation, he couldn't help but admire how the strands swept back through the webbing in those talented fingers, at how dark and thick it looked– damn, did he want to touch it. "At least now I can finally take a piss though," he commented and Ellis couldn't help but laugh, now understanding why he had been joined outside.
"Been holdin' it awhile, huh?" he poked as the man strode past him to stop in front of the nearest planter box. He stuffed his hands in his coverall pockets as he heard his fly being drawn down, averting his eyes politely so the cardshark could do his business, though he doubted Nick cared one way or the other.
The man gave a sigh of relief as the stream of urine began to leave him, hitting the spoil in soft pats. "I was just about ready to hose down the room upstairs," he joked with the hint of seriousness.
Ellis snorted a laugh. They'd all been slightly dehydrated in their week and a half, simply because carrying too much liquid with them was a burden, but considering how they had all more or less 'tanked up', so to speak, while searching the houses earlier that morning, it sounded like an awfully good idea to him now too. He waited for Nick to finish up. "Mah turn," he announced.
"Be my guest," Nick chuckled and motioned his hands at the shrub.
Ellis sauntered over to it casually and dropped his hand inside his coveralls and the jeans beneath them to fish himself out. He let his body lax so his bladder would release its clutch on the liquid waste, watching as it arched into the planter box. He peeked a glance over his shoulder, looking to see if the man had gone back inside yet after relieving himself.
He hadn't however. The cardshark had taken up a place against the wall of the building, leaning into it as he chewed at a hangnail on his pinkie, looking for all the world bored, or maybe contemplative, he couldn't tell which, but he hadn't gone in yet. Anxiously he wondered if the man was going to bring up what had gone on inside or if he was just keeping him company. He hoped for the latter, because he certainly wasn't ready to discuss the former.
Ellis shook off quickly and tucked himself neatly away before turning back to face him. He dug into his repository to fill the silence. "Ya know, this one time Clayton– who was one'a our mechanics back at the shop, new at the time acshuhly, we'd jus' hired him on a couple'a weeks before– he went wit' us tuh the bar after work, an' he bet Keith a'hundred dollars tha' he couldn't hold it fer twenty-four hours."
He watched Nick's lips curl at the corners, but the man couldn't hold it back and gave a laugh. "Was that before or after drinking?" the conman asked.
"After," Ellis readily supplied. "I reckon he'd tossed back a couple, maybe even three, beers a'fore that. I mean, wouldn't'a been all that sporting if he hadn't, now would it?" He gave a laugh at the memory. "You should'a seen him at the shop the next day, tryin' tuh work. All'a us agreed tuh leave all the fluid-related tasks tuh him… pressurizin' the brake lines, replacin' windshield cleaner, refillin' the radiators, addin' antifreeze, all'a that." He shook his head with grin. "But the worst was the oil changes. Drainin' all that oil intuh the pan. Oh man, he was squirmin' around under them cars like a worm stuck out on the sidewalk in a rainstorm. It was huh-larious."
"And?" Nick seemed to hang onto his words. "Did he make it?"
"Oh, he made it the twenty-four hours, he did," Ellis assured him. "Last hour was torture though, I reckon. We went back out tuh the bar again that night, an' a'course Clayton offered tuh buy him a drink an' Keith wouldn't touch it, jus' left it there sittin' on the bar, sweatin' an' gettin' warm. He was jus' there on his stool, starin' at the clock, fidgetin' an' wrigglin'– dunno why, tha' only makes it worse, he should'a known that. But his mistake was when ol' Clayton wagered double or nothin' tha' he couldn't hold it another two– just another two, tha' was all. Easy, compared tuh the twenty-four, right?" He paused to give a chuckle. "He soiled hisself not one hour later, right there in front'a God an' e'erybody– oh Lord was that a hoot!"
"Sounds hilarious," Nick commented, the grin still held on his features.
Ellis nodded. "Yeah, we had some good times, we did." He stared out at the lowering sun, nostalgia creeping over him. Yeah, he and the guys from the shop had had lots of boyish fun, but of the things in his life pre-apocalypse, it wasn't one of the things he missed. In fact, he was almost a little glad to be rid of it. The immaturity and the rowdiness. It had never quite suited him, though of course he participated from time to time and enjoyed it well enough once involved. It was weird though… just two weeks ago he'd been down there at the bar, tossing a couple back, yukking it up, but it felt so distant now… like it hadn't ever even been, just some figment of his imagination or maybe something he'd seen in a movie rather than actually lived. He looked over to the gambler who hadn't yet spoken in response, pulling his hat from his head to fiddle with the edge of the bill. "Ya ever feel like ya didn't quite belong?" he asked out of the blue.
The green eyes studied him a moment, obviously piqued by the change of subject to a more serious one. The man shook his head, giving a small chuckle, "Oh yeah, plenty."
"Really?" Ellis couldn't help but ask now, a little surprised by the answer, curiosity bubbling up inside him, wanting to know more. He subconsciously leaned forward. "When?"
The older man's nose wrinkled, seeming to choose his words ahead of time before saying them. "Mostly when I was younger," he said, remaining vague.
"Oh," Ellis responded, rubbing at his arm that held his hat anxiously. He had been hoping for a little more than that, but he wasn't going to press the man any further than he wanted to go.
But Nick made to continue the dialogue. "I take it your buddies at work weren't really your type?" he asked, placing the conversation back on him.
"Ah, well, y'know, yes an' no," Ellis admitted. "They were fun tuh clown around with, but it didn't go a whole lot deeper than that. I reckon I grew up a little faster than they did is all… Can't really blame 'em fer that." He gave a shrug.
"Well, they probably weren't trying to support an entire family," Nick clicked his tongue pointedly.
Ellis felt his eyes widen as he looked to the other man. Talk about hitting the nail on the goddamn head. Nick actually understood. Where his coworkers– especially Keith– were always trying to get him to 'loosen up', take a risk here and there, stop scrimping with his cash so much and enjoy himself, Nick seemed to be able to see that the reason he had ditched a few of his luxuries, skipped out on a few likely fun outings, worked a couple extra shifts, and been that way hadn't been because he wanted to, but because he had to. For the good of his family, he had to.
He felt his body take on a sudden shake, wrestling with his emotions as he stared at the logo on his hat. He'd done everything and more for his Ma and siblings. His Pa had left him with that responsibility before he died, told him to look after them, that he was the man of the house, and he'd taken that responsibility, upheld it to the best of his ability.
And now… now he didn't even know if they were alive.
His body trembled. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to be with them, by their sides, looking after them, supporting them, protecting them. None of them had the temperment for this kind of thing– an apocalypse. He just couldn't imagine them wandering the country, scavenging and gunning down hordes of undead to stay alive. Even if they had gotten to evac in Savannah or somewhere else, had they actually been sent to an internment where things were safe, or would they have been lined up against a wall and shot?
He couldn't hold it back any longer. He finally broke down into tears, collapsing to his knees right there in front of the older man. He buried his face in his hands, his cap flung aside as his breath came in gasping pulls.
Nick was by his side in an instant, those arms wrapping around him tight.
"I can't– I can't believe…" he sobbed, "e'erything I ever did… fer them… was all for nothin'…"
"Jesus Christ, kid, don't talk like that…" Nick murmured, shaking his shoulders slightly, trying to snap him out of it, genuine concern in his voice.
Ellis turned and dug his face into the gambler's neck, clinging to him frailly. He ground himself into the stubble there, finding its sharp bite consoling. "S'so h-hard…" he hiccuped, "tuh keep hopin' they're a'right…" He felt the soft hands skim up and down his back, but the man remained silent and impassive, issuing no words of reassurance or comfort.
"I'm sorry, El," he finally spoke.
Ellis curled up tighter into himself and let the tears flow, rolling down his cheeks and catching on the white jacket beneath his chin. He watched as the droplets soaked into the expensive fabric and vanished, and gradually he became calmer, his breathing returning to normal as he regained control of himself. Coach's words reverberated in his head. This right here is what we got. And he was right. This was what he had, at least for now. For now, he needed to let his family go, focus on the one he had– Nick and Rochelle and Coach. He needed to protect them. That's what he had been put here for.
Eventually he pulled back away from the gambler, composed, looking at him with placid, but still damp eyes. "Yer always gonna be here for me, right, Nick?" he asked.
The older man nodded without hesitation. "Absolutely, Ellis."
Ellis felt a smile crack across his face despite the pain in his chest. "Then that's all I need…" he breathed. He dug into his pocket, finding the postcard he had picked up just that morning. The girl with the giraffe still smiled up at him, encouraging him to be brave, to keep going, to have faith. But he couldn't accept it– her bravery was meant for someone else, meant for her grandparents, not him. Ellis swallowed. He couldn't bring himself to tear it up, so instead he held out his hand and let the wind sweep it away, and with it, his false hope.
Then he got up, lifting his chin as he readjusted his hat.
Time to go kill some motherfucking zombies.