Ch. 1 Acidic Eyedrops

The evening fog settled in.

It smothered the city in darkness, choking out any and all light sources. Quietly traversing through the silent city were the only four living inhabitants. While the fog obscured their vision, there were other things hiding in the mist that could see them as clear as day. One kept a close eye on the group, it's presence unnoticed. Green, glowing liquid drooled from her disfigured mouth as she gave a quiet, excited cry upon seeing the battered state of the group.

The oldest and largest member of the group, Coach, led ahead, gripping tightly on to an axe with one hand and a flickering flashlight on the other. Despite his stiff knee causing trouble as he walked, he was the least injured of the group. He kept a close eye on his companions and the surrounding area in case a Special Infected decided to surprise the beaten assembly.

Behind him was the youngest of the crew, Ellis, holding on to a near empty hunting rifle. Hooked on to his coveralls was one bottle of pills. He sported painful bruises around his neck thanks to a Smoker, and a few scratches and bites from the common infected. He hummed a tune quietly, wanting to fill the silence.

Nick, the frailest at that point, trailed behind Ellis. He was crouched over, hunching over his stomach. His blue shirt beneath his white suit was ripped thoroughly, revealing bandages all around his torso. He had one encounter with the Hunter earlier on and was torn up badly. The remaining medical supplies were spent on him. His face contorted into a painful grimace with each step he took.

The young woman to the side of him, Rochelle, had offered her help numerous times, but Nick stubbornly refused saying it was safer to have three people with weapons than two. So, clinging on to a pair of pistols, she walked alongside with the wounded man, alert for any signs of infected. She had sore scratches on her face, particularly around her eyes due to an unlucky encounter with a Jockey.

The four of them stalked the quiet street, fortunate enough not to encounter any infected, special or otherwise, but it didn't soothe any tension in the atmosphere. The lack of infected means that there must be something bigger out there, ready to attack the unsuspecting survivors. Until they saw that red safe house door, they would remain on guard.

Reaching an intersection, Nick paused suddenly. Rochelle glanced at him worriedly and told the other two to wait.

"Ellis, do you have any more pills?" Nick asked, hissing slightly in pain.

Ellis grabbed the bottle of pills hooked to his side. "I got like two pills, if ya want 'em." He handed them to Nick.

"Yeah, yeah. That'll do for now." Nick swallowed the pills dry. "Coach, are we near the safe house yet?"

"We should be close. Should be right up ahead." Coach said, pointing down the abandoned street with the flashlight.

Rochelle squinted through the night fog and there it was, barely visible, the spray-painted symbol of a safe house. "I think I see the sign." She said.

Simultaneously, they all breathed a sigh of relief. "And here I thought we weren't going to make it." Nick laughed, straightening up.

With a much quicker pace, now that safety was almost in sight, they progressed further until a sudden high-pitched gargling sound shot through the fog. The group immediately paused, backs to each other.

"A Spitter? Now?!" Rochelle groaned, pistols raised.

"Let's just rush to the safe house. We're almost -" Before Coach could finish, the hidden Spitter hacked out the vile acid in their direction which landed amongst their feet. The acid spread quickly, covering the visible floor. In panic, the survivors dashed out of the acid trap in different directions.

Rochelle, as did everyone else, knew the danger in being alone. She attempted to try and group up with one of them, but their voices echoed distantly in the haze. Without Coach's flashlight, she was stranded in darkness. Blinded by the fog, Rochelle ran in the direction she hoped would lead her to the safe house, only to bump into something solid. She bounced off the object and fell to the floor, bottom landing roughly on the concrete. Surprised, she raised her head up to see what she had crashed into.

The concealed Spitter had revealed herself, the glowing mutation dribbling out of its corroded mouth. Right into Rochelle's eyes.

Rochelle let out a blood-curdling scream as the acid burned into her eyes. Desperately, she dropped her pistols and rubbed her eyes with her hands, only to burn them as well. The green mutation ate away her corona and eyelids. It was as though a thousand bees had simultaneously stung her eyes. Rochelle curled into a ball, screaming all the while, blinded. The Spitter's spit continually salivated out of her mouth, this time burning Rochelle's hair and scalp.

The Spitter saw this as the prime moment to strike the non-infected down and raised her clawed hand. Before it could cause any more damage, a hunting rifle shoved the Spitter to the side. Stumbling in surprise, she didn't have a chance to retaliate as a well-aimed bullet struck her head. She let out a death rattle as it fell to the floor and melted away into a sizzling acid puddle.

Rochelle paid no attention to the act of vengeance as she howled in agony. Her cries became muffled as a hand placed itself on her mouth. Through the pain, she heard the familiar mumbles of her friends, sounding very panicked. Despite the immense agony, she tried to calm down enough to stop screaming.

"What happened?!" Coach demanded, removing his hand from Rochelle's mouth.

"I don't know! She must've got acid on her face or something." Nick said, picking up Rochelle's pistols.

"Guys! I think we should head to the safe room. She must've alerted a horde." Ellis urged.

"She's not getting up like this. I'll get her up. Cover me." Coach said, hoisting Rochelle up, bridal style. She still covered her eyes with her hands, wincing. Once secured in his grasp, Coach bounded off quickly for the safe house, relying on Nick and Ellis to cover him.

The safe house was a small gas station which luckily seemed to pack plenty of food and water supplies. But from what Coach could see, there appeared to be one med kit lying inside. Praying that Rochelle's and Nick's injuries weren't too severe, he dashed inside and laid Rochelle against the back wall, next to some abandoned sleeping bags.

The door slammed thunderously loud, announcing everyone's presence in the gas station. The infected clawed at the door, and everyone knew it would be a while until the place turned quiet again. Nick stumbled over to Rochelle and slouched against the wall, grimacing as he did. He removed his hands from his bandages, revealing that the wounds had opened. The bandages were quickly staining red.

"Ellis, look about. Find some more med kits and pills. And toss me that water bottle." Coach said. Ellis threw him the bottle lying on the counter and dashed around the gas station.

Coach went over to Rochelle and opened the cap. "Girl, I need to remove your hands. I'm going to clean out your eyes, okay?"

She shivered and sniffed. Hesitantly, she lowered her burnt hands.

It was quite the horrific state. Her right eye was puffy and sealed up, eyelids melted together. Her left eye was bloodshot, blood vessels crawling all over her eye. The eyelids of her left eye were badly burnt, although remained functional. She had a glassy look, as though in a trance. The surrounding skin was seared as well, but that could heal overtime. The eyes on the other hand...

Coach flinched and immediately poured water, using his hands to rub the eyes gently. As he flushed out any remains of the acid, Nick whistled at the damage.

"Damn Coach. You think she'll be..?"

"I don't know. No one has ever got acid in their eyes before. I don't know if I'm doing this right." Coach said, sweat beading down his face.

Ellis approached them with the one med kit. "Sorry Coach. That's everything." He said, opening the kit. "There's some gauze, bandages, eye dressing and such." His gaze fell onto Rochelle's face. "Shit. Is it bad?"

"I… I don't know. Nick needs a change. Help him out. I'll do what I can for Ro." Coach said, focusing on his task.

Nick wrinkled his nose. "I don't need help from him. I can manage just fine on my own."

"If ya don't need help, then I assume ya get this without trouble." Ellis said, holding up the gauze. He left the rest of the first aid to Coach.

Nick grunted and attempted to get up using the wall behind him as support. He didn't get far as he collapsed onto his knees, cursing. He held out his hand, not looking at Ellis directly in the eye. Ellis helped him to his feet with a patient smile. They both hobbled to the counter.

Coach was panicking. He wasn't sure how to help Rochelle at this point. He was sure that the acid must have done some serious damage to her eyes, the kind of damage that could only be repaired through eye surgery. Her left eye was starting to losing the red intensity from before, but the glossy look remained. He noticed the corona was slowly fading into white.

Rochelle was completely silent, not had once muttered a word since they entered the safe house. Once Coach drained the whole bottle on her eyes, he had to conclude that there wasn't much he could do at this point. He could only pray that the damage was repairable through time.

"Ro. Baby girl? I need you to do something for me. Okay?"

She didn't respond immediately but slowly and briefly nodded.

"Can you tell me what you see?"

She blinked, paused and blinked again. Her left eye watered and her mouth quivered.

Coach knew the answer.

He embraced her, mumbling false promises in her ear, saying it would alright and she would get better. Rochelle was crying, tears soaking the man's shirt. In the silent safe room, Rochelle's sobs echoed uncomfortably throughout every corner.

Coach applied eye dressing and bandaged her eyes and her hands, still whispering. He talked about how far they had come and all the places they travelled and the close encounters they had with the infected and how they had pulled through each time. With each story he told, Rochelle calmed down a bit. She laid down, her head resting on Coach's lap. He stroked her hair as a parent to a child and tried, damn did he try, to make her believe that everything would be alright.

Because he didn't believe everything would be alright. A part of him blamed himself for not looking after the woman, the same part of him that would attack him whenever his younger companions got hurt. He felt a duty ever since they escaped the burning hotel to lead these people to safety no matter the cost. Coach found Rochelle to be someone he could talk to when he needed advice or when he needed realistic optimism. Time and time again, Rochelle always got his back whether it was from the infected or his own group. He wished he had hers too when that time came. It seemed that he failed that one favour and now the woman suffered for it. In spite that, Coach intended to make sure that Rochelle made it to the finish line, with or without him.


Nick stumbled back, bandages changed. He sat alongside Coach and peered at the poor girl, shaking his head at the misfortune. He held her hand gently, and rubbed his thumb up and down her knuckles. A simple gesture to show that he was here with her too. Nick was never a sociable person, always a lone wolf, hunting down cash and women in any way he could. People would just weigh him down, the same way his ex-wife weighed him down in the later months of his marriage. He would have never thought to ever rely on others again. Then he came across these three. While in the beginning he would have gladly left them behind to escape this hell hole, now he would run all the way back to the damn mall to make sure they all survived this. His gruff demeanour may turn others off, but Rochelle, from the beginning, had his back. Amongst this rag-tag group of survivors, Nick felt he could relate to Rochelle. He didn't mind talking to her and definitely didn't mind staying behind a little while longer to make sure she wasn't far behind because he knew she would do the same. It seemed this one time he didn't have her back at all and it struck the con man cold. Whether it was his pessimistic view of the world he acquired long ago, or not, he knew she wasn't going to make it.


Ellis found several items of food, clothing and lots of water, thankfully. There was some melted chocolate, chewing gum, one can of tomato soup, two packets of chips and a packet of assorted nuts. He threw the chocolate to Coach who caught it with one hand, but didn't make any move to eat it. Nick accepted the gum and popped it into his mouth. Opening up a packet of chips, Ellis didn't look at Rochelle immediately. He preferred to believe that she was okay, and her eyes were fine, despite the gloomy aura surrounding the two other men. He sat down beside Coach, dropping the rest of the supplies in the corner. He rested his head against the wall. Memories of Rochelle getting downed by a Tank or Witch, only to get right back and fighting again resurfaced in his mind. With such uplifting thoughts about Rochelle's will, he knew that in the end, everything will turn out fine because Rochelle would stand up and fight despite the odds.

His eyes briefly landed upon Rochelle's injured hands and he loses any positivity about the situation. He trails up to the covered eyes. A sick feeling grows in his stomach and he remembers the times when Rochelle was downed and she couldn't get back up. When she was bleeding out and they were surrounded by the infected for miles. When she slipped off the Screaming Oak back in Whispering Oaks, and she almost broke her legs. When she disappeared as they traversed through the sugar canes as the rain beat down on the exhausted group. He remembers how close to the door of death she would walk. He would worry and she'd sit him down and say, "It's okay Ellis. I worry about you the same way but I know that no matter what, we got each other's backs." He looked up to her as an older sister. He never had an older sister before but he would happily claim Rochelle as his own sibling. Someone he could rely on and someone he could count that always has his back. He wished he had hers and now he will make sure from now on, he will watch over her. Because if anyone deserved getting out of this hell hole, it was her.


Rochelle wished she wasn't so damn clumsy. She wished that she watched where she was going and not given her friends more things to worry about. And now she's given them so many questions to answer. What can they do now that she can't see? Can she make it to the bridge? What if a horde comes? Can she even fight now? What if a Special Infected or a Tank comes? Can they all look after her? All these questions stormed around her head like a hurricane. For the most part, the answers relied on luck. Luck that maybe they won't stumble on a horde or Tank. Luck that the rest of the journey to the bridge won't be tedious and dangerous. As far as Rochelle knows, luck has left their side since they missed the helicopter back at the burning hotel in Savannah.

She grew aware of a coldness that began to freeze her bones. A sense of realisation that she might not make it crept in. Despite how far they had come and despite the odds they faced, one unlucky encounter with a Spitter had sealed her fate. She would have wept but the comforting touch on her hand and the strokes on her hair relaxed her. Rochelle was surrounded by friends, perhaps she could even dare say family. The same people who looked after one another and watched over each other. As long as her family stayed by her side a little longer, she decided to grasp on to the fleeting hope that they all will make it out of this.

A silence fell heavy in the room. The infected long since lost interest in the group of survivors and wandered off. The survivors remained cuddled together at the back wall, deep in their own thoughts. Even when one off them laid in pain, sightless, everyone held on to the hopes that everyone will make it.

They had made it this far.

And one damned Spitter wasn't going to ruin it.

She didn't last a week.

A/N:

This story was originally written all the way back in like 2014-2015. I wrote a few chapters about it but never reached my goal of 20 chapters, seeing as I moved on to other stories. Instead of having this rot away on my laptop, I thought I might as well publish it.