Ch. 4 Trigger finger
Thunder echoed within the gas station safe room, startling the inhabitants within.
"Shit! That was loud," Rochelle said, peering through the safe door bars and the windows of the gas station. The rain cascaded upon the pavement, drenching the environment and wandering infected. "We're lucky to have found the safe house before the storm hit."
Coach grunted in disagreement. "We're going to be walking back out to that storm. I wouldn't say we're lucky." He said.
Ellis removed his hat from his head, running his hand through his wet hair. He shook his cap wildly, spraying droplets everywhere. Nick, who happened to be next to him, flinched away with a scowl. "Watch it, overalls!"
Ellis placed his hat back on his head and looked to Nick curiously. "Why does it matter? Yer already wet."
Nick grumbled under his breath and took off his former white suit. He rolled it tightly and wrenched some of the water out. Once he was somewhat content, he unrolled the suit and put it back on. "I thought we were done with water. Shit water, swamp water and now water from the damn sky. What's next? Do we have to swim through an ocean?"
Ellis's eyes widen. "I sure hope not. 'm not a swimmer."
Nick groaned, slouching down against the wall. "Of course, you aren't."
Coach chuckled, lightly. He reached into his back pocket. Both surprisingly, and not surprisingly, he pulled out a chocolate bar.
Nick stuck his hands out in disbelief. "Where did you get that?"
Coach peeled open the wrapper. "There was one in the aisles in the station." He was about to bite into his newly acquired snack when he noticed everyone's eyes fixated on the bar. He frowned. "Oh, hell no. Do you know how long it has been since I had one of these?"
"Since you found that box of chocolate back at Whispering Oaks?" Nick queried, raising his eyebrow.
"Exactly. Too long." With a large bite, Coach almost consumed the entire bar of chocolate. As everyone sighed in disappointment, he said, "There's food in Virgil's boat. That should motivate ya'll to get to it."
Ellis seemed to take a liking to Coach's idea, nodding enthusiastically. "Yeah! I'm game. Let's do this."
"Slow down, sweetie," Rochelle said. "Let's just gather our bearings for a bit. I'm sure Nick and Coach would appreciate a little time to relax." The two males showed their agreement.
As the group made their way through the sugar cane field to the current safe house, Coach's knee began to act up again, slowing their progress down. At the same time, the Special Infected seemed to leap at the opportunity. A Smoker snagged Nick unbeknownst to the rest of the group. It was only when they noticed a distinct lack of colourful commentary, did they turn around and assist the strangled man. They broke through the sugar cane field shortly after and made their way to the gas station, still fighting off the swarming infected. They were ecstatic to see four green canisters stacked on the metal shelf filled to the brim with petrol.
Nick rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes. "Wake me up when we head off," he said.
Coach finished his little snack, threw the wrapper behind him and rubbed his hands together. "I'm gonna do the same. Who's staying up?"
"I'll stay up," Ellis volunteered.
"Alright. We won't be staying for long so wake us up in an hour and we'll head back to the boat," Coach said. A low grumble from the sky grabbed his attention. "Hopefully, the storm might let up by then." He moved to a spare sleeping bag in the corner of the room and nestled inside.
Rochelle turned to Ellis. "Can you refill the ammo as well? I don't think we want to be walking around with just axes and machetes."
"Yeah, no worries. Rest well, Ro," he said, with a relaxed smile.
With everything sorted, Rochelle made her way to the only other sleeping bag. She zipped up the bag and settled down within the tattered cloth. She didn't realise how cold it had become until she began to bathe in the warmth of the sleeping bag. The exhaustion of her travels settled in. The sound of the pounding rain eased her mind into a dreamless sleep.
"Hey, Ro. Time to wake up."
Ellis' voice penetrated through the black backdrop of Rochelle's slumber. She opened her eyes, seeing nothing but a blurry mesh of colours and shapes. She blinked the haziness away and adjusted to the brightness. Ellis' face peered through the light. As Rochelle's eyes fluttered, he grinned and moved away to wake the other sleeping inhabitants. Feeling returned to her limbs and she sluggishly zipped open the sleeping bag and sat up. The pounding of the rain against the roof had not softened, instead, it had intensified.
It seemed that the storm didn't loosen its hold on this town.
She shivered. It was getting colder as well. Goosebumps appeared throughout her body. She rubbed her arms, the friction only providing hints of warmth. Rochelle was sorely tempted to go back into her warm haven within the sleeping bag but desire to get out of the Ducatel as soon as possible won her over. She slowly got to her feet and approached the equally sleepy Nick.
He eyed her and gave a low chuckle. "Looking great, Ro."
She glowered at the male and rubbed her eyes. "You don't look so great too, Nick." That wasn't completely true. The con-man looked refreshed and handsome as ever. She patted her hair and felt the strands of hair out of place. She let out her hair and tied back up neatly.
"Are we ready to get going?" Coach asked, stretching. He looked equally refreshed and by his movements, it seemed that his knee wasn't causing him any more trouble.
"Ah, yeah…" Ellis looked slightly uncertain. Rochelle noticed him holding on to Nick's M-16.
"Oh boy. What happened, young'un?" Coach asked, rubbing his face.
"Y'know the ammo pile? Well, as it turns out, there's only bullets for this one. There's nothing else for the other ones." He held out the rifle.
Nick grabbed the rifle. "Looks like you all are going to have to use those melee weapons." He looked a bit smug about being the only one to hold a firearm.
Ellis groaned. "Now, that ain't fair."
"So is almost shooting my arm off, kid," Nick said.
Ellis threw his hands in the air. "T'was one time, Nick! And besides," He gestured to Rochelle. "Remember when you aimed the grenade launcher at Ro?"
"At least I didn't hit her, Overalls."
"I didn't hit ya either!"
Coach brought the argument to a close by firming slapping his hands on their backs. The two yelped in surprise. "We ain't got time for this." He eyed the rifle and addressed Nick. "Don't waste the ammo, Nick. Use the gun for the Special Infected and if there is a Tank."
Nick nodded. Coach smiled and slapped their backs again, gaining another collective shout of pain from the two. "Alright, ya'll. Let's get these gas cans and get going."
As everyone picked up their own container, Rochelle found Nick's gun unceremoniously shoved into her arms. A little startled, she fumbled with the firearm. She sent a quizzical look to the suited man.
Nick shrugged casually. "My shoulder's a bit sore and I trust you with my gun more than the other two. Besides, you could use the practice"
Despite the added subtle insult at her aiming skills, Rochelle felt rather touched and little suspicious that Nick would give her his favoured firearm. Nick picked the gun all the way back from Whispering Oaks and did not part from the gun for any reason. She was also sure that his shoulder was fine and even if that wasn't the case, a sore shoulder wouldn't stop him from using his gun to fire away at the infected. Not to mention, that out of all of them, Rochelle was probably the worst with guns. While Coach and herself never had firearm experience, Coach seemed to pick up the techniques quickly. Rochelle was comfortable using close combat weapons as a result and proved to be very handy with an axe.
She held the gun out again back to Nick, eyes narrowed. "What's the catch?"
Nick rolled his eyes and extended his hand out. "I just wanted to do something nice. If you don't want it, I'll tak-"
"Well, if there's no catch," Rochelle interrupted, pulling the firearm closer, "I'll just hold on to this then. You can take my axe if you want."
Nick's face relaxed and she was almost certain that he was smiling though it was so subtle that she could be mistaken. "Take care of it. If I see a single scratch, I'll never do anything nice again."
With a soft laugh, Rochelle placed the weapon down and retrieved the green canister. She bound it to her back and tugged it, making sure it wouldn't fall off. As Nick strapped his own on, she said, "Thank you, by the way."
She turned to the other two who were both looking rather amused at the display. Coach was holding on to a baseball bat that he found back at the town. He still had his Pump Shotgun and med kit strapped onto his back, next to his canister. He also had a bottle of pills attached to his belt. His eyes fell upon the gun and back to Rochelle. "Same thing applies to you, Ro. Don't waste the ammo."
Ellis held on to a recently cleaned crowbar. Despite already having a Sniper Rifle, albeit an empty one, he eyed the M-16 with a bit of jealously.
Nick noticed Ellis' stare and snickered.
Before another argument could ensue, Rochelle asked, "Does everyone have a gas can? I do not want to make this trip twice."
Rochelle checked everyone's backs, making sure the green canisters strapped on securely. Once she was confident that the cans wouldn't fall off during the midst of battle, she retrieved her M-16 and marched to the safe house door. She removed the crash bar and pushed the metal door open.
The group moved through the unlit gas station, making their way to the front door. The smashed glass left a gaping hole in the door, allowing the wind to blow the heavy rain inside.
"Ah, Jesus!" Nick groaned, flinching away from the water, "My suit just dried."
"The rain's gotten worse," Coach noted. He stepped outside, and within seconds was almost completely drenched. "Well, shit. We're in a storm, ya'll. We best get moving back to town."
The group trudged out of the gas station cautiously. Wandering infected ignored their presence, distracted by the deafening sound of raindrops hitting the pavement. The survivors did not waste the advantage of the lack of infected and crept quietly. In front of them stood a massive field of grown sugar cane. The cluster of foliage was compressed enough to obscure whatever hid amongst the field. Squinting her eyes, she attempted to locate where the sugar mill was positioned amongst the dense mist that engulfed the area. There were small traces and outlines of a building in the distance far beyond the field.
The darkened sky rumbled, sending bolts of lightening streaking across the clouds. A loud, sharp crack followed, startling the unaware infected around them. The former humans whipped around wildly, searching for the cause of the ear-splitting sound. Their lifeless eyes landed on the huddled group of survivors and charged towards them.
The assembly took to their weapons and pinned the approaching infected down. The infected did not pose a challenge, all of them ending up dead before they could reach the group.
"The storm might bring out a horde," Rochelle said. "We need to move fast."
"We need to stick together too. Nobody wander off." Ellis added.
Without delay, the exhausted survivors trekked into the sugar cane field, single file. Coach led ahead, followed by Ellis and Nick with Rochelle taking up the rear. The foliage slapped the soaked faces of the survivors relentlessly and the group stumbled over exposed roots. Rochelle couldn't see two feet in front of her. She relied on her hand outstretched, fingers touching the surface of the gas can held by the person in front of her to know that she wasn't walking around blind.
The sky lit up again followed by another thunderous roar. Amongst the pounding rain, she could hear the angered cries of the infected around her. A pale hand with a missing thumb struck her arm from the foliage. She swung her gun towards the hidden figure, successfully shoving the infected away from her. Hot breath brushed against her ear. Another hand gripped on to her shirt, yanking her backwards. Rochelle turned around instinctively swinging her gun around. The four infected that had swarmed up behind her, stumbled backwards, their angry gaze fixed on Rochelle.
Not in any mood to waste time, she whipped back around and tried to hurry back to her friends, but another hand from within the roots found her ankles. Its tightly gripped fingers halted Rochelle's escape. The infected crawled out of the undergrowth, gnashing its teeth dangerously close to her skin. The infected behind her took the opening and rushed at her. Rochelle lashed out with her gun, swinging wildly with no target. With her free foot, she kicked at the infected at her feet, eventually crushing their skull. The grip around her ankle loosened and she pulled it free.
The distorted war cries of the former humans echoed all around her. Spinning around, Rochelle became aware of her situation. The sky flashed with light once more, illuminating the field. The infected had surrounded her.
She gripped her only weapon firmly and mentally counted the number of bullets she had. As the zombies approached closer, with a blood-thirsty look in their eyes, she made her choice.
How was she going to save these bullets for the Special Infected if she ended up dead before then?
She fired a few rounds into the infected, blood erupting from their wounds onto the canes. Clearing out the path in front of her, she rushed forward.
She stretched out her hand, searching for any trace of her friends.
Her fingers met empty air.
"Boys?!" Her voice was drowned out by a low rumble. Rochelle spun around, seeking for any hint of where her friends were but her gaze only met the tall stalks of the sugar cane. As she looked up for the outline of the sugar mill, she saw nothing but the dark fog.
"Coach!"
She wasn't sure where she was going, but she was certain that she wasn't sticking around in one spot for long. The sounds of the infected followed her. Pale hands reached out from the plants and eyes, reflecting off from her flashlight, glared viciously.
"Ellis!"
The rain seeped into her skin, freezing her bones to the core. Rochelle tried to ignore the chill in her body.
"Nick!"
As if her situation could get any worse, the downpour grew heavier, with each raindrop striking her skin painfully. Her line of sight shortened. Everything meshed together in colours of green, brown and black.
"EARGGGGHHH!"
Rochelle perked up. She recognised that sound. A high-pitched scream belonged to only one kind of menace.
"Hunter!" A voice in the distance cried out. Rochelle turned to the source of the sound. Even through the loud backdrop of the storm and the swarming infected, she could make out Ellis' voice. "Hunt- AHHH!"
Hearing that he was in trouble, Rochelle dashed in the direction of his screams. In her desperation, she didn't pay attention to the roots beneath her. Her foot hooked underneath the stem and her body lunged forward. She fell upon the ground, thankfully softened by the rain. Dirt and mud stuck to her hair and face. With an equally dirty hand, she rubbed the earth from her eyes.
She tried not to waste any time and lifted herself off the dirt. She picked up her gun and continued running forward.
She couldn't hear any more screams.
A chill crawled up her spine.
There were two possible ways of looking at this. Ellis was saved by Nick or Coach otherwise Ellis was clawed to death by the Hunter. Rochelle tried to think rationally, thinking to herself that the others would have heard his screams and come to aid him. Unless they were preoccupied with problems of their own.
"Somebody? Anybody? Everybody!?" She let out another cry for assistance. She had to be close enough that they could hear her. But even if they didn't hear her, the infected did. Angered growls echoed all around her. Everywhere she looked, there were pairs of glowing eyes staring right back. They lunged forward, arms outstretched.
Rochelle shoved the infected backwards and fired a few shots into them. Teeth clenched, Rochelle fired bullets into the foliage, uncertain if she was even hitting her targets. She spun around continually, her finger on the trigger. Her shots flew wildly.
Another hand reached out towards her.
Instinctively, she aimed to where she estimated where the head of the infected was and pulled on the trigger. She had no intention of stopping until she heard another scream.
Was it Ellis? Did he get pounced again?
That wasn't right. The scream didn't sound like Ellis. It didn't seem that the source of the scream was too far either. In fact, she would dare guess that it was close to her. Did that mean the others were close? Where were they?
As she stared at her recent target, she noticed something peculiar.
Since when did the infected start wearing nice white suits? The same white suit that Nick would wear.
The same suit Nick would wear.
The gun slipped from her fingers.
"Nick!" Rochelle lunged forward, pushing the sugar cane out of her way.
There he laid with bullet holes riddling his chest. That dirtied white suit was now stained red. He was breathing jaggedly and slowly.
"No, no, no, no. I-I.." Rochelle crouched down in front of him, pressing down on his wounds fruitlessly. Her mind raced as a thousand thoughts screamed at her.
'He's going to be okay.'
'He's going to die.'
'This is your fault.'
'Why didn't he say anything?'
'Imsorryimsorryimsorryimsorryimsorry.'
'He didn't move out of the way.'
'Should've watched where he was going.'
'They won't believe it.'
'He died in the hospital surrounded by loving family.'
She discarded the newspaper. Rochelle found herself back at the hospital. She didn't want to return to this place. There were flowers in a vase on the table end, paintings on the wall and colourful curtains. There was also the constant sound of a heart monitor. There was also the constant sight of her brother laying eerily still on the bed. There was nothing here but the reminder of her failure. She found no purpose sitting by her brother's side. He didn't hear her. He would never hear her apologises. He would never hear her pleas for him to wake up.
And it was all her fault.
She was reckless. Why didn't she press down on the brake? Why didn't he say anything? Why didn't he watch where he was going?
Questions that held no answers bombarded her minute after minute. Every second she held her gaze onto her brother's face, a weight in her chest grows heavier.
She should have been a better older sister. She should've watched out for him.
She wanted to reach out, touch his face one more time.
His eyes flutter open.
Grey eyes meet brown ones.
She felt cold and she was certain that it wasn't from the rain. The air seemed to get sucked out of her lungs. She tried to avert her gaze, tried to stop looking at the expression on his face, but she couldn't move.
He looked betrayed.
He didn't even need to speak. Just the pure disappointment, surprise, anger, shock, sadness swirling together within his eyes.
He was betrayed.
Betrayed by his own friend, to whom he entrusted her with his very own weapon. The sight of Rochelle's treachery would be the last thing he would ever see. The life in his eyes faded.
She couldn't move. Her body wouldn't let her.
Even as the infected drew closer.
"Ro?!"
"Nick?!"
Even as her last two companions broke through the sugar canes.
Even as they recoiled in horror at the sight of their dead friend.
Even as they demanded to know what happened.
She couldn't move.
A/N:
And that's all I have written for this. I probably won't get back to it cause I have moved on from this game. But, I hoped you enjoyed some of my early writings, regardless.
