Nick clutched his gun. Coach was a couple steps ahead of the con-artist. Nick didn't want to feel the pain he felt at this moment. He thought about that prayer he joined Coach on. That one small word made him dwell. Amen.
Nick remembered when he was younger, his parents mad him go to church. He sat through the boring service. He aknowledged the christan belief. He was just never too crazy about it. Then again, He hardly ever got to open about himself.
Coach stopped at the end of the alley. There was an opening to a large park like place. Coach looked back to Nick. Open areas meant bad. Especially if there was no zombies. Nick nodded. Coach's gaze told Nick to watch his back.
The pair of men had been quiet lately. There was often little conversation shared between them. They could almost always share words between expressions. Nick had noticed there was less zombies because of the less noise. Which was good, but also dangerous. Nick held his gun up, walking behind Coach. Most of his focus was behind them. Coach cut across the courtyard like park to the next alley. The air filled with tight tension of panic. The short walk seemed as if it was miles long. Nick even panicked a bit. The courtyard was dusty and blood stained.
When they made it across, the tight tension had disappeared. Nick had calmed a bit. Coach sighed in relief. He stopped and stood next to Nick. He glanced at Nick, A worried gaze crossed his face. Nick avoided it.
A silent conversation.
"I'm sorry..." It was a faint whisper. Coach had a pained expression. Nick sighed.
"Don't be..." Nick whispered back. "They wouldn't want us to be sorry." Coach nodded.
"We have to find shelter..." Coach suggested in a whisper. Nick nodded. "We gotta keep going..." Ever so quietly he spoke. It was almost eerie. Nick took his turn to lead the way. He raised his gun, now with Coach following behind.
When they walked further into town, Nick heard a small noise. Crying. Nick froze, looking back at Coach, He panicked. There was silence for a couple seconds. Maybe a Witch. Not good at all. The cry happened again. Coach came close, dropping to a whisper.
"That's no witch cry..." Coach paused. The cry sounded again and Nick could hear the difference. "We gotta see what's makin' that noise..." Nick tensed and nodded. Nick walked towards the building, keeping his ear out for the very faint crys. When they had gotten louder in the building, he was stopped outside a room. The building was a small church. A daycare section. The room's door had pictures on it. Nick placed his left hand on the door, twisting the knob as his right hand clentched the gun. He was ready to fire. Coach prepared behind him. The cry sounded again. The door creaked open and Nick stepped in. Coach slowly entering the room. the room was clear. A small bookcase, knocked over when Nick had pushed the door opened. A hiccup and cry. When Nick heard it better, he realized. A baby. This was a baby. Nick had approached the crib. The baby blue room; Empty, Dusty, Blood stained. Nick cringed, leaning over the crib. Expecting a turned child. The crys soon became quiet and stopped. The child's blue, red rimmed eyes glanced up at Nick. Nick glanced down. He was confused.
"Wh-What do we do...?" Nick turned to Coach, whispering. Coach approached the crib. He sighed.
"Quickly, Changer her and grab some food. We don't have much time..." Nick blinked. Anger flushed over him.
"Are you fucking crazy? We lost two people and you think we can take care of a child...?" Nick whispered harshly. Coach held his ground, Staring at Nick.
"They would want us to do this. We should do this for them. It's the right thing to do. God would want us to do this." Coach tried encouraging Nick. Nick thought about it. He glanced up at the ceiling as if asking for an answer. Nothing. He sighed.
"Fine. But, watch my back." Nick reached in and picked up the small child.
"As always." Coach smiled, pleased with himself. Nick carried the small child gently, as if she was fragile. Nick placed her on the table. Rushing to the otherside of the room he picked up a heavy black bag. A baby bag. When he came back, he quickly unzipped the bag and rumaged through
the contents, finding a diaper. He took the old one off, gagging. he quickly rolled it up and tossed it aside. He searched through the bag. After cleaning her up, He put the new diaper on her. It was loose. Nick dug in his backpack, Grabbing a roll of tape. He ducktaped the diaper on her to fit it.
Coach, on the otherside of the room, killed a couple infected. He glanced back at the conartist. He never thought he would see this man who had shut himself away from everyone, craddling this small child. It seemed surreal to him. Coach focused on the door, slashing another zombie. Nick zipped the bag closed, tossing it over his shoulder. The young girl had been calm. She had been staring at Nick. Just watching this new stranger. Nick picked her up in his arms.
"Alright, let's go." Nick spoke up. Coach turned to Nick. Coach led the way. Nick holding the child and following.
When they had finally made it to a safe house, Coach sighed as they set up the last of the baracade. Nick set the bags down in the corner, holding the sleeping child. He set her down gently on the still-intact couch. Nick looked down at her, exhausted. Coach stood next to him.
"Lord, This is gonna be a small handful." Coach smiled as he shook his head at the child. Nick nodded. You got that right, Coach. You got that right.