So sleeepyyy...but I thought I'd go ahead and post this because I'll be busy this weekend with graduation stuff. Thank you all for the great reviews, it really makes me feel good to know people appreciate the effort!
Nick sat alone on a box in the theater-turned-laboratory, staring down the empty gurneys with their brown and bloody sheets. The bodies of those left behind had long since been carried outside and disposed of by he and Coach, just another morbid chore in the daily life of a survivor. And just as it had before being saved, before being secure and protected in a camp, faces ran together until all Nick saw were glowing eyes and bloody mouths, until soon he was seeing them even when there were no zombies around. Normally it helped to look at his teammates, to see they were still there with him and they were still healthy, still human. But now one wasn't healthy or human, and he could tell the other two, like himself, were becoming hopeless and haggard.
They were running out of food. They'd begun rationing what they ate, staring in contrition at empty boxes and wrappers as they chewed. What didn't help was that a good bit of food went toward Ellis to keep him happy and relatively tame.
Nick glanced over toward the red steel door, and heard the happy snuffling of Ellis inside. The boy was freshly bathed, dressed in his old clothes that Rochelle had washed in a tub. He was currently dining on the contents of a can of Spam. Nick felt Spam was something to be avoided whether human or zombie, but Ellis didn't seem too discerning.
And Nick. Nick was just bitter at the irony of it all. Because only minutes after he had made that heartfelt speech about getting Ellis back to normal, only minutes after he had opened himself up and allowed Coach and Rochelle to see that damn it, he did care about the little redneck, he had promptly lost the will to keep trying.
It didn't take long for Nick to lose interest in something. Give up, move on. That's what he had always lived by, and now he could feel it setting in again. Ellis wasn't Ellis, and it hadn't taken long for him to realize it. He was, truly, a monster, sick with madness and anger and so many other afflictions the real Ellis never had.
Coach seemed to agree with Nick in that silent way that doesn't need explaining. He was just as amiable to Ellis as always, even going so far as to be the first to offer up his food to the boy (much to Nick's surprise) but the many sad shakes of his head indicated that he too felt Ellis was just too far gone. Rochelle was in perhaps an even worse situation of still thinking she could change the boy. Nick couldn't blame her. After all, she had taken him in as part of her family, someone to be cared for and babied.
Sometimes Nick wondered if he wasn't upset enough about the whole situation. But detachment was one thing he did well, a self-defense mechanism learned from childhood.
Some things were hard to change.
He eyed the polished metal equipment tray beside him. One more vial of tranquilizer sat on the edge. The last tiny vial they had been able to find.
Nick had to let Ellis go.
"Two boxes of cereal, a can of pineapple, one more thing of Spam, two granola bars..."Rochelle sighed, sitting on her knees in the larder and shifting through their remaining food, "It'll probably last us...what? A week, if we're really careful?"
Coach raised an eyebrow at her and she sighed in defeat. They had been expecting the military to show up before they ran out of food, or at least the appearance of a shipment vehicle bringing in new supplies. But they hadn't seen another human in weeks.
"You're right, we'd be lucky to last that long. And Ellis would need to eat too," she tossed a granola bar back into the pile.
"We gonna have to move on, girl. I was hopin' the military would be here by now, but we ain't got time to wait for them no more. Not with our food runnin' out like it is. Besides, maybe it's a blessin' that they never showed up. I don't reckon we'd be able to save the boy from them..."
A pained look crossed Rochelle's face as she stood.
"But how are we going to take him with us? There's no way...and even if there were, what would happen when we got to civilization? It'd be like delivering him back to CEDA for more experiments. Or the soldiers would just shoot him on sight."
"I tell you what, baby girl, you don't bother about that right now. We'll just cross that bridge when we get to it, okay? That boy's gonna be fine, just fine," he gave her a fatherly squeeze of the shoulder and stepped out of the larder, "Where'd Nick get to?"
"He's back in the lab again. I'm getting worried about him."
"I'm always worried about him. Ever since the day we met."
"Yeah," Rochelle laughed, "but there's a difference between being worried he'll kill us in our sleep and being worried that he's depressed."
She stopped there as the double doors of the kitchen opened and Nick stalked in, hands shoved into his pockets.
"Speak of the devil," Coach called, "how's Ellis?"
"Gone."
"What? What do you mean gone?" Rochelle asked, her voice rising in a panic, "Oh my God, don't tell me something happened to him!"
"He escaped," he answered blankly. Coach and Rochelle blanched.
"Escaped?"
"Bullshit! How's the boy s'posed to escape with that big ole lock in the way?"
"I went inside and didn't lock it back in time."
It almost felt good to slip back into his old habit of lying. Though Nick himself wasn't sure why he felt he had to lie, why he couldn't just tell them the truth; he'd drugged Ellis and carted him outside, past the fence and into the woods, where he'd left him. But the lie let him take less responsibility. If the slumbering Ellis were torn apart by zombies then Nick wouldn't be able to take the blame. At least, the blame of Coach and Rochelle.
"Shit! You mean he could be free inside the school?" the woman put her hands to her head and groaned.
"I saw him jump through a window," Nick closed his eyes wearily, sighing, "he's not here anymore. He's gone...he's gone."
"Should we look around?" Rochelle promptly moved her arms to glance wildly at the two men, "I'm going to go look around."
Coach's big hand stopped her.
"Ro, listen. Think about what we was just talkin' about. Maybe it's better this way. Maybe this way, Ellis...he won't be killed or hurt. We couldn't keep him forever. Not if we wanted to keep on survivin'."
Nick watched as the woman bit her lip and nodded and agreed before excusing herself and walking briskly out the kitchen, trying to keep them from seeing the tears running down her cheeks. What Coach said was true. If they wanted to survive, to truly survive as humans in a functional society, they couldn't be weighed down with a monster that only vaguely resembled the visage of their former teammate.
Still, despite the good reasons, despite lying to himself and his friends, Nick felt fatigue in his mind and sickness in his heart.
Because he knew Ellis would never have left any of them behind.
Two more days found them practically without food. Even without Ellis' added consumption, the resources went by quickly. They took advantage of the little remaining energy they had by filling bottles with water and stocking up medical supplies and ammunition for the journey they knew they'd have to make.
It'd be a lot more difficult this time around, with only three. And there was an unspoken uneasiness between them. Why use the effort to try and find CEDA when the organization had done such awful things to people? What if CEDA tried the same with them? Nick certainly didn't fancy the thought of turning into a filthy zombie. It didn't help that they'd been unable to find a single intact vehicle in this place. It looked like when the camp had been overrun, the employees really had made a break for it.
"Another bottle filled," Coach wiped an arm across his heavy brow. They were outside in the heat of midday, at a tap that boasted a good supply of fresh, cool drinking water.
"You think we'll be able to carry all these?" Nick asked cynically. Coach shrugged.
"Till we have to drop 'em. You want water, don't you, Nick?"
Nick didn't respond, he figured his glare was answer enough.
"Boys, now don't-" Rochelle started, but her voice was drowned out by the hum of a motor. They looked from their chore, just in time to see a gleaming vehicle crash through the compound gates, skidding to an abrupt halt just in front of them.
It was a large, violently yellow vehicle, something that looked like a cross between a Hummer and a monster truck, and certainly looked like it'd been in a rally or two. It had suffered huge dents in its sides and cracks to the windshield, with dried blood and gore streaked over the front.
They all stood stunned, even as the doors were pushed open and the passengers stepped out. It'd been a long time since they'd seen any other survivors.
And these three were certainly survivors in the truest sense of the word. They were huge, strapping men, taller than Coach and wide with muscle.
"Look what we got here, boys!" the driver, a big redheaded man wearing a cap, spat on the ground.
"Haven't seen many people around hereabouts," a large-jawed man garbed in a solider's uniform said, heavy hands placed on his hips.
"Well shit," Coach wiped a hand on his shirt to clean it, offering it to the driver, "it's been ages since we seen any other people!"
The man grinned, took firm hold of Coach's hand, then in the blink of an eye yanked him forward and kneed him hard in the gut. Coach let out a soundless grunt and kneeled forward, stunned and gasping for the air that had been knocked out of him.
Nick whipped his pistol out of its holster but immediately found himself staring down the thin barrel of a sniper rifle. The guy behind it bared his broken teeth in a smug leer.
"Drop it," he barked. Nick shot him the coldest glare he could muster, which in no way seemed to affect the snaggletoothed man, and tossed the pistol to the dusty ground before raising his palms.
"You got food and guns, old man?" the driver shook Coach by his collar. The ex-football player gave the man a look of pure animosity, then hurled his bulk forward and tackled the redhead onto the ground. Rochelle acted quickly, darting out from behind Nick and snatching up the conman's discarded pistol.
But the redheaded man was just too strong, and had delivered a swift kick to Coach's head that knocked him flat and bleeding on the ground. The man with the heavy jaw grabbed Nick's arms and held them behind his back, while the sniper struck Rochelle hard across the cheek with his gun, sending her sprawling onto the ground and the pistol skidding out of her reach.
"What's your name, sweetheart?" once finished with Coach, the driver kneeled down to Rochelle, placing his jeaned thighs on either side of her hips, "My name's Buck. Figured I should tell you because you're gonna wanna be screamin' it soon."
"You son of a-" Nick snarled and was rewarded by a painful twist of his arms. Rochelle yelled as the man started pulling at her shirt, clawing desperately at him only to have her thin wrists gripped in his large hands.
"Buck, save some for me," Nick smelled the acrid breath of the man behind him as he spoke over the gambler's shoulder.
"Only after I-"
But they never found out what Buck was going to do, because an unearthly shriek cut through the air and, in a blur of tan and blue, he was lying several feet away, blood spilling from his abdomen and intestines strewn across the ground. He gaped at his open wound, pawing in disbelief at the slimy coils protruding from his body.
Above him, Ellis stood hunched, claws rigid and ready. He snapped his head up and screamed like Nick had never heard a Hunter or a human scream before; a primordial noise of raw anger, hate, panic, worry, all reverberating through the air and making it shudder and churn.
"Shit!" the man immediatley let go of Nick, backing off as quick as his stumbling feet would let him, "Hunter! Shoot that thing, shoot it!"
Snaggletooth, panicked, raised his gun and shot twice, just as Ellis was leaping toward him. The shots hit Ellis in the right shoulder but it wasn't enough to stop him; he landed heavily, raking his claws in a wild move that rid the sniper of his gun and several of his fingers. Ellis continued clawing, talons digging deep into the man's chest, sprays of blood shooting through the air.
The one in soldier's clothes scrambled back to the Hummer, but the boy saw him and shot off of the now-dead sniper and onto the hood of the vehicle, letting loose a tremendous shriek right into the man's face. The man screamed back in terror and ran, tripping over his own legs and landing behind the vehicle, out of sight. Ellis jumped over the top of the car and on top of the man, and a two sets of shrieks rang in unison through the air.
Nick and Rochelle helped Coach up, Rochelle holding a torn portion of her shirt to the bleeding wound on Coach's head, and then they watched. All they could see of the man from behind the car were his legs, kicking and twitching, and an ever-growing puddle of blood seeping into the dry dirt around them. Soon the legs stopped moving and the air grew silent once more.
The three stood still and staring, each terrified to move and unaware that they were holding onto the other for support.
Ellis hopped back onto the top of the car, the front of his body red and gleaming with wet blood. He crawled forth, favoring his right arm, until he rested on the hood, and growled at them.
"Oh God," Rochelle's knees buckled and Nick held her up to keep her from fainting. Coach wasn't much better, he was dazed from the kicks to his stomach and head.
"Ellis," Nick whispered, watching the boy and expecting any minute to be pounced. But instead, Ellis turned and crawled to the side of the car, slipping like a snake through the open driver's side window. Through the windshield, Nick could see him snuffling and rooting through the Hummer until he found what he was looking for. He emerged with a can of ravioli clamped firmly into his mouth and hopped down to the ground before tearing open the top and enjoying his spoils.
Nick watched, because that's all he could think of to do. He couldn't move, his legs were rooted firmly in place as if made of concrete. The whole thing had happened so fast. If it weren't for Ellis, he and Coach would probably be dead by now and Rochelle would be suffering through something perhaps even worse. But seeing the boy literally rip apart three huge men with such ease...it didn't make Nick want to go over and thank him.
"It's the boy...?" Coach muttered dazedly, blood obscuring the vision in one eye.
"Yeah," Nick answered softly. Ellis looked up at the sound of Nick's voice, his face red with blood and marinara.
"Oh God," Rochelle repeated, and Nick could feel her fighting the urge to vomit. Ellis looked back to the ground and pawed at the empty can for a moment, then slowly turned and limped back to the Hummer, crawling under it and curling up in the dirt like a dog escaping the heat. He tucked his claws under his head and closed his eyes tightly.
Nick watched a few more moments before ushering Coach and Rochelle back inside. They all sat at a long cafeteria bench, and Nick bandaged up Coach's wound as Rochelle sat shaking at the end of the table.
"Jesus Christ," he muttered, firmly wrapping the bandage around Coach's head, "Jesus Christ. Can you believe that shit? Goddamn."
"Shit, I wasn't no help at all," Coach groaned as Nick finished, casting a look over at the trembling Rochelle, "I'm sorry, Ro, I'm real sorry."
"It's all right," she offered a troubled smile, rubbing her arms with flat palms, "those guys were huge...bigger than you. You couldn't have done anything."
"Guess the boy's been hangin' around, huh?" Coach asked earnestly, eager for a change of subject.
"Maybe he wanted more food," Nick remarked sullenly, plopping down beside Coach with a weary sigh.
"Well, he found it, didn't he?" Rochelle asked, "in that car. Maybe there's more. We should...probably go back out there and look."
"Ellis is out there," Coach pointed out. Nick shoot his head.
"He's not gonna hurt us. If he wanted to, he would have after taking out those three pricks."
The other two agreed with what Nick felt was weary reluctance, and after a considerable amount of time catching their breath and rebuilding their nerve, they headed back outside to the Hummer.
The sun was making its journey to the horizon line and the evening was cooling off, but Ellis was still curled up under the vehicle, his back turned to them. He lifted his head and growled slightly as they approached, but was quick to lay it back down, passive and still. Cautiously, they opened the doors to the Hummer and rooted through the contents.
Rochelle was right. There were bags of food, enough to get them by for another two weeks or so. There were also a few clips of ammunition, a little drinking water and a plethora of magazines Nick planned on keeping, but made Rochelle blush and roll her eyes. They piled the supplies on the ground outside, careful to avoid the mangled bodies, which had already begun to stink and draw flies. And still Ellis didn't move.
Nick wondered if maybe Ellis had been seriously injured. Usually, he'd be interested in any activity his human compatriots took, no matter how minimal it was, traipsing forward on all fours and tilting his head at each noise and movement. He had been a curious zombie, just as he had been a curious human. Nick still couldn't forget the time Ellis had paused during one of their frantic runs for the safe room to inspect the corpse of a Smoker, poking with disgusted delight at the bloated tumors before being pummeled into the opposing wall by a Charger. It was that kind of curiosity that made Ellis so annoying and so endearing.
Nick crouched down, peering under the car. Ellis lay on his left side, and Nick could see visible exit wounds on his back from where the bullets had pierced him. Blood, his own blood, stained the back of his shirt.
"Is he okay?" Rochelle hunkered down beside Nick.
"I dunno, he was shot. Looks like he's been bleeding pretty heavily."
She gave Nick a look.
"We can't just leave him here to bleed out, Nick. Not after what he did."
The gambler, for all his desperation to be rid of Ellis and the pain that came along with him, couldn't help but agree.
Getting Ellis inside was a difficult task. He was quite unenthusiastic about the whole thing, even when Nick wagged a hearty strip of beef jerky at him to get him to crawl out from under the Hummer. It took some cooing and goading but he eventually obliged, dragging himself out and snapping half-heartedly at the meat. Nick stepped back toward the building, urging Ellis to follow. The boy gave him a frustrated look or two, and paused often, but in twenty or thirty minutes time, they had him sitting on top of one of the cafeteria benches. He was tired and injured and weak, so him managing to attack them didn't seem likely.
Nick pulled off the boy's shirt, grimacing at the blood-stiffened material. Rochelle followed up, dabbing at Ellis' wounds with antiseptic. The southerner hissed and arched his back, but was otherwise placid. Coach advanced with the bandages, wrapping Ellis' shoulder and arm gently.
"That should do you, boy," he stepped back after giving Ellis a light pat on the arm.
"You don't think he lost too much blood, do you?" Rochelle twisted her thin fingers together, "he looks a little pale."
"He's a goddamn zombie, of course he looks pale," Nick retorted, a thick eyebrow raised. Ellis gave an impressive yawn and looked from Nick to Rochelle to Coach, before opening his mouth again and beginning to utter an impressive amount of unintelligible yaps and growls. The other three narrowed confused eyes at the odd behavior. Ellis just continued with the noises, mouth working up and down quickly, pausing every few seconds for his tongue to dart out and lick his dry lips.
"What the hell's he doin'?" Coach asked warily. Nick studied him for a few more minutes before it dawned on him and he burst into uncharacteristic laughter.
"He's fucking talking! Just listen, he won't goddam shut up, just like before!"
Nick ignored the looks of the other two and just continued laughing. It was just like Ellis. The kid was probably trying to brag about how he had taken out those three guys, asking if he looked cool doing it.
And Ellis, though feeble and deranged as he was, stopped growling in the face of Nick's laughter and peered up at him, his lips pulled back and teeth bared in what Nick knew was a grin.
