"Ellis. Ellis, sweetie, wake up," Rochelle called softly, shaking the little farm boy awake. Ellis started at first but with a gentle pat on the shoulder and easy smile from his awakener, he relaxed, blinking up at her with sleepy eyes. "Come here—and be quiet."

Ellis glanced slowly to his left where Nick still slept quietly. The conman's face was shifted away from Ellis and his bruised and cut hands were folded neatly in his lap. At first glance you may have thought he had fallen into a peaceful slumber, but at closer examination there was this strange anxious look still on his face. As if not even sleep could quite quiet the thoughts in his head.

Ellis scrambled to his feet as quietly as he could and when he had barely righted himself, Rochelle had grabbed his elbow and veered him off to the other side of the safe room to stand with Coach.

Ellis glanced nervously between the two of them and offered one of his unsure boyish grins. "Um… Hey?"

"What happened last night?" Rochelle breathed, risking a glance at the still sleeping conman.

Ellis stuttered, reaching up to run his fingers under his cap and take hold of his greasy locks. "Um…uh… Well…" So… they really didn't know the full extent of what had happened? Aw man, Ma always said it was wrong to lie but… for some reason it seemed more wrong to just blurt out that he may have just witnessed something real awful coming from Nick—I mean, come on, Nick! "You know… this is a zombie apocalypse and all… E-Everyone loses it here and there… I mean, I guess it was just Nick's time to like… Ya know… Show that he's human too...?"

At first Ellis wasn't sure if they'd buy his explanation because they gave him one of those stares that his Ma use to give him when she knew he was hiding something. He was positive that if they continued to stare long enough—like how Ma always did—he was going to spill everything. Ellis panicked and did what he did best—he began to rant…

"I mean it remind's me of, like, this one time that Keith and I got lost out on this huuuge lake and he was so sure we were gonna die, but I kept tellin' Keith we can still see land, man, we ain't gonna die! But he didn't believe me and all, and so he started carvin' out his will in the side of the boat and I swear, right when he finished willin' his stuff away—I was in it too, ya know, the will I mean. I was makin' fun of him 'bout that. I mean, like, why would he will somethin' to me when I was there with him? But, anyways, right when he finished—"

"Ellis," Rochelle said quietly, smiling patiently to him. Ellis stopped talking immediately and did his best to hide the guilt seeping up inside of him. "I'm just glad Nick had someone to talk to. Maybe he's warming up to you. About time… I was beginning to think he was an emotionless monster."

...Nick shifted slightly and blinked his eyes opened slowly. God… damn. This place still? He leaned forward slightly but not enough to draw attention to himself. He wasn't sure he cared to share with the others he was awake—he glanced to his right and noticed he sat alone. Fantastic.

His eyes fell upon his pistol laying barely an arms length away. Dull, scuffed black surface taunting him. He sneered at it before leaning over to pluck it off the ground and shove it angrily into its holster at his thigh. He let out a huff of breath as his eyes rose, noticing the cluster of the other three. He could hear Ellis voice rambling and his insides boiled. God damn snitch. Nick gnashed his teeth together and looked away. Fuck… this was the last thing he needed. Honestly, if the zombies weren't bad enough, why not throw in some whiney, overly sympathetic snot-nosed brats?

He sat there fuming until they noticed him. Ellis stiffened, glanced about hurriedly and then began to busy himself with packing ammo and weapons onto himself.

"Boy," Coach started, annoyed as he moved to stand beside him."You can't carry all that yourself, if you fall over you'll never be able to get back up." Ellis flushed furiously at this comment and began to hastily remove everything he had begun to shove on.

But it was Rochelle, of course, who took the time to wander over to the conman and offer her little spiel. "Nick?"

He looked up at her, eyes blazing with fire. So that fucking hick had spilled everything, huh? What was she going to do, take his gun away? Make him fight with a fucking skillet? Jesus Christ.

"Sorry, Nick, but it looks like there's nothing to eat this morning. Come on now, on your feet." She offered her hand and Nick couldn't quite hide his surprise. Well… that wasn't exactly what he had been expecting. He allowed her to help him up and then straightened, staring down into her half-hearted-attempt-to-smile face. "Still have to get that diesel, so just hang on. It can't be much further and then before you know it, we'll be out of here."

Nick almost laughed right in her face. Sure, maybe it was only a mile or two away, but she seemed to forget that they'd be wading through hundreds—maybe thousands of infected humans ready to tear them limb from limb. Yeah, sweetie, it was just a fucking stroll through the park and we'll be back on Virgil's boat heading for New Orleans where we'll be welcomed with opened arms, a shower and a gourmet meal. Yeah, sweetheart, you keep thinking that.

He pushed past her without a word and stormed over to the ammo deposit. Ellis glanced timidly to him before shuffling away and standing quietly before the door. A handful of Infected had wandered down the nearby hallway and upon seeing a fresh new victim charged the door, screaming and spit flying from their rasping mouths as they clawed and chewed savagely at the barrier. Ellis took a step back, startled.

Nick silently jerked on everything he could possibly carry before turning about to face the exit. He pulled the very same pistol he had almost off-ed himself earlier with and simultaneously shot each of the slobbering Infected one by one in the head. They crumbled to the ground like paper dolls, throaty gasps and groans escaping their lips as they piled before the door.

Christ… Watching Nick shoot those zombies was… chilling. Any emotion that Ellis had seen last night was gone. If Ellis didn't know any better, he would have thought maybe Nick was a zombie too.

"Help me get the door opened, Overalls," Nick said flatly, shoving the pistol back into its holster. He pulled the bar up and together the two heaved themselves against the door—shoving bodies aside like piles of garbage. "Are we ready?" Nick glanced back, leaning against the door to keep it ajar, "Well?"

"All right, let's get some gas!" Coach called enthusiastically, hiking up his weapon strap as he marched out confidently.

The three exited and Nick watched them go. He took in one shuddering breath that only seemed to make his chest ache and regretting every second of it, followed. This was going to be some real fucking cakewalk, huh?

He moved in a daze and he wasn't quite sure why. This whole thing was starting to feel like a dream. No—a nightmare. Nightmares are something you wish you'd wake up from, dreams are just something you shrug off the next morning. Jesus… this was the longest nightmare he had ever endured.

"Shit, looks like we got to hit this switch for the elevator," Coach said, glancing down over the building. "I think that's a sugar cane field down there. And damn, I hear a witch—maybe two." He did not dare to offer there may be more. "Well, I'm hittin' it. Get ready." The man balled up his fist and slammed it to the up button. There was a debilitating shriek and a blare of lights as the elevator nosily made its way upward.

Nick groaned inwardly. Fuck, they'd never get break, would they? Now every god damn zombie within a mile knew there was fresh meat just standing idly by while this elevator took its sweet time making it's way up. Great. This just seemed all worth it. Thanks, Overalls. Real fucking southern gentleman you are.

The hordes seemed to never end and it appeared as though all the ammo in the world wouldn't be able to save them. Screaming, flailing limbs tore into them, nails dragged through their skin and opened little annoying scratches that stung like hell but wouldn't kill. Nick grappled with a particularly aggressive Infected that had taken to gnawing at his arm insistently. He managed to shove it away, but not before it took a mouthful of suit with it.

The zombie fell away in a flail, and almost immediately was on its feet again. Fuck, was it that stubborn? Nick had half the mind to let it simply chew away his insides and let it just end this stupid struggle already. However, Ellis spun around and with all his strength heaved his axe down and decapitated the creature. Its rotting head popped off like a bottle cap and rolled away. Ellis stood over the zombie, heaving and staring hard at the conman.

"Hey, man, you all righ'?" Ellis asked quietly. Nick was leaning heavily against the wall, panting, blood soaking threw his left sleeve. "Nick?"

"Elevator's here!" Rochelle called, "Come on, guys. Get inside."

Nick made no effort to move—he was staring, blankly, eyes glossy and emotionless and so Ellis tentatively reached out to tugged at his sleeve. Nick blinked once and glanced up, seemed to realize where he was, and silently moved into the elevator. Ellis followed.

The elevator jarred loudly as hinges began to grind as it began to make its way down. It was an uncomfortable silence. Their bodies radiated with heat and the smell of blood was thick in the air. In the distance, thunder was rumbling and the air was heavy with humidity. And not-so-far-away there was the sob and wail of witches. To say the least, Ellis understood why Nick felt the way he did. This sure was depressing.

"Hey man, let me fix you up before we go out there," Ellis said, pulling the first aid from his back. Nick looked lazily to him and then down to himself, seemingly for the first time noticing his bloody arm. Ellis pulled a few bandages out and began to wrap it tightly over Nick's wound, "Hey, it ain't so bad, Nick. Does it hurt?"

Nick failed to reply and so Ellis finished his amateur patch job as quickly as he could. The uncomfortable silence continued until the elevator came to a screeching halt. The doors opened.

"Aw, man, this sugar cane field sucks! I can't see a damn thing—" Before Ellis could finish, thunder boomed and the heavens vomited a hailstorm right onto their heads. Penny sized balls of pure ice slammed against them and the scream of an enraged witch reverberated somewhere to the left. "Holy shit, guys..."

"Stay close, boys, we're going to have to run through this field as fast as we can." Rochelle pointed, and although it was hard to see, it was still barely in view, "See that sign up there? If you get lost, just follow that sign… and watch for that witch, she sounds pretty pissed."

No one said anything as they half ran, half sprinted through the wavering stalks of sugar cane. It slapped against them, stinging at opened wounds and tearing their eyes. They dared to sprint only because they feared what they may find in this sea of green, but ran in fear that they'd stumble across something they'd be too scared to face. Shit, this place was like an ice storm of miserable. Then, probably only because God found it amusing, a hard rain swept over them in a heavy shield of white.

Shit… He felt so helpless, so alone and weak. The conman shuddered and reached out blindly behind himself as he ran, hoping to maybe catch hold of whoever it was that was behind him, hoping that a simple reassuring touch would ease his thundering heart. He felt a hand take his and he glanced back only long enough to note that it was Ellis. For some reason, Nick was satisfied with that, but he didn't take the time to examine the reasons behind it.

When they broke through the sugar cane Nick almost lost his footing, surprised that it had ended. Hands still clasped together, the two turned back towards the field. There was no signs of their companions. The rain didn't help and when Ellis called out for them it was drowned out by the thunder. Shit… They all knew where they were going though, right? Standing out here in the open wasn't helping anyone.

Nick turned to the southerner and moved close only so he could yell into the others ear, "Come on, let's get inside. Maybe they're already there." Ellis nodded his agreement, glancing painfully one last time towards the field and sent a little prayer for Rochelle and Coach. They'd be all right. They had to be.

Nick neglected to let go of Ellis'hand, and since the other didn't seem to mind or notice, he just continued to hold on to it as he tugged the other inside of what looked to be a beat up cafe or shitty gas station… Either way, there had better be some god damn fuel here or Nick was sure he was going to run screaming back into that sugar cane field, guns blazing in fury.

They stumbled inside, wet and gasping for air. The blood on Nicks suit had faded into a flowery pink and it may have looked pretty had it been under any other circumstance. The two limped their way to a backroom. It seemed like somewhere safe to hide.

"Jesus, there you two are!" Rochelle breathed, throwing open the door. "We were getting ready to come look for you."

For the first time since he had grabbed Ellis hand, he realized he was still holding it. He quickly let go of it as though he had been holding a live wire and without saying a word moved inside. Ellis followed and then helped Rochelle pin a table against the door.

"Is there gas here?" Nick asked flatly. He looked expectantly to Coach who was sitting in the corner, sweat and rain still beading on his bald head.

Coach nodded, grinning. "Rochelle and I about tripped over the damn things trying to get inside…" He shook his head, still unable to hide his joy, "There's an angel looking over us, my friends. A real angel."

Nick scoffed loudly and threw himself down into the opposite corner, pulling off the assault rifle and anything else that jabbed and prodded him painfully when he sat. A guardian angel huh? Some fucking angel.

Thunder shattered the outside world and stole their hearing. The faint buzz made Nick's head feel fuzzy and he squinted out at the other three. They were alive, that was for sure. But they'd have to turn around and go back the same way they had come. If they were lucky, they'd die painlessly, maybe even unknowingly. Every time they left a safe room, it always seemed like it took longer to find another. They weren't going to last much longer.

Personally, Nick hoped he'd die a quick, painless-without-even-realizing-it sort of death. Just like the pull of a trigger and a bullet through the head.

Nick let out a shaking breath and rested his head against the wall, staring at the peeled paint. As his adrenaline began to wear down he was beginning to feel all the bumps, scraps and bruises he had received—especially the fresh ones. His left arm pulsated with pain and he was too exhausted to even look at it. Shit… knowing his luck he'd lose it to—what was it? Gangrene? Yeah, that sounds about right. His luck was shit as of late.

Ellis plopped down beside him and Nick started, looking sharply to him. The kid offered him a lopsided smile and adjusted his hat. "I don't think we're gonna be able to go anywhere tonight. The rain outsides pretty bad, so we should probably try to wait it out 'til mornin'."

"Fine, but do you have to sit so close?" Nick snarled. Ellis blinked, mouth twitching into a frown and he glanced about. Nick did too… Well… In Ellis' defense, the place was pretty damn small. Ellis shuffled to move but Nick quickly grabbed the others shoulder. "Sorry, it's fine. Just no god damn Keith stories. All right?"

Ellis' expression softened a little and he tried to smile, "Yeah, sure. No Keith stories."

The silence filled the air again. That uncomfortable silence that always seemed to follow after one of their nauseating escapades leading to one of these dreadful rooms. It was that maddening silence. The kind that let the mind wander and mull over things.

The kind of silence that made you wish you were dead.

A/N: EDIT: Working on fixing all the errors and Ellis' accent.

Ellis is fun to write with. I'll be honest. I think he's the kind of character that everyone wishes they'd have come up with as their own. He makes me smile. Although, his southern twang is really hard to get right. (Which reminds me, the other night, I was serving a bar full of southern accents and overalls. SERIOUSLY, I had to go into the back and just laugh hysterically. Gawd, those accents are pure gold... It was made only more funny by the fact that I live way north, so it was completely inappropriate attire and accents for this area)

Anyways... I was too lazy to bring them all the way through the 2nd part of Hard Rain, I think this particular area is, and so I just skipped to the good part. So... as this story progresses, it will go through the rest of Hard Rain here, the Parish and... not sure how it'll end yet. Can't decide if I should be a dickhead about it, or make it a sappy ending. I guess it'll depend on how it continues to develop.

Sorry if this is a lot different then the last chapter. I think I'd die of a heartattack if I had to keep up with Nick's constant state of anxiety and dread. It's like a roller coaster, my friends. It'll come back tenfold soon.

Thank you so much on all the kind words too. I really appreciate it.

Them 4 belong to Valve.