Nick awoke with start of adrenaline and he wasn't really sure what had triggered it. He sat stiffly, breathing deep breaths through his mouth and trying hard to pinpoint exactly what had. Outside the raspy chokes of meandering Infected became the obvious suspect… However…

Passed out, shamelessly, was Ellis. Still by his side—well, more so draped against Nick with his head on his shoulder comfortably, snoring. Nick studied the others face for a moment and debated whether he should shove him aside. After relishing the different sorts of possible outcomes and disappointed and hurt-filled looks the hick would probably give him, Nick decided that those looks would be short-lived. He'd rather just keep the kid quiet. Let him sleep. He seemed peaceful… Content.

Nick tilted his head slightly to look at Ellis' face a little more clearly. Well… wasn't that just sweet. The little guy could just close his eyes and be totally unaffected by the last few months of horrors— almost like they had all just been on some big ass hike cross country and—zombies? What zombies? Nah, we're just hiking, man. You know? We got one of them maps and a big ol' walking stick and our backpacks. Yeah, man, it's just for fun. You know?

Nick let out a sigh and reached over with one hand to touch the Ellis' sleeping face, admiring the youthful optimism there. It would be nice, he had to admit, to have the strength and brightness Ellis had. To just be able to shake off the bad with a goofy grin and a good ol' story about your buddy. Yeah… that'd be nice.

Nick sighed again, eyes closing as his hand slipped away back into his own lap. At least one of them would get out of this mentally unscathed.

Nick awoke again, this time from Rochelle shaking him gently. The conman blinked several times, reaching up to rub his eyes. God he felt like shit. Like he hadn't gotten a damn wink of sleep. Like someone had shoved needles into his eyes and a razor down his arm. He glanced once quickly to Ellis and away, but then back again as he noticed that the supposedly sleeping angel from before had drooled all over him.

"God damn it, Ellis!" Nick spat, shrugging his shoulder and consequently forcing Ellis awake. "Like the god damn Boomer bile and Spitter shit isn't bad enough." Ellis looked to the other with a sleepy what'd-I-do look and Nick had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. God damn kid. Nick reached over to grab Ellis' hat from his sleepy fingers and pulled it roughly onto his head. "Get up. Time to go."

Ellis pushed the brim of the hat out of his eyes, still blinking and yawning, "Okay," he replied simply. Then, slowly, as if just noticing it, he reached up to brush the drool from his chin. He became suddenly very aware of what Nick had been referring to.

Ellis flushed and quickly began to spill out a nonsense apology, "S-Sorry, Nick… Didn't mean to r-ruin your… your…" But he couldn't quite make the apology sincere. He was beginning to laugh. "Hahaha! Didn't mean to—" he gasped for a breath in between his boyish laughter, "ruin your nice white suit, Nick. Man, that thing won't ever get clean. Whatcha worried 'bout?"

Again, Nick had to fight the urge to smile down at the hick and gave him a stiff nudge in the leg with his hard shoe. "Get up already. And you're apologizing for drooling all over me. That's disgusting."

Ellis scrambled to his feet, little giggles still escaping even as Coach passed everyone a little junk food to snack on. The four munched in near silence, Ellis still giggling quietly in the corner. However, the sudden lurch of blood soaked arm through a growing crack in the barricade caused them all to jump. It somberly reminded them that it was no time to laugh.

They quickly finished their poor excuse for a meal and began to strap back on weapons, first aid and the damned diesel that their practically suicidal mission had called for. Nick swore that if Virgil failed to meet them, or was worse, dead, he was going to kill whoever the hell had suggested to go get the damn gas.

"Are we ready then?" Rochelle asked. She didn't expect an answer, and so when no one bothered to reply she moved to pull the barricade down. Being closest, Nick helped her.

God damn. Here we go.

Ellis kicked the door opened, sending three Infected flying back. The mechanic stepped around the door, barrel leading as he shot out a few bursts of fire that tore them to pieces. They laid still and did not move again.

The four gathered themselves and began to make their way back outside. And damn it all to hell, it was pouring—still. So much for waiting it out. Thunder and lightening more terrible than anything Nick had ever witnessed screamed and bellowed. Rain soaked them to the bone in a manner of seconds. Yeah… He was still in the nightmare.

"We'll have to go back through the sugar cane field," Coach said. "Stick close, the weather won't be helping."

Rochelle reached out to place her hand on Coach's back and then held her hand out for Ellis. Ellis took her hand. The mechanic paused then, turned to look at Nick and then offered not only his hand but a curiously shy smile as well. Nick blinked once before taking his hand. The four trudged deep into the sugar cane field, almost lost, almost found, but together.

Nick wasn't sure why, but Ellis was squeezing his hand in an almost death-like grip. Maybe the kid was scared. With stupid green stalks slapping you in the face, thunder above, rain in your eyes and god knows what's out there creeping about, Nick had to admit, he was a little scared too. He squeezed the others hand reassuringly. Ellis' grip seemed to relax a little, but continued to stay firm.

"Here's the elevator again, guys! Let's go!" Coach called. Although the distance they had traveled had been quite a feat, it almost seemed not long enough. That was strange. Nick felt his hand tingling oddly after he released Ellis'.

"Hold on, let me check this shack," the conman said, ducking into it. Ellis stood nervously outside, gripping his rifle tightly with both hands as he kept a worried watch.

"What are you doing?" he finally whispered curiously.

"Grabbing something. Here." Nick tossed the mechanic a pipe bomb. "Homemade is always the best." Ellis gave him an odd look before hooking it onto the makeshift loop he had made specifically for Molotov's or pipe bombs. Hell they had all done it. There was no use shoving them in places they couldn't reach easily or burdening themselves with too many. One was all you needed—and with all of them caring one, four was plenty.

Nick moved to grab another pipe bomb but paused, eyes falling to the Molotov laying sideways, half of the alcohol missing. Nick patted at his pocket. Yeah, his lighter was still there. Although he couldn't even recall the last time he had had a smoke.

"Nick, hurry it up already man," Ellis said quietly, glancing about nervously.

The conman hesitated a moment longer, reaching for the Molotov and hooking it onto his belt. The two joined Coach and Rochelle in the elevator.

"What were you doing?" Rochelle asked, unable to hide her annoyance. She bashed the up button, face sour. The elevator made another annoying moan as the neglected gears whined and began lifting them upward.

"Ah, thought I'd take a catnap. All that hand holding really got me tired," Nick replied flatly.

She gave him a venomous look. "At least you're back to normal," she snapped back.

Before he could reply the elevator doors opened. A sea of screaming faces met them. In the distance a flash of lightening whitened the sky while around them the sound of gunfire erupted and each flash that lit up the room had a strangely beautiful effect. Infected crumpled to the ground, trying to claw over each other, but soon the rush was gone. They lay still. But that, God forbid, wasn't the end of it.

Before Nick had one foot out of the elevator he could feel the ground shake. He had felt that before. Had felt this sudden terror in his chest before. He knew what was coming, but even so the sudden behemoth creature crashing towards him surprised him.

"Holy shit, guys! We've got a Tank!" The words had barely escaped his lips when the monstrous thing swung one meaty arm at him. It caught him in the chest and sent him flying backwards in an ungraceful flail. God, he was lucky he could still breathe. Nick struggled to his feet, grabbing for the Molotov at his hip and the lighter in his pocket. Jesus, it seemed like too much of a hassle but the thought was short lived. He lit the alcohol-drenched rag and then threw it hard.

His aim was true and the monstrous Infected erupted into hot flames. It let out a terrifying bellow and charged forward, skin melting away, flesh bubbling and hissing. It screamed—maybe in pain, maybe in rage. It was all the same.

Nick back-peddled quick, trying to jerk his weapon strap out of the way, but the god damn thing had caught under his gun holster. Shit. Shit. Shit. He was going to get smothered to death by a flaming zombie. Well, fuck. That certainly didn't seem like the quick way to go.

The Tank's arm came whipping about and Nick threw himself to the ground, narrowly missed by the flaming flesh. He could hear his companions screaming, could practically feel bullets zipping by him, but all he could do was think about crawling, scrambling out of reach of the creature as it thundered, thrashed and clawed after him.

God damn it. Not like this. Not like this. Please, not like this.

"Nick, Nick. Stop, you're okay. It's dead. It's dead now, Nick." Ellis grabbed onto the conman to keep him from crawling anymore. Nick was shaking, a new nasty gash pulsating blood from his forehead, but otherwise he seemed remarkably unhurt. But, Christ, did he look scared. Ellis couldn't recall ever seeing Nick looked so damned scared.

"R-Right… Right, I'm okay… I'm fine." Ellis helped him to his feet and the two regarded each other. Nick blinked, reaching up to press his fingers against his stomach and chest. It was tender, but nothing seemed broken. Jesus. Did being alive still make him lucky or unlucky? Fuck if he knew anymore.

"Here, let me…" Ellis moved to grab his first aid, but Nick shook his head and wiped his sleeve over his forehead. Most of the blood smeared awfully and Ellis cringed.

"Don't bother, I'm fine."

"But, Nick…"

"I said don't bother!" Christ, you'd think someone would take advantage of the thought of keeping their bandages for one more fucking minute. Nick reached down to unhook the assault rifles strap from under his holster and cursed colorfully under his breath. He readjusted it into his hands comfortably. "Let's go."

Coach shook his head slowly, offering a slight grin, "What made you grab the Molotov?"

Nick breathed out, indecorous. "Intuition, I guess." Coach laughed at this and Nick shot him an annoyed glare.

Most of the rest of their trip back was uneventful, but fuck, was it raining hard. More than once Nick found himself practically pressed up against one of his companions just so he could keep tabs on them. Sight became useless, touch became essential. More than once he found himself pressed up against Ellis' back, practically breathing down his neck and each time Ellis had practically smothered him back with touch—almost as if he were afraid he'd suddenly disappear in a cloud of misty rain. Oddly, Ellis was the only one to have ever really responded so much to his closeness.

They slipped their way up and over broken down and rusting parts of the Sugar Mill Factory. Although at the time it had seemed a good idea to cross on it instead of mucking about through the mud and water below, Nick was starting to realize if they fell from there it was a long fall to Hell. Shit, it may not even kill. It'd probably just snap your back in two and leave you there mewling like a little bitch as zombies tore you to pieces. Jesus… what a terrible thought.

"This way, I think I found that building we first went through." Nick slid off the pipe they had been cautiously moving across and turned to help Rochelle down. Coach waved away his hand and slid down noisily, continuing into the building, Rochelle close at his side. Ellis came next, walking like some little kid pretending to be an airplane, arms outstretched, one foot delicately being placed in front of the other, a stupid grin on his face.

He didn't know why, but Nick rose both his hands up for the other and Ellis took them, shifted forward and then leaped right into his chest. Nick grunted at the impact and fell back against the wall, somehow managing to not drop the other who was now crushed up against him. Ellis laughed.

"Good catch, Nick."

"Fuck, kid, you're going to break my back if you do that again." Yet for a moment, he didn't let go. He just continued to keep the other crushed up against him. He enjoyed the fact that Ellis was still clinging to him, how they were drenched to the bone, practically breathing each others breaths, faces only inches apart—like two lovers in some cheesy romance movie. Wait, what? This was Ellis.

Nick quickly released the other and Ellis fell the last few inches onto his feet. Nick's hands were raised out wide, almost as if he were afraid to touch the mechanic. For a moment their eyes bore into each other. Nick's were hard, maybe defensive, while Ellis seemed to stare back with a sort of kind naivety. Finally, Ellis let go and stepped back.

"Uh, sorry… I didn't mean… to make you uncomfortable or somethin'."

Nick waved his hand in the air in non-comment and continued after the others.

"Shh, there's a Witch down there," Rochelle said, pointing. "Right in front of the door. We'll have to be quick and quiet. Got it, Ellis?"

"Huh? Wha'? Yeah, okay."

Nick went first, scooting past the wailing, whining little bitch with ease. Although he sloshed through the ankle deep water loudly, she seemed undisturbed, unbeknownst. Just crying away like her life was some big fucking drama that everyone was interested in.

Next came Rochelle, who although nimble, became caught up on a straggling zombie that practically jumped on her, tearing and biting. Rochelle grabbed the Infected around the head and drug it with her as she stumbled forward. The Witch let out an annoyed huff, slowly rising to her feet, throaty whines rising in her throat.

Shit.

Maybe it was just chivalrous of him, or perhaps he hadn't been paying attention, but Ellis came sprinting out next, waving his arms and yelling. That was all it took.

The Witch screamed, a blood curdling scream that pierced the eardrums, and in an instant was on the mechanic, clawed hands leading. One swipe knocked him off his feet, another sent his gun flying and a third—never fell. Nick didn't know what overtook him, but he rushed at that snarling bitch. Out came the fire axe he had been carrying on him since that hotel a lifetime ago. One undercut of the axe sunk into the Witch's stomach and she screamed. He jerked it out and swung it again. It hacked off her left leg and she toppled over, hands reaching for him, clawing, eyes enraged, teeth slick with coagulating blood. Down came the axe again, splitting her skull apart. She shuddered in a death throe and then collapsed over to lay still.

"Shit, Ellis…" Nick threw the axe down, falling in the water beside the other and scrambled to lift him out of it. Ellis blinked, almost unbelievingly as he reached down to take handfuls of his own blood and bring it back towards his body as if that simple gesture would make everything better. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. "You're fine, Ellis, you're fine. Don't look at it."

Bandages came flying out and three pairs of hands were pressing down, staunching blood and wrapping the wounds as tightly as they possibly could. Ellis had stopped trying to help at one point and had simply gone limp, the only indication he was alive was his shallow breaths and occasional slow blink.

Nick and Coach carried the wounded mechanic back to the safe room as Rochelle cleared the way for them. With the door locked and barricaded, they had only each other. Only each other and silence. God, there was always the silence.

Standing over Ellis, who was pale now, unmoving and uncannily silent, Nick wasn't entirely confident if their party of four wouldn't soon become three.

A/N:

So I actually threw on a game of realism just to give me a few ideas on what I should write for the rest of this campaign just so I kind of remember the layout. So... Yeah, that's where all the little mishaps came in. And I have no idea what in the hell made me switch from a pipe bomb to a molotov. There's NEVER a tank at the top of that elevator for me. And holy shit did it startle the hell out of me. Oh, and at the end of that particular level Ellis DID startle the witch, but being realism he DIED. But I had a defib and just sort of rolled my eyes and brought him back and was like 'ugh, you just ruined my story... or did you!" Waha... so. Yeah... Ellis is a little 'tarded on my game.

I'm actually getting into this story and enjoying writing it. Right now I'm just sort of trying to crank out the chapters while I'm in the mood to do it, so hopefully the quality is staying up. =/