Shooting the pilot hadn't been the ideal choice, but it had been the only choice. Nevertheless, Nick still caught flak from Ellis.
"Nick, what the hell, you shot the pilot!" the youth complained.
"Well he wasn't doing a very good job once he became a zombie, now was he?" Nick replied, then added disapprovingly, "I can't believe none of you were going to shoot him."
"That's true," Rochelle agreed (good ol' Ro). "If I had to pick a low point in the flight, it was probably when he stopped flying the chopper and attacked us."
Everyone nodded, and a silence fell over the group. They had somehow survived the helicopter crash (although almost all their weapons were gone, as well as Rochelle's stuffed croc and Ellis's backpack) and had wandered through several barren fields until stumbling across a set of train cars near an abandoned town. They were currently inside a car with some silenced machine guns and pump shotguns, as well as some medkits.
Nick took the initiative and grabbed a shotgun. After strapping one of the medkits to his back, he turned to the others.
"So what's the plan?" he asked. "We head through this town and then…?"
"Poor Gnome Chomski," Ellis interrupted sadly, looking upset. "I can't believe I lost him."
"He's in the wild now, I'm sure he's ecstatic," Nick snapped, impatient to get moving.
"Does…anyone actually know where we are?" Rochelle asked hopefully.
"Some dump?" Nick wasn't feeling particularly friendly. But then having your hopes plummet and burn in the form of a helicopter crash could do that to you.
There was a gas station ahead which was almost certainly empty, another mood booster. The four of them decided to just head out and try to find a way through…wherever they were.
"Grab whatever you can find to hit something with," Coach instructed them.
A green sign with large letters was hung up on the chainlink fence encircling the gas station. The group paused to read it.
"No CEDA, No Military. Stay Out," Coach read aloud.
"When they say stay out, I'm sure they mean someone else," Rochelle assured the others. Ellis nodded enthusiastically.
"Couldn't keep us out if they tried," he agreed.
"Great, we crash land in front of a village that hates everyone," Nick complained.
"Sounds like you'll fit right in," Rochelle smirked, then wondered aloud, "Do you think they put this sign up before or after the infection?"
"With our luck, before," Coach sighed, and the group headed over to the gas pumps.
Nick glanced at the price of gas next to the "OUT OF GAS" sign and felt his jaw drop. While he was gaping at the seven dollar a gallon fee, Ellis ran forward and snatched up the machete lying behind the gas pumps.
"Gettin' slow, Nick," he taunted, brandishing the machete.
Nick tore his eyes from the ludicrous price and saw that Pint Size had seized the only melee weapon in sight. He scowled at him.
"If you hit me with that you'll be swallowing your teeth," Nick threatened, walking over to a small storage area opposite the pumps.
Inside were an Infected who Nick promptly killed, a bottle of puke, a bottle of pills, an adrenaline shot, and a frying pan. He pocketed the pills and claimed the puke before reluctantly picking the last item up. Nick studied it, looking unhappy.
"What?" Rochelle asked, walking up to him after she noticed his expression. "You managed to find a melee weapon, what are you unhappy about?"
"It's just…a frying pan is such a woman's weapon," he sighed.
Rochelle put her hands on her hips, knowing she wouldn't like where this inquiry would go. "Why?"
"Because it's used for cooking."
He thought she was going to yell or hit him really hard. Ro's lips were pressed together so tight he could hardly see them, and she had clenched her hands into fists. But after a moment, she suddenly relaxed and smiled at him. Nick cautiously took a step back, more nervous about smiling Ro than furious Ro.
"Nick, I didn't know you ate," she said, batting her eyes. "I thought you just sucked the happiness out of others and fed off their misery. Like a Dementor."
"Well, I have to eat when I'm alone, then, don't I?" he replied.
"Bet you were alone a lot," she shot back, then walked away.
Goddamn helicopter crash. Goddamn flu. Goddamn Ro, he cursed. The sooner they got out of this awful place, the better.
Past the gas station was a path that led to some houses, or what used to be houses. Many had gaping holes in the walls, and almost all the front doors were wide open.
"Anything in those houses?" Coach wondered.
Ellis readied his machete and adjusted his hat. "Only one way t' find out."
"Careful lookin' for supplies, show respect," Coach warned. "They used to belong to people."
"Honestly, Coach, I don't think they'd mind if we rummage through their stuff," Nick replied, strolling to the nearest house. "They're probably all dead."
Inside the house were three bunk beds. On the floor was a mattress with a blanket and some pillows. If it wasn't for the fact that the entire back wall was gone (oh, and the zombies, couldn't forget them), it would have been a good place to rest. It was supply-free, however. Not that Nick really needed anything else, except a melee weapon that didn't suck.
Nick walked back out and noticed there was a bigger house across from the one he was standing in. He shot the few Infected staggering around outside it and then hurried over to it. He ignored the No Trespassing sign by the front door and went in. He heard footsteps behind him and quickly looked back, relaxing a little when he saw it was Rochelle.
"Find anything?" he asked, looking around the house.
"Nope," she replied, also searching the house.
It was pretty nondescript; there were a few empty bookshelves, a fridge, a stove, a bathroom, and another mattress on the floor. Nick was on his way out when he heard Rochelle call for him. He turned back and joined her in the kitchen.
"I picked this up just for you," she said, grinning broadly at him and holding something up.
It was another goddamn frying pan.
"You should keep it," he replied, heading back to the front door. "You were born to use it."
He walked past a shack with a FOR RENT sign as Rochelle ran to catch up with him.
"Being an asshole may have worked before, Nick, but you can change that tune now if you want," she suggested, glaring at him.
Nick saw she was holding the frying pan and tried hard not to smile. Or say something sexist. It would give him some sort of aneurysm, but he would try, damnit.
"Don't be so sensitive," he managed to say. "Where's the Ro who kicks ass and doesn't take any shit? By the way, really glad you brought that along. I'm so hungry."
"I was going to use it to brain some zombies, but you'll do just fine," she replied, raising it threateningly.
Nick quickly ran past an abandoned car and headed for Coach and Ellis, who were checking out an empty store called Jones + Son. All three of them ignored the Private Property sign by the door as they looked around. There were several fridges, an ATM, and a lot of empty shelves. A large, faded poster on the back wall suggested it had been a dairy store.
"Nuthin' here, fellas," Ellis reported.
"Gotta be sumthin'," Coach grumbled, walking out of the store.
Nick froze on the porch as the other two headed for something called Earl's Gator Village. Ro wasn't anywhere to be seen. Sure, she could be in one of the houses, but since they hadn't seen any Special Infected yet…
"RO!" he hollered, looking around.
"Smoker's got me!" came faintly from the big house behind the shack.
He took off running towards the house, trying to hear where exactly they were.
"Help!" she cried, sounding louder.
She was somewhere to the right of the house, Nick thought, probably behind a tree or someth—
Nick tripped over a small picket fence he had failed to see and went sprawling face first onto the ground, banging his shin on it and dropping his frying pan. A nearby Infected whirled around and stared at him, blinking. Nick scrambled to his feet and picked up the pan, shoving the Infected out the way and sprinting towards the sounds Rochelle was making.
Sure enough, the Smoker bastard had hidden behind a tree and lassoed her. The gangly thing was beating the crap out of her as she struggled uselessly to free herself. Nick clutched the handle of the frying pan with both hands and swung at the Smoker as hard as he could.
CLANG!
Rochelle immediately fell to the ground as the Smoker burst into a cloud of choking gas. Nick coughed and choked, trying to fan the gas away. The lone Infected came running at him and he whacked it upside the head with the pan as well.
The gas dissipated quickly enough, and Nick knelt beside her.
"Did you miss me? Come on, let's get you up," he grinned. "Let me look at you."
"Does my hair look good?" Rochelle asked, sounding miserable.
"Uh, sure." He frowned, a little worried. "Are you hurt?"
"I don't know, get me up," she grumbled, grabbing his hand.
He pulled her to her feet and dusted her off.
"Well, how do I look?" she demanded, slightly hunched and clutching her side.
"Filthy," Nick declared. "Also injured."
He noticed Coach and Ellis jogging over and waved them away.
"She's fine," he assured them. "Just needs Dr. Nick to work his magic."
Ellis snorted and rolled his eyes. "Dr. Nick's a quack."
Rochelle giggled and winced, rubbing her throat. Coach laughed.
"I agree with that," he nodded. "Come on, boy, let's see if that so-called 'restaurant' has any food."
"Let's find some place with a little more cover before I heal you," Nick suggested.
Nick patiently followed behind Rochelle as she limped after Coach and Ellis. He scanned the woods as best he could for any Infected, but the only ones he saw were past the restaurant they were heading to. No immediate worries.
The abandoned restaurant had the charming moniker "Earl's Gator Village". Inside were a jukebox (that still functioned! Nick noted with surprise and a little amusement), several tables and chairs, a counter with a lantern and a Molotov on it, several ovens that were most likely empty, and a cigarette dispenser. Nick eyed this last item hungrily.
"Earl's Gator Village? This just keeps getting better," Rochelle sighed.
"Grabbin the Mollie," Ellis announced.
"He's getting everything before you today, isn't he?" Rochelle grinned.
Nick hip-checked her onto one of the blue couches on the porch of the restaurant. She yelped in surprise and fell backwards, flailing and landing on her ass.
"O-kay, time for your healing," Nick declared, taking out the gauze.
"Touched a nerve, did I?" she smirked up at him.
He rolled a piece of tape over her mouth so she couldn't talk. She mmfed at him angrily.
"Trust me, that was the most important part of this process," he assured her, moving on to treat her actual injuries.
Rochelle ripped the tape off with a wince.
"You need this more than anyone," she insisted, slapping it over his mouth.
He grimaced and ripped it off, making a noise of disgust.
"Uck! Germs, Rochelle! Ever heard of them? They're what caused this whole zombie mess?"
"Wah wah wah, complain complain complain," she taunted. "You almost done with this or what?"
He yanked her hair. She gasped and then yanked his harder. He cursed and gave her a shove, but because she was already sitting down on the couch it didn't do much. She stood up and shoved him back. He moved back about two inches.
"You're pretty lively for a cripple," he observed. "Maybe you were faking it so I'd touch you."
"I wasn't crippled, I was injured," Rochelle clarified. "And I didn't ask you to heal me."
"You didn't say no," he replied with a lilt in his voice.
"Well it saved me a medpack," she pointed out.
While they argued, Ellis turned on the jukebox. He didn't see any tracks listed, so he jabbed a button at random.
"Play some Riders!" Coach called.
"I'll see if they're on here," Ellis replied, waiting for the record to play.
When The Saints Go Marching In came on, and Ellis immediately jabbed another button, cutting it off. A new record was placed on the track, and One Bad Man started playing.
"Now that's more like it!" Ellis cried happily, smiling.
"—don't need you protecting me!" Rochelle snapped, heading for a garage with a giant truck.
"Fine, then let's see how long you last without me!" Nick called after her.
She ignored him and took something off the left wall, dropping her frying pan.
Oh godDAMNit, Nick thought, getting even angrier. Did she just find a better melee weapon?
She swaggered past him, swinging her new axe and showing it off.
"I'll be there when you throw yourself off-balance and land ass-up in front of a Hunter!" he yelled at her.
"Don't get all bitchy because I found the best melee weapon and you're stuck with that…what was it? Woman's weapon?" she taunted.
He frowned and narrowed his eyes at her. This wasn't over. He would find an axe, too, and that'd put an end to this.
Coach and Ellis walked past him and into the garage. He followed after them, hearing the sound of Rochelle decapitating Infected off in the distance.
"Chainsaw here!" Coach announced, grabbing it and dropping his cricket bat. "You want that, Nick?"
"What is this, Shaun of the Dead? That piece of crap'd probably break after two swings!" Nick snorted. He tried not to think that his own frying pan was probably even worse. But then he'd brained a Smoker and an Infected, and it hadn't dented or broke. Yet.
"I was just offerin'," Coach grumbled, glaring at Nick as he shuffled out.
"Nick, there's a Molotov here, ya want it?" Ellis asked, holding it out to him.
Nick was still in a bad mood, and wanted to take it from the kid and fling it over his shoulder without looking. He realized, though, that if he did that the whole goddamn place would go up and they'd all be fucked. So instead he calmly accepted it and tried to say thank you. It came out as "Thurroo".
"What?" Ellis looked confused and a little worried. "Nick, are you having a stroke? You look kind of constipated."
"Having a stroke would be preferable," Nick muttered under his breath, then said louder, "I was trying to say thank you."
"Looked like it damn near killed you," Ellis grinned.
"Just about," Nick sniffed, then exited the garage and looked at the white van next to it.
The van was empty, but the rear lights were still on. Nick wondered if the driver had been attacked and pulled out or if they had gotten out on foot and gone on ahead.
"Holy sh—guys, come look at this!" Rochelle cried.
Nick thought she sounded a little awed, and the three men hurried over to see what it was she was gaping at.
"Goddamn!" Coach shouted.
"Jesus Christ!" Nick exclaimed, impressed.
"Holy cow!" Ellis cried, staring up at the sight above them.
Someone, or someones had captured a Charger and strung it up with rope, spread-eagled, from two tall wooden posts. Flies buzzed noisily around the carcass. Nick wondered how many people had died to accomplish this, and if it had been alive when they tied it up. Either way, it was quite a feat. Inspiring, too. Nick was careful not to get his hopes too high, of course. He stomped them back into a reasonably low place, remembering the disappointment the helicopter crash had brought. And Gibbs's car breaking down hadn't been great, either. He had to expect the worst; that was what usually greeted them.
"I bet they hit it with that car, and then strung it up!" Ellis guessed excitedly, pointing at a yellow car that had barely stopped short of the river.
"The hood ain't dented or nothin'," Coach pointed out. "Maybe they found it dead, or just dogpiled on it and beat its ass to death."
"Maybe," Ellis agreed reluctantly. "'s not as cool as hittin' it with a car. If I had my truck, then-"
"Back to the task at hand," Nick interrupted loudly. "We need to get across this river."
"Yeah, let's just cut through the gator park and visit the crazy militants in the swamp. Sound good?" Rochelle asked, trying to sound upbeat.
"No," Nick replied.
"That gator part does not sound good at all," Ellis agreed.
"Gators will mess you up!" Coach warned.
"Ok, we're not going to swim with them or anything, jeez," Rochelle muttered.
"Good, 'cuz swimmin' with gators? Why no thank you," Ellis said.
"C'mon, what to do we have to lose?" she encouraged.
"Uh, our lives?" Nick snorted, as if it was obvious.
"Nick, that boat is our only way across. We aren't goin' anywhere by staying on this side," she argued.
"I might be more inclined to agree with you if I had an axe…" he hinted.
She glared at him and folded her arms. "Subtle. We'll get ready, and then call the ferry. OK, guys?"
They spread out to see if anything had been overlooked. On a table nearby was a pile of ammo, along with a silenced machine gun. Nick swapped his shotgun for it, figuring it would work better for hitting distant targets than a shotgun would. A pay phone was against the wall of a nearby two-story building. Nick sauntered over and picked up the phone.
"Hello? Yeah, I'd like to get a break," he joked, then lowered his voice and added, "Please let some people be alive, for Ro and Ellis's sake. And not zombie alive, either, smartass, because I know the stunts you pull—"
"Nick, are you talking to yourself?" Rochelle asked, standing behind him and looking worried.
He slammed the phone down. "No. I was…pep talking to myself."
"That's still talking to yourself."
"But not…crazy talking to yourself," he pointed out.
She made a noncommittal noise in her throat that bothered him.
"Isn't there something you should be doing other than bothering me?" he demanded, feeling embarrassed.
"I guess. Nothing else is as fun, though," she teased.
She walked away from him and climbed a nearby ladder, searching the second story for supplies. Nick sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Maybe someone would find a can of bug spray.
They gathered underneath the Earl's Gator Village banner that hung over the lever used to call the ferry. Rochelle had found a pipe bomb, but that was it. Nick read the sign nearby.
"Gone to village des merde. That sounds promising," he scoffed.
"It does not say merde!" Rochelle cried, hurrying over and reading it herself. "See, look, it's cut off by that blood splattered all over it."
"Even better! Now we know they made it."
"Time t' ride the ferry!" Ellis called out, hitting the lever to start it.
The group readied themselves as the cry of the Horde echoed all around. Nick heard a Spitter, Hunter, and Charger as well. He tried to spot one of them between the incoming Infected running at them. The Spitter appeared in the second story window, and he killed it before it got the chance to saturate the ground with acid. Coach killed the Hunter. Nick figured one of the others would get the Charger, and focused on whacking away Infected with his frying pan.
"Okay, that is the slowest boat ever, man!" Ellis complained.
Nick glanced back and saw it was maybe a quarter of the way there. He growled in annoyance and turned back to the Infected.
A Charger cried out, and Nick saw it streak past him, knocking Coach and Ellis backwards. It charged out into the water and plummeted into the depths, where gators probably ate it. That or it decided living underwater was way better than charging people on land and never came back. Either way, they didn't see it again.
"HEY! I, uh…kinda slipped!" Rochelle cried, sounding embarrassed.
"Oh, there's a sound that's familiar," Nick smirked, heading over to her while Coach and Ellis fought off the Infected.
"Just help me up please," she begged, glancing back at the water. Her legs were submerged in it. "I don't want to be gator food."
"You in one piece?" he asked, grabbing her hand and pulling her back onto land. "Still got both legs, right?"
"Yes." She glared at him, brushing ineffectually at her pants. "Well. That was embarrassing."
"I'll say," Nick agreed. "I think you owe me an axe for—"
"Oh give it a rest already," she said, rolling her eyes. "Hey, look, the ferry's halfway here!"
They joined the others in killing Infected, until finally, finally the ferry arrived.
"Okay, people, everyone onto the ferry!" Coach shouted.
They all scrambled on board, and Nick slapped the button. The door slid shut and the motor hummed, carrying them to the opposite side at the same excruciatingly slow pace.
"So, umm…do you guys know anything about the swamps?" Rochelle asked hopefully.
"I don't think anyone likes the swamps," Coach replied seriously.
"Thanks, Coach," Rochelle sighed.
"Listen up, everybody, be on the lookout for blood farmers. I'm serious," Ellis added, noticing the looks the others were giving him.
"Blood farmers?" Rochelle repeated doubtfully.
"What the hell are you talking about, Ellis?" Nick demanded.
"Duh? Farmers that don't grow crops, they grow people. To eat," he stressed.
"Ellis, you a crazy man," Coach declared as the ferry banged to a stop.
It was eerily quiet on the other side. All Nick could see were trees, and a shack off to the left. A wooden walkway ran ahead of them, then turned left.
"Careful, guys," Coach said in a low voice. "When it's this quiet, you know it can't be good."
They all crept forward, trying to see if anything charged at them suddenly. It remained still and quiet, until—
"Oh SHIT! TANK!" Coach shouted as the monster's familiar roar echoed through the air.
"Get away from the water!" Nick warned, pushing Rochelle ahead onto the walkway. "If we get knocked in, we're gator chow!"
They ran down the walkway until a house came into view on the left. Unfortunately, the Tank came into sight as well. It hurled a chunk of concrete (CONCRETE! Nick's panicked mind screamed, Where did it get CONCRETE!) at the group, forcing them to scatter in different directions. Nick cried out in pain as a large piece of concrete smashed into his leg.
"Come on, suck it up," he hissed to himself, forcing himself to his feet.
The Tank roared again and then loped menacingly after Coach, who immediately took off in the opposite direction.
"Goddamnit!" he cursed, panting at firing back at the Tank with his shotgun. "I knew I shoulda lost some weight!"
Nick held his ground and fired as best he could at the Tank, but a lone Infected ran up behind him and punched his shoulder, messing up his aim. A shot went wild, hitting Coach, who had doubled back towards Nick and the others with the Tank in hot pursuit.
"Hey, Nick, that was my ass you shot!" he shouted angrily, glaring as he ran by.
"Hard to miss a target like that!" Nick shot back, but kept firing at the Tank.
The Infected kept smacking at his back, though, so he couldn't really get a good shot. He whirled around and smashed its head in with the frying pan, then turned back to the Tank.
It was right in his face. Nick had enough time to open his mouth for a surprised yell before the muscled thing knocked him back through a window of the house. Glass broke and fell around him as he landed on the floor, winded. After he caught his breath, he painfully climbed to his feet in time to see the Tank coming through the doorway.
Shit, there's nowhere to go. No, wait, there's a hole behind me with a bunch of disgusting, filthy SWAMP water that'll slow me down, Nick thought. That'll probably give me an advantage.
As his mind ran through these thoughts, he grasped the frying pan with both hands and swung it full force at the charging Tank.
The CLANG! of the pan connecting with its headechoed throughout the swamp. The Tank stopped dead, looking almost comically surprised as it fell backwards to the floor. Nick watched it nervously, still breathing heavily and clutching the frying pan with both hands. When it didn't get up and knock his ass through another window, he laughed in relief and fell back onto the floor.
"Nick!" Rochelle shouted, running through the doorway. "You all right?"
She stopped and looked down at him lying on the floor. He was giggling a little.
"What?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I bonked it on the head with the frying pan, and," he had to try and stop laughing before continuing, "and it fell over with this look—"
Nick broke up into a fit of laughter, rolling onto his side. Rochelle rolled her eyes.
"Couldn't have been that funny," she muttered, secretly wishing she had seen it.
He stopped a short while later, growing serious. "That was pretty close, huh? Think my jacket's ok, or did the glass do a number on it?"
"Glad to see you're still more worried about your clothes than your life," she smirked, putting her hands on her hips. "Are you done laying around? You ready to get up?"
She bent and grabbed his hand without waiting for an answer. She tried to straighten and pull him up but he pulled her down on top of him instead.
"Listen," he began.
"Nick, ya all right? That Tank had you cornered and—holy cow!" Ellis cried, his eyes growing wide. "Lookit that gun!"
Nick and Rochelle followed his gaze to a big gun that was sitting on the bottom shelf of an otherwise empty stand. Ellis ran over and picked it up, dropping his machine gun and staring at it with a look a lot like love.
"This here," he said in a quiet, awed voice, "is a grenade launcher."
A few moments of silence passed as Ellis gazed lovingly at the gun.
"So…have you two set a date?" Nick asked from the floor.
Rochelle scrambled off him and onto her feet as Ellis looked over in confusion. "What? Date? Nick, you can't date a gun. Though I'd make an exception for this one."
"I bet you would," Nick muttered, getting to his feet and brushing himself off.
"Listen up, y'all, we gotta choice to make!" Coach announced, walking through the doorway. "We can go either left or right. They both lead to the same place, they've just got different signs hanging above them."
"What are the signs?" Rochelle asked.
"Well, one has a gator over it, and the other says Observation Deck."
"I vote Observation Deck," Rochelle replied immediately, raising her hand.
"I also vote Observation Deck," Nick agreed, raising his hand as well.
"Good, 'cuz there was no way in hell I was goin' though somethin' with a picture of a gator!" Coach admitted. "Walkway or no walkway."
"I coulda blown 'em outta the water with this!" Ellis replied, holding up the grenade launcher.
"Or, he could have blown us up," Nick muttered to Rochelle as the group headed for the Observation Deck. "I don't feel safe as long as he has that thing."
"He'll be careful," Rochelle replied. She didn't sound certain.
They climbed up the steps and onto the raised walkway, following the path and looking down for any Infected. They came across a picnic table with some guns and pills on it. Abandoned sleeping bags were crumpled nearby. Nick picked up a fresh machine gun and took the pills he had been carrying to relieve some of the pain in his leg.
And back.
And neck.
And head.
He sighed and picked up a new bottle of pills, attaching it to his belt before continuing on.
Both the gator and observation path met and ended in a narrow walkway with a roof and light shining down over a lone table. A Hunting Rifle or two sat on the table. Nick raised an eyebrow.
"Who in the hell keeps leaving all these guns around?" Nick wondered aloud.
The others appeared not to have heard him. Coach picked up one of the rifles and grinned at Ellis.
"Hey, boy. POW!" He mimed shooting the gun. "Some bitches about to get sniped!"
Ellis flinched a little and then grinned back. "Good luck killin' a Witch with that. Now this baby here? No problem."
"Enough about the gun already, Ellis!" Nick complained, rolling his eyes. "You're hot for it, we get it."
Ellis pouted, sticking out his lower lip. "Jus' think it's cool 's all."
Ro glared at him as Coach and Ellis proceeded down the stairs up ahead. "He was just excited. You made him feel bad."
"Call 911, I hurt his feelings," Nick snorted, rolling his eyes. "He needs to toughen up. This is a zombie apocalypse."
"Grabbin' an axe!" Ellis called from below.
Nick stopped in his tracks and stared down at him in disbelief.
No WAY that little punk got an axe, he thought. It must be some kind of sick joke to drive me bonkers. He KNOWS I need an axe to end this little feud with Rochelle. And he just TOOK it.
Nick sputtered furiously and wordlessly as he descended the stairs, staring at the machete Ellis had dropped.
"I—y—th—"
"What, baby gonna cry?" Ellis mocked, and then burst out laughing and continued down the path.
Nick clenched his fists and bared his teeth, glaring at him but not replying. He snatched up the machete and threw the frying pan down, hurrying after Coach and Ellis. Rochelle casually eyed his new melee weapon.
"Nice," she said lightly, smiling. "Isn't that what Lara Croft uses?"
He suppressed a smile.
"Actually, she uses two pistols," he recalled, and then scrunched his face up in thought. "At least, I think she uses two pistols. I was busy staring at her hooters, bein' a teenage guy and all."
"Yeah," Ellis agreed, sighing fondly. "She was great."
Rochelle felt awkward during the silence that followed and decided to keep quiet, not having anything to say about Lara's "hooters" (other than they looked silly, to her, at least). They passed through some bushes and squished over some wet ground, walking towards a shack and some planks that had been laid down.
"I think we can get across here," Coach said, eyeing the planks warily.
"Coach, if you break those goddamn planks," Nick warned.
"I won't, jus' shut up an' let me do this!" Coach snapped, and then hurried across the planks onto the solid(er) ground ahead.
Ellis quickly followed after, then turned and motioned for Rochelle to go.
"Be careful," Nick said, looking worried.
"I'll be fine," she smirked, looking back at him as she stepped onto the planks. "I have boots. I am so ready for the swamps."
"You'll be singin' a different tune once you run into the bugs," he replied, following close behind her.
"Ugh." She made a face. "I forgot about them."
"Now that is a darn shame," Ellis said solemnly as Nick and Rochelle joined him. He was looking at a rusted car sitting in the swamp water.
"You can mourn it later, let's keep moving," Nick insisted, spotting more planks to their right.
He went first this time, and so he was the first one to spot the light up ahead. He was also the first one to hear the Witch.
"Oh goddamnit," he grumbled to the others. "Witch up ahead."
"Where?" Coach whispered.
Nick peered ahead and thought he saw her hunched over and crying behind one of the bushes near the drainage ditch. Just seeing it made him angry. He thought of the one at the carnival that had almost killed Rochelle.
"By that bush over there," he replied, pointing.
"I think I can make it by her if I keep away from 'er and run straight fo' the ditch," Coach said, frowning.
He took a deep breath and readied himself, then sprinted past her and ran into the ditch. The Witch had started growling and had half-stood up as he ran by, but once he was safely in the ditch she calmed down. Rochelle raised her axe.
"I'll give that Witch something to cry about," she threatened, taking a step forward.
Nick took out his gun and followed her, keeping some distance between them. Sure enough, the Witch stood up and screamed before Rochelle had time to even swing, and Rochelle immediately turned and hauled ass back towards the planks.
"Oh shit, man, that Witch is a spaz!" Ellis commented, staring at the shrieking woman.
"SHIT I'M SORRY!" Rochelle apologized to the Witch, still running.
The Witch didn't buy it, since she kept pursuing Rochelle. Time seemed to slow down as the Witch neared Nick.
Look at how fast she's running, he thought. And she's probably not even watching where she's going. You know, I bet I could—
He had stuck his foot out before he knew it, and the Witch tripped right over it and when flying forward, landing right in front of Ellis on her face, arms and legs splayed. Ellis hollered in terror and jumped back, but Nick, who was not thinking at all at this point, quickly ran and threw himself down so that he was sitting on the Witch's back, weighing her down. The Witch screamed and thrashed and tried to claw at Nick, but he didn't move.
"I can't believe it worked," he said in amazement, and then looked up at Ellis. "Ellis, get over here and take care of it."
"I'm not—I'm not goin' near the cryin' girl!" Ellis protested, coming forward a little anyway.
"Oh man up," Nick said impatiently. "If you're not gonna kill it, then at least sit on her with me so she doesn't get up."
"Hey! Don't be doin' that!" Coach shouted from the ditch.
They both ignored him. He was safe over there, after all, and didn't have a screaming, thrashing banshee woman writhing under his ass. Ellis and Nick calmly sat and stared at the Witch, wondering what to do next.
"You didn't really think this through, did you?" Ellis accused.
"No. It just seemed like a good idea at the time," Nick admitted, shrugging.
Rochelle cautiously approached and then stopped at the sight before her.
"What are you two idiots doing?" she demanded.
"Waiting for you to kill her so she doesn't kill us," Nick replied.
"And…sitting on her was going to help…how, exactly?" Rochelle asked.
"I didn't plan it through, all right!" Nick snapped, wishing someone would do something so that he felt like less of a fool. "Just use that axe you're so damn proud of and take care of her!"
Rochelle crept a little bit forward, watching the Witch warily. The Witch was not happy with the situation at all and kept screaming at the top of her lungs and trying to rip Nick and Ellis a new asshole.
"Quit triflin' with that bitch! She gonna explode!" Coach warned from the ditch.
A few overhead swings and screams of terror from Ellis later, and the Witch was dead. Rochelle marched triumphantly towards the ditch as Nick walked beside her.
"See? It worked," Nick gloated, looking smug. "You can say thank you whenever you want."
"Thanks, Nick, for making yourself look ridiculous so I could kill the Witch and take the glory," she replied, smirking.
"Me? Ridiculous? I wasn't the one who started screaming."
"Hey, havin' an axe swung that close to yer leg is no joke," Ellis said seriously, looking angry.
Rochelle closed the ditch's door behind them, and they gathered to discuss the order of that watch.
"First off, Nick, you a fool. Second, that shit was pretty funny," Coach laughed.
"It was pretty brilliant," Nick replied, and Rochelle rolled her eyes.
"Look, there're sleepin' bags in here!" Ellis said excitedly, pointing at them.
"Good, 'cuz this floor looks pretty wet," Rochelle replied, grimacing.
"I'll take the first watch, since I'm still pretty wired from that whole Witch deal," Ellis volunteered, pulling up a chair.
Coach agreed to go second, then crawled into a sleeping bag on the far side of the ditch and was soon fast asleep. Rochelle dragged a sleeping bag next to one of the tables with supplies and then looked down at it. Nick joined her.
"Wanna share one?" he asked quietly.
"Coach is right, you're a fool if you think that's happening," she snorted.
"What? It's a good way to keep warm!" he protested.
"Yeah, and then you're gonna go, 'Y'know, the best way to keep warm is to sleep together naked.'"
"I've actually tested that, and…it's true," he said, smiling at her.
She managed not to smile back, but she could feel her face starting to heat up. "I'm not surprised."
"Me either," Ellis piped up. "Always thought you 're kinda a sleaze, Nick."
Nick glared over at him. "Thanks, dude. Anything else you'd like to say to ruin the moment?"
"Nick, trust me, there wasn't a moment," Ellis replied, looking back out the door.
Nick glared at him, annoyed, and Rochelle took the opportunity to grin at the side of his head. When he turned back to look at her, she was serious again.
"All right, we'll share one," she said quietly, "but your clothes stay on."
"Fine, fine, let me just take off my shoes and jacket," he grumbled, but he was grinning happily.
She kicked off her own boots and climbed in. He slid in behind her and she stared at the wall, trying not to think about how closely they were pressed up against each other. She could feel his breath on her hair, and—
"You know, it's not too late for the naked idea," he offered.
She looked back over her shoulder at him and glared. "I will elbow you in the throat, Nick."
"Such a romantic," he said sarcastically.
She tried shifting forward, but the whole bag moved and she didn't really go anywhere.
"Stop, you're messing it up," Nick complained.
"You're the one who wanted to do this in the first place!" she pointed out.
"I wanted to do it naked. It would have worked naked."
Rochelle huffed exasperatedly, keeping her back to him. "No one's ever made me as angry as you do, Nick."
"It's because you love me," he teased, and Rochelle thought she was going to go crazy if he kept breathing on the back of her neck.
"Face the other way," she ordered. "I don't want you breathing all over me."
"Yeah, and try not to snore in 'er ear, Nick," Ellis suggested helpfully.
Nick turned over and glared at him. "I will knock the accent out of you, Ellis."
Sorry this took so long. D: I can tell Swamp Fever is going to take a while to write, since it's my least favorite stage and the second and third stage keep blending together. But I have some notes for some of the stages, so I'll finish it eventually.
Hope you liked this, I used a lot of the dialogue from the game, since I was browsing the list and a lot of lines made me laugh. I wonder when some of them are said and in what stage. I got the list from the L4D2 GameFaqs Guide section.