Ellis sailed over the Witch. The natural adrenaline surging through him masked the pain in his ankle. He would have landed cleanly on the deck of the gazebo were it not for Nick, who had pulled his knees up as closely to his torso as possible to avoid hitting the snarling creature with his legs. He landed messily, falling onto his side. This caused Ellis, who was still holding his hand tightly, to fall on top of him.

The Witch began hyperventilating as she rose to her feet. Her claws sliced the air as she clenched and unclenched her fists in fury. Ellis clamored off Nick and reached for his sniper rifle, but his heart skipped a beat upon realizing the weapon was no longer strapped to his back.

The Witch arched her spine, rearing back while filling her lungs to the brim with air. Nick recovered from the fall and aimed his machine gun at the creature's emaciated form. As he pressed the trigger, the Witch released an astounding screech that seemed to rend the air around them.

His heart quickly filling with panic, Ellis jumped to his feet, desperate to get away from the mind-numbing sound. He stumbled and leaned against one of the gazebo's columns. His vision blurred, but he could see that the Witch was still screaming. The putrid gust of her horrible breath wafting against his face and assaulting his nostrils was proof of that, but the boy could no longer hear her. He could no longer hear anything past the loud ringing in his ears.

Nick emptied his entire clip into the Witch, his own ears aching from the aural assault, but he decided to forgo reloading upon seeing how disoriented Ellis had become. The conman grabbed the boy and pulled him to the ground as the Witch took her first swipe. Her claws raked forward at an unimaginable speed, slashing through the support column where Ellis had stood. The mechanic could see that Nick was screaming at him, but he was still unable to hear anything as they scrambled away from the gazebo- whose roof collapsed behind them- burying the Witch beneath the heavy dome. Before the two men could catch their breath, the she-demon punched a hole through the concrete structure and lunged at them.

Coach and the others had looked on in horror when Ellis inexplicably charged towards the Witch, and at the sound of her scream, the remaining infected became agitated and swarmed them. The sky was now releasing a deluge of water from the swelling thunderhead clouds above, and the visibility had suffered so grievously that the zombies could no longer be seen until they were already upon them.

Hampered by his bandaged eye, Coach opted to forgo his shotgun for fear of striking one of his teammates in the driving rain. He began swinging his golf club in a wide arch directly in front of him. He could hear Rochelle from her now familiar position at his blind side, aiding the man's diminished depth perception by informing him of the number and approximate range of the approaching infected. To Coach's right, Francis held his own with his shotgun.

The biker had managed to kill a Witch with a single head shot on one occasion, and it had been one of the most unnerving experiences of his life. Now, as the three of them slowly pushed through the horde on their way to the demolished gazebo, Francis steeled himself in preparation, hoping that he could pull off the daring feat once more. He was jarred from his thoughts by the sound of Coach crying out, and his chest tightened upon realizing that the zombies were now overwhelming the older man's blind side because Rochelle was no longer there to protect it.

The girl had vanished.

"Holy shit! Where's Rochelle?" Francis screamed, his words nearly drowned out by the roaring, wind driven sheets of rain.

"Fuck! I don't know!" Coach's golf club was now a blur of gleaming silver as he whirled it about in a state of sheer panic. He nearly struck Francis several times with the follow through of his ferocious, forceful swings.

At the last moment, Nick and Ellis scrambled away from one another in opposite directions. As the Witch landed on the spot where the two of them had been, she darted her head wildly to the left and right. Due to her frenzied actions, her hair- as long and luxurious as it had been before succumbing to the infection- had loosened from its elegant ties and obscured her face like a white, pin straight curtain. She hesitated for the slightest moment, watching as both men ran behind different open buffet tents. Because they both had ignited her fury, the Witch was unsure of who to destroy. After taking one step in Nick's direction, she felt the sting of pistol fire on her back and neck. She snarled and whipped around to see the young mechanic waving his arms at her before ducking behind the tent. Her mind fully made up now, the Witch sprinted towards him with the speed of a greyhound.

Ellis was panting heavily as he gripped both of his pistols in his slick, rain-soaked grip. He crouched on one knee to alleviate the pressure from his bad ankle and waited for the Witch to emerge from around the corner of the tent. He knew he was is deep shit, knew that pistols would do little to stop this monstrosity, but he would try nonetheless. His hearing was still shot, so he could not detect the Witch's approach with his ears, nor could he sense the deep gurgles of a Boomer waddling towards him from behind. Although his eyes were peeled at the spot where he believed the Witch would emerge, he caught a flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye and leapt backwards as the she-demon burst through the tent, shredding the tarp material with her claws.

Ellis fired and retreated as rapidly and he could, careful to aim at her head as the Witch circled towards him once more. He reloaded his pistols while running backwards, careful not to take his eyes off her. Before he could fire again, she sprung into the air and came down towards him with outstretched talons. Ellis tried to dodge, but found himself bouncing off a soft, rotund surface. He stumbled to the ground and managed to roll as the Witch landed inches away from him, driving her talons halfway into the muddy soil from the force of her impact. Ellis scrambled away on his hands and knees as the Witch struggled to remove her claws from the mud. The boy looked up to see a Boomer lying on its back, its arms and legs flailing about. He had knocked the bloated beast off balance when he collided into it, and it was struggling to lift its massive body back up.

Francis tried to make his way over to Coach's blind side, but the infected were swarming them with such gusto that it was nearly impossible to move. He dug his boots into the ground and began to filter out the hectic, chaotic noise that threatened to overwhelm him.

Francis had gotten good at doing this- tuning out anything that wasn't important. He bashed in the face of an elderly woman, taking one step towards Coach. He shoved the barrel of his shotgun into the neck of teenage boy, closing his eyes for a split second to prevent the putrid blood from entering them as it splashed across his face, and took another step towards Coach. He elbowed a man his age in the gut, using the force of his muscular body to shove the creature away. It was then that he realized that despite his steady efforts, he was not getting any closer to the older man. Apparently Coach was moving away from him through the crowd of zombies in his search for Rochelle.

"Hey, man! Wait up!"

Whether Coach had heard him or not above the howls and screams, Francis wasn't sure. The biker could hear the Witch screeching like harpy somewhere in the gloom, but there was little he could do besides follow Coach in his desperate search for the girl through the blinding rain.

The Witch's feet barely made contact with the ground once she freed her claws from the muddy earth. Her approach was so swift that Ellis had little time to react. He moved directly in front of the beached Boomer, and as the hefty zombie prepared to vomit, Ellis jumped over it. The stream of bile covered the Witch, slowing her down for a fraction of a second as she wiped her eyes with the back of her palm. She shrieked in outrage and punched a hole through the beast's belly. It erupted, drenching the Witch once more and covering Ellis with a layer of bile.

As he crouched beside a barbecue grill near one of the buffet tents, Nick observed the chaos taking place before him. He could see Ellis- the Witch was nearly on top of him now. The conman had used up an entire clip on the emaciated and seemingly frail zombie to no good effect. He had to try something else.

Nick fished through his pockets, cursing himself as he tossed aside the expensive Habano cigars that still managed to find refuge within them. He found his lighter, and with a large metal meat skewer he procured from the buffet table, he dashed into the driving rain. He cupped the fragile flame to protect it as he held it up to the end of the skewer, and as the Witch prepared to eviscerate Ellis with one swipe, Nick launched the meat skewer at her. It's heated tip missed her spinal cord by an inch, and buried itself into her liver. Her screams of agony were indescribable as the Witch felt the burning metal pierce her deeply. All thoughts of the little mechanic were abandoned, and she wanted nothing more than to bathe in the blood of the man in the white suit.

Ellis took the opportunity to fire at the Witch with his pistols as she veered away from him and headed towards Nick with twice as much fury as before. The conman turned to run, but his breath was momentarily taken away at the sight of the tsunami of infected rushing towards him. He swerved and dodged as best he could as they shoved and flowed around him. They descended upon the bile-covered Witch, swallowing her up completely.

Ellis tried to join Nick, but half of the newly formed horde had broken off and was now surrounding him. He pushed through them, using his pistols to slowly blaze a path. Nick was no more than twenty feet away from him, but he might as well have been miles away. The boy still could not hear anything above the ringing in his ears, a fact that he was now grateful for as he stared into the horribly contorted faces that he shot with his pistols. He weaved amidst the frenzied infected, shooting as many as he could, and shoving with all of his might against those that he could not. At five feet, seven inches in height, Ellis couldn't exactly plow through the horde with ease. Reaching Nick was going to take monumental effort, but the mechanic was willing to do anything to stand by the other man's side and take down the Witch together.

He quickly glanced over his shoulder to note the Witch's location. Despite the horde's vastness, she wasn't exactly difficult to spot. Ellis could see flashes of silver hair and glistening, blood-drenched claws. Additionally, the severed heads, limbs, and torsos shooting through the air along her path was another indication of her whereabouts. She seemed to dance and swoop almost gracefully amidst the carnage, eviscerating and desiccating everything foolish enough to stand in her way.

Although Ellis had a lead on the Witch in their race to reach Nick, and the horde was attacking- or attempting to attack- the bile covered banshee as best they could, she was still gaining on him. Ellis did have one thing on his side, though. Nick was firing at the zombies on his end, thinning their numbers and making it easier for Ellis to reach him.

The boy and the Witch were neck and neck, and he could see the way she lusted for the conman. He wasn't going to let her have him.

Ellis dove beneath the zombies' legs, rolling onto his back as he slid forward. He could feel the horde kicking at his ribs, but he focused only on rustle of expensive fabric against the mesh of his hat as his head bumped against Nick's shins. The Witch let out a frustrated cry upon reaching the two men. She wanted to kill both of them so badly, but the chaotic insanity-and the lead bullets- pelting her confused brain caused her to hesitate, but only for a split second.

She drove her talons down towards the mechanic at her feet.

Francis caught sight of a lurid form flowing like dark liquid through the crowd of sopping infected. It leapt atop their backs and heads, driving the hapless zombies down to the ground with the weight of its body in a meandering yet purposeful path towards him. The Hunter let out a snarl and lunged at Francis, sending a slew of bodies tumbling on top of him. The biker thrashed and rolled, fighting to control his mounting distress as he lay pinned beneath a zombified pile up. He could feel the Hunter slashing its way through his living shield from its position at the top, digging and shredding through their bodies on its way down to him.

Francis didn't know how many corpses separated him from the Hunter's claws, but he could hear the eager, desperate grunts and feel the crushing weight on his chest from the force of the hooded ghoul's muffled strikes. Francis's shotgun was all but lost amidst the maelstrom of zombies, and the only thing he could do was strangle the life out of the creatures directly on top of him, if only to keep them from sinking their fetid teeth into his neck.

"Coach! I'm down!"

There was really no sense in shouting for help. With the zombies compressing his lungs, the biker could not project his voice at maximum volume. Even if he could, the horde's raucous uproar was now so deafening that still no one would be able to hear him. No one.

With the savage rain striking his face with as much brutality as the zombies, Francis thought about giving up at that moment.

He also thought about Bill.

Was the old man looking down at him from up above as he lay alone and drowning in a sea of infected bodies?

Was Bill shaking his head, ashamed that his sacrifice was for nothing?

He should have never left Zoey and Louis. What was he even doing here? Why had he left the safety of the bridge in the first place? Was settling an old score worth risking his life?

Francis closed his eyes, ignoring the pain as he sank into himself. Gradually, he was able to tune everything out.

Everything but a familiar scream rising above the dulled chaos.

The Witch froze in place, her eyes wide with confusion and pain, before lurching backwards. She felt a horrific tug as every nerve ending in her skull screamed almost as loudly as she did. Ellis looked up in awe to see Rochelle, who had emerged from the deluge, with every last strand of the Witch's hair locked in a vice-like grip.

"There's only room for one bad ass bitch around here!" The girl dug her heel into the small of the Witch's back while continuing to pull savagely at her hair. The monster shrieked, her head and neck craned back so far that Rochelle could feel the heat of the burning eyes glaring up at her from the snarling upside-down face.

"Get away from here! She's after the two of you!" the girl screamed as she struggled to hold the rabid creature back. Although she outweighed the waif-like Witch, the infected's strength was extraordinary.

The creature pushed forward, slashing madly as Nick dragged Ellis away from her. Rochelle had no choice but to lift both of her legs off the ground, kicking them into the Witch's back as she yanked with all of her might at the creature's hair. The girl's boots drove the meatskewer deeper into the Witch's body and just before her grip on the rain-soaked hair slipped, large portions of the Witch's scalp suddenly gave way to the weight of Rochelle's body. The girl fell to the ground and the Witch was thrown forward.

The pressure on Francis's chest was slowly diminishing as the Hunter destroyed and shoved aside the bodies covering him. With only two corpses between him and the hooded zombie, and more infected swirling around him, the biker flinched as he felt a pair of large hands wrap around his ankles. They pulled him beneath the zombies and out the other side. Francis looked up to see Coach lifting him off the ground.

"Come on man! Get up! I can see the others!" Coach huffed, struggling to lift the solid, muscular man up. The Hunter abandoned its now fruitless excavation efforts and lunged at Coach. The older man dropped Francis and ducked. Although the Hunter sailed harmlessly over his head, the action caused a terrible strain on Coach's knee. He could feel his weakened ligaments stretching and let out a prayer to God that they wouldn't tear again. He puffed out his cheeks, releasing a forceful breath from his mouth. His tightly shut eyes were watering from the intense pain, which caused bloody tears to soak the bandages covering his injured eye.

At forty-four, Coach was not terribly old, but he had begun to feel the tell-tale inklings of age creeping up on him even before the world went to shit. His injured knee had merely served to speed up the process. The ex-athlete knew, from the moment he felt the career-shattering tear in his ACL on that fateful day on the field, that he would eventually succumb to crippling arthritis of the knee. Countless hospital visits and the diagnoses of unsympathetic physicians had cemented that fact. Ever since then, Coach had resented the passage of time whittling away at his body, and now, as he listened to the screeching Hunter surging towards him in mid-flight, Coach wondered if he would live to see the next sunrise- let alone true old age.

Coach opened his eyes and pulled his right arm back. While his lower body may have been weakened, and his waistline had increased by several inches, his upper body was just as powerful as the day he left the football field in an ambulance. Thrice weekly bench press and bicep curl sessions at the gym had seen to that.

With a mighty roar, the big man unleashed a punch so powerful that it shattered the Hunter's jaw and nearly lopped the creature's head off. Coach felt the force of the impact shoot down the length of his rigid arm and shoulder, but his bones were thick and resiliant.

"God damn...when I grow up, I want to be just like you!" Francis shouted with a smile. He seemed genuinely impressed as Coach lifted him up once more.

The older man smirked, choosing to take the biker's words for the complement that they were, and the two of them headed towards the others as quickly as they could.

Rochelle dove to the side and reached for her AK-47 as the nearly bald Witch careened towards her. The creature's outrage was palpable and her shrill scream was now continuous. She no longer stopped shrieking, not even to take a breath. The girl retreated, horrified that the monster could absorb so much damage. She took a springing leap backwards as the Witch swiped at her, but could not completely avoid the razor claws. Although Rochelle hit the ground hard, her fingers never left the trigger. She screamed out a battle cry as her bullets tore through the Witch.

Before descending upon the girl, the Witch let out a squawk when the thick bullet of a sniper rifle entered the her ear canal, annihilated her ear drum, and lodged itself into her brain. The monster staggered from the fierce impact, and another bullet pierced the back of her skull. With her equilibrium thoroughly destroyed, the Witch hit the side of a barbecue grill next to the buffet tent and collapsed into the mud.

Coach scooped the injured girl up and made his way towards Nick and Ellis, who were finishing off the remainder of the horde that had swamped the bile-covered mechanic.

Crouched on one knee a short distance away, Francis watched in disbelief as the Witch slowly lifted herself out of the mud- despite his deadly, well placed shots. He lifted the scope lens of Ellis's misplaced sniper rifle up to his eye and fired one last time. The bullet entered the barbecue grill's propane tank, triggering an explosion that ignited the interior of the buffet tent and launched the Witch twenty feet into the air. The creature hit the ground, rolled back onto her feet, and with her face buried in her palms, she took off with a limp away from the survivors as fast as she could.

"What the fuck were you thinking? Were you even thinking?" Such were the first words that Ellis heard as the loud ringing in his ears slowly subsided. The conman was absolutely livid, and although Coach was equally upset at the boy, he was content to allow Nick to tear the kid a new one as he tended to Rochelle's wounds.

"I'm gonna...uh, gonna have to remove your shirt, Ro," Coach stated softly after clearing his throat.

Francis's eyes widened ever so slightly at the prospect- a fact that Rochelle immediately noticed. The girl narrowed her eyes in response to the biker's none-too-subtle ogling, but removed her shirt anyway. Although she would rather not expose herself in front of a room full of men, the girl knew better than to resist. A situation such as this was bound to happen sooner or later, and carrying on and making a scene was only going to drag it out for a truly uncomfortable duration of time.

"Just make it quick, please," She sighed.

Francis made no attempt to look away once the pink graphic tee was lifted off dark, caramel flesh. To the biker, there was no harm in merely observing the sight before him. His eyes were immediately drawn to the white lace of a bra partially concealed by the young woman's crossed arms. Although Rochelle had avoided the brunt of the Witch's attack, the creature's claws still managed to rake crimson gashes across her stomach that ran parallel just above and below a gold belly button piercing.

A bead of sweat trickled down Francis's forehead and he bit his lower lip as Coach moved in front of Rochelle. The older man turned to him, gave him a scowl of disapproval that clearly meant 'Back Off,' and was careful to conceal the girl behind his large frame before proceeding to disinfect her scratches and wrap gauze around her waist.

You're one to talk, Coach...I'm not the one feeling her up...

With nothing but Coach's backside to stare at, Francis turned his attention to Nick and Ellis.

"I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry!"

"I didn't ask for an apology! I asked, for a reason- a little insight into that thick skull of yours! You could have gotten us all killed!"

"I know. I jus'..." Ellis was fully aware that his actions had been beyond reckless and with the threat of imminent death momentarily abated, the boy's guilt was quickly becoming unbearable- made all the worse because he knew he had lost control of himself. He knew exactly what had caused him to lose that control...and it frightened him.

"What could have possibly possessed you to do something so stupid, Overalls? Answer me!" Nick was growing more furious by the moment, his headache coming back with a vengeance.

The mechanic's eyes sank to the ground, his face flushing slightly under the conman's scrutinizing and unrelenting gaze. Ellis had always been a sweet boy. Although prone to partaking in bouts of occasional mischief with the ever hyperactive Keith, Ellis had rarely done anything worthy of true punishment. Combined with the fact that his mother tended to coddle him, Ellis was not used to being reprimanded so harshly. Needless to say, he wasn't handling it well.

"Why the fuck did you do it?" Suddenly Nick grabbed the boy by the shirt, lifted him up to eye level, and pressed him forcefully against the wall, "Nothing, huh? Not a peep? Not a single word? This is the same little bastard who never keeps his fucking yap shut! ANSWER ME, GOD DAMN YOU!"

Nick's headache was blazing with a fury that begged for release, and his breaths became feverishly rapid. For a fleeting moment, Ellis's downcast face, the cold stone wall to which he was firmly affixed, and the distorted hand that viciously held his shirt, had all turned an eerie shade of amber to the conman's vision before reverting back to normal. Nick blinked his eyes rapidly as he tried to process what had just occurred.

Ellis's own eyes were threatening to well up with tears, and he fought against them with all of his might. To cry in front of the awesome biker dude, who now stood over Nick's shoulder, was a thought that the boy simply could not bear.

"Hey man, enough. Lay off of him."

Nick released Ellis from his grip and seemed to brace himself against the wall for a moment before turning around to face Francis. He smoothed his hair back and took several deep breaths before responding.

"This does not concern you." Nick's voice was now a wisp of smooth silk and icy venom.

"I'm part of this team- for the moment at least- so it does concern me." Francis stood his ground, unfazed by Nick's diminished aggression.

This is not over, Ellis...I will get to the fucking bottom of this...

After taking one last look at the boy, Nick stepped away from the both of them and made his way slowly towards the far corner of the room.

"That's it?" Francis scoffed, "I was expecting a little more fight out of you!"

"I have been nothing but civil to you from the moment I walked away from the bridge," Nick stated as he removed his jacket- his back to the biker.

"But you haven't said two words to me since then."

"Exactly."

Nick was done with the conversation and he lowered himself onto the ground, faced the wall, and became silent.

Few words were exchanged after that. No one had to suggest spending the rest of the night within the safe room. After what they had just experienced, none of them were eager to continue roaming the treacherous streets until daybreak. All five settled down to rest, with sleep coming easier for some than others.

Francis was roused from a light sleep, not by the incessant mumbles and moans of the sinister creatures shambling amidst the dark alleyways just outside the door, but by the sound of stifled sobs and sniffling. He shifted onto his side and peered into the darkness.

"Hey kid," he whispered, which caused the sniffling to immediately stop, "You remind me of myself when I was younger...what you did back there...it was really, really stupid, but...don't beat yourself up over it. Alright?"

Upon receiving no response, Francis lowered himself back down and shifted a bit before falling back to sleep.

The sniffling eventually resumed, but much quieter than before.