Rick got out of the cruiser, paying careful attention to the sea of infected around the hotel. Once he was sure that they didn't notice him, he grasped for the backdoor, opening it and letting Leon out, never taking eyes off of the hotel. Amy crawled out right behind Leon. Rick stood in wait now, his hands gripping his Colt Python as he stared down the infected swarm, glancing back and forth between the horde and Leon, urging the kid to hurry his ass up. Leon circled the car quietly, cautiously opening the passenger door where Carl was sitting. Carl lifted up his arms and allowed Leon to pull him out, holding him close to his chest.
Leon was impressed how brave the boy was being. He could feel and hear his little heart beating loudly in his chest, but he shed no tears whatsoever. He had been raised on the good example of his father.
"Alright, she said it was the gray Chevy Silverado," Rick whispered.
He pointed a parking spaces away to a large pickup, also parked in the back of the parking lot.
Lori had told Rick over the phone that one of the patrons, Tommy Miller, the brother of the latino man that Leon spoke to earlier that day had volunteered his truck for them to hide in, as he had left it unlocked after having a cigarette early this morning. Leon hoped to God that this Tommy Miller guy was certain of this fact. If he wasn't, that may have cost them all their lives. But they didn't have any better ideas. He hurried across the pavement as quietly as possible, holding Carl tight in his arms, the little boy's head buried in the crevice of his neck. Amy shuffled quickly right on his heels.
Once they reached the Chevy, Leon's heart raced rapidly and irregularly as he reached for the door handle. God, please, please, let it be unlocked. He let go of a breath of tension when it opened easily. He allowed Amy to climb in first, lifting Carl up and handing him to her before climbing in himself. He cringed as he closed the door hard enough to shout, the sound loud and echoey throughout the parking lot.
He peaked up through the windshield, but the infected hadn't seemed to have heard it. They probably couldn't hear all that much over the sounds of each other groaning and moaning.
He looked over and spotted Rick who was giving the truck one last look, reassuring himself that his son was inside and safe with the teenagers before sitting back down in the driver's seat of the police cruiser. He drove the car slowly back towards the road. It must have only taken thirty seconds, but it sure felt like forever watching Rick roll back down to Walcott street. Soon after, the siren began blaring, the car rolling at a slow and steady rate. Rick came barrelling out of the door, sliding over the hood and making a beeline for the Silverado.
Instead of jumping into the truck, he hopped over into the bed, flattening himself so nothing could see him. Leon hoped to God none of the infected had seen him do this. If they did, he was as good as dead.
"Daddy!" Carl cried.
"Shh!" Leon scolded. "He'll be okay, alright?"
He wasn't sure if that was the truth, but he needed Carl to believe it for now.
Amy, Carl in her lap, adjusted the seat so that it slid all the way back, bumping against Tommy's clutter in the back. She placed herself and Carl in the leg space. Leon himself lowered down, but still stayed up enough that he could watch the infected all run towards the blaring cruiser, its sirens slowly but surely getting quieter and quieter as it continued down the road. He wondered how long it could go on for. Surely, enough of them surrounding it would stop it. That or it would run out of juice eventually.
He watched and watched as the vehicle disappeared down the street, the danger disappearing with it. Despite how quiet it had gotten, Rick's tapping on the back window scared the shit out of him. He jumped at first, then his brain registered that it could only be Rick. Sure enough, the deputy's face was staring through the window, wide eyes and hand waving in a "come on" motion. It was time to get back into the hotel.
"Let's go," Leon said.
Amy wriggled her way back up out of the leg space, Carl still in her arms. As hesitant as she looked, she opened the passenger door. Leon followed after her out of his own door. Rick hopped out of the back of the truck, extending his arms out for his son.
"Daddy!"
"We're not inside yet," Rick warned, taking Carl from Amy.
They ran for the front doors, keeping their pacing at a slower rate in order to not be too loud against the pavement.
Until a shriek sounded out in the distance.
"Oh God!" Amy cried.
"Go, go, go!" Rick shouted.
They picked up the pace, hearing footsteps after them. Faster and faster. Leon couldn't tell how many there were or where in hell they came from. These things ran fast like they couldn't feel, couldn't get winded. He felt like his heart was going to fall out of his chest, it beating harder and harder with every second. The not knowing if he'd make it to the hotel before whatever was shrieking caught up with them was making him sick to his stomach. Never in his life had he ran this much in one day.
In perhaps a foolish move, he couldn't help but look back at Amy, making sure she was behind him still.
Sure enough, she was, but one of the infected was on her heels, once a man, his clothes now freshly tattered and torn. Further behind him, a dozen of the runners had broken off from the her chasing the police car, and they were all picking up the pace, getting closer and closer to the hotel.
"Come on!" he yelled to Amy.
"Oh God, he's going to get me!" she cried.
Firing was a bad idea. All those monsters that just chased the cruiser down the road would come running back here. Then they'd have much more than a dozen to deal with. But he couldn't just let it catch her.
He pulled his gun from his holster, taking care to aim as good as he could with shaky hands.
But his hands sure were shaky. He fired the gun. Missed. Again, and again, and again. He missed every time, cursing himself for doing so. His hands were shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.
Amy had made her way past him, catching up with Rick. Now the infected had turned his attention towards Leon. He was close enough now that there was no way Leon would miss.
He pulled the trigger.
Click.
He pulled it again.
Click. Click.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. No more ammo.
The infected grabbed him, wrestling him to the hard, hot pavement. He did his best to push it off of him, but the thing was much stronger than it looked. No conscious awareness of its own pain as Leon managed to get ahold of his ribcage, digging his nails in so deep that he felt blood trickling down his fingers.
He began to lose his strength against it, it's face sunk closer and closer to him, those disgusting tendrils protruding as if crawling towards his own mouth. He clasped his lips together tightly, feeling the tendrils tickle his lips, the mushroomy scent filling his nose. A loud popping sound went off, and his hearing turned to complete ringing. The body slumped on top of him, pinning him to the ground.
As quick as it had happened, he felt someone pull the corpse off of him, Shane's face looking down at him from above. He scrambled to his feet as fast as he could.
Leon didn't dare to look back this time, but he knew more of them were coming because Shane was still firing.
He ran and ran until he was inside the hotel restaurant.
"Carl, thank God, you're okay!" Lori cried out, running towards her husband and son.
Rick and Lori embraced, squeezing Carl between them. Rick let Lori take Carl, rushing to help Shane barricade the door as he returned inside
"Those gunshots are gonna bring all them bastards right back on us!"
Leon still couldn't hear the words over the ringing in his ears, but he could read the lips of the man in the sleeveless flannel that yelled them. It was a guy who lived in town, Leon had seen him around before buying cigarettes from the local gas station or driving his truck down Walcott. A good for nothing hillbilly as far as he knew, Daryl Dixon by name. Why he was at the hotel, Leon had no idea, but he could tell that he was angrier than shit. Something he'd heard was stereotypical of the Dixon men.
Leon looked back at the doors, his ears still ringing like a million giant bells. Though he couldn't hear, he could see the doors jiggling. God knows how many of those things were on the other side. For now, they were trapped.
Flame Wolfe: Thank you very much for the review. I plan on this being an ongoing story, so I hope to see you stick around and read. I'm glad you find it interesting! I'm surprised this isn't a more popular crossover right now, but I'm sure we'll see more things like this as the Last of Us TV show increases in popularity.
