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You get used to running. Even Nick was used to it now, although the Northerner was still stubbornly refusing to lose his bulky suit. Not that it mattered now, with a horde nipping at their feet and limited ammo to deal with it.
Ellis got in to the bunker first, the room barely lit by a few tiny windows near the ceiling and nothing else. Electricity had long since gone out in the area, and that made things all the more difficult–especially when they had to travel through pitch black buildings.
Nick came staggering in a moment later, slamming the door shut behind him. It wasn’t a safe house door, though. Maybe not as flimsy as most of the doors out there, but not built specifically for keeping the infected out. They both scrambled, then, knocking over filing cabinets and shelving units to barricade the door. That wouldn’t hold forever, but it was a start.
But a quick look around the bunker revealed that it was, in fact, just a bunker; there was no other way out.
“Well shit, man.” Ellis scratched the back of his neck, still breathless from the run and the half-assed barricading job. “What the hell are we gonna do now?”
Nick was nearly doubled over from how hard he was gasping, eyes scanning the room. “Fuck, I don’t know. Windows?”
He watched as the mechanic wandered around the room, examining each of the four windows. “No way, Nick, them’s all small as shit. I don’t even think Ro’ coulda got through one of them.”
The horde outside of the door was still pounding away, snarling and gurgling. Nick could hear a Hunter mixed in, pouncing and yowling at the door. Maybe even a Boomer, too. Hard to tell over the din.
“Maybe we could try goin’ back out there and clearin’ a path?” Ellis sounded hopeful at least, motioning to Nick’s assault rifle. “How many bullets do y’all got left in that?” Ellis held nothing in his hands; his own gun had run out along the way, tossed when the horde grabbed it and wouldn’t let go. He’d broken a baseball bat earlier in the day, too.
Nick’s brow furrowed briefly before checking his gun. He knew the answer already, knew that there weren’t nearly enough for what Ellis was suggesting, that even reloading once would be the end of them to begin with, but he also knew that if he didn’t check the gun, Ellis would keep annoying him about it. “Twenty-two bullets, kiddo. Not even enough to get out of the door frame.”
He didn’t need to look up to see Ellis slump, defeated by the reality of their situation. “…Well, there’s gotta be somethin’ in here we can use.”
Nick sat down, happy at least for a break as he watched the mechanic nervously shuffling around the small room. He lit up a cigarette, happily pilfered from a machine that’d been smashed open by a Tank just four days earlier. He didn’t see the point in looking.
They’d been having rough luck lately. Coach broke his leg, which meant they had to sit tight in this shitty little rural town. He couldn’t even tell what state they were in anymore. Somewhere hot and muggy. Nick had been put on doctor duty; he at least seemed to have some sort of knowledge of what to do, enough that Ro’ and Ellis didn’t really feel like arguing. But they needed more supplies. Always did. That meant having to push further and further away from the safe house every day, sometimes even reaching other safe houses, just to find supplies. Medical supplies, mostly, but food and water were just as necessary.
Ellis sat down with a huff next to Nick, startling the conman out of his thoughts. “Nothin’. Not even papers’ n’ shit. I don’t think this place was even used once.”
Nick nodded in agreement. It was barren; even in the dim light it was obvious how barren it was. Nick shone his flashlight around for good measure, ignoring the horde just feet away. He could almost pretend that they weren’t there; at least they weren’t clawing through the door.
“Ellis?” He chewed his lip. “I don’t think we’re surviving this time.”
He finished his cigarette before he bothered to glance at Ellis. The kid had been quiet ever since he piped up, and just one look at him showed why. Ellis looked terrified. Deep in thought, but terrified nonetheless. No doubt trying to think up some way for them to escape this mess.
“…I reckon you’re right, Nick.”
“What was that?”
Ellis took his hat off, grimacing. “…I think we ain’t survivin’ this, neither.” He looked up at Nick, nervous, trying to act at least a little tough. “…Maybe if we wait long enough, them zombies’ll just leave?” He sounded so unsure of himself that it was clear he’d given up on that plan before he finished saying it. The infected never gave up. They just kept pounding until they got in, unless it was a safe house. Those doors couldn’t be broken down, not even by a Tank.
Nick could see Ellis’s lower lip trembling. “Ellis?” He waited for the mechanic to focus on him. He needed the kid to stay sane; a mental breakdown was not going to help. “Tell me a story about Keith.”
Hours had passed, and Ellis was finally starting to run out of stories. It was a miracle that the infected hadn’t broken the door down, although they could still clearly be heard pounding away. Ellis wrapped up his last story, something about Keith accidentally eating gator eggs ‘cause he thought they were “just real funny lookin’ chicken eggs” with a chuckle.
“…Man, I ain’t never even been kissed.” Ellis’s smile faded a little. He looked up at the windows; sun was clearly setting, and that meant soon that the only light they’d really have was whatever was left in Nick’s flashlight. Ellis had dropped his outside. “Well, I mean, my ma kissed me a lot, but that ain’t the same.” He elbowed Nick gently, grinning crookedly. “Bet y’all been kissed a whole lot, huh?”
Nick laughed. “Is kissing like fucking to you Southerners or what?” He laughed harder at the annoyed look Ellis gave him. “Yeah I’ve been kissed a lot, sport. Chicks dig me.”
Ellis thought about that for a while, letting the relative silence take over. “…Y’all ever kissed a dude before?”
It was a strange question, and one that made Nick check to make sure that his gun and flashlight were far enough away from Ellis that it couldn’t end badly to admit it. “Yeah. Few times.” He started to go for another cigarette, last one in the pack. He didn’t want to admit how many he’d nervously smoked since they’d gotten into the bunker.
“…Can I kiss you?”
Nick actually dropped the cigarette, looking at Ellis as if he’d mutated into a Jockey. “What? Jesus, no, Ellis.” He shook his head as he reached for the cigarette again, but the question was already sitting in his head. Ellis wasn’t ugly, not by a long shot; and they were both going to die as soon as that horde busted the door down. Hell, he could see cracks already forming around the frame, the metal twisted inward. He could almost imagine a few infected laying dead outside from smashing themselves to bits on it.
“You don’t have any goddamn experience. But I can kiss you, if you want.” He offered the opportunity casually, lighting his cigarette as he waited for a response. It was almost surprising to feel the little guy suddenly close the tiny gap between them and fucking cuddle up against him. It didn’t seem like Ellis was asking just because he was going to die.
He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and held it as far away as he could, then turned and kissed the mechanic. It was clumsy–it’d been almost a year of this zombie shit and kissing wasn’t exactly high on the list of things to do when no one was bathing or brushing their teeth regularly anymore–but it was earnest.
When Ellis made a little noise, Nick deepened the kiss, cupping his cheek with his free hand. He could hear the barricade crashing down behind them, and now Ellis was clinging to him. He was practically on top of the kid now, his bulky frame covering the slimmer man easily. Shitty way to die, but maybe he could shoot Ellis in the head before the zombies got to him.
Yet the horde wasn’t ripping into his back. In fact, it was pretty damn quiet. He broke the kiss then, watching Ellis pant and gasp. “Shit, that was pretty darn good.”
“Seriously? You guys had to get water and this is what you’ve been doing?”
Ellis squeaked, actually squeaked, while Nick turned his head to look over his shoulder. The mechanic grabbed his hat and covered his face, blushing scarlet.
Rochelle stood in the doorway, a pile of infected bodies butchered at her feet, her AK-47 casually resting at her hip and her axe buried into a Hunter’s skull. “C’mon, we’ve gotta get some water while the sun’s still halfway up.”
Hours later, when they were back in the safe house, Coach laughed so hard at Rochelle’s discovery that he cried.