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The haunting, screeching blaring of the alarm carried its' summon far and wide. And the horde answered with their own screeching, gathering towards the source, the heavy, shambling footsteps like pounding rain in a storm. In a way, it was a storm.

A storm of the dead.

That was the way Ellis preferred to think of them. Dead. It meant that there was no guilt involved in killing them, no remorse in slicing and dicing through their rotting ranks with whatever weapon he could come across; shotgun, pistol, machete, frying pan...hell, people even left ninja swords lying around. He wasn't entirely sure of the proper term, but what he did know was that it kicked some serious zombie a**.

Even so, the constant clawing of nails, biting of teeth sharpened by rot and decay made it hard for him to progress. His team -- his friends -- were backing him up, trying to get rid of the circle of Infected that surrounded him, with varying degrees of success. Occasionally a stray bullet pierced through the fabric of his faded yellow T-shirt, and he had to bite back cries of pain, using all his energy to hack away at the barrier of flesh that blocked him from salvation.

They had to turn off the alarm or this would never end.

A pink flash past the corner of his eye; Rochelle. Good...if he could only hold them off, just a tiny bit longer, then she'd be able to scramble up the ladder and get to the alarm before anything serious happened. Just a few more minutes. Just a few...more...minutes...

An all too familiar sound sent a chill down his spine. The low roar of the creature that they had dubbed the 'Charger' -- aptly named for its' chosen form of attack. Heavy footsteps mingled with the enraged screeches of the common Infected, and before Ellis could think he had been snatched away; but it was out of the frying pan and into the hot, hot fire, as his next moment was overtaken by a blinding, crushing pain in his chest, in his back, as the Charger slammed him against the nearest wall.

He struggled in its' grip, and used what breath he could muster to call for aid.
"s**t...s**t! C-Coach....Nick! Could use some--"

Ellis didn't have the chance to say anything more. There was that crushing pain again...and again...and again. Over and over his body was slammed torturously into the ground, over and over did he release mangled cries of pain, the sounds getting closer to a scream with each bone-breaking blow.

Nick and Coach were torn up with the Hordes...

Rochelle was on top of the tower.

He could feel his strength draining...the sky was awfully blue today, wasn't it...? And he had such a good view...up and down, back and forth, slam slam slam, but no pain any more. And now even the slam slam slam was gone and oh, didn't something like this happen with Keith once...? His mouth opened to tell a story but oh, how peculiar the words weren't coming to his throat but something else was. Ergh, red stuff in his mouth, salty metal, how's the shop doing...?..Came up from his chest? Oh, that can't be good, not at all, not at all...

And there's Nick or is it nick can't tell but his eyes are awfully green it's such a nice shade of green like grass while it's alive oh haha alive that's a funny joke cuz not gonna be alive much longer at this rate are those tears? no nick never cries that wouldn't make sense and what are those metal things pressing chest cold cold

no green

just black
black
black

******************************
It took a good ten minutes or so for the onslaught of the dead to dissipate; during that time both Coach and Nick were surrounded, and despite the fact that Ellis' haunting cries pierced their ears, they couldn't do anything about it until Rochelle finally, finally managed to get the alarm off. The shrieking of the sirens stopped. And pretty soon after that, so did the shrieking of the Infected.

Both Coach and Nick only had one priority after that.

"Ellis...!"
Every curse word Nick could think of was uttered in the few moments he was running up to Ellis. He had no clue if this thing would even work but god ******** damnit was it worth a try. He couldn't let Ellis die here. Every single thought racing through his head followed the same general pattern; 'If only'. If only he had got there sooner. If only the Horde hadn't held up he and Coach. If only Ellis wasn't suffering so much.

If only he wasn't so scared for him.

Dropping to his knees beside him and yanking up the bloodstained yellow shirt, Nick tried to restrain himself from wincing at the sight. That didn't look like a chest should. It didn't even look like the boy's insides would be anywhere close to intact anymore.

Ellis was invincible, though. Didn't he always say so? Of course he could bring him back. Of course.

"I swear to God, Ellis." Nick growled, looking right into the mechanic's glassy brown eyes, "If you die on me, I'm kicking your a**."

Coach stood beside him. Although he was silent the expression in the older man's eyes betrayed his worry; both for Ellis (although to him his state was painfully obvious; he wouldn't allow himself to say so.) and for Nick. It wasn't any secret that Nick and Ellis were close, by now.

He had to wonder if Nick would be able to make it through this.

The aforementioned conman placed the paddles to Ellis' chest.
Administer shock.
"Clear...! "

Nothing.

Another shock.
"Clear, damnit...!"

Try one more time.
"Goddamnit, Ellis, wake up!"

But the mechanic gave no answer.
He was all out of stories.

Coach was by his side. Nick wasn't even sure how long he'd been there.
"...He's gone, Nick." he noted, quietly, resting a heavy paw on his shoulder.
"He...was a good kid. I'mma miss 'im." Coach murmured, biting his lip. "...You...okay?"
Nick was silent.
"...I'll...go tell Rochelle. Catch up with us in a minute, a'right?" Coach continued.
"...Kay."

With that he left. Nick was left alone with Ellis.
With what was once Ellis.
"...Ellis...". He wasn't entirely sure what to do. There was one thing...that he desperately wanted to do. But he couldn't allow himself to do that. Not in front of Ellis...he'd laugh himself silly if he did it before. No more laughing now.
"...You stupid hick."

Reaching out with one hand, he pulled Ellis' shirt back down. His hand -- which he noted was trembling. Damn -- moved upwards still, closing the young man's eyes. He moved it again; hesitated, then...gently brushed it down Ellis' cheek.
"It was a bad idea from the start to get involved with you, kid." he murmured. "I don't know if I'm gonna manage without you."

He couldn't bring himself to say anything more.
Nick picked himself up and walked away.

A solitary tear dripped onto the dry ground.

Some might call him heartless -- that was all he would allow himself to shed for the poor kid?

But they were fighting for their lives, after all.
He'd just have to make sure that Ellis didn't die in vain.

"...Rest in peace, Ellis."