Chapter Text
Ellis figured that most people he knew and met had a nicotine addiction.
This had nothing to do with the way he thought about others. He’s just seen it. It was the culture where he grew up. His PawPaw was often found smoking like a train on his front porch with his friends ever since Ellis was a little boy. Chewing tobacco and smoking were all common additions to a simple hangout or conversation. Ellis preferred chewing it. There was nothing more comforting than slipping the tobacco between his gum and cheek. He could still taste the flavor some days.
Of course, when the apocalypse hit, Ellis’ last concern was his tobacco. He spent his days cold, hungry, tired, and afraid, which left little brain space for his former habit. Moving from safe house to safe house hardly meant there was time for trips to the gas station for cigarettes anyway.
The group of strangers he stumbled upon also helped distract him, both from his addiction and the zombies in general. Coach, Rochelle, and Nick were three people that Ellis couldn’t imagine having any business within his former life, but now, they were all he had. He depended on them for safety, shelter, and support, and they depended on him. They were a fine group of people, and he trusted them with his life. They were the perfect balance between humorous and comforting.
It was strange when Ellis discovered that he was apparently the only one who enjoyed the low hum of nicotine. No one else in the group made it obvious they were yearning for a cigarette or a pack of dip or anything, which made Ellis feel a strike of embarrassment as he was the youngest member of the group.
These bothers wouldn’t rear their ugly head until a raid through a gas station.
The gas station looked like any ordinary gas station in post-apocalyptic Georgia: dark, broken, and filthy. When he and his group were mere steps away from the shattered entrance, Ellis could tell they wouldn’t be able to find much, but Coach convinced them that it wouldn’t hurt to try. Nick snapped that it would be a waste of time and energy, lest they wanted to find ‘dirt, shit, and dirt covered in shit’.
Rochelle, someone who tended to back Coach, said that finding something was better than nothing at all, especially since they were running low on rations. Ellis, agreeing with logic, sided with the other two, relieved that Nick only offered an eye roll in response.
The gas station door was closed and locked, but this predicament was solved by the impact from the butt of Nick’s magnum. The fluidity of the motion made Ellis question how intimate Nick was with breaking into places, but before he opened his mouth, Nick retorted.
“Shit,” Nick’s amused voice called after the rain of broken glass. “At least they didn’t steal the lotto cards, right guys? We might have a chance this time.”
Rochelle huffed, and by the curl in her lips, Ellis could tell she enjoyed that quip more than the others. Ellis braved a smile as he followed the others into the store.
The store wasn’t as barren as they predicted. The floors were littered with dust and old trash. Judging from the sight, animals had access to the store more than humans did. The blinking fluorescent lights of the beer fridge in the back were the only thing providing light in the otherwise dim store. This was a considerably better scene than others, as there weren’t corpses or clear signs of struggle. There would hopefully be no sadness to choke down once leaving.
“Keep a sharp eye out, people,” Coach warned, echoing Ellis’ concerns. The scene was quiet, but one could never be too safe.
Ellis inhaled low as he raised his pistol.
The Georgia native gravitated towards the back left corner of the shop, where the coffee machine and the rotating hot dogs used to be. Not that he expected to find anything, but like Coach said, there ain’t no harm in looking.
Then, Ellis saw it.
A flattened box of cigarettes amongst the garbage on the floor. The blood red of the box was unmistakable in the trash, and Ellis found himself holding his breath as he reached down. He almost couldn’t believe it—he’d all but forgotten his nicotine habit before the world went to shit.
SLAM!
Ellis jumped, his pistol tight in his hands as he rapidly turned around.
Staring at him from inside the beer fridge was an undead employee, eyes wide open and skin a gnarly gray. He gurgled from his missing jaw, hissing, and growling as he bumped into the stained glass that separated him from Ellis.
“Shit,” Ellis gulped. He wasn’t sure if there was a handbook on surviving a zombie apocalypse, but he’d like to read the chapter on getting used to seeing dead bodies jump out from nowhere.
“Man, I wish the CCTV on this place still worked,” Ellis could hear Nick laughing from across the store. “You should’ve seen your face.”
Ellis rolled his eyes. Nick’s laughter echoed up the walls, and a foreign heat fell flat across his cheeks. He kept his scowl behind puckered lips and turned around, turning away from the rest of his group.
“Should we kill him?” Rochelle’s gentle voice drifted through the air.
“Aw, come on, it was just a joke—“
“Not you, idiot,” Rochelle hissed with an eye roll. “The poor fella in the beer fridge.”
“Naw,” Ellis stuffed his hat lower on his head. His heart still raced as he could feel blood rushing over his nose and cheeks. “He ain’t hurtin’ nobody.”
Eventually, with no audience to chortle with, Nick subdued his laughing to a gentle snicker. He might’ve muttered something about breaking into the back room, but Ellis wasn’t sure. He pretended to look interested in some twinkies, which remained untouched on the bottom shelf by the window.
“Hey,” A friendly voice sounded.
“Hi,” Ellis murmured.
“You doing okay?” Rochelle smiled at him, leaning gently on the shelves Ellis was staring holes into.
Ellis huffed. He thought of the squashed pack of cigarettes on the floor and suddenly, his mouth tasted weird. It had been a long while since he was able to smoke or have access to his chewing tobacco. Now, his head pulsed with ache.
“There anythin’ you miss?” Ellis asked, thumbing over the packet of twinkies in his hand.
“Like what?” Her voice asked playfully.
His surprise at Rochelle’s retort made his head drift towards hers, and once he caught her sly smile, he guffawed and shook his head.
“Like, y’know,” Ellis surprised himself with his own shyness. “. . . Booze? That sorta thing.”
His conversation that prodded Rochelle made the woman’s eyes narrow in amused curiosity. She smiled. Ellis could decipher that she knew this conversation indicated something bigger, something that was clearly eating Ellis, but like a cat with a toy, she continued.
“I think I’m a little more worried about making it to tomorrow,” She laughed. “And I don’t think our friend in the fridge would be willing to sell to me.”
Ellis snorted. He was glad she was honest and unwilling to prod about the thing Ellis wanted to talk about most. He found that she was quick as a whip in conversation, hitting the intent of somebody like a dart to a bullseye. When she confessed to having been a reporter in her ‘past life’, Ellis was hardly surprised.
Rochelle was the group member that he got along with the most. She was gentle, humorous and a reliable person. Though she tended to be overprotective over Ellis like an older sister, she made good company. He looked up to the way she stepped in and through conversation, navigating them with a mature and set-back ease. As someone who spoke his mind and then some, Ellis felt that he ought to learn a thing or two from Rochelle.
“Though, a ‘Sex on the Beach’ does sound pretty nice right now.”
“A wut?” Ellis’ mouth fell open.
“It’s a drink,” She explained quickly, not noticing Ellis’ shock. “Vodka and peach schnapps with some OJ. That was my classic order on every girl’s night out.”
Rochelle laughed along with memories that she couldn’t go back to. Her voice grew sad, which made Ellis doleful thinking about how long Rochelle has been saddling up in the company of three men. It hasn’t exactly been an eternity, but Ellis couldn’t imagine being forced to trust three strange men with your life in a state you’ve never lived in. Out of Nick and Coach, Ellis has always tried to be extra sensitive towards the needs of Rochelle.
“Aw, I’m sure there’s plenty’a girls down where we’re goin’, Ro. You’ll get your girls night out.”
“You’re a sweet kid,” She smiled fondly.
“And maybe you could make me one’a those someday,” Ellis added. “One of ‘em ‘sexy beaches’. We can have a girl’s night, if y’want.”
“I’ll hold you to that, El,” Rochelle winked, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder.
Ellis snorted, opening his mouth to retort about something else. There was a need to confess what he’d truly been missing, and he was sure Rochelle, in all her carefulness, wouldn’t be keen on judging him too much.
“Hey, Girl Scouts,” Nick called, his voice bouncing off the walls. “Y’all bouts reddy t’saddle on up an’ outta here, r’wut?”
Ellis scoffed, pushing away the smile that threatened his lips with a pout. Nick loved making fun of Ellis’ thick accent, which he didn’t realize was a thick accent until the joke began.
Rochelle raised a brow. “That joke was plenty unfunny the first million times you said it.”
“Oh, yeah?” Nick’s thick brows rose daringly as Rochelle turned towards him and tossed an unthreatening elbow to his side. “Is that why you’re smirking at me, doll?”
“I think you’re looking at my ‘I’m gonna kill you’ eyes, Nick,” Rochelle retorted. “Lord knows I won’t ever show you a smirk like that.”
“What?” Nick snorted, shoving an elbow into Rochelle’s side. Rochelle, who responded with a shy grin, only rolled her eyes, and shoved Nick back. They exchanged a few more retorts, filling Ellis’ stomach with something cold and unfamiliar.
He must’ve been watching their forms for longer than he thought, because Coach called for him twice now.
“Sorry,” Ellis murmured, the wind feeling knocked from his lungs.
He glanced backwards towards the box of cigarettes on the floor, only to find that they weren’t there anymore.
-
The next few days were properly miserable.
He couldn’t sleep, he found himself irritable and he was incredibly jumpy. Running away from certain death helped take his mind off things, but in the quiet nights within safe houses and abandoned buildings, Ellis felt as though he was going insane. It also didn’t help that Nick and Rochelle seemed to be laughing it up like a regular pair of jokesters together. Ellis should’ve been glad that his group was finally getting along but seeing them laugh and tease each other only made him sick. Coach joined in, but there was a unique discomfort with seeing Rochelle and Nick together.
Ellis took out his grievances on the undead. Luckily, no one noticed the extra aggression coming from the youngest member of their group. Ellis grit his teeth every time his fingers clenched on a trigger, or manifested extra brutal strength coming every time he swung an axe, baseball bat or crowbar. Coach complimented his skills, but if he knew about the real reasons, Ellis would’ve thought that to be a little extra embarrassing.
Coach, being the sage of the group, was the person that Ellis approached next.
“Coach,” Ellis fell in line with his elder, shouldering a hefty baseball bat as he did so. “I uh—I wanted’ta ask ya somethin’, if that’s alright.”
Ellis was tired of suffering alone. While talking to Coach, he was hoping to hear some solid words of advice, as Coach had mentioned working in a high school before the apocalypse. He was sure the older man had plenty of nice things to say.
“Anything,” The jovial man replied, his voice booming low in his chest.
Ellis found himself growing shy. He figured this was an opportune moment to have a private conversation with Coach, as they’d been walking for miles at this point, but now he was rethinking things. He glanced behind him, over his shoulder where Nick was paces behind.
“You miss anythin’?” Ellis asked, his voice cautiously low as he turned back around. “I um—y’know, like uh—fast food, that sorta thing?”
“Did Nick ask y’to play some sorta joke on me?”
Coach’s accusatory glare made Ellis gape like a fish. “Uh, no. No, sir. I um—”
Coach looked unimpressed, sparing a glance behind them, where the man in question strolled along, fidgeting with a watch on his wrist. Nick looked properly stoic, collected, with his dark hair in stark contrast to the fog behind them and the suit on his body. Even with a dirtied suit and exhaustion weighing his features, Ellis thought he still looked striking as he was.
“What?” Nick snapped, his dark eyes narrowing upwards. Ellis gulped and snapped his head back around.
“I miss safety,” Coach decided. “I miss quiet ‘n peace.” With that final word, Coach glanced around his shoulder to glare at Nick, whose mouth tilted in a smirk. Ellis tutted his lips and grimaced, always finding himself to be uniquely annoyed whenever Nick smirked at him.
“Ain’t nothin’ like puttin’ y’head down on a pillow and knowing you’ll wake up alive the next mornin’,” Coach sighed. “That’s what I miss.”
Ellis opened his mouth to offer some words of encouragement. He wanted to tell Coach that as long as they stuck together, they could give each other all the safety they needed. Nick, however, decided it was the time to intervene on the conversation.
“You know what I miss?” Nick chimed in aloud. “Sex.”
Ellis scoffed, hiding the surprised intake of breath he took. He coughed and rubbed the callous of his thumb onto his nose, keeping his stare straight ahead. A balloon of heat expanded in his stomach, and he was unsure of how to breathe.
Nick was often offensively confident. He spoke loud, brash, but when he lowered his volume and spoke dangerously, Ellis knew the man must’ve seen some things in his life that would make Ellis pale.
There were other things that peacocked Nick’s experience in life. His hands, large, scarred and thick knuckled fingers that held silver rings and the swiftness of someone familiar with combat. He handled weapons with ease, giving pointers and lessons to the other members of his group. His quips about an ‘ex-wife’ as well as the anecdotes about getting blood out of his suit and the stench of decay should’ve made Ellis stray from the man, but it only made Ellis flustered.
There was a burning need to impress Nick on some level. He seemed cool, like a character out of a movie or a video game. There was a part of him that would’ve liked to be more like Nick; he wanted to be the one to know things, the one with layers to his very own existence. But no, unfortunately, Ellis was a man who showed his own cards too carelessly.
“Come on, Nick,” Coach grumbled.
“What?” Nick chided. “We’re all thinkin’ it. Maybe not Overalls over there, but—“
“Wait, why not me?” Ellis frowned.
“I think you were missing sex long before there were all these zombies walkin’ around,” Rochelle scoffed. “Can’t imagine anyone would subject themselves to a night with someone like you.”
Ellis swallowed dryly. He had a few things to digest—mostly that Nick had the impression that Ellis was someone who didn’t think about sex. Nick would be correct, considering Ellis hasn’t so much as touched a boob in his life, but it was still embarrassing to be pegged by the older man so astutely.
“If that’s what helps you sleep at night, sweetie,” Nick shrugged. “I have nothin’ to prove to you assholes.”
Ellis was growing uncomfortable. Did this mean that Nick thought of Ellis and sex in the same thought before? Did this mean that Nick thought about sex often? Did he think about sex when sleeping alongside Ellis?
“Assholes?” Coach tried again.
“Assholes,” Nick assured.
Nick was a guy that didn’t get along with people, especially his teammates.
At first, Ellis pinpointed it to Nick being what they called a ‘yankee’. He acted very differently compared to Southern people. For one, he didn’t skirt around topics with a honey sweet niceness, not at all. If someone had a problem with Nick, he wouldn’t hesitate to be upfront and direct about it. His jokes were also dirty, rugged, and often rubbed his group members the wrong way. Ellis, for one, enjoyed the sense of humor and had to hide his snickers beneath a pout often. Not so much nowadays, since his moods were plagued with withdrawal symptoms, which made him even more frustrated.
“So, now we’re assholes,” Rochelle sang sarcastically. Her tone made Ellis flex, unsure if she was being playful or genuinely venomous.
But Nick’s presence always felt heavy to Ellis, and whenever the two had a moment where they sat next to each other, Ellis always found an excuse to move away. Whenever they found a clean, open water source, Ellis opted to bathe alone. Whenever they slept and it was time to take watch, Ellis requested his watch shifts to be solitary or slept first. He avoided one-on-one time with Nick like the plague, and that was because one-on-one time with Nick always ended up weird.
“Oh, that’s better than all the names I call you guys in my head,” Nick snorted.
Coach shook his head. “These assholes have been keeping you alive, Nick. So, I’d think wisely about the next words that’re gonna come outta that trap o’yours.”
Ellis sighed through his nostrils, the irritation coming back to itch at the bottom of his brain. He could feel anger crawling up his spine, bringing along a pounding headache with it. His mouth tasted sour, and Ellis was this close to snapping. There was also a special irritation felt whenever Coach and Rochelle ganged up on Nick like this.
“I think I’m about ready t’call it a night,” Ellis complained aloud. “Anyone else?”
The annoyance must’ve been obvious in his tone because there was a weighted silence after Ellis spoke.
Ellis wanted to feel bad for snapping at his crew. He knew that logically, in his mind, they had all but nothing to do with his irritation.
“Sorry, y’all,” Ellis muttered next. “‘M just—just tired, is all.”
Ellis apologized with guilt thrumming his heart. He knew that his role in the group was to be the upbeat one, the one with stories and the one with chides and jokes for the others. He shouldn’t afford himself room to be snappy, and he knew that.
“And I think we’re all a little hungry,” Rochelle added helpfully. “Let’s find a safe place for the night?”
-
They ended up in a convenience store, which miserably didn’t have any cigarettes or chewing tobacco. Ellis figured that was for the better, since he wasn’t so sure what he’d do with a pack of cigarettes and no light anyhow. He also didn’t want to answer other members of his group if they were to witness Ellis indulge in tobacco.
Exploration of the store was abundant, as they found some sealed water bottles and vitamins, as well as some meager first aid kits. Coach got to work mending a scratch he’d received earlier in the day, Rochelle went to the bathroom to ‘primp’ while Ellis trailed alongside the back of the store, his wary eyes scanning every monotonous package.
Nick, in the corner of Ellis’ eye, was messing around behind the counter. Ellis pondered on this, Nick’s movement catching so much of his attention that he froze in his boots and watched Nick’s back.
The suit of his jacket suited the length of his shoulders, the fabric sloping and giving Nick a most recognizable outline. The slim of his blue collared shirt was a perfect transition to the back of Nick’s tanned neck, where dark, rich curls sat above it. Sometimes, when Ellis would squint, he could see the sleek gray hairs in the curls, which stirred something inside him he didn’t want to address. Nick looked like he smelled good, and whenever Ellis found himself walking behind the older man, he leaned in and breathed deeply, wondering if he could catch a scent of the man who was brazen about sex, crime and money—this sort of man could only smell good, right? Like expensive cologne, or cigarettes—
Ellis felt his face soften at the thought. Oh man, if Nick smelled like cigarettes—
“Hey!” Nick called, startling Ellis’ senses into adrenaline then fear. Had Nick caught him staring at him? Had—
“There’s something under us,” Nick announced, stomping his feet against the floor, where it banged with a hollow sound. He lifted his leg unceremoniously and stomped again, confirming the resounding boom.
“Sounds like it leads to a basement,” Rochelle spoke, snapping Ellis’ attention. When did she get back from the bathroom? “Maybe there are more supplies down there?”
Ellis stepped forward, making his way to behind the counter alongside Nick, who had just stepped back and tilted his head to the side, lending tendrils of dark hair to gravity.
Before Ellis could find himself staring at Nick once more, Nick spoke again.
“Only one way to find out,” Nick sang, lifting the rug of the floor with a violent rip, as it had been duct taped to the linoleum below. Dust, soot and dirt fell from the fabric, catching the now disgusted stares of Rochelle and Coach, who’d joined at the counter opposite of Nick.
“Ah, hell naw, man,” Ellis stepped to the side, avoiding the rug tossed in his direction. “This is like them parts in scary movies ‘n shit—I ain’t goin’ down there.”
“What, afraid of monsters?” Nick called sarcastically, eyeing the neat square in the floor that had a different pattern than the linoleum around it. Ellis noticed there were hinges on one side, and a clean handle on the other. “I dunno about you guys, but I say why not. It’s not like our situation can get any worse.”
Ellis supposed that Nick had a point.
“I don’t think we’ll find anythin’ worthwhile,” Coach voiced his opinion. “The dirty ass rug says this shit been here long before the zombies.”
Ellis thought that Coach had a point also.
“It’s probably something valuable,” Rochelle was the next to speak. “Think about it—if it’s something the owner, manager, whatever wanted to hide and not use, it could be guns, or-or money or something.”
Ellis found himself nodding, as Rochelle had made a very good point.
“We’re right outside of Atlanta, aren’t we?” Nick’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t exactly Mr. Rogers’ neighborhood. If there were guns, I’d hope the owner was smart enough to have them somewhere they could get them.”
“Then why don’t you go down there yourself, big guy?” Rochelle crossed her arms and raised a daring brow. “We’ll shoot anything that jumps out at you, how about that.”
“I’m curious, not stupid,” Nick retorted. “I need one of you to go down there with me. Just in case shit goes south—and not you, Coach. Don’t need you losing breath halfway in.”
Eyes turned to Ellis.
Ellis sighed. “Alright.”
Nick snorted. “Lighten up, kid. There’ll be a cousin you can hump down there, I’m sure.”
-
“Well,” Nick squinted, bringing his flashlight parallel to his ear. “No cousins, no guns, and no money. Just boxes.”
Ellis brought up his own flashlight, squinting into the swirls of dust that welcomed him from the dark. He turned his shoulders, his instincts urging him to clear every corner of the space before even speaking. Being caught in a zombie apocalypse might heighten one’s paranoias, Ellis supposed.
“You can relax, kid,” Nick snorted, reaching his hand out to the left. He swiped at the wall in a smooth motion, bringing flickering lights to the cellar they dwelled in. “If there’s any creepers down here, they probably fuckin’ starved to death.”
“Y‘never know, Nick,” Ellis murmured almost in a lecturing tone as he stowed away his flashlight. “Just checkin’ is all. Just want a damn place I can put my head to sleep, knowin’ I won’t wake up with no zombies bitin’ m’boots.”
“There’s still room for common sense, Overalls,” Nick lectured right on back, glancing over the cardboard boxes that filled the room. “It’s like Coach said—that rug’s been taped to the floor probably since you were born. We’ll be lucky if we find anything at all.”
The last sentence was uttered in an uncharacteristically grim tone, which made Ellis momentarily flick his head towards the man, who was already distracted with heading in the direction opposite of Ellis.
Ellis chose not to respond, opting to flip open a few cardboard boxes and look inside. He was like a machine: with one hand, he flipped open boxes and shoved aside the insides (mostly old uniforms and outdated machinery—registers, landline phones, fax machines) and in the other hand the flashlight followed his findings. He thought he could lose himself in this mindless pace, but Nick spoke again.
“You know I’m trying to make you feel better, right?” Nick drawled, the sound of boxes shuffling falling flat beneath his heavily sarcastic tone.
Usually, Ellis would’ve been so flattered. Nick addressing him one-on-one would always make Ellis beam. He enjoyed the attention from Nick, but now, in a dirty basement with a pounding headache and a residual tenseness in his shoulders, Ellis was hardly in the mood.
“Well, you sure have a funny way of showin’ it, Nick,” Ellis snapped as he turned, his heart immediately beating with regret. “I-I know yer tryin’ t’be nice n’all—“
“What’s with you?” Nick hurried to ask, facing Ellis, and crossing his arms. “Seriously.”
Ellis was at a loss for words, his mouth dropping open with a sudden embarrassment. Not only was Nick looking at him, but Nick looked . . . concerned. There was the usual scowl, but his eyes were focused. Ellis felt his whole body light to life in a blush, as Nick was looking at him.
Ellis gulped. “N-Nothing—“
“Bull fuckin’ shit it’s nothing, asshole,” Nick scoffed, his anger unserious. “You look like you’ve had a wedgie since the gas station—out with it, huh? You can tell good ol’ Nicky here—“
“Nick,” Ellis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I—“
“Kid,” Nick cut in sharply. “You’re only going to hear me say this once, okay?”
Ellis blinked. He pushed away the butterflies in his stomach that summoned with Nick’s assertive and confident speech, all for the sake of the conversation.
“We’re all a team, and if one fuckin’ fourth of that team is having their panties in a wad and taking it out on everyone, our team isn’t going to work. Capiche?”
Ellis was shocked. He hadn’t expected Nick, of all people, to be the one to rally Ellis forth under the claim of ‘harmonious team dynamics’. He also didn’t expect Nick to be so concerned. Sure, the man snapped, and his brow was heavy, but Ellis could see right through the anger and see a man worried.
“K-Kuh-peesh,” Ellis stuttered, sucking in a sobering breath. “S-Sorry, Nick—I-I just um—don’t tell anybody, alright?”
“No promises,” Nick nodded in a manner that was the opposite of comfort.
However, even now, with Ellis feeling suffocated and cornered—literally—he started to melt with Nick’s soft brown eyes looking at him. Ellis couldn’t put this into words, but Nick’s dedication to him in this very moment was making Ellis feel an itch, an instinctual and tempting feeling.
“I’ve been missin’ tobacco,” Ellis blurted, scratching the back of his neck. “Like, real bad, Nick. ‘M gettin’ headaches and whatnot.”
Nick didn’t move, except for his top lip, which sneered and opened as he let out a snort.
“That’s it?”
Ellis’ eyes narrowed. “What’chu mean, ‘that’s it’? You ain’t gonna judge me?”
“Judge you?” Nick laughed. “Shit, I’m right there in the gallows with you.”
“Oh,” Ellis laughed uncomfortably, not quite understanding what Nick meant. His lips squirmed into a tight smile, refraining himself from a full-blown grin at Nick joking with him.
“You should’ve told me, you know,” Nick chided, reaching into his jacket pocket. “Help is always there if you need it, kid.”
Nick brought out a pack of cigarettes with a lighter strapped to it with the help of a hair tie. The box was clearly aged, and the strain of the hair tie added a cinch to the center, surely crushing the tobacco inside.
“Hey!” Rochelle’s voice sang, interrupting their conversation with a start. Ellis jumped at the sound of her voice and smoothed his hands down his jeans, as if he were caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. “You boys still alive down there, or should I start writing my eulogy?”
“That’s sweet and all, babe,” Nick called, tucking his cigarettes back into his suit jacket. “But our hearts are still beating.”
“Eulogy,” Rochelle repeated. “As in one, Nick. I ain’t writing shit for you.”
“Hah,” Nick responded, winking at Ellis—winking, as in the flirtatious move that people do? Ellis found himself short of breath. “Anyway, it’s safe to come down, no zombies, no witches—except for the one wearing the ‘Depeche Mode’ shirt.”
“Alright, that’s enough,” Coach could be seen shaking his head disapprovingly from the hole in the ceiling where Nick and Ellis climbed in from. “Can we come down, or what?”
“It’s all clear,” Ellis said, deciding his participation was needed. “Ain’t nothin’ but boxes, but maybe we can find something.”
Rochelle was already halfway done with her descent down the ladder trekked by Nick and Ellis earlier. She hummed, optimistically, wiping her palms on her jeans and looking around.
“Not bad!” She smiled brightly. “Seems like we hit the jackpot, huh?”
“Yeah, if you’re looking for TV monitors and old phones,” Nick scowled, running his thumb beneath his jawline and along his stubble. His dark eyes flickered away and to the ceiling, exposing the long tendon that ran down his neck and the stubble that followed. Ellis was entranced with the sight that lasted only a moment.
Luckily, Ellis caught Rochelle staring at him, and cleared his throat. Ellis turned away in a hurry, scratching at his forearm absentmindedly.
“W-We ain’t looked through all the boxes yet,” Ellis offered. “So, um—we should do go head’n do that first.”
“I’ll keep watch up here,” Coach called from above. “Wouldn’t want us standin’ in our own graves in case the horde gets nosy.”
Ellis found his mouth opening and then shutting promptly—Ellis was about to volunteer himself to do that exact job, finding Nick’s proximity to his own to be suffocating. Though Nick had already turned away and listlessly did what Ellis suggested, Ellis found himself wanting more space from the man.
Instead, Ellis found himself flipping open boxes and rifling through them, adding to the harmony of cardboard shuffling in the air. The last thing he wanted was to set off anyone about his thoughts, Nick or otherwise.
“You know,” Ellis spoke aloud, letting his instincts do the talking. “This reminds me of the time m’buddy Keith gotta job at’n outlet store. He wanted sum extra money for the holidays and all, even though we told ‘im the shop was doin’ just fine—”
“Christ,” Nick muttered beneath his breath.
“’N he was out in the back part o’ the store, the part where the shipments come in,” Ellis recounted. “And Keith goes and loses his damn truck keys in one of ‘em big ol’ boxes! Was an accident and all, but man he called me’n our good buddy Taylor to come’n help ‘im find it. Took us ‘bout three days, or somethin’ like that. Keith did a lot of walkin’ those couple days.”
Nick scoffed. “An’ I reckon yo partner ain’t pay yew for all dat trouble, now?”
“Hey, that’s a pretty good one,” Ellis chided. “You’ll be a Georgia native, yet.”
“I’d rather become a flesh-eating monster,” Nick called, though the smile on his face made Ellis snicker.
“Sounded more Texan to me,” Rochelle snickered. “By the way, I found some plain shirts! Laundry day, anybody?”
“I’ll stick with my suit, thanks,” Nick replied. “This thing cost me three grand.”
“And, it now looks like shit,” Rochelle shot the sweetest smile in the other man’s direction. “Buck up and find a shirt, fool.”