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Ellis had seen a lot of crazy shit before the apocalypse, mainly due to his friends being bored and broke in town. Nothing better to do than cause a small amount of havoc all for the sake of a story. Keith was featured in most of these stories, cementing himself as a legend in his group of friends. Hell, might even be a legend to the city at this point.
But this guy was something else. It was like Ellis was in summer camp the whole time bunked up in the kiddy cabin, and then suddenly he grew up and got switched to the big leagues of crazy.
He and his fellow survivors found this guy surviving with nothing but a camo backpack, a bike and a metal baseball bat. Just stationed up in a lit-up thrift store. Ellis didn't even know that there was any sort of power left in the whole state, and here this guy was, operating a breaker hooked up to an emergency generator like he'd been doing this for twenty years.
Then, when the guy was finally given a gun it was like seeing a man go to work at a job that he's gotten several degrees for. Ellis didn't even know people could stay that level-headed and clinical while using these things. Rochelle, who seemed the most put together out of all of them had admitted that even she felt some sort of way about artillery.
That's not even it. Apparently this guy knew how to dress wounds up as if he were a doctor. Ellis saw how steady of a hand this guy has for himself when his arm got torn open by some infected. He'd only felt the sting of the thread pulling his arm shut before realizing that he was stitched up. Then Ellis would go on to see him set Rochelle's leg after a Tank threw a boulder at her. Then Ellis was to witness the prevention of Nick's guts from ejecting out his side because of a hunter. He witnessed this act through a car's rearview mirror.
Ellis was impressed with the man, and vowed to be his next best friend for the sake of survival. Y'know, for a man who knows how do a lot of useful shit, he wasn't as personable as he could be. Ellis knew that if he was capable of doing all the things he'd seen that man do, he'd be downright insufferable.
That being said, Ellis didn't know why the man was so blue all the time. Nor did Ellis know why one night the man had decided to attempt to blow his own brains out very early on in their time together. Ellis figured it was a cry for help, having very little idea of what was going on through this man's head.
All Ellis knew was that he was to comfort the man, keeping him hostage to his presence. It's what he'd done to Keith at Keith's low points, so Ellis will just repeat the same behavior with him. The man opened up to Ellis more after that, just throwing out a few more personal anecdotes to compliment Ellis' leaking bucket full of stories. It felt like a pocket full of normalcy among all this sickness.
But now, as their CEDA helicopter pilot changed into an infected before their very eyes, this guy that they'd picked up on the side of the road unbuckled the freshy shot zombie (thank you Nick) and kicked it out the cabin. He then took control of the whirly bird, keeping it from even scraping the ground.
Sure it was a nauseating ride to stay afloat, but they all managed, and now they had a way of easy travel. All because of him. Sure it was a group effort to get here, but hey, Ellis is sure as hell that none of them knew how to operate one of these things. They would've been back on the ground somewhere.
The guy motioned for everyone to grab a pair of headphones from the back and put them on, just as he did with the dangling ones above the pilot chair. It was easier to talk amongst themselves.
Ellis listened as Coach asked through the headset ask when the guy had learned to operate a helicopter.
"You know how most people learn to drive cars at 16?" The guy said, and cackled like he was loosing his mind.
By the dark circles under his eyes, Ellis figured that he probably was losing his mind. Ellis noticed that he didn't sleep much.
"Well, I don't know how to drive a car!"
Then he flew them out as far as the copter's tank would let them. And instead of landing them, he instructed everyone to grab a parachute and jump on his signal. He explained that the whole deal was to draw as many infected away from their landing site by letting an explosion catch their attention. Kind of like the pipe bombs they would throw but on a bigger scale.
They all touched down in Yazoo City, Mississippi. Just 230 miles away from their goal. Which was a whole lot closer than where they'd been. Whole thing saved them a few days of walking.
Ellis knew from that moment on that he had to keep this man around no matter what. Even if that meant he had to get a little more exploratory in his tastes. Imagining that he was Jimmy Jibbs Jr was going to be a little harder because of the whole car thing, but he could make do. Perhaps they raced whirlybirds somewhere. Someone has to have done it at least once, right?
Where they landed was in a field of grass that boarded a long expanse of woods. They all ditched their parachutes, Rochelle getting on her knees to kiss the ground. She hates heights. Nick joins her, sitting on the ground.
This was the point in which the man decided to split from the group. Saying, "Alright then. Thank you all for letting me travel beside you, it's been a pleasure. I'll see you when I see you."
Ellis had thought it to be a joke, following the man as soon as he turned to walk away from the group. But after a few meters of walking, the man stopped and turned to him.
His face was twisted into a confused look, brows furrowed.
"Ellis, what are you doing?"
"Following you."
"You're supposed to go to New Orleans."
Now Ellis is confused, "Isn't that what you're doing?"
"No." He says. "I'm not dealing with that CEDA bullshit. You all go on ahead though, I'll be alright on my own."
"You can't be serious." Ellis then turned to look at his companions, who had to be more understanding.
They weren't.
"Ellis, we don't need him." Nick says. "Let the man go his way."
"Nick, you don't mean that. He's been plenty helpful." Ellis turns to him, "You're plenty useful to us. Why don't you stay?"
"Yeah, why the rush? Stay awhile." Coach encourages. "We don't got much but ourselves."
The man paled, looking off to the rest of the field. Nothing was there, all of the zombies drawn to the crashed helicopter that was half a mile southwest into the treeline.
"Look, I'm not going to New Orleans." He says firmly. "The stories I've heard from other survivors, I won't chance it. I'm going home instead of waiting to be whisked away to some refugee camp."
"Wait a minute. Home?" Rochelle was quick to ask. "I thought you said you weren't from the south."
"I'm not. I'm from Connecticut. There's a bunker down here my family owns."
Coach clocks it, smoothing a hand over his bald head. "You're one of those doomsday prepper nutcases!"
"The term is survivalist, but yeah." The man pointed to himself, "Nutcase."
Suddenly, all at once, a lot of things made a lot of sense for Ellis. It was like the final big chunk of a puzzle being slotted into place. The active, over-prepared lifestyle, the plethora of knowledge and a wide range of niche skills.
Ellis finds his breath leaving him. This man tried to kill himself. This amazing, capable person tried to kill himself.
"But why'd you try to..." Ellis trails off, not sure if he was supposed to say anything about it.
The guy crosses his arms and tilted his head back to the sky, knowing exactly what Ellis meant. He tucks his shoulders when he spoke.
"I don't know, man. I haven't been doing okay, not even before the apocalypse. That's kinda just it."
Ellis got a dry kind of feeling in his mouth. He takes off his hat to run his hand through his hair. Ellis knew that much was wrong with him, but it was difficult to hear it being so plainly admitted.
"If you're leaving, we're going to follow." Coach decides, and starts walking after him.
"I don't think that's a good idea." The guy says, rolling his head from side to side, as he shifted his pack on his shoulders. "Missing the evacuations is hard enough, being stuck in a bunker would be even worse."
"We wouldn't be missing anything. You saved our sorry asses from having to walk three days." Coach remarked. "Could check out your place for that long. Rest up a bit."
"Hey, what do I know. Don't listen to me in an apocalypse- " he throws his hands up in the air to accentuate his point, " -I'm just the doomsday nutjob!"
He doesn't wait for a reply, he just turns to abruptly walk off.
The four of them looked amongst themselves, then stalked after him. There was nothing but time in an apocalypse. They could spare some of it.
Walking in the woods during a zombie apocalypse was a weird thing. For a while, it was just a forest. No infected to bother them. What one doesn't realize in a zombie apocalypse is how quiet it is. There's no wildlife to be heard, no traffic to echo all the way from some highway. Just the winds and the rattling of trees.
There stood a shed, red paint faded from the weather. Barely big enough to hide a lawnmower in, but it had a giant sign that said "Private Property, Keep Off." A bunch of dead bushes surrounded the thing, poorly obscuring most of the shed from view.
Pansy plopped his pack on the ground, crouching down to it. After retrieving a key from one of the many small pockets on its front, he stood to open the shed with it.
Instead of the expected mildewy smell, or old sawdust, the survivors were slapped in the face with a clinical smell when the door swung open. A clean wooden interior melded to the shed's iron floor. A latch with a valve handle stuck up from the ground, all of it painted a dark, bark brown.
Ellis then watched as their doomsday friend went to pull at the latch. His back and arms flexed in exertion, leaned into the direction he was cranking the handle. The thing creaked and groaned for a little before hissing like a tin of coffee being opened. He gave no resting time before opening the lid.
He then jumped down the hatch. Ellis grabbed the discarded bag, the first to follow him down.
Below the shed was a spacious room full of hazmat gear and respirators and oxygen tanks. Ashy white colored everything; walls, tiles, ceiling, lights. Pristine radiation gear hung along a wall that had a bench pushed against it. Black drainage mats line a path to the only door in this room.
"Ellis, drop the fucking bag." He said, gazing through the room.
"Okay."
The thing plopped like a sack of rocks on the ground with a thudding sound. Ellis might have to tuck away the sound of him swearing for later. He rarely does that, and it's surprising how good it sounds coming from him.
Next to the silver door, there were several clear plastic masks hanging on hooks mounted to the wall. They were like safety glasses but for the whole face.
Pansy went over and started passing them out to the survivors, putting one on himself without a word. Ellis shrugged and snapped his on. The others followed suit with mild complaints.
Beyond the metal door there was a small room that resembled a gym shower, but with a distinct control panel that sat next to the second door. Pansy closed the entrance behind all five of them, locking the thing. He then pushed past the four to press some buttons on the other side of the room.
A cloud of gas invades the room. Exposed, open wounds sting in a very familiar fashion. It's disinfectant.
"Decamination chamber." Pansy simply said once the fans in the room kicked on.
Then there was a loud beep, followed by the sound of a heavy lock undoing.
Damp and slightly off-put, the survivors enter the bunker for real this time. Pansy directed them to hang their masks up on the hat rack beside them.
A wide, low-ceiling room greeted the survivors. Off-white lights illuminated the room from several small light bulbs imbedded in the ceiling.
There were shelves everywhere in this first room, lining every wall and even encroaching with a few rows near the entrance. The indoor-outdoor rug let out little tapping noises each time they took a step into the bunker.
The air was very clean down here, almost clinically so. Like a can of air from a tennis ball tube if it was mixed with the smell of clean laundry.
Furniture, all low to the ground, littered the space in designated pockets. There was a small lounge section with ugly 80's styled loveseats and a coffee table. Papers stacked the area, most of them magazines and old newspapers.
Another section seemed to be a cards table. Round black table with plenty of matching square-backed chairs. An abandoned game for two sat on the table, a pile of chips in the center.
There looked to be hallways. That branched from where these isolated sections were. They both had lights on, but each hall were too obscured to see much past their doorways.
There was a kind of giggling echoing from the hallway near the lounge area. And it's apparent that from the cards table area, there was heavy clattering of several things from the hallway.
A kid came running out from the lounge hallway, a big toothy grin as she shrieked in glee as her bare feet slap against the carpets. In her hands was a ratty doll, it's hair cut up and every surface of it covered in marker. She wore a pair of red corduroy overalls, brown hair pulled back in pigtails.
She paid no attention to any of them at the doorway, rapidly crossing to get to the other hallway, tripping over a few boxes that piled on that side. She was busy giggling for "Manny."
Pansy didn't do much but slowly inch into the bunker, watching the hallway the little girl came from.
An older man with clear hair loss came out, face scrunched up in what could only be a father's smile. White tee, dark khaki pants, black slippers. Salt and pepper hair, heavy on the salt.
It all dropped when he turned his head and saw the five at the entrance. Ellis felt the need to take off his hat at the solemn look on the face the man gave.
"Cain." The man said, very gruffly.
Pansy took a few steps more into the bunker, awfully careful to not make any noise.
The man was peering at the others, but seemed to be looking for someone. Then a sneer bloomed sick on his face as soon as he couldn't find them.
"Where's Brice?"
Pansy didn't answer, only standing there, bracing for something.
The older gentleman ran one of his hands over his face, now hardened with the solemn look of a priest. Perhaps he was one before the apocalypse. It seemed like this Brice person was important to the both of them.
The priest then inhaled a sigh, turning from them to continue to follow after the girl.
Pansy watched after him, hands lowering back down to his sides. He was stuck like that for a long while, like he was expecting something else. But nothing came, and he set his jaw before turning back to the group.
Ellis found the look on his face to be honest, and raw, and very horrifying. And then he introduced himself.
"My name is Cain Miller. I'm 26 years old and I suffer from severe insomnia. What you stand in is the only safehouse in this entire region of the United States safe from the green flu. Bunker four ought three. Consider it holy ground. Do not fuck it up."
"Wasn't planning on it," Nick was quick to respond, rubbing his hands together, "Say, does this place have a shower?"
They all happily follow Cain down to the shower room. They all tread carefully through the stacks of stuff, going right from the entrance to the hallway with a bunch of noise. Cain pointed them all through a room with shelves to put clothes in, hanging back to go through a closet.
He appeared in the room, handing out robes for each of them to wear as well as towels and a few bars of soap.
As Cain handed out the items he said, "Conserve water, shower in pairs."
They all played rock, paper, scissors as they sat on the two small benches in the middle of the pre-shower locker room. Cain didn't play, marking him as an automatic loss. Rochelle won, Nick and Coach ending in a tie.
"Man, how come I always get the short end of the stick?" Ellis complained.
"Face it, you're predictable." Nick drones.
Rochelle picked out one of the bins, smiling while humming a happy little mocking tune as she rounded the corner into the showers. It only took a moment before the bin was sliding back into the room from the shower's snaking entrance.
Rochelle got her own shower time while Coach shared with Nick.
Ellis didn't care if all the hot water was basically used up, grateful for it even. It kept clarity while he shared the shower with Cain. Gave him chances for small talk, which ended in comfortable silence.
There was a small partician for lower coverage, but still. Ellis felt shy. Cain was scrubbing his hair with soap he shaved off his bar, unknowingly giving Ellis a good show of his toned and athletic body. Ellis faced towards the showerhead, desperately trying to ignore him. But it didn't really work, his eyes wandering back to Cain like they were a simple moth to a flame.
Cain gave him a small smile when he caught Ellis looking at him again.
"So, when'd you get the tattoo?"
"The huh?"
Ellis still took a minute to process the way Cain tapped his own arm, forearms subtlety flexing as his fingers moved. Then, the concept came back to him, Ellis letting out a small 'oh' like it were only a breath.
"How old were you when you got it?"
Ellis went off into rant about the thing on his arm that curled up his shoulder to his pectoral. Curiosity was getting the better of him on if the sly jokes he threw in were landing. Cain didn't laugh per-say, but he usually did make faces that just revved Ellis up to make even more jokes. So Ellis had to look over.
Wet eyelashes stuck together, hair strands still sudsy as his big, brown eyes bore back at Ellis, an honest smile on his lips. The water splashed off his shoulder, chicken-skinned arm casually bent to hold his washcloth infront of his junk. Ellis tried to hold in the shudder that wracked his shoulders, entirely planning on giving cold water a dedicated prayer on Thanksgiving.
Cain didn't give any notice to the stuttering in his words.
You, Cain, didn't have a robe for yourself. So you just wrapped a towel around your waist and held it there when you were done drying yourself. You felt a particular interest in how cozy Ellis looked in his robe, but then again he had a flush to him that you couldn't explain.
"What's the matter Ellis?" You asked, back turned to him as you went to leave.
Ellis didn't want to outright ask about the blistering grooves he saw on your back, but he couldn't think about much else to say. He's never seen you naked before, let alone just posed in a towel. He shouldn't be focused on that as much as he was.
"M'nothin."
You nod in response, eyes darting to his neck and ears for one last look at the delicate red. You then leave the shower room, Ellis not that far behind.
You walk the group to the resting quarters.
A narrow room full of bunk beds that almost reach the ceiling lined both of the walls. At the very end of the room there was a wall with a tall, narrow painting of some waterfall. Dark green curtains hung around it to highlight the pastel colors. A simple enough thing to call this place home-y. You pointed out the bunks they could and couldn't use, the one with pink fuzzy bedding being the most obviously taken.
You then left them there to settle while you scavenged for clean clothes. All of the previous clothes were dropped down the laundry shoot back in the locker room, carried away to be cleaned.
This is when you ran into the other occupant of the bunker, Manny. He took care of most of the domestics of the bunker, being the one who actually owned it. He was your uncle and several years older than you. Long, black hair, crystal blue eyes. A strong, bulky physic with a beer belly.
His older sister, your mother, looked quite a lot like him when she was pregnant. You were fourteen coming into the kitchen just right after from being outside, excited to see the back of your uncle standing there. You thought nothing of it until your mom turned to smack you on your head.
The memory came as a shock. But Manny trapped you in a hug, meaningful in it's tightness.
"I'm so sorry," he mournfully put.
Manny had all the feelings you had, but he was able to express them with 10x more feeling than you ever could.
"I shouldn't have ever asked you to come. If you stayed, Brice would still be alive-"
"If we stayed," you punch out, clinging onto this man by his clothes, "He would've died anyway. I would've still carried-"
"Hey," Manny cut you off, not wanting to hear any of the details. "Let's get you some clothes, yeah?"
You swallowed back any tears. "Yeah."
You dawn some clean, dusty smelling camo pants from one of the many bins labeled "extra" along with a plain tan tee that was a size too small. You ask Manny what's for dinner before trailing back to the group with the plastic bin of clothes.
Rochelle was already visibly dozing as the rest seemed ready for bed. Nick took the bunk above her, laying on his side with his head on his hand, poised and calm like he were a regular at some spa. Ellis took the bunk above Coach, up in it and fiddling with the privacy curtain. Coach being the only one really sitting up. He was up faster than you'd ever seen him move when Manny came in to invite you all to the kitchen table.
Dinner was a warm meal. Pork chops, canned peas, MRI made potatoes. Best meal any of them had in weeks. You, on the other hand, rushed your food down like it wasn't anything special. To be fair, you had your focus on something else. You shot up from the table, carrying your plate over to the sink, quick to fetch a can opener from one of the kitchen drawers. Then you raced out of the room like a kid on Christmas.
Canned peaches were your favorite, followed closely by halved pears. You scanned the shelves with pointed eyes, wild with excitement. You found the canned fruits and fruit preserves, frantically turning labels until you saw them. You plopped down on the floor, smiling, as you open the can.
You hadn't seen her in a year, but the little girl had followed you. Her name is Daphne, and she's the priest's kid. Her mom was your aunt, the youngest between her, Manny and your mom. And apparently, Daphne's grown into a big tattle tale.
"Daddy! Uncle Cain is in the cans!" She whines.
You scoop her up, careful to not spill anything out of your prize. She shrieked out a giggle, wiggling in your hold as you walk her back to the kitchen table, noting her plate is still half-full.
"Shut it brat, finish your dinner." You plop her in her booster seat, "Your daddy doesn't care what I do."
She sticks her tongue out at you. The priest scoffs a laugh before putting more food in his mouth. You just go over and lean back against a counter near Manny, fishing through your can with your fingers.
You look over to the end of the table as you plop a peach slice in your mouth. They're looking at you funny.
"So what's the destination?" Manny asked, tapping a napkin against his face. "Or are y'all the wandering kind?"
"We're heading to New Orleans. Figured that's the best bet for evacuation." Coach answered.
"As long as y'all ain't stayin long." The priest grumbled.
"I don't know, this bunker is kind of cozy." Nick snarks. "It might be worth it to stay and wait this whole thing out."
"Didn't you say you'd rather be on your own?" Rochelle dryly says.
Nick shrugs, taking the last bit of his pork chop into his mouth, "Maybe that has changed."
"We're going to New Orleans," Coach pressed. "Unlike you, I've got a life I want to get back to."
This started a train of bickering.
Manny turns to you, an amused smile on his face. "You going with them?"
You snort a dry chunk of air, "No."
Manny was about to question you but Ellis beat him to the punch.
"Why not?" Ellis asks.
The answer bubbles out of your lips before you get to think about it. "I don't have anyone out there."
"We're all buddies, aren't we?" Ellis says. "You'd have me and them out there."
You put another peach in your mouth, and think. Ellis said me. Not us -- me and them. Separation of relationships. You gauge it as a subtle flirting, which makes you feel a knot in your throat.
You power through it, teasing him. "Sure. But you don't got peaches and a bed to sleep in, do you?"
"Guess not." Ellis says, reaching out for a hat that wasn't on his head. "I could, though."
"It's not you," you simply put. "I've already gotten my fill of the whole Zombie thing."
"Yeah, I get that." Ellis then pauses, eyes lighting up with a new idea. "Y'know, what happens when this apocalypse ends? Would you still be here in the bunker?"
You look at your three remaining family members, then back to Ellis. "Probably, yeah. We'll be here."
"Cool." Ellis grinned to himself, something sweet on his mind as he finishes up his food.
You just reach into your can and put another peach into your mouth.