stay alert

In a matter of gore filled hours they happened upon the clinic's impending silhouette. There was no figuring how many tax dollars went into crafting the Grecian architecture responsible for making it the town's landmark as well as the preferred spot for medical aid. The peripteral style was practical as well as aesthetic. Each of the two columns framing the front facade of the hospital were spun in opulent wraps of the finest flowers; time dried, curled, and faded petals hinted that they were once of pink and blue hues, signifying reverence to the tattered banners hanging about in combined commemoration of Mother's Day and breast cancer awareness. The hospital building is as derelict as it is abandoned by survivor and infected alike, but the irony of that is lost on Ellis, if only doing a disservice to his current boredom. The listless zombie slayer began to wander toward those skyward deathbeds for reams of botanical decor to pick at its flaking hide with naive arbitrary. Grimy palms wipe against mucked coveralls tied safely round his waist, adding anew ash of crumbled blossoms to the coagulated, god awful mixture already there. "M'agine how nice this all useta look... I'm gunna check out that CEDA tent ov'r there," designates it with a rifle end point. His impulsiveness resonates in the quick boot falls away from his ally, trust cultivated by many times his savior that he might come to his aid at any signal of distress. Besides, Ellis knew better than to tromp off more than a few yards distance. 

When he peels back the door flap he's met with the stench of sterilized latex and the hint of gunpowder, the latter he cannot quite place midst the pure air assaulting his unaccustomed nostrils. A shock of red burlap tucked in the underside of a steel table draws in the supply deprived survivor, reaching heedlessly for palliate allure. The foolhardy stretch jerks back in a startle, then he sucks a breath in so quick he's pretty sure he got a cramp in his lungs based on his knowledge of anatomy, sweeping out the other arm in an erratic peppering of ammo into the flesh toned hunchback curled up in the shadowed corner. What Ellis had failed to notice were the bullet holes in its corpse beforehand that had already put it down.

----

He burst from the tent shrieking, and not cackling somehow, with the dead lump misleadingly wrapped about his shoulders with some crude zip ties and some intrepid humor.

"Get it off me!"

"O-oh, damn!”

   A quick shove to the handgun, and its weight on the hand was replaced with a much heavier girth in the long rifle, shots aimed at the thing—the best way to describe it now— tied boots running.

The informal outcry of a reply strained by jagged panting, so laborious that it stifles his motormouth in favor of avoiding the aforementioned. A ghost ache washes over his body as the reel of suffering a Charger's abuse burns fresh in his mind, and it lightens his hurried steps even more until he's unwittingly pulling ahead of the other.

  Nature's prints are all over him; every rushed-by twig staining their marks in faint red scratches across exposed skin-- his face and arms littered with them. In his haste, he had to suck down a breath to steady burning lungs so that he might project over the close range gunfire and share his little wisdom. "Just strafe to--!" His final word's but a yelped, fading SHIT!; cut short by a clumsy misstep over a divot of brush, sending him plummeting into a makeshift boobytrap likely the work of a survivor's proximity protection left forgotten. 

"Here, these will help." She popped off the cap of the pill bottle and placed two blue pills in his hand. "I haven’t found any strong painkillers yet, but I do have some Aleve. It’s all I’ve got for pain and at least it’s stronger than Tylenol. It’ll help.” She stole one more glance at his neck before grasping the third bottle of water and a clean cloth from the kit. First, she wet the cloth with the water and carefully rubbed it over the raw skin to remove the dirt and grime. 

"Now I’m no sniper, but maybe you’ll see some of it tomorrow? Or the next day, depending on how well rested we are." She offered a smile as she tossed the dirty cloth aside only to seize a new one from the kit. "You don’t have to call me Miss, I doubt I’m any older than you are." She laughed, shaking her head slightly. She found it hard to believe that he still managed to remember his manners even in during a zombie apocalypse. Must be that Southern hospitality that she had heard about. "It’s nice to meet you Ellis, I just wish it could be under better circumstances. And don’t mention it, survivors need to look out for one another. After all, there aren’t many of us left    Now, this might sting a bit.” After wetting the cloth with an off brand disinfectant, she gently dabbed and rubbed it over the raw skin. “Sorry…” She muttered as she continued; she could feel the slight sting over small cuts on her hands so she could only imagine how painful it might have been for him. 

   By this time, the first lieutenant would’ve been promoted. Getting stuck on an alien ship sort of skews priorities, but he’s the fellow who’s not the type to complain. Hard work shines through, he might remind himself form time to time. Still. It was a hopeful sigh that escaped hypocritical lips.

   And idle hands being the Devil’s playthings, he was set about cleaning his Beretta. Cleanliness may be next to Godliness, but Lieutenant Scott knew damn well to give care to his arms for performance and not to be saved. He was no preacher, but he tried to be a long time ago.

   A sound near him put him on defensive, and he quickly compiled the handgun again and aimed it to the general vicinity of the noise. Not a fear in him; just a wary curiosity for the sneaky. Not that he would know why anyone would need to be quiet and stealthy.

   So he shouted.

He’d tried to hide away from Ellis, really, he did. Didn’t want to scare him with the darker spots of his abilities. But the curious zombie-killer had followed him and was now witnessing what Heller did to ‘eat’.

A single infected squirmed in his grip before he threw it to the ground and crushed its head under his heel. Tendrils extended from his body and snatched up the flesh, pulling it into himself.

    "Yo, James! JAMES!! I found us somethin t' eeeaauggh--"

       ”Neeeeevermind then... Guess ya found yer own, err… dinner."

Welllllll these would look better bigger. But at the moment i’m not sure how to fix it and i’m tired… so YEAH

ELLIS DOODLES, EVERYONE!

He did need a way back on the bridge himself right? “Good thing I was here to help you outta that scrape…say…didn’t you have the suit wearing asshole with you the last time we met up?” A curious question, but his mind quickly changed course. “And that pretty woman in the pink shirt? The big man?” More curious questions, but then he figured now wasn’t the time to ask. The kid had just been freed from Death’s hands!

   Ellis gave up on the endeavor as quickly as he was once assured he could accomplish it, instead abashedly conceding with his sincerest gratitude after Francis' assessment. 

"Thank ya." 

"Guess I got a li'l freaked out..."

   Index scratches a spot on his cheek, smile falling simultaneously with eye connection, preferring the latter mentioned topic for the time being as he was harboring a certainty that the clamor of the busted vehicle would call reinforcements. Higher ground sounded good right about now. He took a breath, thankful every time he could do so, and peered over towards the bridge; which, to his surprise, seemed devoid of any other human life. "Crazy seein' you here. Where's--" Right, higher ground first.