#trustedtrilby

Finally, a breather. 

The doorway lead out of the fog covered grounds and into a narrow stair case, surrounding them with a silence that was deafening. Even the two behind him had cased their childish thumps to each other and focused on the ever growing darkness. With Ellis in the lead Coach remained behind him just within arm's length in case he decided to take a turn he might find. Instead it was a door his fingers grazed again.

"It's another door, y'all," he murmured back at them, leery about making too much noise lest their respite be broken by a maddening horde of infected. His grimy fingers twisted at the handle and pushed forward to enter a room that was filled with little else but a couch and a few crates. Little else until they turned the corner and noticed four stands supporting unlit candles, a table with a key and a curious looking picture above it. All four of them jumped at the sudden slam of the heavy metal door.

Still annoyed from ceasing their argument upstairs, Coach wheeled on the two of them though his focus was centered on the conman. "Boy, you startled the shit out of me." 

"Me? Point that blame somewhere else, Coach. It closed on its own." 

"Bullshit. Doors just don't close on their own."

"You were the last one down the stairs, Nick." Logic from the young woman only had Nick turning his scowl on her. He visibly bristled and pushed past them both to wander further into the room. For once he actually wanted to be around Ellis instead of the two glaring at him accusingly.

"Oh, you too, Rochelle? You both can kiss m--"

"Uh y'all? Y'all? I remember my bud--"

"Not the time, Ellis." A triad of voices responded to his befuddled murmur. The phrase was becoming so common place that more often than not they tended to utter it at the same time.

This whole apocalypse was like a huge shooting range for him. This was no news to them. Ellis treated this place like it was more of a game that they had to beat instead of survive through. Despite the scares, he was having fun. The others didn't think it fun in the least, not when the unknown lurked around every corner. They knew what they had to deal with before; they could hear the infected as they came clamoring toward them, or even see the more dangerous ones in the distance. In this town they could hardly see more than twenty feet in front of their faces and the eerie cries echoed off of every available surface. It kept them on edge and constantly on guard. None of them could recall the last time they had a moment of good rest.

"Okay, but.." Trailing off when Coach and Nick both eyed him, he rubbed the back of his neck then brought that hand up to tug down the bill of his hat, murmuring as he turned to what had caught his attention. More than once now he had tried to mention Dave and his story about coming here. He had gone into great detail about everything; the fog, the symbols they had come across, even the air raid warnings that curiously sounded like low pitched ambulance sirens. None of them wanted to hear it, as usual. It was a good story, too. It didn't involve goats, or even Keith, but was good nevertheless.

"What the-" Ellis's cap topped head lifted sharply as Nick focused on something other than the impending argument between them and turned his machine gun to focus the attached flashlight upon the picture that hung above the table. Two more lights joined his when Coach and Rochelle lifted their weapons. 

"I'll be a monkey's uncle..." Coach backed up a step, resisting the urge to cross himself like the God fearing man he was. He clutched his M-16 close, his eyes flicking over the room then back to the door they had come through. Somewhere in the distance a Jockey's hysterical laugh echoed in the air as if it was amused by some private joke.

"S'what I was tryin' to tell you, man.  That's some freaky shit right there. Looks like...like a devil?" The young hick slunk closer, flashing his light upon the picture and the candles then the innocent looking item that laid upon the table. "Hey, lookie here. A key." 

"I don't know what it looks like, Overalls. I know for damn sure you should probably leave that alone." 

"Hey, boys. There's a door back here. Maybe the key goes to it?" Rochelle's suggestion did make sense, but the fact that she had even said anything was lost when the candles suddenly lit casting a wicked orange-red glow upon the alcove. Another slam caused them to jump as the door the associate producer was standing near suddenly swung open with as much force as the other had closed. 

"See?! I told you I didn't touch that goddamn door!"  No one had a chance to respond to Nick's aggressive exclamation of proof. No one even had a chance to breathe before the candles suddenly snuffed themselves out just as abruptly as they had been lit. The darkness was oppressive and stifling. The four of them were afraid to release the breath they were collectively holding. It was as if they knew what was going to happen next and by the way they unconsciously inched back into the four corners of the room, they did.  The siren poured its long, haunting melody into the room shattering the silence as if it was no more than fine spun glass. The first time they heard this noise Ellis had mentioned how it sounded like the drawling howl of a low-pitched ambulance horn while Nick argued it was akin to an air raid siren. Coach didn't care what it sounded like, not when it made his heart thunder in his ears so loudly that it deafened him to Rochelle's whimpering.  "Not again. Oh God, not again. This can't be happening..." "Ro girl, it's alright," Coach murmured just loudly enough for her to hear--or so he hoped, he could barely hear himself. "Keep yo' back to the wall and wait it out. We all here, right fellas?" "Yes," came a flat reply off to his left. Was it possible to have a poker voice as well? "Suppose this ain't a good time to mention a fear of the dark, is it?" Even in the face of horror only Ellis could crack a joke. By the barely contained trembling in his voice Coach had to wonder just how much of that was a joke. There was a brief rustling, then a click, and suddenly light flooded the room, beaming right into a pair of dilated green eyes. "Goddamnit, Ellis!" the conman cried immediately, blocking his face from the beam that quickly jerked off to the side, landing between Coach and Rochelle.  "Didn't mean to! Aw, shit. Sorry, man." His face didn't have to be seen to know he had a kicked-puppy droop of his expression. Reminded that they had their own flashlights, none of them wasted any time in clicking them on and they began investigating their surroundings, seeing if they had changed just like they had hours ago. The only difference was that they were beyond the door that had slammed open. How they ended up in there no one knew. No one questioned, either.  "We're not getting any where standing here. Lets go." Though the white suited voice of reason spoke up, he didn't peel himself away from the corner just yet. He made a show of checking how much ammo he had while he waited to see who would take that first step. It didn't surprise any of them to know that it would be Ellis. Thumping his shotgun heavily to his shoulder he made a bee-line for the door and stepped into the room they should have been in. It didn't look too terribly different. The table was still there, the candles, even that creepy picture on the wall that seemed to leer at them, amused at their confusion.  "C'mon y'all. Looks to be only one way out and that's the way we came. I'm sure there's a path we missed somewheres up there." His voice had faded away and by time Coach pressed from the wall to follow him, Ellis had opened the door at the top of the stairs and came to a dead pause. "Ohmigawd..." The young Georgian's awe piqued the coach's curiosity and he carefully made his way up the stairs to stand just behind him. The sight that laid before them had him set a large hand upon the mechanic's shoulder and, with a squeeze, he pulled him from threshold and down a step. One boot heel raked against the grated ground that had been asphalt less than ten minutes ago. "Ro? Nick? You two might wanna getcho asses up here." Back downstairs Nick quietly urged the woman from the wall the only way he seemed to know how; with biting sarcasm. "Rochelle? Lets go, huh? I can't sit here and babysit you all day." He had been a smart-mouthed nuisance during the trip through this strange town, more so than usual, and it seemed to be directed mostly at the woman he was currently standing beside. Rochelle saw it for what it was for; helping her keep her sanity and her ground throughout this detour.  She didn't know if the others noticed it or understood. Other than Coach's snap of temper above, there had been little to no interference, not even from Ellis who often gave Rochelle an apologetic glance when Nick was decidedly scathing. Maybe they did understand. Sometimes she was quietly grateful for it and--much to her chagrin--grateful for him. He didn't treat her like a big sister or a delicate daughter that had to be protected. He verbally kicked her ass to get her going and she rarely backed down from doing a little kicking herself.  "Funny. I was just thinking the same thing." She scowled at him, hiding the faint smile that wanted to come to her lips. It couldn't be quelled when his own formed as he laid a warm hand upon her shoulder and cocked his head toward the door in a 'lets go' manner. Pulling in a slow breath, she nodded once and followed behind him, warily cradling her weapon close to her side.  The world they were once in had changed.  The fog had thickened, diminishing their field of vision to only two or three yards in front of them, the nearly pristine buildings that they had passed earlier were decrepit now with soot covered windows and paint that sloughed off of their walls in heavy, wet clumps. The sprawling street was no more than an endless grate punctuated by missing squares. He couldn't see what was holding up the flooring; the fog below it was thicker than the haze that Ellis tentatively waded into. While the few Infected they saw were sedate, it was what they didn't see that had their skin crawling. The laughter of the Jockey was heard again, this time accompanied by the familiar strangled bleat of a Charger. Coach stepped back, bumping into the conman. The memory of the last one was still far too fresh. "Hey, hey. Watch it. Come on, man." The gambler pressed his hand between Coach's shoulders, urging him back up the step so they both could follow Ellis before he ended up with yet another Jockey riding him off into the sunset. Or the fog in this case. "These shoes cost a grand. I don't need you messing them up more than they are now." Too focused on the echoing sound of that Charger to say something in return, Coach merely grunted and stepped out with a hollow rake of his shoes against the ground. Nick's careful steps resounded with the pace the other two kept and when there wasn't a forth set following them he glanced over his shoulder. There had been hints of Rochelle being leery of heights, but no one realized how extreme her fear was until she couldn't see anything solid below them. She was paralyzed upon the threshold, her fingers clutching tightly against the frame of the door as if she expected someone to drag her out into that death trap the considered a floor. By the way Nick scowled and turned around, he appeared tempted to do just that. If it hadn't been for his gentle hold upon her arm she might have scurried back down the stairs and into the room with a slam of the door behind her. "I can't do this, Nick. I can't. There's no floor. I can't see a floor." The more she spoke, the more childlike she was beginning to sound until her voice trailed off into a barely heard whine. The cradling of her gun went from her side to her chest. She squeezed it between her breasts like it was some kind of security blanket. This wasn't something she could shoot and make go away. It was there in the open. A great yawning maw, fog-filled and expansive. She saw only edges and gap that hungered for one of them to fall in.  

"Rochelle!" There was fog, so much fog. Coach did his best to try to keep an eye on the young woman as she rushed ahead, becoming no more than a blur in the thick haze that surrounded them. If it wasn't for the pink shirt she wore he might've lost track of her completely. Still, he wasn't satisfied with that. Too much weird had been going on lately; the zombies were more aggressive than usual if that were possible, the whole city was covered in a fine layer of ash and soot. Looking around one would expect the buildings to be burned but they were perfectly fine. Deserted, but fine. It unnerved him.  Behind him he could hear Nick's and Ellis's rounds go off. Short, quirk bursts to conserve what ammo they could. There were very few ammo dumps in this town  and even less medical supplies and food as if the place had been abandoned long before the apocalypse. He looked back, keeping track of the two as they hurried forward to catch up with him and he picked up the pace as much as he could. His knee was bothering him again but he was doing his best to walk it off. He began calling for the woman again when he turned forward..and saw nothing but a sprawling parking garage.  "Roch-- Aww shit, now. Ro! We gotta stay toget--" 

Never during all of this had he come across such a quiet Charger. It rushed at him from the left, hitting him with the force of a semi, carrying him across the ground  and into a parked Honda. Somewhere in the white noise hissing in the back of his mind he swore he heard something crack, echoing with the sound of the car's tires hitting the ground again, righting itself after nearly being tipped over from the impact. The scent of copper and sour meat burned at his nose as the Charger bellowed his triumph and slammed him harder against the car. He felt the word go dark and topsy turvy as he was lifted but when he dropped it was gravity that carried him, not the huge fist of the Infected.  "Oh shit, Coach! C'mon man, you gotta get up!" Ellis cried, tugging at his arm, doing his best to pick up a man that was twice his weight. He felt Nick's hands pull at the Charger's stubbornly clinging fingers, his face setting grimly as they refused to let go. Their combined effort eventually got him to his feet. He was shaken, hurting, but he was alive. "You alright?" The gambler's poker face was easy to return when Coach's vertigo eased and he met the big guy's darker gaze. With all that was happening around them he was somehow still able to hide his concern, but with each siren that warned them of hell approaching, it was becoming increasingly difficult. More than once Nick felt an almost irrepressible tremor in his hands and his heart in his throat. "I can walk this off. G'on boy, I'm good. Ro's up ahead. Go get her before she gets herself into some shit."