Warning: This has Nellis in it, just FYI. Don't like it? Oh well!
Even after the hundred-millionth time, he still couldn't get used to it.
Sure, it was the most effective way to get the job done, but if only it didn't have to be so
for lack of a better word.
The sound of skulls caving in under deliberate force.
An onslaught of guts 'n' gore erupting from those fatal blows.
The wet gurgling noise that followed after.
It would make him puke any other day if he wasn't trying to avoid a similar, more gruesome, fate. Not to mention, the infected seemed to have the whole puke thing down to a T. Why add to the glut?
Nick loosened his grip on the baseball bat and let the cup of it tap the ground once he had finished off the last of the horde's stragglers. He wiped his forehead with the back of his free hand, careful not to let any sweat get on his jacket sleeve. There was no point in doing so, since the entire suit was practically caked with dirt, blood and other unmentionable substances, but he didn't exactly want any of that to get on his face either.
Letting out an exhausted sigh, the con-man begrudgingly jabbed one of the lifeless infected with his foot, grimacing when some of the unknown fluids smeared across his leather shoes.
He swung the wooden bat over his shoulder and trudged through the scattered bodies towards the city sidewalk. The battle had been taken to the middle of the street to prevent being cornered, but location meant shit when you had a sea of zombies surround you like a swarm of angry bees. Nick spat at the ground like he did after every horde. Although he usually sealed his lips shut when fighting so nothing foreign would make its way into his mouth, there was always a grainy lingering aftertaste when getting down and dirty with the infected. It was disgusting, to say the least.
He turned to look at the damage he had wrought, his usual poker face faltering for just a bit. Even the line of work he was in before all this shit hit the fan didn't require him to spill this much blood. There were much cleaner ways in which he preferred to do this particularly nasty business , but one can't be choosy in the midst of a zombie apocalypse, he figured.
Just as the con-man was starting to enjoy the quiet humming in his ears, which would usually be filled with the moans and shrieks of zombies, an obnoxious voice, echoing off the walls of buildings, was directed in Nick's general direction.
"HEY! HEY, NICK! WAS THAT'A HOOT OR WHAT?"
He pinched the bridge of his nose, brow drawn into a heavy frown, and slowly swiveled around to see the goofy mechanic jogging towards him like an excited puppy. The axe he carried in his hands had definitely seen better days, but then again it probably wasn't used to jamming itself into the heads and necks of zombies.
Who else but Ellis?
"Man, I didn' think we was gonna make it outta that one!" The younger man slowed to a stop in front of his companion, his wheezy breathing only a sign of how pumped up he had been through all of this. "I mean, after we got separated from Coach and Rochelle and all, I wudn't sure if jus' yew and me could handle a bunch'a flesh-eatin' zombies on our own, 'ya know? But, man oh man, did we ever kick their sorry asses! WOO HOO!" Ellis punched his axe into the air like you'd see one do at a rock concert, clearly too energized to notice the gambler's not-so-carefree demeanor.
Nick rolled his eyes and took one last glance at the havoc they wreaked. "Honestly, I wasn't so sure we'd make it either, judging from the fact that all we have is a busted up old baseball bat and an axe that looks like the head might fall off any minute."
Ellis chuckled, "Naw, man. The only heads that'll be fallin' are the ones I take off with this baby." He hefted the weapon up and did a quick swing for Nick to see, causing the con-man to back up just in case fate's cruel hand decided to let the blade fly off into his face. That would save him the trouble of dying by the hands of the infected, though.
"Easy there, sport. Let's not get too cocky. We still gotta find our way back to the others, and I have a feeling it ain't gonna be as easy as dicing up a few infected along the way." Nick brushed by the mechanic and continued down the sidewalk, keeping a vigilant eye out for any stray zombies that might have heard Ellis' unnecessary wooping from earlier. Ellis trailed after him, being just as cautious but still able to talk his jaw off at the same time.
"Well, we couldn' have gotten too far from them, right? I reckon we find them sooner than ya think, Nick."
"Always the optimist, eh?" the con-man mumbled.
"Huh? Whatdj'a say?"
"Let's keep the chit chat to a minimum, overalls."
The two survivors walked a good three blocks without being attacked. The last horde must've been all that was left in this area. It made sense since they were near the river and, once you're a zombie, apparently, you forget all about those swimming lessons you took as a kid. Not even an inner tube and some floaties could keep those vomiting bags of bones above water.
Unfortunately, this wasn't the only reason the group had found themselves by the river. There was supposed to be a bridge that connected from New Orleans over to an evac station where helicopters were lifting survivors out by the dozen. But, as their rotten luck would have it, they were too late getting to the bridge in time before a bunch of military jets (Nick preferred the word "assholes") decided to blow their road of freedom to kingdom come. Amidst all the bombing and confusion, the team scattered to avoid getting hit by pieces of soaring debris and a potential fiery demise. After the smoke cleared and the roar of jets had ceased, the survivors made sure that all of their body parts were still in tact and proceeded to search for each other.
Nick found Ellis first, having landed in the bed of a pickup truck from one of the blasts not too far from the scene. If it weren't for his signature hat that had fallen next to the vehicle, the con-man probably wouldn't have known he was there. The boy was a bit woozy, but he came to pretty quick once the gravity of the situation came rushing back. He and Nick called out for their companions about twenty times, almost ready to start digging through rubble and hoping to high heavens that they didn't find anything, when the familiar boom of Coach's voice rang out from behind a mountain of debris.
After yelling at each other over the ruins for what seemed like forever and coming up with their next move, the now two-people team parted ways and headed in opposite directions along the river. They were to find a safe house for the night and recuperate from their near-death experiences until morning, where they would then proceed to go around all of the damage caused by the jets and regroup once more. It seemed that Rochelle had been badly injured during the fray, so there wasn't much hope of them climbing over all of the demolition, not like any of them wanted to. From there
well, Coach hadn't mentioned anything beyond that. And who could blame him? None of the survivors were sure of what to do now that their only chance of getting out of New Orleans had been quite literally destroyed. They'd cross that bridge when they came to it.
Oh, the irony in those words
It wasn't until Nick had finished replaying these recent events in his head for the tenth time when he realized that Ellis had been going off on another tale about Keith for who knows how long. It was scary how Nick was able to just tune the kid out nowadays. That's when he knew they had spent too much time together. Although it wasn't so bad half of the time
okay, maybe a quarter of the time. Half was being way too generous. The mechanic had proved himself useful in most situations, however sloppy his methods were. His skills with a shotgun were border line pro, Nick often thought. It wasn't too much of a surprise since the guy was born and raised in hick country, where knowing how to shoot a gun was their first language around here. English was probably a close second
or third. All in all, Ellis was a semi-reliable part of the team. He had saved Nick's life more times than the con-man had taken lives. That was always a good asset to have around.
"Whoops!" Ellis' one pipe bomb detached itself from his coverall's belt loop, rolling a few feet away from him. "Come back here you
" The boy chased after it but failed to retrieve the object as it fell into an open manhole with a splash. "Aww, dang it! Where'd it go?" Ellis got on his hands and knees and shined his flashlight into the darkness, hoping to catch a glimmer of the pipe bomb somewhere in the muck. Nick's eyes were glued to the mechanic's backside.
Okay, so there were a few other assets the kid might have that kept the con-man from leaving him behind (accentuation on the "ass" in "assets".)
Nick wasn't one to flaunt his sexual preferences to the world. Sometimes he enjoyed a woman's soft, curvy body to hold onto at night, while other days he may have an urge to skip the pillow talk and cater to the primal desires he often shared with his male bed partners. It all depended on his mood
or the first piece of sweet ass that came along, be it man or woman. And right now, with the zombie apocalypse taking a definite toll on the human race and completely sabotaging his consistent sex life, Ellis was the sweetest piece of ass he could ever hope for. Sure, there was Rochelle, but she made it perfectly clear to the con-man that he stood no chances in getting more intimate with her than they needed to be. The closest he'd come to actually making the moves on the reporter was when a Smoker had grabbed her by the leg and Nick had to wrap his arms around her chest from behind to keep the thing from reeling her in. During the panic, his incidental groping had gone unnoticed by Coach and Ellis, thankfully. Rochelle, however
Nick rubbed the sore spot on his head from where she had clocked him with her cricket paddle after they'd killed the Smoker. Thus, Nick had prepared to unwillingly accept his bleak future of celibacy until he finally found a way out of this Godless era.
But then again
Nick strolled up behind the mechanic and watched as the younger man attempted to shine the light further into the manhole, dead set on finding that long gone pipe bomb. The con-man's nose wrinkled at the smell emitting from the sewers below.
"Forget it, Ellis. Unless you plan on going down there yourself and getting covered in shit, I suggest we move on. Although, if you do decide to go with that option, you can bet that manhole won't be open when you come back up. There's no way I'm traveling with someone who smells like the ass-end of a Boomer."
Ellis looked over his shoulder at the gambling man, wearing one of those tell tale mischievous smirks when he was about to make a comeback. "Well gee, Nick, I'm perty sure the smell of yer suit would mask any stank comin' offa' me." The mechanic made brief eye contact with the numerous amount of bile stains and other strange fluids coating the once white fabric of Nick's attire.
Nick just stared the boy down, his stern expression unchanging like the card player he was known to be. Ellis stared back, not wanting to be the first to look away like some yellow-bellied sissy. He did flinch, though, when Nick jerked forward at him as if he were about to push the hick down the manhole, but kept walking instead. Ellis chuckled to himself, enjoying the playful banter he and Nick shared sometimes, even if the con-man himself didn't find it very funny. He rose from the dirty sidewalk, brushed off his pants and went to catch up with his companion. The loss of his only pipe bomb was unfortunate, but they were liable to find others along the way with any luck.
" 'Ey, Nick. You think Rochelle's gonna be okay?" Perhaps he could redeem himself from getting the gambler in a bad mood by changing the subject?
"I don't know, overalls. I'm not exactly with them, am I?"
"Man, I sure hope she idn't hurt too badly. I remember this one time Kei-"
"Let me guess," Nick interrupted, "
Keith decided to go get himself blown up next to a bridge and ended up breaking almost every bone in his body? Oh wait, I think I've heard that one before." His tone was drenched with sarcasm.
"That wasn't what I was goin' to say, Nick," Ellis chided him. The con-man rolled his eyes for the zillionth time that day and sighed.
"Yeah, well there's probably not going to be much of a difference between the story you're about to tell me compared to the ones I've already heard."
"Are yew kiddin' me? Have you been listening to my stories at all? Keith has done all kinds of things, I'm telling' ya. You just need to get out more, man."
Nick snorted, "Well whatdya' call this then? Huh?" He was referring to everything they had been through since day one of the infection.
"The zombie apocalypse don't count, Nick. I'm talkin' 'bout for fun!"
"I thought you were having 'fun' killing all these things?"
"Oh, don't get me wrong. It's cool to be bustin' some zombie heads like in my video games at home an' all, but I don't think it'd be my first choice."
"Tch. You talk about it like you're trying to decide which college to apply to." The con-man shook his head, taking a solid whack at a wandering infected who had spotted them from it's perch next to a dumpster.
"But Nick, didn' you ever go out fer fun sometimes, like with yer gamblin' buddies or whatever?"
Nick let out a brisk laugh. "First of all, sport, I didn't have any 'gamblin' buddies'," he mimicked in the hick's accent. Not shortly after one zombie came running after him, another one appeared from out of an alleyway. He swung with more force than he meant and heard two cracking sounds besides the usual one that came from the bat-to-skull contact. "Second of all, my idea of going out and your idea of going out are two completely different things goddammit why did this have to break of all times?" He held up the splintered baseball bat to examine the damage. The barrel was split in two, rendering the weapon virtually useless in Nick's eyes.
"It had a good run." Ellis' way of comforting fell on deaf ears as the con-man threw the piece of severed wood to the ground, hating the dead clunking sound it made when hitting the concrete. He turned his attention to Ellis' axe and snatched the weapon out of his hands.
"Oh, don't even start! You still got a frying pan on your belt. Me? I got nothing. Didn' yer dear ol' mother ever teach you 'bout sharin', Ay-lus?"
That shut the mechanic up right quick, but it didn't stop him from grumbling to himself while trying to get used to the lightweight feel of the skillet he unhooked from his waist. It's not like he couldn't K.O. some zombies with it. Hell, he was sure he could decimate an entire flock of infected with his mama's kitchenware alone, but axes and chainsaws trumped pots 'n' pans any day, hands down.
Ellis stayed a few steps behind the con-man this time, not wanting to make him more irritated than he already was. Although Nick wasn't exactly the social butterfly of their group, he was still a pretty cool guy
Okay, he was a really cool guy. The gambler was one badass, zombie-killing machine, a title he usually reserved for himself. In fact, he was almost as awesome as his pal, Keith! And that was saying a lot. Maybe he held the man in too high of regards, or at least that's what Coach and Rochelle would say, but Ellis knew a BAMF when he saw one.
Now, sometimes Ellis would find his thoughts drifting towards Nick on a daily basis. It would go from how awesome he was at mowing down a horde, to his intellect on things Ellis wouldn't have even thought about during a zombie apocalypse, to the slick way his clothes made him look like he was part of the NY mafia (which may not have been entirely untrue), to the subtle way he smirked when amused by the mechanic's antics, to those sharp eyes that didn't miss a beat
By this time, Ellis would have shook the thoughts out of his head on a count of how personal they were getting. It kind of scared him, honestly. He had always looked up to Nick as an idol of some sorts, but when it came to admiring his facial features like he would a girl's, it just became plain weird. Ellis wasn't one to dwell on troublesome matters for too long, and he'd treat these sudden revelations in the same respect
or at least he'd tried to. The mechanic had never met a man like Nicholas before, not in all his years in Savannah or out of it. He was like a good book that simply couldn't be put down, not that Ellis did much reading anyway. There were so many interesting things about him that the boy had a constant urge to get to know him at every waking moment. Of the three people he'd come to call family this past month or so, Nick was still quite a mystery. Maybe that's what made him so cool? He wasn't a wear-your-heart-on-your-sleeve kind of guy, like himself. Sometimes Ellis would smile thinking how Nick might be a superhero in real life and that he puts on this tough guy attitude so that no one can figure out his secret identity. He'd be like that Green Hornet fellow; pretending to be a criminal, when really he's cracking down on crime behind the scenes.
That'd be sweeeeet!
"Hn? You say something, overalls?"
"Huh?" Ellis snapped out of his daydreaming and directed his dumbfounded gaze towards the con-man who was looking at him from over his shoulder. He had accidentally said that last thought out loud. "Uhh, no! I was just
thinkin' 'bout how cool it'd be to throw some boomer bile at one of them gas stations so we could light up those zombies like the 4th of July," He responded with a lopsided grin plastered onto his face, praying to dear God that the gambler wouldn't call his bluff.
Nick just gave the boy a thoughtful look, raising his eyebrows and nodding a bit. "Hm. You know what? Not a bad idea. Looks like there's hope for you yet, hayseed."
Despite the blatant name calling, Ellis swelled with joy at the con-man's praise. Such a small thing shouldn't have made him so happy, but it didn't feel wrong at all. With an extra spring in his step, Ellis moseyed on up next to his companion, still sporting a proud grin on his face and ready to take on whatever the world threw at them.
Or so he thought.
The two men stopped dead in their tracks, eyes wide and sweeping the terrain for any sign of where and what the noise was coming from.
"What the fuck was that?" Nick said between clenched teeth. He didn't want to be too loud in case the thing was nearby.
Ellis stood frozen in place, taking on the same cautious stance as the con-man, and replied in a low pronounced fashion, "I have no earthly idea, man."
The wailing continued, a rather high, muffled sound as if it was covered up by something. A few gurgles and sharp hiccups made it all the more ominous.
"Hey, ya know, what if it's one of them spittin' bitches." Ellis perked up, hoping that the thing was a Spitter so that they'd at least know what it is.
"I don't think so. It's not like any zombie we've faced, I can tell ya that." Nick took a few apprehensive steps forward and moved closer to the side of the buildings. When standing in the middle of the street, the noise would reverberate off the walls too much for him to pin point the sound's origin. Ellis followed suit and tightened his grip on the frying pan's handle.
"It kind of sounds like it's cryin', Nick. Maybe it's a Witch?"
"Could be, but it's
different than the Witches we've heard before." In any case, he hoped they could walk right past it like they would a Witch.
"Okay, but I swear I hear cryin'," the mechanic said with certainty.
It was at that moment when the two survivors finally figured out where the wailing was coming from. Both men turned around very slowly to peer inside one of the abandoned apartments that loomed over them. The window was broken on the floor above them, and that's exactly where the sound seemed to be pouring out.
'Ey, ya know
it could always be a female Smoker or somethin'. I mean, yew never kn--"
"Ellis, shut up," Nick said without looking at the boy and made a beeline for the front doors of the building. Luckily, the glass panes of the double doors had been shattered for them, so all he had to do was step through in one fluid motion.
"Ah- hey, Nick! What're yew doin'?!" Ellis called after him in a hushed tone.
After looking around to make sure no infected were concealed within the darkness of the apartment lobby, Nick popped his head out the door. "If this thing we're hearing is some kind of new zombie shit that we haven't seen before, I'd rather get to it first before it gets us." With that, the con-man slipped back inside and went straight for the staircase. "You coming, overalls?"
Ellis hesitated for a moment, but figured he'd rather stick with the one other person with a weapon than stay out in the open all alone. Besides, he was extremely curious to see what was making that god awful racket up there. After nearly tripping over the doorway, the boy caught up with Nick and tip-toed up the stairwell. Once they reached the first door they came to, Nick carefully opened it and checked to make sure it was all clear. He motioned Ellis inside the hallway, backs up against the wall and senses heightened.
The hall was eerie, and a bit too
white, for Nick. He loved the color on his suit, but it made the place look more like a hospital than an apartment. The only difference was that a hospital was usually quite sterile-looking, when as for the apartment
not so much.
He stepped over bits and pieces of household items, glass, and other debris peppered across the hallway. Oh, and a couple dead bodies, but that was a given. They were headed in the direction of the soft whining that wafted through the corridor like a ghostly echo. It was enough to put the mechanic's neck hair on edge. He was always told by his mama that ghosts weren't real because God would never leave a poor soul to aimlessly wander around on earth with nowhere to go. It was either heaven, or hell, depending on the person a soul belonged to. And yet, here he was fighting zombies, which he was also told weren't real. Nowadays, Ellis left these kind of things open for opinion.
When they came to the door where the wailing was coming from, room 202, Nick took one side and Ellis took the other, weapons poised and ready to strike if need be.
"Okay, Ellis." Nick only said the kid's full name when he wanted him to pay close attention. "On my count, we open the door and see what kind of hell awaits us in that room, got it?"
"Roger," the boy nodded, hands twisting around the skillet's handle.
Nick grabbed the doorknob and swung the door open all the way (thankful that it was open in the first place), letting it hit the back of the wall. Ellis, feeling rather brave at the moment, swooped in and had his frying pan raised to kill when necessary.
But it was, in fact, unnecessary.
The room was empty, save for some ratty old furniture and clothing strewn about the floor. The curtains that were hung up over the broken window billowed into the space elegantly, almost unfitting for such a desolate scene. There didn't seem to be a sign of life anywhere, let alone zombies. Nick lowered his axe and placed a hand on his hip.
"Uhhh, okay? This should be the right room." He walked further into the apartment's den and searched all the nooks and crannies where infected may take refuge.
Ellis did the same for the kitchen, but got the same results.
"What the hell? As soon as we come up here, the noise just decides to stop? Something ain't right about that
"Hey, look!" Ellis held up a machete that he found on the kitchen counter. "Awwwrrriiight! I'm gonna cook me up some zombie sushi with this!" He sliced the air a few times to get a feel for his shiny new toy. Nick just smirked and shook his head, ignoring the fact that Ellis had referred to sushi as being "cooked". What a goober.
The con-man continued looking around the apartment and was about to open up the broom closet when he heard and audible gasp come from the other side of the room.
"Uhh, Nick? Yew might wanna come see this
or not, 'cuz it's perty gross."
The gambler let out a long sigh and lumbered over to the bathroom where Ellis' back blocked the doorway.
"What is it this time, champ? Was the noise we heard a Spitter taking a shit?" As he got closer, he could see that Ellis' face was set into an uncomfortable grimace towards whatever he was staring at. When the con-man pushed him over a bit, he could understand why.
The bitter metallic smell was overwhelming in the little room, no doubt from all of the blood that had turned the bath water a faded red. It had, at one time, slowly seeped from the wounds imbedded in the young woman's skin, eventually killing her. A blood-crusted knife lay at the side of the tub where one of the woman's arms was hanging out, an obvious hint that this was most definitely not the work of an infected.
Nick didn't seem to be too effected by the carnage and simply held a hand up to his nose to block the stench.
Ellis, on the other hand, removed his hat from his head and kneaded it in his hands, obviously a bit distraught by the horrific sight. In a quiet voice, he asked, "
Why'd yew think she did it?"
The con-man scoffed, "Well, considering the circumstances, I'd say she decided to take the easy way out before this whole mess came knocking on her front door." He leaned down to grab the knife and examine it's current state. "The human mind is fragile, El, and apparently this woman didn't think she'd come outta this alive, especially when you have no one else around to tell you otherwise. If you ask me, she probably did herself a favor." Nick turned towards the sink, grabbing a hand towel hanging over the edge so he could chip off the dried blood. Might as well make use of the thing.
Ellis was muttering something under his breath that the con-man couldn't quite hear. He was about to ask the boy to repeat himself, but, when he heard a solemn "amen" at the end, that seemed to answered his question.
"Poor girl," Ellis said. "Yew think, maybe, if we'd gotten here sooner, she'd still be alive an' all?"
"Frankly, kid, I think--"
Nick paused in what he was about to say and stared at the towel he was using to wipe the knife with. Some parts of the blood came off as bright red on the white cotton cloth, which was unusual for someone who was supposed to have been dead for a while. Perhaps this didn't happen too long ago after all
Ellis kept his eyes on Nick's back expectantly, waiting for the man to finish his sentence. The gambler shoved the towel in his inside coat pocket and attached the knife to his thigh holster. There was no need to let the mechanic know about his discovery, lest he make him even more upset.
I don't know. Doesn't matter now, does it?" Nick shrugged and made his way out of the bathroom before he got dizzy from the smell. Ellis gave one last heartbroken look at the corpse, closed the shower curtain out of respect, and slipped his hat back on.
"Sorry, miss." He certainly didn't have anything to apologize for, but Ellis still felt bad for the woman nonetheless. With that final sentiment, he stepped out of the cramped space and closed the door.
Nick had migrated to the bedroom, which was rather big for a medium-sized apartment. Everything looked pretty normal, albeit untidy.
"Guess the maid turned before her next visit." In spite of the dark undertone of his jest, Nick snickered to himself. He moved articles of clothing and other junk around with his axe and did a quick rummage through the closet to see if anything useful presented itself. No such luck.
"Nothing," he said, warily. "Then where did that noise come from?" He hadn't forgotten about the high shrills they'd heard from the streets. What could have possibly made that sound? There's no way it was the woman in the tub. Although she had died somewhat recently, it hadn't been in the last few minutes, that's for sure. Maybe the thing had moved on, whatever the thing was?"
Nick was about to give up his scavenger hunt when something white caught the corner of his eye. He took a few steps toward the foot of the queen sized bed and saw that it was a piece of paper with writing scribbled on top. In cursive, no less! Nick hadn't seen cursive handwriting since he last wrote his 'John Hancock' from a credit card transaction, which wasn't very often since he was a convicted felon back in those days. The con-man picked up the note and struggled to make out the sloppy handwriting, silently reading the message out loud to himself.
To who soever finds this,
I can't do it anymore. I'm all alone and I don't believe I'll be alive for much longer. I've decided to take matters into my own hands. If you are a survivor, I'm afraid you may have to use a different bathroom in this building.
'Did this girl just make a joke in her suicide note?' Nick thought. 'Well, at least her sense of humor hadn't died along with her.'
I can only hope that God can forgive me in my time of weakness. I was not able to take her with me. It is a cruel fate I have left her with, but, as a mother, I just couldn't...
Please understand, whoever you are.
'Lady, I don't understand half of what you're saying, and I don't think I want to.'
If she's still alive when you find her, then it may be best to just put her out of her misery
or, perhaps you would be kind-hearted enough to take her with you? I, myself, have failed her, for I could do neither. But please, don't let my selfish request be a burden to you. My dying wishes shouldn't mean anything to a stranger.
? This woman has officially lost me.'
Thank you for taking the time to read this note of mine. I would hope that my last words were able to reach somebody in these dark days. May you be safe in your travels, wherever they take you, and God bless.
P.S. - Her food is in the pantry.
'Geez, I didn't think she'd write down her life story. At least she had the decency to tell me about where some food is stashed.'
Nick didn't have much respect for those who took their own lives. Why end something so easily when you could go out with a bang? And how depressed did you have to be to want to slit your own wrists, or jump off a bridge, or blow your brains out? It just didn't make any sense to the gambler. Yeah, he had his moments of absolute lows, but never did he once contemplate killing himself. Not to mention, his dealings in the past didn't exactly exempt him from an imminent death, anyway. He figured one of his enemies would do him in sooner or later, if they could catch him, that is.
"Well, so long, Christina." He flicked the note onto the bed again just when Ellis came tromping into the room with his chunky work boots.
"Dja' find anythin', Nick?" The mechanic asked, scratching his stomach.
"Nada." Not entirely true, but why traumatize the kid more than he already was? "Looks like we might've scared off whatev--"
The two men saw each others' eyes bug out before turning their attention towards the bedroom window where a large square piece of furniture had been covered with a sheet. Neither of them moved for a while, wondering if something was going to jump out and maim them like their imaginations were leading them to think. Before Ellis could say a word, Nick held up his hand and gradually made his way over to the hidden structure with the mechanic following after, their weapons raised high. Once they had positioned themselves over the source of the noise, Nick carefully grabbed a fist full of the sheet and tore it off in one swift motion.
The baby squirmed around in its pink crib, it's face all scrunched up from crying and rosy cheeks wet with tears.
"You've gotta be shitting me."
To be continued...