The Tank let out a final enraged, gargling roar, before falling off of the roof of the car and flat onto the ground. After fighting for so long and so hard, it was finally dead.
Nick slowly, warily, crawled out of his hiding place and inched his way to the hulking body. The raw muscle rippled beneath its bloody, torn flesh, almost like gelatin, as he poked at it with the barrel of his Magnum. The Infected thankfully gave no response. With a sneer, Nick lowered the weapon and planted as many bullets into its head as he could, unloading a whole clip. Pieces and chunks of Tank brain oozed and splattered out onto the road with each bullet, ensuring its death. It was a necessity, because having it suddenly throw a car at them from behind as it had done only minutes earlier would have surely killed them.
A few feet away, a young man lie motionless on the ground, blood slowly pouring from a large, gaping wound in his leg and staining the pavement a deep scarlet. He was completely covered in bumps and bruises, and blood dripped from cuts all along his arms and face, adding to the pool forming beneath him. He appeared to be unconscious, though his eyes were still half open. Blood was streaked across his face, seeping from an open wound somewhere on his head, beneath his reddish brown hair.
Eventually the blood stopped flowing and began to dry, crusting on his torn clothes and skin. And only inches away from his outstretched hand rested a hat, torn and dirty and covered in blood, vomit and God knows what else. The wind still threatened to blow it away.
The conman finally turned away from the cause of their troubles, and slowly made his way to the motionless heap. His green eyes were anguished, sorrowful, and his body was weak from the battle they had fought and won. His legs buckled when he finally reached him, unable to take another step. The red liquid instantly soaked into his white suit pants, but he hardly noticed.
He reached out, hand visibly shaking, and grasped the kid’s shoulder. Rolling him onto his back, he stared at the hick’s empty, lightless eyes, once so bright with laughter and joy that had managed to make all of them smile on numerous occasions no matter the circumstances…
Nick collapsed over the body of his dead friend, shoulders quaking with silent sobs. The desire to cry his name to the heavens was almost overwhelming. He blamed himself for being too slow, for leaving him for dead with that damn testosterone-loaded thing that not even a grenade to the face could kill. It was only because of the kid’s great sacrifice that he’d gotten out alive.
It was too late to apologize now… and far too late to thank him…
Because he was gone. Ellis was gone.
And off on the other end of the bridge, the helicopter they had been running long and hard for in such high, high hopes of finally escaping Hell on Earth… rose from the ground and into the sky.