Can't Be Saved (Saving Elliot OneShot)

Red Nightmare

It's been three days since reuniting with Tamara, and we've almost used all the rations left in this safe house. The dead have been unusually active, and it's driven all of us into a fearful silence. We speak in whispers, if we speak at all, and constantly watch the windows, weapons ready.

Tamara explained that after we got separated that day in the tube, she got ambushed by a small hoard. While she was running to get the surface, she tripped up the stairs and hit her head. She woke up in a camp just outside the city. She told me how a pair of twins saved her from certain death, and showed off a large scabbing cut on the side of her head beneath her dark curls. I couldn't help but think of my brothers at the mention of twins. God, how I miss them. I hope they're ok...

Andrew and Elizabeth were both medical students at King's College London before this all started, and Tamara was sure if anyone else had found her she wouldn't be speaking to me right now. Tamara had been spending her time with them trying to find a way back into the city to look for me, but every time they reached the southern border they were met with the sound of dogs and the walking dead. After a few days, she decided she would travel by herself to find me and bring me back. She had always done her best work independently.

"We can't stay here forever, you know." Elliot looked impatiently between the boarded window at the front of the pub. His cool demeanor had melted away little by little as the days passed. Between the eerie moaning of dead things by day and paralyzingly chatter of dead things by night, I couldn't blame him. Saying we were all on edge is probably the understatement of the century.

"I don' wanna go outside," Delilah rasped sleepily from under a pile of blankets. Despite the cough she seemed to have develop, she was doing surprisingly well. Probably on account of her being asleep most of the time. I hope she dreams of pleasant things, to make up for the nightmare that is this life...

"Fintry's right," Tamara added. "We don't have enough food to stay here much longer." Tamara and I have gotten more accustomed to referring to Elliot by his last name, as a way to keep us from confusing one another. And when Elliot isn't calling me Munchkin, he calls me Jensen.

"The dead have been creeping around here nonstop for days, it isn't safe to leave." I climbed up the crate stairs and peered out the window. I could see dead in the distance coming in this direction, a small group, the usual. Where were they coming from? Where are they going?

Elliot pleasantly reminded us we would starve in here.

"We don't even know where we're trying to go," I pointed out, but then Tamara pleasantly reminded me of her new friends outside the city.

"They are just south of here, it only took me half a day to get to The White Rabbit from where they were. If we leave now we could make it before sun even goes down."

"Half a day by yourself. Imagine traveling with two children," I bobbed my head slightly in Elliot's directing. For the first time in three days Tamara smiled.

I heard Elliot scoff, but he didn't look my way. "Yeah, what are Tamara and I going to do with you two?"

I rolled my eyes and smiled, too. It was nice to hear his sarcasm. Refreshing. Made things feel normal. I've only known him for a week, but I could find comfort in his voice the same way I found it in Tamara's. My smile faded when I remembered we were talking about the chances of being eaten alive by the dead. Tamara looked up at me, her face as solemn as mine.

"We have to leave."

Night came and went slowly. I don't think any of us got real sleep; chattering bones are no lullaby.

Delilah, somehow, slept like a baby. The poor thing had been sleeping for days. She hardly ate and never unwrapped herself from her blankets. I think I noticed her limp yesterday, when she got up to use the toilet, but she may have just been fumbling over the blankets.

Tamara and Elliot took inventory last night, though there wasn't much to tally. We split everything relatively evenly into our own packs, trying to keep our loads light. Anything that wouldn't be used to in the time it took us to get outside the city was left behind.

Tamara spoke first. "Are we ready?"

"To leave? Yes. I think so," I answered. "To die? Not really."

"As long as we stay together we'll be fine," Elliot reloaded his pistol. "You've been uncomfortably bleak lately, Munchkin."

"The smell of death doesn't agree with me, I suppose."

There's had been a very faint rotten smell these past couple days, probably due to the abundance of walkers. Elliot made a comment about it yesterday, so I know it's not my imagination. Tamara lost most of her sense of smell last winter in an accident. Terrible head injury. She nearly lost an eye, it was lucky all she lost was her smell. All I can think about is how those things have all been walking in the direction we are trying to go. I've felt sick all morning.

"I'm cold." Delilah whispered from her blankets. Her cough seemed to be getting worse. I saw her shivering last night. Tamara checked on her the night before and said she sweating and freezing, that she may have an infection. Her only hope is that her friends have someone sort of medicine with them, because God knows there is none here. Tamara helped Delilah to her feet and whispered reassuring words.

Elliot climbed to the window and opened it carefully, "There's one across the street."

Tamara rolled her wrists and swung a bat she had found behind the bar, a playful smirk on her face, "I'll handle that."

"Then we're good," Elliot announced plainly, lowering the ladder carefully. "Let's move."

Elliot was out first, and then I followed after, crow bar in hand. Despite Tamara's volunteering to kill the zombie, she stayed back to coax Delilah out of her cocoon and help to the window.

Tamara lowered the child to me, and as I reached for her I noticed a black splotch on the back of her leg. She's in my arms. I dropped my crow bar. A horrible smell...

"She's bitten!" Elliot shouted from behind me, trying to rip her away. Delilah fell from my arms and groaned in agony.

A terrified What?! came from above my head, and the monster across the street turned in our direction. I froze. In the blink of an eye it was charging our way. Elliot grabbed my shoulder and pulled me toward him, away from the dying girl and racing death. Tamara climbed awkwardly from the window, bat in hand, and scrambled down the ladder. Elliot had me tight at his side, gun drawn, but Tamara was even quicker. She tipped the ladder with a grunt onto our attacker, and while it was pin on the ground she dug her heel into its half-exposed skull. The was another shrill screech followed by a disgusting gurgle.

Tamara huffed and moved a lock of dark curls from her face. "Well, that was exhilarating."