"Hey! That zombie's got somethin'!"
Ellis turned as the armored zombie sped past him, eyes on his biohazardous prize. Coach and Rochelle were already up ahead getting the safe room opened up, so Nick sighed in frustration as -- he didn't even have to look to know -- Ellis gave chase. Like a dog seeing a squirrel.
Coach and Rochelle exchanged looks of disbelief with each other, and then with Nick standing a few yards away. Sighing another deep sigh, Nick also turned and headed after Ellis. He'd drag this kid back to the safe room if that's what it took. And with the moans and groans of Infected increasing in volume and number, no one really had any time to be chasing after some runaway zombie who happened to have some Boomer Bile clipped to his belt. No one. But somehow, Ellis thought this was reasonable.
"Ellis, let's just get back to the--"
The slipping, and the thud of Ellis's boots hitting the ground below... before he knew it, Ellis had jumped the fence to chase this zombie.
They had already run so far up the ramp to the safe room, only to be undone by one southern kid's stupid impulses.
"N-Nick! Watch out!"
Rochelle's call was followed with a metallic door slam, and the characteristic grumble of a nearby Charger. It seemed like it was lowering its shoulder in slow motion, but Nick's reflexes to get the hell out of dodge took over. Before he realized it, he was on the other side of the railing, with a nasty growl down by his feet, and the roar of a horde closing in fast.
Rochelle watched Coach's expression, fighting to keep his composure as he turned away from the safe room door's window. She felt ill, herself, and sat in a corner with her ears covered. Two voices in that pandemonium were clearer than the rest, and she couldn't bear to hear their screams.