I found this saved in my drafts? Anyway, really short fan fic that was supposedly the intro for something. Might as well share before I go to bed.
Nick’s head shot up. He could hardly see ten feet in front of himself; let alone a safe house. But there - there was something bright and beckoning that loomed out of the green storm haze. As the conman trudged through the flooded street, head tilted against the onslaught of warm rain, he finally allowed himself to feel an ounce of hope.
"We made it!" Coach bellowed, from somewhere ahead.
Lighting flashed across the sky in a magnesium-brilliant vein, followed quickly by a harsh clap of thunder. The rain lessened somewhat, and now Nick could actually see the safe house - a steel door painted red, with a single light bulb setting the threshold ablaze. A half-drowned car sat parked on what would have been the front lawn, and a mail box stood isolated in the water. As he neared the house, he could see Coach sprint up the front steps, followed by Ellis, who skipped the stairs part of the equation entirely and simply leaped from the water onto the porch.
Nick tossed aside his spent rifle and concentrated on making it to the safe house. The sky rumbled, and the rainfall began to pour down in buckets, until the only thing he could see was the faint glow of the safe house. He cursed loudly.
"Almost there, Nick!" came a reply, warped by the storm’s violence.
Nick glanced up and shielded his eyes against the rain with his hand. Ellis was jumping through the water, sending it splashing everywhere as he approached the conman. The kid grabbed Nick’s shoulder and the pair of them ran into the safe house.
"Jesus Christ," Nick muttered. Ellis slammed the door shut and braced it with a single bar of steel, before groaning and sliding to the floor. Nick watched as the young man took off his trucker’s cap and shook it out, which tossed gobbets of mud and water all over the floor.
"We barely made it out of the sugar facility," Coach said. "We was lucky as hell to avoid all them Witches."
"Ain’t never seen so many before," Ellis added. "All that sobbing damn near put me in tears."
Nick smirked and turned away from the two, heading past the safe house’s kitchenette area and into the dim supplies room.
"Rochelle?" he called, fumbling for a light switch. More out of habit than anything else. He found it and flipped the switch back and forth, but nothing happened.
And Rochelle didn’t say anything.
"Hey, you in here?" he called again. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he searched the shadows and saw that the only things in the room was a table decorated with a menagerie of zombie-killing tools, and a shattered drawer.
Frowning, he turned away from the room and headed back to the kitchenette.
"Guys, have you seen Rochelle?"
A look of sudden panic crossed Ellis’ face.
"I thought she was ahead of us," he said.
Coach brow knitted into a troubled scowl. “You mean she isn’t in the back room?”
The conman couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the bigger man.
"Would I have asked if she was?" he replied sarcastically.