I'm sorry.

I've been seeing other fandoms.

XXX

"That's your plan?"

"Yep."

"Francis, that is retarded."

"Fuck you! It's a great plan!"

"Guerrilla warfare isn't a plan with two people, Francis! It's a terrible idea! We have no idea how many people are in that mall, how many guns they have – if they have any. We don't know what sort of security is up, what is locked down and what isn't…"

"Bull shit! That's Guerrilla warfare though, ain't it? The smaller group ambushing and all that shit?"

"Well yeah, but two people? Against the mystery number with mystery weapons? Shit, that sounds terrible!"

Francis huffed, yanking the dry erase marker from Zoey's hands and dipping his head to focus on the white board that was resting between them. Initially, they had written out their plans on the surface, but those were quickly erased and replaced with images of penis and balls and other immature things that surfaced in Francis' sad little mind (that's not to say that Zoey didn't take part in the perverted doodling). Nick, Coach, Rochelle and Ellis had been pushed aside by Francis, who told them to sit tight, relax and take a breather while he and Zoey plotted their attack.

Sadly, Guerrilla warfare just happened to be the best idea they had come up with.

"Look, we make molotovs and put a few tablespoons of dish soap in there. It makes it thicker and it burns a bit longer. We get in and we set fire to a couple places. We keep them small and isolated, something to break up their ranks for a little bit. We find Louis and we get the fuck out of there."

Well, really, that wasn't too terrible.

"Okay, but how do we know where they are keeping Louis?"

"There has to be a roof-top exit, right? We get in through there, find the security room-"

"While we avoid getting spotted by whoever is in the security room."

Francis proceeded, lifting his middle finger, "and we get an idea of how many people are there. We pack the walkie talkies while you give your hillbilly the other. We tell them when we have found Louis and they come in through the front, guns blazing."

The white board was covered with words and arrows now. Molotov, linked itself with Dish Soap, which connected to Thicker/Burn Time and then that had an arrow towards Isolated Fire and then, finally Distraction.

Molotov - Dish Soap - Thicker/Burn Time - Isolated Fire - Distraction (1)

Zoey tapped her fingers against her lower lip, head tilting thoughtfully as she inspected the words.

"What's the 1 stand for?"

"I want two more distractions. Fire is only going to do us so much good."

Zoey leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she peered at the burly biker. She was impressed! Since when did he sit and think things through before acting on half-cocked ideas and plans that were doomed to end in complete failure and pain?

"Boomer bile," Ellis said from across the room, laying on his back as he played with a throw pillow. He tossed it up into the air and caught it.

"Huh?"

"On our way here we'd seen some Bile Bombs, 'member? Get a few of those and get a crowd of them going along the outside of the building – like up on the upstairs walkway. It's not something that they have to immediately deal with but it'll draw their attention. "

Francis looked thoughtful then wrote out the idea.

Bile Bomb - Horde - Distraction (2 -?)

They needed another, something that was structurally sound. There was no way they could risk trying to lure a Witch or a Tank into the area, it chanced a fatality on their already small number.

"You think we can find some kind of noise makers? Fireworks or something?" Zoey wondered, closing her eyes in concentration. She doubted a place like New Orleans would have fireworks at the ready for drunk occupants to play around with. Getting the Bile Bombs would be easy enough (Ellis had manage to make a couple before) and molotovs would be a cinch with so much alcohol and bottles around their location.

"Someone could shoot the windows or something," Francis mumbled. "Or maybe we find the shit to make a smoke bomb. Those are pretty easy t'make."

Zoey cocked her head, eyebrows raising as she leaned further into the chair.

"I'm afraid to ask why you would know how to make a smoke bomb."

"Zoe, I am surprised that you don't know how to make a smoke bomb. Your dad taught you everything else, right" He lurched forward and wrote out Smoke Bomb (3) then gave her a large, knowing smile. "Looks like we get to go shopping."

XXX

Shopping consisted of three out of six of their group sneaking into the heart of bourbon street and breaking in to various shops and bars. The three of them, Ellis, Zoey and Francis, each had a backpack that they filled to the brim with whatever items they needed. One bag was filled with liquor, liquid soap and siphoned gasoline. Another bag was filled with sugar, baking soda and a variety of bags containing fertilizer and saltpeter. The final bag was several mason jars filled boomer bile – a project that Ellis had done without hesitation.

The shopping was done without hitch and they finished off their afternoon with a lovely round of home economics.

Featuring Molotov cocktail mixing and baking smoke bombs.

Yep. Totally normal.

"So, anyone else find that the bridge monkey making a smoke bomb is a little weird?"

"Eh," Rochelle grunted, shrugging her shoulders. "Zombies."

"Valid point."

Ellis shrugged his shoulders, having gone with the two on their shopping expedition he got to see how carefully they worked. They had openly reminisced about the man called Bill and about the things that he had taught them. The older man had told them the recipe to mustard gas – albeit vaguely, according to Francis – and a number of other gaseous weapons. The smoke bombs were something that Francis had known before meeting Bill, but they had learned basic paramedic skills, how to bandage wounds and set sprains and breaks. They learned how to disassemble, clean and reassemble their weapons and basic survival skills.

It was obvious that they missed the man and still looked to him as a mentor.

"W-W-J-D is a load of shit," Francis had groused, then tossed a grin towards Ellis. "Especially now. What would Bill do is a lot more helpful during this day and age. W-W-B-D."

Ellis didn't know about any of that, but Bill seemed like a smart enough man and Zoey sure missed him. As they talked about the old soldier Zoey's eyes took on a sadness that Ellis hadn't expected to see but she was smiling softly.

"I was so freaked when he had found me," She said on a heavy sigh, kicking at a fallen corpse as they made their way back to the hotel. "And he didn't even bat an eyelash, just told me to follow him."

He was going to be sure to ask about that story later, especially since he was the story-teller of their group, talking about Keith and all of the trouble that they would get into. Ellis decided that he wanted to hear Zoey and Francis' story, how they had all came together. It was something he would wait on, Francis seemed pretty focused on his, uh, cooking and Zoey was busy getting the molotovs ready.

The bile bombs were fresh and finished.

It had taken a bit of time to find a boomer, and she had been rather petrifying with most of her clothes torn and falling off, exposing bulging and pus filled flesh that was discolored with decay and maybe its own bile. Pulsing sores had covered her face, disfigured her body. In the end, after the lady-boomer projectile-puked into the mason jars, they killed her and moved on.

He was so glad that his shopping didn't get involved in the home-economics portion of the day.

So Ellis took the time to relax on the couch, right along with Rochelle. Nick was resting in an overstuffed chair – looking bored out of his mind – while Coach snoozed on the floor, arm tucked under his head.

"What do we do if the guy is dead?" Nick asked, managing to sound irritated. "This could be a total waste of time."

Ellis glanced towards Francis, busy with the construction of his smoke bombs. The biker's body froze and Ellis could practically hear his teeth clenching.

"How the fuck have you not killed him?"

Zoey chuckled, "Eh, he grows on ya."

"Yeah. Like cancer."

Zoey rolled her eyes, setting down the bottle in her hands and standing. Her arms stretched out above her head, her back arching and her eyes closing tightly as her body pushed out a yawn. When she crossed the room and took a seat beside Ellis he couldn't help but smile.

"Hey," Ellis murmured, his arm slipping around her shoulders.

Zoey leaned against him, closing her eyes. "Hi."

"Y'sleepy, darlin'?" His fingers brushed through the ends of her hair, pulling her towards him. When she merely sighed he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Go 'head and get a bit of shut eye. I will finish up." Zoey shook her head, her eyes on Francis as he worked in the tiny kitchen space.

"Do you think this is going to work?"

Ellis furrowed his eyebrows in thought, frowning to himself as he followed her gaze. Though Ellis was sure that the biker would never admit it his actions made it incredibly clear that he was worried; the idea of his friend missing scared him. Francis was resilient and didn't want to show just how upset he was – so he busied himself.

"It's worth a shot," Ellis murmured.

Honestly the entirety of the plan scared the crap out of him. Francis and Zoey infiltrating the mall with a group of unknown amounts of people was unsettling. The possibilities of what could happen – good and bad – were completely endless and he wished that Francis would be more open to the idea of him or Coach accompanying him. Francis had shut the idea down faster than Ellis could offer it.

"I don't like it, but I can't think of a better idea," Zoey closed her eyes tight, thumb and index finger rubbing at her eyelids.

The entire group hated the idea – Nick had even tried to shoot it down – but strolling up to, what could be, hostile territory with the possible hostiles wielding any number of weapons was worse than the plan that they were working on. And it was possible that Louis wasn't even alive; it could be a trap.

A trap that they were willingly walking into.

XXXX

They found the ladder that led the roof top and managed to lower it far enough for them to gain access – and that was the beginning of the mild fit of anxiety that caused Zoey's entire body to shake. In order to calm her body she took a deep breath and breathed out through her nose. The possibilities were too endless but she stepped up to the ladder and began to climb, knowing that it had to be done – that Louis would, and technically already had, come for her. A couple rungs up from the bottom she felt a hand touch her waist and she paused, seeing Ellis at her side.

"Can't someone else go?" He asked, addressing Francis, as he slowly eased Zoey back to the ground. "C'mon man, what if something happens? I can't let her do this."

Francis growled – actually growled.

"Alright Hillbilly, I told you once and I will tell you again. I'm not going in there with anyone else! I don't trust you, I don't fuckin' trust him, or him or her – I trust this one, right fuckin' here. She has saved my life more than once and the last time I saw you assholes was when you took her!"

"Yeah, we saved her fuckin' life!" Nick shouted, though he managed to sound bored. "We're sorry. If we could go back we would let her die just for you!"

"Fuck off, Sanders!" Francis's hands were clenching tightly, making the fingerless gloves strain audibly. Zoey moved forward then, making sure to stand in front of Francis, facing him as she gently pushed her hands to his chest.

"Francis – hey!" She snapped her fingers just before his eyes then made a gesture to the ladder. "Climb, okay, I will be right behind you." He didn't move, simply glared straight past her as if she didn't exist. When someone behind her made a move, Francis cocked his neck, stepped forward and jarring Zoey backwards until she hauled all of her weight straight back at him, shoving his chest and making him step back. "Francis!"

With an irate sneer he turned and started up the ladder, Zoey relaxing slightly. She was glad that they were able to avoid any physical confrontation between Francis and the rest of the group and she gave them a gentle apologetic smile, telling them that she was sorry before turning to follow Francis up the ladder.

"Zoey, girl you don't have to follow him."

She glanced back at Rochelle, seeing the worry and the fear. It was the same look that Coach and Ellis were offering, a wide eyed sort of shock with confusion creased eyebrows. Nick was staring out into the street, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his lips moving silently as he shook his head.

"Louis came after me. The least I can do is go after him." She gripped the ladder and started up after Francis, slowing enough to offer them her best smile. "If it starts going downhill get out of here – and thank you. So much… For everything." Zoey couldn't prevent her eyes from lingering towards Ellis and she couldn't help but wonder if it was the last time she would ever see him again. Without another word she focused on the ladder, on the cold rungs under her palms and the heaviness of the weapons and molotovs her back.

"Zoey." She glanced back, surprised to find that it was Nick who called her. He didn't look as upset as the others did, though he did look irritated though there was a softness in his face. Nick held up the walkie-talkie, shaking it so the antennae wiggled. "Channel 2."

"Right."

She resumed the climb.

When Francis reached the top he turned to glance down at her, urging her on before vanishing from view. She felt that it was a good sign that there wasn't any zombies on the roof when he didn't scream or yell or shoot anything. It was a good sign; it had been one of the negative possibilities that had been rolling around Zoey's mind.

Get to the roof – zombies there. Get ambushed by smoker/hunter/tank/witch. Die miserably. End.

Nope, they managed to get to the roof and now it was step two. Infiltrating the building was going to offer any number of horrible endings.

Get spotted – die.

Discover Louis dead – die.

So-called isolated fires turn out to be not-so isolated – die.

Trip and fall down a flight of stairs – die.

I need to learn how to be more of an optimist, she thought bitterly, watching as Francis procured a can of Dust-off from his bag. He inserted the red spray straw, turned the bottle upside down and angled it against the keyhole of the door before pushing the spray-nozzle in. From her space several paces behind him, she could see the frost on the canister, could see the keyhole lined with it.

"Another trick from the old days?" All Zoey wanted was a little banter, something quick and witty before they charged towards their deaths and Francis didn't disappoint.

"Zoey, come on! You've seen Fight Club."

That she had.

I am Jack's cold sweat.

He reached into his pack against, procuring a pick of sorts – a chisel- and pushed it up against the lock. With the heel of his hand he slammed the chisel home. With a twist of the handle the door creaked open, the chisel abandoned in the door handle as he lifted his weapon and glanced back towards her. There was a moment where they simply looked at each other, features grim. Lowering his gun, Francis suddenly stepped forward, his hand cradling the back of her head as he pulled her into a tight embrace.

Zoey was partially relieved to know that the big man was shaking just as much as she was. Pressing her forehead to his chest she wrapped an arm around him and took a breath. She wondered if she should take a moment to see if she had to throw up again, the knots in her stomach making her almost wheeze as she fought for air. Her anxiety was at an all-time high, her heart pumping so fast in her ears and she couldn't fight the trembling of her lower lip.

"Ready to go?"

I am Jack's raging bile duct.

"Sure."

As he broke the embrace Francis reached out and grabbed the walkie from her waist, pushing the button and raising it to his mouth rumbling, "Headed in. Radios silence." Again he reached out, clipping the walkie back against her waist and turned, shotgun poised in both hands as he headed inside. Zoey slid her AR from her shoulder, relieved to feel some of the weight had lifted from her back as she took a step forward, following Francis into the stairwell. Ten steps down and there was a small map that listed the exits and some of the major stores.

"Security room," Francis grunted, tapping the map with the barrel of his gun. "Should be down the stairs and one-two-three doors down." Zoey eyed the map over his shoulder, wondering what was in the two room that lead up to the security room. Probably employee break rooms, meeting rooms or storage spaces.

There was probably people in there.

I am Jack's vehement uncertainty.

With quiet steps and an incredibly well practiced stride and familiar formation the two made their way down the stairs and into enemy territory.

XXXX

So, that's it for meow (now). Again, I want to keep these short so they don't take quite so long to write out – even though I think this took quite a while to produce anyway. Don't judge – I have been seeing other fandoms. Too many fandoms.