Dead Frontier/Issue 98

This is Issue #98 of Dead Frontier by Walkerbait22, titled ''The Positive. ''This is the second issue in Volume 17.

Issue 98 - The Positive
Cole stands watch on top the hotel's tower one, alone with four others, including Adam and three men he's never taken the time to talk to. The infected have been pushing closer and closer all day; it's his and Adam's job to make sure they don't reach the gate.

Cole spots one and reaches for the sniper on his left. He looks down the scope, steadies his aim on the infected's head, and fires a shot that goes clean through its brain. He does the same for two more, then searches the vicinity for any movement, but sees nothing.

"Good shots," Adam mentions from his right.

"Thanks," Cole says. "Duke taught me some stuff a while ago." Adam turns his attention to the streets below. He spots an infected, but one of the other men takes care of it quickly. "I can tell you're still pissed at me, dude."

"Never said I was," Adam says.

"But it's true. And you have every right to be. I'm a selfish dick who thinks his problems are bigger than everyone else's."

"Yep. Hit the nail on the head."

"I know. And you and everyone is right. I'm being stupid, inconsiderate, an asshole, and every other characteristic in the book. I could say a million other things and apologize for hours, but I'll just admit that I'm sorry."

"I don't even need you to apologize. Just happy to know you're coming to your senses."

"Yeah, I know...but I feel like a big fucking idiot. I mean, I still think this world and almost everything in it is a big pile of shit, but...I don't know, I'm just stupid for thinking that was a good reason to be an ass to every single person I care about. Even to freakin' Joe, and now he's dead and I can't even apologize to him. Can't have one last talk with him. Whatever, I'm sorry, that's it. You all had good reason to hate me, it's cool."

"Come on, bro. No one hates you. As long as you've got the same old Cole in you, no one's gonna hate you. We've been through too much to do that to you. Don’t ever think anything different."

A crowd of people surround Griffin in the lobby. He's overwhelmed, as all three dozen voices talk to him at once. They're furious, afraid, and ready to leave the hotel if worse comes to worst, but it seems like it already has with Roxie's latest attack on the hotel.

"Okay, would you all please shut up for one second!" Griffin shouts over them.

A dark haired woman boldly steps forward. "We don't want to be a part of this anymore," she says. "Not after that last attack, no. We stay here, and we're dead, Griffin. If we don't have a leader that can make the right choices, then we're gone."

"Wow. Okay. I'm doing what I can here. I'm not Superman, I can't predict every attack she's gonna make on us. But maybe you want to step into my fucking shoes for a few seconds and see that this job, this job I have leading all of you people, a job I didn't have to take, isn't as easy as sitting around in a hotel doing jack-shit all day. You stick around here when it's all sunshine and rainbows, and you leave when it gets hard. That's really fucking nice."

"Staying here is--"

"No. Don't talk. Let me tell you something. You can go and I won't give a shit. It'll be less of a burden on me with thirty no-backbone assholes gone. Thirty people who stay here for months and months and then fucking run away. Get out of my fucking hotel, if that's what you want--"

Descending the defunct escalator, Chloe sees and hears the commotion in the lobby: an irate Griffin shouting harshly at a group of people. "What the hell is going on?" she asks when she reaches him, grabbing him by the arm and cutting his rant short.

"They're leaving. They're going," Griffin says. "Gonna try their luck on the road, I'm assuming. Let's see how that goes."

"They're leaving?"

"Yeah. Good fucking riddance." He's apparently finished with them, a group of traitors as far as he's concerned, and he turns the other way, toward the escalator. Chloe apologizes to everyone on his behalf and goes after him, trying to get him to stop for just a second.

“Griffin, is this really the time to throw a temper tantrum?” she asks him, a remark that suddenly causes him to stop and turn on her, his face overcome with rage.

“You think I’m throwing a God damn temper tantrum?" he asks. "Those are people that I trusted, people that trusted me, and now they’re out the door. I’m trying my best here, Chloe, but it’s not easy.”

"Okay, I know it's not, but maybe you take a step back and realize what they're probably thinking. We were just attacked again, the second time in a little over a month. They've got some pretty good reasons to consider leaving."

"And you agree with them; that's great."

"They're just scared people who've been through too much and have had everything good about this place yanked right from under their feet. And they don't know what else to do," Chloe says.

"What they can do is have a little faith...and Jesus Christ, it sounds like you want go with them."

"I wouldn't do that. You know I'd never do that," she says, although, she has to admit, the thought has crossed her mind more than enough times.

"Then I'd expect you to back me up. Instead justifying their shitty reasoning."

"I shouldn't have to back you up, there aren't any sides here. This is about everyone, and I'm trying to look at the bigger picture."

"Fucking forget it. It doesn't matter. I've got two hundred people to keep track of and keep safe. Let them leave. And let me know when they're done packing their bags."

"Did you hear? There's some people thinking about leaving," Luke says, searching through a cabinet above the sink for something to eat. He's in Billie's suite, and she lies on the couch, looking up at the ceiling, quieter than usual, he's noticed. “Hello?”

“Oh--what?” she says, sitting up to look at him. He smiles and halts his search, closing the cabinet.

“I asked if you heard about some people planning on leaving the hotel,” he says, walking over to the couch and taking a seat next to her.

“Yeah, I did,” she says, and she scoots over to make room for him.

He scrutinizes her face: the red-rimmed eyes, the gaze that she refuses to keep locked on him. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

“You know what’s wrong. More people died. More people are going to die. Same shit, all the time.” She stretches out on the couch and lays her head in his lap. He reaches an arm over her, and puts his hand on hers.

“Yeah. That’s true.”

“That makes me feel better. Thank you.”

“Sorry, but I'm not gonna lie to you. You know how the world works now and you're way too smart to believe anything else...Just don't think about it for a little while, if it's bothering you that much. Don’t think about any of the shit that's going on."

"Is that what you do? Because...I just can't do that. Every single stress is always nagging at me, sitting at the back my mind but still there."

"Yeah, that's exactly what I do. You have to...think of the best thing you can. It can be a memory, the future, whatever. You forget about everything else and focus on that one thing. That one good thing."

"Oh, God, this is gonna make me feel worse."

"No, it won't. I promise," he says with a confident smile. "If it does then...I'll feel like an asshole and you can yell at me, okay?"

"Okay," she says with a sigh and she closes her eyes. It's harder than she thought it would be, pushing everything out of her mind that brings her stress, sadness, anger, and finding the one thing that can put her at peace for a little while. But she does, and she smiles.

"How's it going?" Luke asks.

"Good."

"Did you find it?"

"I think so."

"Let me hear it."

"Want to?" she asks. "It's stupid, but whatever."

"I don't care if you're thinking about singing on stage with Michael Bolton, I want to hear."

"I actually was; how did you know?” she says with a laugh. “I wish but...okay, this was more of a memory. It was a memory. It was back in Louisville, the day before I came to Chicago for college. My dad threw me this going away barbecue, invited all the family and all my highschool friends and the neighbors. I was expecting it to be...sad, because I was leaving, going miles away from everyone I grew up with, people I went to school with for years, but it really wasn’t. Ugh, besides my parents ruining it with their crying because I was the oldest kid, going to college. You know parents.

“Anyway, the thing I remember most is when a few people were giving me gifts; they were all really nice--appreciated every single one--but then the oldest of my little sisters, Kate, she comes up and she actually has a present for me. And this is a big deal because she never did anything for anybody, and we said ‘I hate you’ to each other over a dozen times a week. So this was completely unexpected. And I was thinking it was gonna be some cheap dollar store thing, or a stupid joke gift. But she actually made me a scrapbook, starting from when she was born to the year I was going away. It was me and her and our other sister, Abby, mostly, just pictures of us growing up and...I cried. The ugliest, most pathetic cry ever...It was the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever did for me and coming from her...I’ll never forget it. That entire day was just something that makes me smile like an idiot, thinking back on it.”

She opens her eyes to see Luke smiling at her. She immediately feels the heat rush to her cheeks, and she covers her face with her hands.

“What?” he says.

“See? Stupid story.”

“C’mon, that was so freakin’ sweet.”

She groans and sits up. “No, it was sappy.”

“But you feel better? At least a little bit?”

“Maybe...” she teases. He raises his hands up in defeat, and she laughs at him, shaking her head. “No, I’m kidding. It did. Really.”

“Feelin’ good?”

“Yep. Feeling good,” she assures, and she leans over to give him a quick peck on the lips. “But I’m on watch next. Think I’ve got tower two.”

“That sucks,” he says. She rises and heads to the plush chair across the room, where she grabs her jacket.

“It doesn’t have to. You can come up, too, and we can be irresponsible and make out the entire time.” She smirks as he moves from the couch a little too quickly and slips on an orange hoodie.

“Ready,” he announces.

“I wasn’t serious, Luke...that’d be really bad.”

“You can’t mess with a man’s heart like that, Billie.”

“Sorry but...oh, whatever. Who cares, right? Let’s go.”

Ivy is planted in a chair, eyes glued to the tiled floor below her, as Kendra speaks to her, struggling immensely to keep her voice calm. Her impulsive choice to stand between her mother and Roxie obviously hasn’t achieved the reaction she expected.

“Why...what in this world would make you think it was a good idea to come outside when she was out there?” Kendra asks.

“I don’t know,” Ivy mutters.

“No. None of that ‘I don’t know’ shit. Answer my question.”

“I thought I could protect you," Ivy says, her voice full naivety and innocence.

Kendra sighs and rubs her temples. "Ivy, you're not an adult. I protect you, not the other way around. You know Roxie is dangerous, you know you should never pull a stunt like that. Ever. Again. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Now come here." She opens up her arms and Ivy runs into them, hugging her tight.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I just didn't want you to get hurt."

"I know. But don't scare me like that again, you crazy little girl."

"I can't help but do crazy stuff. I get it from you."

Kendra laughs and embraces her a little tighter. "And now you've got jokes. Don't push it," she says.

Lienne, Dre, and Alec are huddled in the chilly parking lot, just a few meters away from the fence that some infected are pressed against, reaching their arms and mouths through the holes. But it's strong enough to hold them back.

The three of them each have a joint in their hand, enjoying a little recreation. "I had this shit saved up for a long time. Had to use it wisely," Dre says.

"If now's not the best time, I don't know what is," Alec says, and he blows out a few puffs of smoke.

"This is pretty weak, though, Dre," Lienne says. "I'm a little disappointed."

"It's all I got. Better cherish it," Dre says. "You're right though. This is pretty whack. Don't feel shit."

Their attention shifts to something else for a moment as the back door opens and stomps out a fuming Jake.

“Woah, what’s your problem?” Lienne asks as he stops near them.

“Fucking Griffin said I c-can’t go,” Jake says.

“You mean the attack?”

“Y-yeah. I spent thirty fucking m-minutes trying to change his m-mind, but he still said n-no. I’m ‘too y-young.’ Alec is only a year older than me, and h-he’s going. And he has one h-hand!”

“I am almost seventeen, though, so that probably has something to do with it. And I’m not batshit crazy,” Alec says.

“Fuck off.”

“Damn, I’m joking. Just go anyway. He can’t stop you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can sneak you a gun or something, and you can hop in the car when Griffin doesn’t notice. Bam, done, you’re on your way to kick some ass,” Alec says.

“That’s a bad idea,” Dre says. “He’s too small, look at him. Can you even hold a gun, dude?”

“Whatever. You two aren’t e-even going, so why d-do you care?” Jake asks. “You’ll probably s-sit here and smoke all d-day while everyone else is out risking their l-lives. Don’t think you h-have room to judge me.”

“Still agree with Dre. But you don’t listen to anybody anyway, so I’m not gonna try to convince you to stay. And God, stop being so harsh. Dre’s just joking with you,” Lienne says.

“I’m sorry, but I j-just want revenge for my mom, o-okay? Whatever I c-can do to get that, I w-will. And it’s pissing me off th-that Griffin’s trying to stop me.”

“I know how you feel, one hundred percent,” Alec says, and he ignores Lienne’s eyeroll. “I’ve got your back, man.” Jake actually smiles, and Alec reciprocates it.

Sterling’s knee is still busted and he lies in the infirmary, still bedridden. Walter sits on a stool next to the bed, keeping him company and throwing a small ball towards the ceiling and catching it as it falls back down.

“So tired of this shit,” Walter says with a sigh, throwing the ball up once more. “This fucking hotel and everything. Savannah would still be here, your leg wouldn’t be fucked up, wouldn’t have to worry about someone busting down our door...just because of some pesky group of people living in luxury...”

Sterling rolls his eyes, and, with a bit of struggling, manages to sit up. “She’s got you right where she wants you, man. And it’s sad to see.”

Walter chuckles, and keeps the ball still in his hands. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Roxie. She’s twisted your thoughts so much. You’re blaming these hotel guys when she’s the one that shot Savannah. She killed her. Not whoever’s living at the Hyatt. And here you are, blaming them. If that doesn’t show she’s completely brainwashed you, I dunno what will, man,” Sterling says

“Listen, Roxie knows what she’s doing. Savannah doesn’t lead this place. It was a mistake for me going in there and backing her up against Roxie, I’ll admit it. And look what happened to her. She’s dead. She wouldn’t be if we weren’t so preoccupied with the hotel and she kept her mouth shut.”

“You’re defending her?”

“I’m just saying, what happened to Savannah could have been prevented if we all just follow her and keep our mouths shut," Walter says. "If we survived this long, Roxie knows what she’s doing. And all this hotel business is fucking it up. I'm ready to just kill all of them and be done with it."

"You're so fucking delusional."

"Whatever. Don't act like you're some jolly good St. Nick. You've done some pretty messed up shit and don't try to deny it. So you can't blame me or even Roxie, because whatever she does it's for the good of this place."

"No, it's for her own enjoyment and her own good. And you don't realize that because all you do is fuck her and let her whisper little lies in your ear."

"Fuck you," Walter says, standing. "She wouldn't lead us if she didn't care."

"She doesn't care! It's just that without us, she's nothing! Without us, she's just another survivor with no one to boss around, putting on this tough face. She doesn't want to be somebody who's worth nothing. It's really God damn obvious but you're too fucking stupid to realize it." The words just flow from his mouth, and in his rage he can't stop them. It's a huge mistake, with the chances of Walter reporting back to her and relaying his every word are too high for his liking. But what's said is said, and he can't take it back. Though, he's not entirely sure he wants to.