Dead Frontier/Issue 96

This is Issue #96 of Dead Frontier, titled ''Endangered. ''This is the final issue in Volume 16.

Issue 96 - Endangered
No one wastes any time scrambling up the escalators and stairs to their respective rooms. Lienne stands at the base of the stairs, making sure everyone gets up safely. The longer it takes, the more frequent the gunshots become, until three unfamiliar men breach the hotel's front doors, confirmation that the guards weren't able to hold the attackers off. Lienne sees them and quickly orders everyone to pick up the pace. At the end of the line, Lienne sees Jake; she grabs onto his arm and follows him up the stairs.

"What do we do?" he asks, his voice quivering.

"Wh-what? Me? Am I in charge? I don't know what to do!" she says.

"Think of something!"

"Okay, okay, just...be quiet." She finally reaches her floor, and she can still hear the gunshots downstairs. They must've already reached the first and second floors; if not, they will soon.

"Okay, I think I have an idea," Lienne says, jogging down the hall with Jake, "but...we need some help. It can't be just us." She stops suddenly and surveys the people scrambling to their rooms. Mostly elderly, kids, or overweight people. The first seemingly able bodied person she notices is a young black guy, with tattoos running down his arms. He's sweating nervously, fumbling with the key to his room. Lienne runs to him and Jake follows. She grabs him by the shoulder and turns him, so he's facing her.

"We need you to help us. Are you healthy?" Lienne asks.

"Why? I'm tryin' to get in my room so I don't get shot up, if you didn't notice," he replies.

“Are--you--healthy?” she repeats, jamming a finger into his chest.

“Yeah--yeah, I’m good.”

“Then you’re going to help us get rid of these guys, okay? Open the door.” The key already sits in the lock, so he turns it and pushes the door open. He quickly slams it shut behind him and turns the lights on.

His face is familiar to Lienne, but he’s never spoken a word to him. Maybe a passing ‘hi’ or ‘how are you?’ but never anything more than that. But there’s no time for pleasantries and she looks to both Jake and the man. “We can use the back stairwell,” Lienne says. “I don’t think they came in through the back way. We find the training room, get the guns, whatever we need, and we push them out as best as we can.”

“There’s only three of us,” Jake says.

“Or we can hide--but that leaves everyone else vulnerable. We can’t do that.”

“I don’t wanna kill nobody, man,” the man says.

“Me either. You don’t know how bad I don’t want to,” Lienne says. “But there are kids here. The only reason I’m doing this is to defend them, okay?” She nods, and he reluctantly nods back. “We really don’t have a lot of time.”

Joe sits nervously in his room, flinching at each gunshot he hears from down below. He has an insane idea--even he knows it’s crazy, even for him--but he considers it anyway. Actually talking to them. He know it won’t work. They’ll kill him. But he can stall them. And maybe some of the guards are still alive and they’ll...do something.

What does he have to live for, compared to everyone else here, anyway? His family is gone, his memory is slowly deteriorating into nothingness--one last act of selflessness is all he can ask for himself. So, he stops contemplating and makes a decision. He opens the door and hurries to the steps, walking down the stairs.

He’s on the verge of tears as he hears someone ascending the steps from the opposite direction. He holds his hands up defensively in anticipation, and shouts “Stop! Please!” when he sees a man with a rifle turn the corner.

The man raises his gun directly at Joe, but Joe shouts again. “I am an old man. There is no way I can hurt you. But can you please stop for just one second,” Joe pleads, looking him in the eye. The man keeps his gun pointed, but doesn’t fire; his stance reeks of impatience.

“I’m assuming you’re with her. With Roxie. And I know you’re going to kill me, but please--just think about what you’re doing right now. Look at you. I’m sure you weren’t a damn bandit or murderer a year ago. Were you?”

“Doesn’t matter,” the man responds, his voice gruff.

“It does. There are children here, and young people. Please--I just...I’m begging you right now to not pull that trigger on anybody else, because you’re not accomplishing anything--you’re just doing the Devil’s work!”

“You’re really pissing me off.”

“Then why are you still here? Why haven’t you shot me yet? Because you know I’m right. Please. Be the one who has some self respect left. Be the one who’s still a person--”

“Foster, what the fuck!” shouts a woman from behind him. She trots up the stairs behind the man, scowling at Joe. “Shoot him, what the hell are you doing?”

“He was spouting some bullshit, Kedzie, sorry,” Foster says. He glares at Joe, but he looks sympathetic. His finger is on the trigger but it doesn’t move an inch.

“You fucking idiot--we don’t have time for this,” Kedzie says, and she lifts her shotgun, hitting Joe once in the stomach. He collapses onto the steps, clutching his stomach. So he won’t fall down the stairs, Kedzie pushes him with her foot, so he lies on his back, and she fires one last shot.

Lienne, Jake, and the young man, whose name they’ve learned is Dre, move through the hall, to the back stairwell. So far, their plan seems to be going smoothly, as they don’t encounter anyone on their trip down to the training floor. It’s an area that looks like it hasn’t been discovered by the assailants yet, since they don’t see a soul. They stop for a quick second to hide in a small alcove that houses two water fountains.

“We can’t--we can’t do this,” Jake says. “It’s three versus however many there are.”

“I know,” Lienne snaps. “They’re fucking shooting up the rooms upstairs right now, Jake, we have to do something. The guns are right there; a few rooms down. You’re the smallest, hardest to spot.”

“What if they see me--”

“They won’t. Because you’ve got this, right?” She forces a smile, and he nods. He leans his head out once and doesn’t see anyone just shouting that alerts him someone is on their way. He speeds out of the alcove, keeping his head low as he spots the doorway to the training floor.

“Okay, Jake, come on. It’s right there,” he mutters to himself. He’s nearly to the door, when someone suddenly exits the room to his left: a bald man, waving his gun recklessly. But he stops, and trains his sights on Jake when he sees him. Jake dives into the room nearest to his right and hits the floor as gunshots ring out.

“You d-don’t wanna d-do that, man!” Jake warns. “I’d suggest l-leaving now! Like, right fucking n-now!”

“Yeah, and why’s that?” the man asks, slowly moving toward the room Jake hides in.

“S-seriously, you d-don’t wanna know. You and your fucking p-people are gonna regret ever coming here.”

“Are you pulling my leg, you little shit?”

“No, n-no man. I’ll tell you--j-just don’t fire that damn gun at me.”

The main quickly enters the room, and aims the barrel of his rifle at Jake. Jake stays petrified, staring him in the eye. He then lowers his gun and stomps to Jake; he picks him up by his shirt and puts his face close to his. “What lies you got to tell me?” the man seethes. “This should be fun.”

“No, I’m serious. I-if you stay here--it won’t be good for you,” Jake warns.

“Uh huh. Really. What’s gonna happen to us?”

“You must be really d-dumb.”

“Kid, do you not see the rifle strapped around my fuckin’ shoulder? I will not hesitate to use it on you. Now spit it out, whatever the fuck you have to say.”

“Okay. Okay. Everyone’s gone. H-half the people here, aren’t h-here. And they’re c-coming back soon. Any second. With the big guns.”

The man thinks to himself; unless the hundred-plus people that live in the hotel can hide that fast, they’re probably not here.

Jake wants to smile as the wheels turn in this moron’s head.

“Where are they then?”

“They--they’re with another group--” Jake hears an explosion from somewhere close by, but tries his best to ignore it. “They wouldn’t tell me what group ‘cause I’m a kid and stuff, but they’re with another group. And they’re supposed to be coming back today--around this time. And they said they’d be coming back stocked.”

“Stocked?”

“Weapons.”

“Shit. Hey!” the man shouts, and he looks behind him, where someone shuffles inside a room, searching for any survivors. “Martinez, is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me!” Martinez says, and he furrows his eyebrows at the sight of the man’s grip on Jake. “You gonna kill him or what, what are you doing?”

“We have to roll out,” the man says.

“What’s going on?”

“This shithead told me they’ve got people coming back any second now.”

“He’s lying,” Martinez says.

“I--I don’t know if he is. How many people you find upstairs?”

“I don’t know. We’ve got people still looking. Not a lot, though.”

“See? What if they’re coming back? Look, we gotta go. Roxie’s gonna be pissed but whatever. I don’t wanna risk it. Round up everyone else, we’re out in 15 minutes.”

“What about him?” Martinez asks, pointing to Jake with his gun.

“Don’t worry about him. I’ll take care of it,” the man says with a grin. Martinez laughs and exits the room, sprinting down the hall to gather everyone he can, and he’s soon out of sight. “Who were you calling dumb again?”

Jake swallows hard, and realizes he’s fucked. The man throws him to the ground and smashes him across the cheek with the butt of his gun; his face starts to swell instantly, and his eyes begin to tear up. Jake makes a pathetic attempt to kick him, but the man jumps back.

“Look who’s trying to fight back!” the man taunts. “Fucking idiot.” He raises his rifle and Jake covers his face with his hands, sobbing, but before he can fire there’s a loud ‘crack.’ The man’s eyes roll back and he hits the floor, face first. There’s a large gash in the back of his head, and Dre stands there, his fist donned with brass knuckles. They’re stained with blood, and he appears stunned at what he just did.

Lienne appears from behind him and rushes to Jake’s aid. “What happened?” she asks frantically.

“They’re leaving,” Jake says, holding his cheek.

“What?”

“I told them that e-everyone else is coming back--soon. And they’re leaving.”

Lienne smiles at him and wraps him in a hug. “You annoying little genius," she says. "Good work.”

Jake grins, then winces at the pain in his cheek. As Lienne pulls away, he looks up at Dre and says, “Hey, thanks.”

“Y-yeah. No problem,” Dre responds. He stares down at the man’s body; he looks like he wants to throw up.

“Okay,” Lienne says, helping Jake stand. “We’re hiding in here.” She closes the door, and is finally able to take a deep breath.

“What about this dude?” Dre asks. “He dead, or what?”

“Don’t know,” Jake mutters. “Can I...b-borrow your brass knuckles?”

“Woah, hold up. What’re you gonna do to him?”

“Gonna kill him.”

Dre gulps. “Damn, little man, you hardcore,” he says, slipping off his brass knuckles and handing them to Jake.

Cole wakes up at 9:00 AM sharp the next day with a pounding headache. He stumbles out of the classroom he was assigned; it was converted into a bedroom at an earlier time, with a television and bed and a dress, among other necessities. As he walks down the corridor to the auditorium, he sees Duke leaving a room, a girl holding his hand. She has short, brown hair--he thinks her name is Stephanie, but he can’t remember talking to her much.

“I’ll meet you there, I have to head to the bathroom,” Stephanie says, and she gives Duke a kiss on the cheek before turning the other direction. She waves at Cole as she passes.

Cole quickly catches up with Duke and says, “What was that about?”

“Shit, man, I got it in. Finally,” Duke says.

“With her?”

“Why? You think I couldn’t get someone like her?”

“No, no, I didn’t.”

“Whatever, man. When you pull one like that, then you can talk,” Duke says.

They continue on to the auditorium, spotting a few other familiar faces on the way. They find a seat near the middle and as they wait for everyone else to file in, Cole hears a familiar voice.

“Hey, Cole!” Ivy says, plopping down in the seat next to him. Kendra trails her, and she gives him a small wave as she sits.

“Hey,” Cole says with a wide smile.

“Wow. You look bad. Did something happen to you again?”

“No, I’m just really tired. Really tired. What’ve you been up to?”

“I haven’t left this stupid school in a month. It’s so annoying. So, okay, so first of all the snow’s melting so we can’t even have snowball fights.”

“That sucks.”

“It sucks a lot. And then guess what happened?”

Cole laughs at her energy and replies, “I don’t know, what happened?”

She goes on like this for a while, talking and talking and talking. Cole tries his best to listen, but his headache is too fierce, so he just nods periodically. Only when Nico takes the podium does she finally stop and listen.

Nico makes a long speech, going over everything they’ve planned for the, what they hope is the first and final, assault on Roxie. It’ll be soon, in the next week, at least, and he wants everyone to be prepared. Even if they’re not participating. He doesn’t beat around the bush, and even admits he’s expecting casualties. But that’s the price you pay for something like this.

As everyone proceeds out of the auditorium, Billie notices something that makes her stop and grin. Alec still sits, with two young girls on either side of him. One blonde and one brunette. He looks giddy and nervous, but they seem to be completely infatuated with him.

“How’d you lose your hand?” the blonde asks.

“I, uh, I got bit and I had to cut it off,” Alec explains.

“You cut it off yourself?”

“Yeah. That I did.”

“Woah. Did it hurt?” the brunette asks.

“Yeah. It hurt pretty bad.”

“Like, how much?”

“A lot. Worst pain ever. Yeah,” Alec says.

“So cool. Does it suck, having one hand?” the blonde asks.

“Nah. It’s pretty cool. I have this shield I attach to it and I can bash in heads and stuff.”

“No way. You should show me. You should show both of us.”

Alec chuckles nervously. “Y-yeah, maybe another time. If I ever come back here.”

When their little interaction is over, Billie walks up to him, smirking. “So, what was that about?” she asks.

He turns in his seat, startled. “What?” he asks.

“Them. Those chicks.”

“Oh. I was just talking to them. They’re cool. No big deal.”

“Just a little harmless flirting?”

“I wasn’t flirting,” he protests.

“Uh huh. Right. You should’ve serenaded them. That would’ve killed them,” she says.

“Shouldn’t you be...doing something else,” he says, standing from his seat. He heads to the exits and she follows.

“Come on, I’m just joking,” she says. “But it’s nice to see that you’re feeling better, Alec.”

“Maybe I am. Or maybe I'm just a good liar. Thanks for your concern,” he says, and he’s out the door.

The ride back to the hotel is long and tiring for everyone. The snow has begun to melt, making the overall trip easier, but with winter coming to an end, it also means the infected have begun to thaw out, too. Several detours to dodge small herds make the trip longer than it needs to be, and Cole is forced to endure it as he wishes for the comfort of his bed now more than ever.

He stares out the window at the passing buildings and infected--some still frozen and some able to walk around freely--when he feels someone tap him with their foot. He looks to his left, and Adam sits there with a concerned expression. The only two others in the car, Chloe and Billie, who sit in the driver’s seat and passenger’s seat respectively, listen in.

“Yeah?” Cole mumbles.

“I know you probably want to rest or whatever, but we couldn’t think of a better time to do this. We seriously want to talk to you,” Adam says.

“Okay. About what?”

“When are you going to stop being such an ass?” Billie blurts out.

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Chloe says. “That’s not the way we’re doing this.”

“Well, I think he should know--”

“I know you want to be blunt. But let’s start over.”

“What is this, a therapy session?” Cole asks, his voice irritable.

“No, we’re just friends reaching out to you. That’s it,” Adam says.

“Alright, listen. I’m doing things my own way. I’m not having an easy time--I’m having a really shitty time, actually, and I’m sorry you don’t like it. You’re not helping.”

“See what I mean?” Billie says.

“Alright, forget it,” Adam says. “If that’s how you wanna be.”

They continue to ride in silence, following the convoy of cars back to the Hyatt, until the see the Chicago River, a sure sign they’re near the hotel. But the return is not what they expected, because the first cars to reach the hotel see the front gates knocked down in a metal heap, and several bodies lying in a pile.

Griffin rushes from his car, his hands atop his head. He stares at the carnage, absolutely defeated. Others file into the Hyatt with any weapons they have, prepared for a fight. But all they see are bullet holes riddling the walls, chandeliers broken, couches and chairs overturned. A few bodies lying here and there. Anyone who survived the assault take a break from trying to clean up as those that return enter the lobby, surveying the damage.