Dead Frontier/Issue 126

This is Issue #126 of Dead Frontier, titled ''Outskirts. ''This is the finale of Volume 21.

Issue 126 - Outskirts
The camp has provided a stressful few days. Packing up and departing in the trucks again is such a relief, and no one brings up the issue with Hunter again. They were correct in assuming they're almost out of Nebraska: it only takes an hour for a dingy, crumbling sign to greet them 'Welcome to Colorado,' adorned with a drawing of snowy mountains.

“Wow…” Cole mutters. He stares out the window where the picture from the sign has come to life. A long stretch of mountains is set against the sky, the top of each hump smothered in snow. It’s a surprisingly magnificent sight, like the cover of a brochure, but the view is soon gone as they’re forced to continue on.

They make a quick stop to refill their gas on some rural road. Ivy takes this opportunity to find Jake, who wasn’t riding in the same truck as her, and she wonders if his avoidance is purposeful. She exits her truck, passes by Duke as he undoes the nozzle of a gas can, and walks to the other vehicle. She peeks into one of the windows and taps on the glass to capture Jake’s attention. He looks up, then slams his hand down on the lock.

“Jake!” she calls out to him, and she knocks on the window again.

“Go away!” he replies.

“I’m trying to apologize to you.” She can tell her mention of Roxie yesterday has really put a damper on his mood, although she isn’t really sure why. She just knows that an apology is in order. “Can you unlock the door, please?”

“N-no.”

“P-please?” she says, exaggerating her stutter. Even he smiles at her little bit of mockery, but he still refuses to unlock the door. “Come on, Jake.”

He looks up at her and sighs. Reluctantly, he pulls up the lock, and Ivy opens the door. She keeps it open as he scoots over to allow her room to slide in. They’re silent for a few seconds, but he doesn’t prod her to get on with her apology. He’s not even sure if he wants to hear it.

“I think something’s wrong with me,” she begins and he looks to her, confused.

“What?” he asks.

“Because I don’t mean what I say half the time. Well, I mean it but I don’t really wanna say it. I just do.”

“Is that your apology?”

“I’m sorry. That’s my apology.” She doesn’t want to ask why what she said affected him so much. He already looks angry enough with her.

“Thanks,” he says, but his acceptance doesn’t sound totally sincere.

“I really don’t want you to hate me.”

“I don’t hate y-you.”

She’s honestly surprised, and on impulse, she pulls him into a hug. He groans loudly and returns her embrace because he has no other choice. She doesn’t know how Jake’s tolerated her for so long--but he has, because of his own generosity. This is her only friend, and the fact that she almost ruined that is scarier than she could have imagined.

“That thing, man, it looked...it looked like us. Too much like us,” Duke says. He shakes the gas can one last time and disposes the last of the liquid into the car. Adam and Dean stand next to him. Most everyone else lingers around somewhere, observing the pleasant Colorado view or getting some fresh air. “It’s like it mutated or some shit.”

“You...you guys think it’s common?” Dean asks, and he looks between the both of them. They hope not, of course. That scream, the blood-red eyes--it’s something they’d rather not encounter again. But Duke has this terrible feeling in his gut that’s persisted since their return from the hospital.

“You’re a smart ass,” Duke says. “What do you think?”

Dean ignores his remark. “I think it’s possible they’ve...evolved somehow. I mean, we have. We’ve gotten used to them, learned how to adapt to their presence...why can’t they do the same thing? Faster, stronger, louder...it makes sense. They could adapt to us, eventually.”

“You think they’re changing?” Adam asks.

“I think it’s highly likely. They’re predators, they want to live as much as we do. Whatever traits help them do that, they’re gonna take advantage of.” There’s a long pause. “I could be wrong.”

“Doubt you are. It makes sense.” Adam sighs and walks away. He enters the driver’s seat and slams the door. In the back seat, Cole and Lucy flinch at the sudden noise and give each other a nervous glance. Adam doesn’t even acknowledge them; he just lies back in his seat and closes his eyes.

“Could you give us a second?” Cole asks. Understanding, Lucy nods, and she exits the truck. Cole doesn’t like this hostile feeling Adam is giving off, although neither of them have said a word to each other yet. They haven’t spoken since the decision over Hunter was made yesterday, either, and Cole feels partially responsible for this animosity. He basically told Adam he was a terrible leader, unfit to take care of anyone here. He’s not sure what came over him in that moment. “Do you know why I defended him?”

“You explained yourself pretty well,” Adam responds.

“He’s not a bad guy. He’s helped us before, he’s shown that he cares enough to be here.”

“I know that, and I get his whole issue with Cedric. I don’t want him hurting anyone else--”

“He won’t.”

Adam stops, and looks at Cole through the rearview mirror. “Then why’s your leg been hurting since yesterday?”

Cole furrows his eyebrows. “...What are you talking about?”

“‘Cause he pushed you, right?” Adam asks, and Cole remembers Hunter’s shove from yesterday. His knee has been irritated since then, but he hasn’t complained about it to anyone else. “Jake told me about yesterday.” There’s some accusation in his tone, like he can’t believe Cole would omit the fact that Hunter put a gun to Cedric’s head.

“Okay. He pushed me and I hurt my leg. So what?” Cole says.

“Imagine if he actually fired, man. You can barely walk on your own, Lienne can barely move, Jake and Ivy are just kids. Farrah was the only one there to control anything. How would you pack up everything and get out before that shot brought some big-ass herd on you? It’s not about any of his revenge bullshit. It’s the fact that he’s got no consideration for anyone else here. He pulls some shit like that again, and he’s out. No vote, none of that crap.”

“Okay. I get that. I’m fine with that,” Cole says. "I just thought he deserved another chance."

Tora and Daniel sit on the grass at the edge of the road. She rests her head on his shoulder and stares far out, where there's nothing but grass and a single empty farm. The roof is caved in, and the silo has completely crumpled to the ground below. "Sorry about yesterday," she says. It didn't take long for her to fall into a sobbing fit after thinking of her daughter again for the first time in a long while. Daniel didn't complain; instead, he embraced her and they fell asleep right there in the tent.

"Nothing to apologize for," he says. Honestly, he feels bad for even asking about her daughter, but she seems fine now, which lessens his worry just a little. "I've seen worse, don't worry."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Uh.." He pauses and thinks for a second. "Oh. There was this kid who came into the station once, about fourteen. This was before the apocalypse and everything, by the way. But he came in, and he was sobbing, and everyone was fucking terrified. We thought something really bad happened 'cause this guy couldn't get himself together. Once he stops crying and can finally talk, he says his little brother is missing. A little five year old. And his mom's not home, he's been searching around the neighborhood, called another station earlier."

"That's terrible."

"Sounds bad, but the 'missing' kid was in the freakin' backyard, digging a hole. We get to his house and find his brother there, happy as can be. Then he starts crying more once we find him, beg us not to tell his mom. You'd think he'd lost both his legs with those waterworks. That was...ten times worse. He still might be crying now, wouldn't be surprised."

Tora laughs, but stops herself quickly. "That shouldn't be funny. Poor kid," she says. "Did the mom find out?"

"Yeah. She...she found out. Word spreads fast. I've met his mother before, too, and I...I really wouldn't wanna be that kid, no way. Still don't know what happened to him. Hope his mom didn't hurt him too bad."

He sees that a smile flutters on her lips, and he reciprocates it. It's nice to see a smile from her, and he's happy to know that he's the reason for it.

Lienne walks around for the first time in days. She's forced to move stiffly, her hand wrapped around her stomach to dull some of the pain that comes with each step. She wants to get back on her feet completely as soon as possible; she can't stand someone being forced to look after her, being trapped in the tent or in those trucks while everyone else moves around freely, contributing. She rubs her right arm with her left hand, trying to warm herself up in the chilly air.

"Hey!" someone calls out, and she turns. She sees Duke set the gas can down near the truck and trot over to her. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I need some fresh air," she says simply. He looks at her quizzically.

"You know you're hurt, right? Shouldn't be moving around so much."

"I'm fine. I just don't wanna sit around all day."

"That's usually what people do when they get shot in the stomach."

She ignores his remark and turns away, walking again. He didn't mean any offense by it, and he takes a few steps forward to catch up with her. "What's the matter with you?" he asks. "Marigold."

She stops and turns his way. "Don't call me that, Duke."

"It gets your attention every single time, though. Don't ignore me and I won't do it."

He feels mighty stubborn today for some reason. Mostly out of concern for her. He doesn't know if her wound's getting better, worse, staying the same--he doesn't want her to make her condition anymore terrible than it already is. "I'm serious. Get some rest--" he continues.

"That's all I've been doing!"

"Get some rest, Lienne. I know you wanna act like you're better, but you're not. It's gonna take time. C'mon." He locks arms with her and leads her back to the truck. "Is this the last time I'm gonna have to be your nanny?" he asks. He opens the rear passenger door for her, and she slides in. He closes it and leans his head into the window as he waits for a response.

"No one asked you to," she retorts.

"I know. I just care too much. It's my only flaw," he says, and he smiles at her. "Feel better, okay?"

For reasons Cole can't really figure out, the mood is less unpleasant, sneaking on to the side of positive. It’s odd how quickly that changed, but he feels just as bitter. It’s easy to see why. In the middle row of seats, Lucy sits next to Dean, chatting, laughing. He’s so irrationally annoyed by this, he becomes irritated with himself. He’s not jealous, which is probably the first thing anyone would think if he expressed his distaste with their interaction. It’s because he knows, everyone knows, and she should know most of all the type of scum he is. Yet, she looks like she’s thoroughly enjoying his company.

She always seems to forgive Dean for some reason. Always seems to let him off to hook, to act like he’s never wronged either of them. He’ll never understand it. Then, he suddenly realizes, how will he ever understand it if he never asks?

They drive for a long while, until the sun begins to set, and Duke finally brings the car to the side of the road. “Piss break,” he crudely announces. He orders everyone to return in about 15 minutes, and most everyone scrambles out of the cramped interior of the trunk. Lucy grabs onto the door handle, but Cole puts a hand on her shoulder before she can exit.

“I need to talk to you,” he says. Dean’s gone, and only Ivy and Jake remain, sitting to his right. He quickly leaves the vehicle and slides into the middle row next to her. Ivy and Jake seem preoccupied with their chatter, but he still keeps his voice down. He gets straight to the point, hoping they can finish this talk before Dean returns. “What the hell is it with you and him?”

“Dean?” she asks, and she sounds almost offended.

“You’re so fucking...buddy-buddy with him. I don’t get it.”

“Just because you hate him doesn’t mean I have to.”

“I’m not telling you to hate him. I just don’t get why you’re acting like he’s never done anything to...to hurt you before. Or did you forget?” Of course she hasn’t forgotten Dean’s reminder about her manipulative past, and she probably never will. But she’s forgiven him, which is what Cole obviously doesn’t understand.

“No. But he--” She cuts herself and tries to rephrase her explanation. She knows why Dean is the way he is: rude and inconsiderate of anyone else. He’s obviously harboring regret for not putting down his family, a feeling she knows all too well, and it’s much easier to point out the flaws and mistakes in others rather than pointing out your own. At least, that’s what she’s sure Dean thinks.

“He what?”

“He’s been through a lot and he doesn’t know how to deal with it,” she says, but that justification is a little too vague for Cole’s liking.

“So that gives him the right so be a complete asshole? I guarantee you that everyone else here has been through just as much--”

“I feel bad for him, alright?” she cuts him off. Something in her expression suddenly changes--she appears more legitimately sad now, more reflective--and he feels a quick stab of guilt for bringing this up at all. “He doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t hate anyone here. He just...needs a way to make himself feel better, because he’s messed up a lot, Cole. He--he hates himself and his mistakes and he just needs a way to get past that.”

She’s not saying everything she should, and he has the sudden urge to apologize, she looks so close to tears. He doesn’t get the chance to, however, because as soon as he opens his mouth to speak, a chorus of honking erupts outside. They turn their heads to the rear windshield, as do Jake and Ivy. Multiple pairs of headlights flash on and off and a convoy of cars makes its appearance. Cole instinctively reaches for his side, ready to pull his gun, but it isn’t there. He remembers he lent it to Duke earlier.

“Whoever is in the vehicles, please don’t panic!” someone shouts through a bullhorn, leaning his head out the passenger side window. His voice is deep and husky, but he gives off a sense of kindness. From this far, Cole can’t make out the details of his face, but he has dark skin and a thick white beard that lines the entirety of his jaw. “You’re trespassing! But we do not wish to hurt you!”

“Trespassing?” Cole whispers to himself.

“Anyone in the vehicles, please exit! And we will not fire!”

Cole doesn’t question it. He grabs Lucy’s hand and follows her out the car, and she beckons Jake and Ivy to follow as well. From the other truck, Lienne, Cedric, and Farrah emerge. Lienne has her arm around Farrah for stability, and Cedric shields his eyes from the brightness of the headlights.

The man with the bullhorn hops out of the truck before it’s come to a full stop. He presses a button on the side of the device to shut it off, then puts his hands up defensively. “I’m Karl!” he shouts, and he lowers his voice once he gets closer. Cole is surprised no one else has come out behind him. “Do--do you know where you are?” He sounds concerned. He receives no response from anyone. “Who do I talk to? Who’s in charge here?” He gets no answer to that question either, but he looks to Cole immediately. Besides Cedric, he’s the only male, and his injury isn’t outwardly visible like Cedric’s, so Cole isn’t surprised.

“N-no,” Cole says. “We were just driving. We’re taking a break now.”

“Good thing I caught you here,” Karl says. He puts his hands down, his breath slowing. He holds his hand out to Cole, who shakes it hesitantly. Lucy’s grip tightens on his arm--he can sense her wariness. “Karl Jackson. Sorry if we scared you. Or the kids. We saw some cars rolling by and we just had to stop you.”

“We don’t want any trouble. Really. We just--”

“No, no, no! Us either. You ride up a few more miles and you better expect to get your cars torn up. They don’t take kindly to new folks up there. The Outskirts, right outside Denver. I live there, w-we live there.” Karl gestures to the trucks behind him.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Supply run return. I’ve seen it happen too many times before, people driving up to the gates and they have no idea where they are. Had to keep hold of this thing just because of it.” He lifts his bullhorn and smiles at it. He suppresses it quickly because of the nervousness of these strangers.

“When everyone else gets back, we’ll just turn around,” Cole says. Karl looks surprised.

“You’re not...going to Denver?”

“There’s a safe zone there, right?” Farrah asks. She faintly remembers hearing about Denver, but it never got as much press as Los Angeles, or Boston.

“Yeah. Some people hear about it, and we catch ‘em right about here. We assumed--”

“How is it there? In Denver?” Cole says, cutting him off.

“It’s--it’s alright,” Karl says. “The Outskirts are like its dejected younger brother, but we get by. Where’re you headed, then?”

“Los Angeles,” Cole says, and from Karl’s reaction, it’s clear he’s heard of it.

“LA? That far out?”

“We’ve pretty good so far. We came from Chicago.”

“And you made it this far?”

“Most of us.”

Karl pauses. He assumes they must do pretty good for themselves if they’ve come such a long way, all the way from the midwest. He’s seen the tapes of Los Angeles, read the pamphlets just like they have. No one in the Outskirts is brave enough to leave the safety of Denver’s protection to try to get there, but these people are already on a mission. His sudden urge to flee this place he's lived in for so long, to get somewhere better, is so strong it’s entirely surprising. “That’s quite a goal,” Karl says. He needs to find a way to get on their good side. Maybe they’ll let him tag along. Maybe. “I--I can probably help you out. I can let you through the gates, give up some food and shelter for the night and send you on your way again tomorrow. If you’d be willing--I know my friends here would. They’re good people.”

“You would?” Lienne asks, and Karl flashes a smile.

“You haven’t shot me yet. Why not?”

The Outskirts' gates are made of rusted metal, and on either side two towers stand, men with rifles marching atop them. Adam took some persuading in order to convince him to follow Karl but the prospect of food and adequate shelter, even for a day, was too enticing. He agreed, and he presses his foot on the brake as Karl’s truck, leading them all, comes to a stop.

“It’s bullhorn Karl!” Karl shouts up to the towers, and there are a few chuckles from the guards. “Got some people here! Not bandits, I made sure!”

Adam wonders what kind of influence he must have here if the guards open the gate immediately with that brief of an explanation. But he doesn’t question it, and he continues to follow the convoy through the cracked and broken streets.

It’s definitely not what they would consider an optimum environment. There’s a putrid stench in the air that they can’t quite place, and people roam around, most of them dirtied and pathetic. The buildings are in just as terrible conditions as most of the citizens. Caved in roofs, broken windows, and falling bricks characterize most of the structures. But it’s actual civilization, something they haven’t seen in so long.

Most of the trucks break off and the group is left trailing Karl’s truck only. He turns into an alleyway and then onto another main street. Soon, he stops in front of a building that’s slightly bigger than the others. He exits his vehicle, and everyone else follows his lead.

“This isn’t where you’ll be staying," Karl announces. “I thought I’d just get you set up here...A lot of you look like you need some help.”

The building’s interior is a lot less inviting than the exterior. Fluorescent lights line the ceiling, and hospital beds cover most of the floor. Groaning figures occupy the mattresses, bandages on their faces, arms, legs, torsos. “Upstairs,” Karl says quietly. They follow without complaint, into the more peaceful upper floors. The layout mirrors the first floor, but there are no injured being tended to here. It’s quiet, and dark until Karl flips on the lights. “Rest up for a few minutes. I’ll bring some people to help y’all out,” he says jovially, and soon he’s bounding down the steps.

There’s a long silence as they all look around the barren room, filled with nothing but more beds, and try to come to terms with this sudden change. Adam breaks up the silence when he asks, “Did you guys hear about Denver?” It’s clear he’s talking to Daniel, Hunter, Farrah, and Cedric, the only ones that’ll have any possible knowledge on the safe zone.

“Sort of,” Farrah says. “It was never really...publicized. Not as much as the others. It wasn’t revered like LA or anything, but we heard it wasn’t as shitty as New York, either. So it never got much press.”

“Never heard about these Outskirts, though,” Hunter says. “Sort of odd. Probably the rejects.”

“Rejects?” Adam asks.

“Yeah. It’s a trend with some of these zones. Try to make themselves feel safe by kicking out the criminals and assholes.”

Cole realizes there has to be a reason Karl’s here, and not in Denver. He’s not sure if anyone else is thinking the same thing. They all look so tired, but at the same time relieved, to be in some kind of shelter that he decides not to ruin it. And something about Karl tells Cole that he’s genuine.