Dead Frontier/Issue 106

This is a preview for Issue #106 of Dead Frontier, titled ''The End, Part II. This is the fourth issue in 'Volume 18. '''The entire issue is planned to be posted on September 20, 2013.

Issue 106 - The End, Part II
The infected won’t let up. They’ve culminated before Lane’s gates faster than they can comprehend. Bullets fly into the crowd, but the effect they have is nearly nonexistent. If one falls, another quickly takes its place, negating any progress they make in clearing the herd. Any able adults--which, they can all admit, aren’t very much--stand atop the gates, crouched side by side with only a foot in between them. They’ve been ordered the fire--and don’t stop until the last one’s down.

Dean has some kind of rifle in his hands. Guns aren’t his specialty, so the specific name of it slips from his mind. He holds it awkwardly, firing and reloading at a pathetic speed compared to those around him. He looks to Mae and Winston quickly and takes the time to roll his eyes at how efficiently they’re able to handle their weapons.

He pulls the trigger once again; he’s surprised when he doesn’t feel the usual power of the gun knock him back. He tries again, but is met with the same result. He’s ready to announce that he’s out, to order someone to get him some more ammo, when he squints into the distance. Maybe half a mile behind the wall of undead, he’s sure he can see a fleet of identical cars come to an abrupt halt. It’s just a group of cars, but with their ominous presence, the anxiety washes over him immediately.

Without warning the others, Deans hops from the gate, landing roughly on his feet. A few of the others retract their focus from the herd and look down on him, some even following his lead, including Winston and Mae.

“What are you doing?” Mae shouts to Dean over the gunfire. Before he can retreat, she grabs him by the shoulder, forcing him to turn. His eyes dart around, filled with worry, something she finds wholly unusual.

“I saw some cars---they just stopped, right behind the herd,” he explains hurriedly.

“Wait, wait, what are you--” Winston starts.

“I think I saw some people getting out but that’s all I know--but the point is this herd isn’t getting any smaller, and we’ve got kids in there. We need to get out.” The fact that there's an indomitable herd right outside a building housing poorly supervised children, most likely scared out of their minds, fills him with dread. Add to that the familiar sight of the black convoy of SUVs, his first thought is escape.

“We can’t just leave, man.”

“We’re gonna have to--”

He’s cut off when a body falls from the gate, landing at his feet with a smack he can hear over the gunfire. He, Winston, and Mae jump back and look down at Stephanie, a bullet hole perfectly placed in the center of her forehead. Someone else collapses, suffering the same fate. A few others jump down from the gate; one woman receives a shot to her back before she can complete her escape.

Dean, Mae, and Winston have already ran; the others behind them do the same, but they break right, away from the school building instead of inside. Winston takes a brief glance behind him, where he’s met with the increasingly unstable gates swaying with the weight of infected pressing against it. It’s no match against their numbers, and by the time he’s inside, a few have broken through.

Lienne sits silently, unmoving, on the floor of the suite. He eyes are fixated on the counter a few feet directly in front of her; she stares blankly, knees pulled up to her chest, the adrenaline of the events of just a few hours ago finally wearing off. She looks to her left, out the window, and sees a disturbing view of the second tower; an entire section of it is blown to bits, leaving only debris in the attackers’ wake. She takes a shuddering breath and looks away, once again focusing her stare on the maroon-colored counter.

Cole sits to her right. Time was all it took for some of the color to reappear in his face and that defeated look to seep from his eyes.

“What do we do?” she mumbles after sitting in silence for a while.

Cole thinks for a few seconds. “Do you think they’re gone?”

“I think.” But it’s just an assumption, since there hasn’t been any movement out the window, and they haven’t heard a sound from outside this room.

"You wanna just wait a little longer? Just to be safe?"

She nods solemnly and sets her head on her knees. It's easy to tell she's absolutely exhausted, from the dejected look on her face to her unusual quietness. He thinks of something to say, the most positive thing that comes to mind.

"We got really lucky today," he says. She lifts her head slightly to look at him.

"What do you think happened to them?" she suddenly asks, ignoring his statement. It's obviously a question that's been circling in her mind the entire time.

"What?"

"Did you notice? They weren't trying to kill us. Not most of us, I guess. Like with me, the guy--he tried to tie me up or something, tie up my wrists, I think. Then, with everyone else, it's like...they tried their best not to kill anyone. Instead, they just carried them away. They have to be taking them somewhere...right?"

"I--I don't know. I didn't even know...I mean, if this was Roxie, I thought she'd just wanna kill us."

"That's what I thought, too. I can’t wrap my head around why, though. The only thing I can think of is she’s so fucking bitter that she thought of something worse than just mowing us all down. But...I don’t know, that doesn’t really seem like her style to me."

“It might not even be her. I know I didn’t see her,” he says.

“Me either.” She lets out a sigh as another possible explanation comes to a dead end. The thought of anyone in the hands of these people, who are obviously without good intentions, stresses her mind even more. Cole closes the small space between them by scooting closer to her; his exhaustion and the relentless pain in his leg makes the movement unsurprisingly difficult. He puts a comforting arm around her shoulders, and she forces herself to relax. But her efforts are useless, because that haunting feeling, that worry, keeps returning.