Dead Frontier/Issue 95

This is Issue #95 of Dead Frontier, titled ''Footloose. ''This is the fifth issue in Volume 16.

Issue 95 - Footloose
Lane Tech's gymnasium has been transformed into an intricate arena dedicated to training or evaluating different skills, which is what Nico does now as he sits on the bleachers. He has his arms crossed as Duke stands before him, a rifle in hand. About twenty others in the gym practice with the dummies spread throughout the area, from shooting to hand to hand combat.

"You're a sharpshooter?" Nico asks Duke, a little skeptical. "What, is that self-proclaimed or...?"

"Self-proclaimed, and I was recruit for the USA's Olympic skeet shooting team. If that counts for something," Duke says.

"Hell yeah that counts for something. Lemme see, then. Three shots each, hit the mannequin in the head." He points to a mannequin with a target taped to its chest at the end of the gym. Duke sets his feet and raises his rifle. He wastes no time and fires three shots in quick succession. He squints to see the damage he's done, lowers his rifle, and turns to Nico.

"One between the eyes, one in the forehead, one in the cheek," Duke declares.

Nico squints at the mannequin, but from this distance, he can't see anything. "You got super vision or some shit? How do you know that?"

"Go check, if you don't believe me, man." Sure enough, Nico trots over to the mannequin, and observes three bullet holes that now sit on the dummy's face, exactly where Duke promised.

"Wow...very impressive," Nico says as he walks back. "But what about the rest of these guys; what've they got to bring? Better not be dead weight..."

"Why, you don't think we can handle ourselves?"

"I'm just worried. Got a bunch of strangers where I live, I don't even know if--"

"You should relax," Duke suggests. "We're trusting you. You should trust us. We know what we're doing."

Back at the Hyatt, Lienne sits at a cafeteria table with Jake opposite her. She has six playing cards in her hand, and she looks down at them in absolute boredom. "I don't have anything," she says in a monotone.

"Why are we still p-playing this?" Jake asks, setting his cards face down on the table.

"Because we're bored."

Jake sighs. "Man, I wish I was o-over there with everyone else. Why didn't you go to Lane? You just c-couldn't resist spending t-time with me, right?"

"Jake, in every conceivable way, you are not my type. Age a few years, grow a few inches taller, and stop being a dude, then maybe we can talk, okay?"

"Damn, okay. C-could've just said no," he says, feigning a look of hurt. "Why are you here then?"

"Because I'm not gonna fight. I don't care how much they try to convince me."

"And now you're h-here left with all the k-kids, cripples, and fat, old, and useless people. Fun. You w-wasted an opportunity."

"I 'wasted an opportunity'? How?"

"By not going to Lane. And instead of s-sucking up whatever you're scared of and trying to get b-back at the people that are ruining our lives, you d-decide to play cards with a fifteen year old. That's selfish." Even though she knows he's not the nicest kid, she's still surprised by his boldness. And, almost absentmindedly, he mutters, "I mean, I'd kill Roxie m-myself if I could." It's just a passing remark, but it nearly shakes Lienne to her core.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Lienne replies. "But it's my choice and I'm sticking by it."

Late that night, those that are still awake at this hour hold a modest party in the cafeteria as an easy way to escape from all of their stresses. At least for a little while. A small group of people have congregated around a few couches that sit in front of a tiny television. A movie plays on the screen, the women absolutely engrossed by the it, the men not so much.

"What the hell am I watching?" Adam groans and Billie, who sits to his left, pinches him on the arm.

"Don't insult Footloose. Don't ever," she says, her eyes glued to the screen.

"But why? Can we just watch Grease? Please let us watch Grease before my eyes fall out of my head."

"Oh, whatever. This is a great movie. Luke agrees with me." She pats Luke's knee, and he gives a reluctant nod.

"Yeah. Definitely a classic..." Luke lies.

"Yeah, right. I'll never believe there's a man in the world who likes this movie. I'm out."

"You're missing out..." Billie says to him as he stands and leaves everyone else to the torture their women are putting them through.

"Don't think so," Adam says, giving them a wave as he walks away. "Enjoy the movie, Luke." Luke just groans in response, and Billie slaps him on the shoulder.

Adam does a quick scan of the cafeteria; most of the tables are full, with old friends and new chatting. The only thing he spots that's out of the ordinary is someone sitting alone at one of the tables, and only until Adam gets closer does he realize it's Cole. Adam pats him on the shoulder, and he jumps.

"What are you doing over here by yourself?" Adam asks as he takes a seat.

"Uh, I just--I don't know. I just wanted...I wanted a drink or two. Or ten," Cole says, the slurring making his words jumble over one another. "And that movie...I dunno what it's called, it's stupid. It's a shit movie, that's what it is; I don't...I don't wanna watch that." He grabs the bottle to his left and takes a sip, and then sighs when he realizes there's nothing left in it. He looks behind him to a table that's empty, except for the crate of beer that is set on the surface.

"You had ten beers?" Adam asks.

Cole stands, gravitating toward the crate. "I think. I might've miscounted...or something. But around there. You want one?"

"No, I don't want one," Adam says, standing and following him. He grabs Cole by the arm and tugs him from the table. "I don't think you want another one either." For a split second, Cole looks infuriated, almost as if he's ready to lash out, but then his face softens, and he puts on a lopsided smile.

"This is why I love you, man. You're so...nice. Why you gotta...why you gotta be so nice all the time? I wanna be like you when I grow up. All saintly and shit."

"I can barely understand what the fuck you're saying. Let's go," Adam says, and he puts Cole's arm over his shoulder so he won't fall over in his unbalanced state. He leads Cole towards the exit.

"Go where? Can we go somewhere fun? Like...Six Flags. Yeah...Six Flags."

"Nah, you're going to sleep. Maybe you can dream about Six Flags."

"Sweet..."

Lucy watches the entire ordeal from another table, trying to listen as a friendly woman she met, Mae, talks to her. Mae notices that her focus is elsewhere, and looks behind her, where Lucy observes Cole being escorted out by Adam. Lucy shakes her head and looks back down at the table. "Do you know him?" Mae asks.

"He's my ex," Lucy says.

"Ooh. Good thing you got away from that,” Mae says, and she takes a sip of water. She notices she might be a little upset and says, “Okay, look. The thing about these guys is--”

A hand suddenly smacks the table, cutting Mae off. They both look up, only to see a scrawny, brown-haired guy looking down on them, obviously drunk out of his mind. "Heellooo, Mae," he says. "Maybe it's because I've had enough alcohol to drop dead any second, but you actually look really nice tonight."

"Was that a compliment, Dean? I can't tell," Mae says.

"Take it however you want," he says with a wink. "So, who's your friend?"

"Someone who is probably really creeped out by you right now."

"Ahem. I was talking to her, thank you." He puts on a smile and turns to Lucy. "I apologize for Mae's behavior. I'm Dean O'Sullivan, 24 years old, high school and college valedictorian, scored a 34 on my ACT--"

"Dean," Lucy interrupts. "I don't care."

Dean frowns at her. "Should've expected that anyone who decided to befriend Mae must be a bitch. Very disappointing."

"Excuse me?"

"Look, I'm just trying to flirt with you, that's all. Are you too good for me? That's what it is, isn't it? You saw me on the street, you wouldn't even give me the time, would you?"

"Now you're not even making sense, Dean," Mae says.

"I'm making as much sense as anyone can ever make!"

"Dean, bro," a man says from behind him. A pair of hands clasp Dean on the shoulders, turning him around. "You're annoying people," he says. He's a young, Asian man. Short, with dark hair.

"Winston, this isn't your business--"

"Yeah it is. How about you go get some more to drink?" Winston suggests. It takes a few minutes of persuasion on Winston's part, but eventually he's able to send Dean away.

"Finally," Winstons sighs, taking a seat at the table. He looks at Lucy apologetically. "Sorry. He's, uh...not really like that. We don't get to drink often, but when we do, Dean doesn't really know his limits. I'm Winston, by the way, if you didn't catch that." He holds out his hand, and Lucy shakes it.

"Thanks. Lucy," she says. She glances at Dean, who's moved on to harrassing another poor girl. "What's he like, then?"

"He's not a perv, for one," Mae says. "He'd never flirt with a girl like that. Never."

"He's still kind of a conceited asshole, though. Just on a smaller scale," Winston says. "I don't blame the guy, though; he's had it rough."

"I think everyone has," Lucy says.

"Yeah, but...I don't know. I can't help but feel bad for him. He still feels guilty for a lot of shit, and whenever he can he gets crazy drunk. Just to forget. That's when you know you've hit rock bottom."

"Really? What happened to him?"

Winston hesitates and looks to Mae. She just shrugs, so he sighs and continues on. "When everything started, the infected got into his parents' house. His two little sisters still lived there, too, and they all ended up turning. The sisters, the parents. He went back to see if they were okay, but he found them already undead, roaming around and whatever. Instead of putting them down, he was too in shock to do anything, so he just ran. Left 'em there. He says there's not a day he doesn't think about it.”

“And for some reason, Winston thinks that gives him the right to be an inconsiderate jerk,” Mae says.

“Just because he’s an ass doesn’t mean I can’t feel bad for him. You agree with me, right?” he asks Lucy, but she’s since stopped paying attention to their conversation. She appears lost in her thoughts, shocked by the similarity of Dean’s experiences to hers. Leaving your family as undead, unable to put them out of their misery because of your own cowardice. It really is something you don’t forget. She suddenly snaps out of her daze.

“I have to go,” she says, standing from the table. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” Before Winston or Mae can protest, she’s gone.

And, Winston asks, mostly to himself, “Did I...Did I say something...?”

“Maybe you creeped her out as much as Dean did,” Mae says.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever...”

After endless searching, Tora reaches what she thinks is Nico’s office. It’s late, and she’s unsure if he’s even here, but she knocks anyway. She waits nervously for an answer, but eventually the door opens to a sleepy and stern-faced Nico.

“What is it?” he grumbles.

“Did I come at a bad time?" Tora asks.

“Yeah, but you’ve already got me at the door so whaddya want? No, better yet, who are you, first of all."

"Tora Kamura. I'm with the Hyatt--"

"I assumed as much."

"Yeah. I really need to talk to you about something, Mr. De Luca."

He contemplates shutting the door on her face--it really is too late for this. But the look on her face is pure desperation, and he finds himself a little curious about what she would need him for. So, reluctantly, he opens the door wide and allows her through. "Cut to the chase, please," he says as he walks to his desk and takes a seat.

"Okay. I'm sure Griffin filled you in about Roxie's last attack on the store," Tora begins.

"He did."

"Right. I wasn't there, but my older brother, Hiro, was. And we have no idea what happened to him. He went missing, pretty much. And we've been looking for the past month. Anywhere we can, we've been looking and we haven't found anything."

"Has it ever crossed your mind, Tori, that maybe your brother is dead?" Nico asks, and he sees the hurt flash across her face.

"My name's Tora, first of all. And second of all, yes it has. He could be dead, that's a possibility, of course, but I don't think he is."

"Sorry, Tora. And it's real sweet of you to think your brother is alive and kicking out there, but I'm confused as to why you're up here telling me this."

"Because...only a handful of people have offered to look for him. And each time we go out and don't find him, that number gets even smaller. And the less people we have, the lower the chances we'll be successful. So please, I know it's probably a lot to ask, if you could get some of your people to help search for him...I would appreciate it. I'd appreciate it more than you can imagine." The look on his face doesn't give her any more hope that he'll agree to her offer, but she waits anxiously for his response anyway.

"We have enough going on already--" Nico begins.

"Please. He's the only family I have left, Mr. De Luca. And if he's not alive, I want to know. I don't want to be left wondering forever. I don't think I could take that."

Nico sighs, aware that she, most likely, won't back down. But he respects that. And somewhere, deep down inside of him, he feels bad for her. "Okay," he says at last. "I'll give you a few people to help out with your search party."

A wide smile forms on her face, and she looks like she may burst into tears. "Thank you. Thank you so much," she says as he stands and walks toward the door.

"But listen to me, Tori--"

"Tora," she corrects with a grin.

"Yeah. Tora," he says and he can't help but smirk, too. He opens the door as he continues to speak, "I know I'm helping you out, but don't get those hopes too high."

Sterling lies in the infirmary as a woman wraps a new pair of bandages around his knee, the one Roxie, unfortunately, shot earlier. She apologizes as he winces in pain, and when she’s done--after what seems like an eternity--she rushes to get him some water and then leaves him on his own to rest.

He lies there alone for a while, closing his eyes and trying to rest, but the pain is impossible to ignore. And with no one allowed to take any kinds of painkillers without Roxie’s consent, he knows he’s just going to have to push through it.

And only when he begins to drift off to sleep does the door open. He glances to his left and is filled to the brim with rage when he sees Roxie’s silhouette closing the door. She turns the corner to reach his bed and gives him a wide smile.

“Feeling better?” she asks, pulling over a stool and sitting down next to his bed.

“Just...amazing,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Good. I’m glad.”

“That’s funny. Since you’re the one...that shot me.”

“I’m impulsive. Sorry. But be grateful it wasn’t a shot to the face. It easily could’ve been," she says.

“Why’d you even do it?” Sterling asks.

“Why?” She leans a little closer to him. “Because Savannah was disrespectful, rude, and I couldn’t trust her anymore. I gave her a lot of chances, too. Way more than I should have. But then there comes a point when you run your mouth a little too much. I hope you realize that.” She let’s her threat sink in for a moment then stands, proceeding toward the door. “And I would get you some painkillers but--can’t afford to waste them.”

She puts her hand on the knob, but before she can open the door, though, a man rushes through, frantic and sweating even in the chill air. “What the hell’s your problem?” she says.

“We found...a lot,” the man says.

"A lot? A lot of what?"

"On the run. Weapons. We found a shit ton. Explosives, ammo, guns, you name it. Walter wanted me to get you as soon as possible."

A slow smile of disbelief and amusement begins to form on her face. "Some good news. For once. C'mon, show me everything "

The next day, still admittedly more bored than she thought possible, Lienne sits in the lobby, a small crowd of people sitting around her, Jake and Joe included. She holds a guitar in her hand, showing off skills she hasn't really paid any mind to since the beginnings of the outbreak. She finishes a short song to the claps of those around her.

Joe, smiling and quite entertained by her guitar performance, asks, “Can you...I don’t know, play anything a little older? Not to detract at all from what you just did, of course not, but I’m not really a fan of...what were they called?”

“Nirvana?” Lienne says.

“Yeah. Them. It was great, it really was great, you’re really talented. Really. But what about something from...our era. I’d love to hear that.” He gestures to the others around him, a few people his age and some even older.

They nod in agreement, and Lienne grins. “Okay, let me think of something...unless you have any suggestions?” Lienne says.

“Oh, I have a ton of--” Joe says, but he’s cut short and his heart leaps from his chest when he hears gunshots to his left, near the lobby entrance.

They’re all confused, frozen in place; only when the windows at the front of the hotel shatter do people start to scramble. Lienne tosses her guitar to her right, and makes a break for the stairs like everyone else. She’s able to compose herself just long enough to order everyone upstairs.

At the base of the steps, she keeps an eye on the door. Her heart hammers wildly in her chest, but it nearly stops when she sees a truck repeatedly ramming into the gates, eventually knocking it down, and men clad in black clambering out of the trucks and infiltrating the hotel.