Dead Frontier/Issue 143

This is Issue #143 of Dead Frontier, titled Speakeasy. This is the fifth issue in 'Volume 24 and the penultimate issue of Dead Frontier.

Issue 143 - Speakeasy
When Lucy opens the exit door, she’s met with a blast of chilly air. Hunter trails behind her with Adam in his arms--Adam doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, doesn’t even groan in pain. Hunter, not very large himself, is having trouble carrying him, but he doesn’t let up.

The area is unfamiliar, and they’re out of sight of the herd although they can still hear the screaming, but they need to find somewhere to hold up because of Adam’s condition. Currently in the store’s parking lot, they hurry toward the nearest street, where two more rows of storefronts lie. The first building that catches Lucy’s eye is an old bar. The windows aren’t boarded up, and the front door marked “Welcome to Sonny’s” in elegant type is in greater-than-normal condition.

“Over here,” she says, and she crosses the empty street. Hunter follows with loud, labored breaths. She stops in front of the door, attempts to push it open. Something offers resistance. It’s just the rusted hinges from months without use--with only a few more firm pushes, it opens with an obnoxious creaking noise.

The interior is eerie and empty. Dust coats every possible object, and Hunter and Lucy cough when they come in contact with the murky air. Immediately, Lucy wipes away long-forgotten glasses and plates from the countertop and Hunter sets Adam’s motionless body on it. Hunter steps away and places his bloody hands on top of his head. “Oh, God,” he moans, at a loss for what to do. “We--we need something sharp. Go look around--I’ll stay here.”

She complies, turning around and entering the depths of the unfamiliar bar. She passes by a dining area, sees nothing they could possibly use. After a few seconds, a small door marked with faded letters that make up the word “Storage” comes into view. She rushes inside, nearly tripping over the boxes that litter the floor. But across the room, there’s an emergency axe stored inside one of those red-bordered glass cases. She searches around for something to break the glass window with. “Come on…” she mutters, her eyes scanning the floor frantically. She suddenly kicks something hard--an old and rusted toolbox. She grabs the hunk of metal and approaches the emergency axe. As forcefully as she can, she smashes the box against the glass. It shatters recklessly, and she releases it from her grasp, letting it tumble to the ground.

She reaches inside and grabs the axe. She hurries out to find Hunter, who has pulled up Adam’s pant leg to reveal his entire calf and the nasty bite wound. He still doesn’t make a sound; Lucy can’t even tell if he’s breathing. Her stomach churns violently.

Hunter snatches the axe from her. He stands over Adam, and takes a deep breath. “Find some alcohol--look behind the counter,” he tells Lucy, and then looks to Adam. “I’m sorry, in advance.” With a wince, Hunter lifts the axe above his head and brings the blade down on Adam’s leg.

The counter is a bloody mess. Adam’s right leg has been reduced to a stump, and he takes deep, gulping breaths, intermixed with a few screams of pain. He has a tight grasp on Lucy’s hand, squeezing it to get rid of some of the agony, but it’s not helping as much as it should. A bottle of whiskey rests on the counter to his right, and Hunter grabs it. He drenches Adam’s stump with the alcohol, eliciting more shouts. “Help me carry him. We can’t be out in the open like this,” Hunter says. He coughs, covers his mouth with the crook of his elbow, then looks at his arm in confusion.

“What’s wrong?” Lucy asks.

Specks of blood cover the bare skin of his arm. “I just...coughed up some blood.”

In the hysteria she hadn’t noticed it before. It’s a barely discernable difference, really, but now she sees it. His shirt is ripped at his side, bearing a striking resemblance to teeth marks. Hunter furrows his eyebrows at her odd stare. But then he looks down.

Slowly, he lifts up his shirt. The action reveals a sizable bite mark on his side. He was so worried about Adam, he hadn’t even realized it, or his change in condition. He suddenly feels drowsy, sick.

Lucy covers her mouth with both hands as he lets out a slow, sad chuckle. “Well,” he says. He lets his shirt fall, and when he looks up, tears are already threatening to spill over his eyes. He nods his head toward the back of the bar. “Let’s get him back there.” He grabs Adam by the legs and Lucy takes his torso. It takes a bit of struggling, but they get him far away from the windows, in the back section of the dining area. They set him gently on the ground.

Lucy takes off her jacket and hands it to Hunter. He presses the fabric against Adam’s stump. His screaming has stopped--he just mumbles incoherent phrases now. Lucy grabs his hand again and mutters any soothing words she can. When he’s finally silent, breathing steadily, she lets her hand slip out of his grasp. She looks up at Hunter. Tears wet his cheeks.

When he thinks the bleeding has stopped, he sighs and puts less pressure. He coughs some more, and blood dribbles from his mouth. Lucy holds back a sob and wipes her face with her sleeve.

“I really hope you make it,” Hunter says after a long period of silence. “I wanted to, too, but--” He shrugs impassively, but his resolve is broken quickly. He yells and smacks the wall with his palm twice. He rests his temple against the wall. “Oh, God, I can feel it--taking over. It’s like--” He doesn’t even know how to describe it. He doesn’t feel the same--slowly, surely, his energy is depleting. His lungs feel heavy, his throat is dry. He just wants to close his eyes…

Daniel runs through the alleyway with Jake, and they hear a familiar scream. They note where it came from but they can’t dwell on it now. Daniel chooses a random building and approaches the back door. Luckily, it isn’t locked and opens relatively easily. He looks over his shoulder as Jake rushes inside and sees several infected pursuing. Just before they reach the entrance, he slams the door shut.

Daniel rests his back against the metal door and takes a deep breath. The infected begin to bang against it, but it’s a sufficient barrier. There’s no way they’re getting in--unless they try to breach through the front, where several windows lie, protected by nothing.

It’s a small convenience shop. There’s a counter and empty shelves that previously held valuable goods. Jake decides to do a quick scan of the area, but there’s no way he’ll find anything. The place has been completely ransacked.

Now that everything has calmed down, Jake is having trouble holding back the tears. He paces around the store with his hands on top of his head. He can only hope everyone else made it to safety. The last person he saw was Ivy; she was right by his side. When shouts of “Herd!” reached his ears, he turned to inspect for himself. When he turned back again, she was gone.

“Th-they can’t be g-gone, man,” Jake mutters.

Daniel stands up straight and takes a few steps away from the door. “Just calm down--” he begins.

“Would y-you stop fucking saying that?!” Jake shouts. He realizes his mistake and lowers his voice. But none of the anger is gone from his tone. He takes a hostile step toward Daniel. “I’m not gonna fucking calm down when the only people I care about are gone. Dead, maybe. Stop acting like you’re so fucking levelheaded and think realistically for a second. Calming down isn’t going to bring them back--calming down isn’t going to get us out of here. We have no fucking time to calm down.”

Daniel steps back again and lifts his hands up defensively. “Uh...alright, then. Didn’t know two words made you so fucking angry.” He knows it’s not right to curse at the kid, but he’s just as frightened and annoyed as Jake is. “But we do need to calm down, and try to wait this thing out. If you could stop making so much noise, that’d be great, too, kid.”

Jake just scoffs at his condescending tone and turns away. His eyes widen at the sight at the window.

Harlow stands there, staring at them. She was ready to call for their attention, but Jake saw her before she could. She looks slightly familiar to Jake, but he can’t recall her name. Her uniform and rifle prompt Jake to rush to the door and open it for her. “I heard yelling. I thought--” she says quietly.

“We’re fine,” Jake says.

“Come with me,” she orders. Jake looks at Daniel, urging him to come forward.

Lienne sits huddled close to Ivy and Tora in the dimly lit space of one of the trucks. The mood is silent and dreadful, especially amongst them. “Did you see anyone else?” Tora asks both of them. It’s the first words any of them have said since departing a few minutes ago.

Lienne and Ivy shake their heads solemnly. “There were two other trucks,” Ivy says softly. Their only hope is that they’re sheltered in one of them. “I--I was with Jake. But the crowd got too big and I lost him.” She can’t help it, and she starts to cry. Sets of eyes turn to her but she can’t stop it. In the blink of an eye, everything goes wrong again.

Instantly, Lienne puts an arm around her. “They’ll be fine,” she says. “We’ll be fine. California’s a few hundred miles away, we’re safe--”

“That doesn’t matter if they’re all dead.”

This makes Lienne’s mouth snap shut. Her heart drops at the truth in her statement. What's the point if these people she's trusted her life with, these people she's learned to love, are gone? It sucks the hope right out of this trip, and as much as she wants to put a positive spin on this situation, that's becoming increasingly difficult to do.

"Did you see Daniel?" Lienne asks Tora.

"No," Tora says flatly. She feels numb. Everything happened so fast, but she's not surprised. Wouldn't be surprised if Dan's not okay. She found happiness for once, joy she thought she'd take with her to California. And it's been mercilessly ripped away. She sets her jaw and stares emotionlessly ahead.

"Tora," Lienne says. Tora turns her head to her wordlessly. "It'll be fine."

Tora just sighs. "You should really listen to her," Tora says, nodding toward Ivy. Lienne looks down dejectedly and takes a heavy breath. This was all too good to be true.

She should have known it since the beginning.

"Where are are we going?" Daniel asks as they sprint behind Harlow. Her calm demeanor is commendable. She shows no sense of fear or worry. Only determination.

"We've gotta find a car. Truck. Something," she says. The only thing that cracks her composure is an occasionally scream of infected somewhere far away. "Any of you know how to hotwire?" She looks back at their blank faces and sighs. That makes things harder, now that they're forced to find a car with keys. The street they're on has a few vehicles scattered about, and Harlow slows to a stop. "Look around."

Daniel and Jake comply. They look through grimy windows, often met with rotted infected stuck to the seats, trapped in seatbelts. But no keys. After peeking through a car and only seeing an empty ignition, Daniel looks up at Jake, who's looking through the car immediately in front of his. "I was kind of a dick back there," Daniel admits. "Sorry."

"Whatever. Keep looking," Jake says.

Daniel's face shifts into a disappointed expression. "I know how much they mean to you. I'm the new guy--I wouldn't get it, I understand."

"You're right. You don't. So don't ever act like you do."

Daniel nods. "I know. I'm sorry."

Jake looks at him with unhidden malice. His eyes snap from Daniel to Harlow, who inspects a car across the road, when she shouts. "Found some keys!" she says. Then she sees the fuel gauge. "Empty. God damn it..."

"You got one?" Daniel calls out, trotting over.

"No gas," Harlow reveals. She reaches to her side and pulls her pistol. She puts it in Daniel's hands. "You and him go look through some of these shops. Find something we can use to siphon. I'll stay out here and look around some more."

Daniel nods and runs to the nearest shop that can be of some use, some kind of hardware store, patting Jake on the shoulder as he passes to get him to follow. Daniel rams his shoulder against the flimsy door and it swings open. He pulls his shirt up and covers his nose and mouth, disgusted by the rotting scent. "God damn," he says under his breath. Jake covers his nose as well, using his arm. "Don't go wandering around."

"I'm not eight," Jake says.

"Doesn't matter. I don't wanna have to hold your hand." Jake just glares at him. "Jesus, kid, I'm joking. Unwind a little." He's about to say something else, but he hears a groan. He stops, holds his arm out in front of Jake so he halts as well.

Daniel just waits. He lets the infected shamble from behind the shelf and immediately smashes the butt of the gun into its forehead. The corpse hits the ground, dead on impact. But Daniel stands over and brings his boot down on its head. Over and over again. There's nothing but blood, mush, and miniscule skull fragments left by the time he's done.

When he looks up, his calm and reassuring look is still there. "Guess that did it," Daniel says. He continues on down the aisle, and Jake just looks at him weirdly before following.

Lucy has one hand in Adam's and the other on his forehead. He's burning up and she looks down at his blank face. His eyes are closed, his lips parted slightly. She leans her head down and can hear him breathing. Barely.

"You gonna take us both out?" Hunter asks, seemingly out if nowhere. He looks at her with raised eyebrows. She can't hold his gaze for more than a few seconds--he just looks so terrible. His skin is sickeningly pale, his breaths take too much effort, even his irises have begun to change into a very pale green. "I asked you a question."

"Stop. Please."

"Why? I think it's something worth talking about." He squeezes his eyes shut and winces. When he opens them again, she's still looking down, refusing to respond. "What the hell is wrong with you? You--you act like this is new, like maybe, by some miracle, we'll be okay. Get over yourself--get out of your fucking fantasy world, alright?" He knows it sounds harsh, but he doesn't care by this point. He's dead anyway--why not spew a little truth before he goes out? Some honesty will help her out, as far as he's concerned.

She'd planned to respond, but he rises suddenly. His frustration has already reached its brink. "To hell with this," he says.

“Where are you going?” she shouts after him, standing up, too. He disappears into the front of the store and returns with the bloodied axe. He shoves the weapon toward Lucy.

"Here," he says simply.

She just stares. Her gaze transitions between his eyes and the axe until she settles on looking at him. "What?" she says.

He grabs her wrist, lifts her arm up harshly, and forces the axe handle into her hand. He turns, patting the back of his head. "Right here. Please, I just want to get it over with."

"I can't kill you--are you cr--"

He turns swiftly and opens his mouth to retaliate. But he delves into a coughing fit, doubling over with a hand to his chest. Blood leaks from his mouth, and he wipes it away with the back of his hand. When he looks up, his skin is even paler. "I am begging you, Lucy. I'm sorry but--please. Unless you want to watch me turn into a fucking monster. Or are you gonna throw me outside--lock me out while I suffer so you don't have to see?" He can tell just from the look on her face that she can't kil him--she won't. She looks about ready to drop the axe, too. He knows this pleading approach isn't going to work.

"Don't let me die like this!" he screams, so loudly that she flinches and even Adam stirs. He starts to cry and he can't stop it, but he keeps his gaze locked on her for now. She seems incapable of speech, which just frustrates him more. He steps forward boldly and grabs her by the wrists, maybe a little too roughly. He puts his face close to hers. "If you do one good thing in your life--cause God knows you probably haven't--" he begins, his voice a lot calmer, "--let it be this. Do not let me suffer because you're too fucking scared to do something about it." He turns his head again and coughs, hacking up another stream of blood. He lets her go and steps away.

Her face has changed. She's still teary-eyed, afraid, her hands tremble, but there's a determination in her expression that says he can trust her. This is a friend, and this is what he wants. The responsibility is in her hands, with this axe.

He turns once more, but this time falls to his knees. He runs a hand over the back of his head. "You--you have to swing hard," he says. "Don't half-ass it or--or I won't die right away, alright?" He wipes his dripping nose, coughing again. His eyes squeeze shut, his hands balled into fists.

"Okay," she says softly, and she clenches her hands around the wooden handle.

"Do it!"

She hesitates. Her eyes slam shut. She can't.

Her arm falls with the axe still in her hand and she covers her face with her other palm. "Lucy!" he shouts.

"I'm sorry! I--"

"Suck it up. Do it."

"I can't--"

"Stop fucking saying that--stop being so God damn selfish!"

He braces for the blow again. He only hears her crying, and he sighs deeply. He waits.

She steps forward and lifts the weapon warily. She stares at the blood that already stains it. Looking between it and the back of Hunter's head, her knees go weak. But she has no other choice.

Almost against her will she brings the axe down as hard as she possibly can, feels the blade connect with his head. The force of the blow shakes her entire body, and immediately she lets go of the axe and turns around in disgust, collapsing onto her hands and knees. She has the urge to vomit, but she's so empty that nothing comes. She only heaves, balling her fists together and hitting the ground. She begins to sob grievously just as Hunter's body finally falls forward with a haunting thump.