Dead Frontier/Issue 122

This is a preview for Issue #122 of Dead Frontier, titled Drift. This is the second issue in '''Volume 21. The entire issue is planned to be posted on November 02, 2013'''.

Issue 122 - Drift
The next few days pass in a blur of the usual mundane worry, amplified by a lack of food and medicine, and Lienne's vacillating condition.

Notebook in lap, Cole pauses his writing and glances around the truck's interior. Lienne sits to his left, an arm wrapped around her abdomen and her lead set against the chilled window. Ivy sits in the seat farthest back, and her pen scribbles wildly along a sheet of paper.

They're liabilities, in Cole's eyes. The kid, the cripple, the recoverer. They wait, as inside a small convenience store, the rest take part in the necessary weekly supply gather. Music spills from the radio to counter the absence of any conversation, and he waits. It really is all he can do.

He picks up his pen once more and continues writing. There's no real order to it--his thoughts pour onto the page in a jumble of messy handwriting, and he's soon flipping onto the next page, and the next page, and the next one.

"What do you write in that thing?" Lienne asks, and Cole nearly jumps. He clicks the pen and closes the notebook slowly to cover up the embarrassment that he doesn't know is still completely obvious to her.

"Hey. I thought you were sleeping," he says, and she shakes her head. He sees her eyes shift from his own and down to the notebook. He shrugs. "It's just...whatever."

"Yeah, that really explains it."

He smiles and shrugs again. "I mean, it's not anything important. Writing's just easier than talking so...I put stuff in here. Instead of...saying it."

"And he wrote a story," Ivy says, finally looking up from her paper. "He let me read it."

"Ivy, really? C'mon," he groans, and Lienne almost wants to laugh. But the amusement leaves her immediately when she sees that Cole looks almost...upset. Embarrassed, of course, but there's something else there that she can't really make out.

"I guess we all need an outlet," Lienne says, and she leaves it at that. Cole gives her a grateful nod for not prying further. Not long after, Jake beckons Ivy after finding a large source of books and a few board games. She flees the truck with uncontained glee and meets him near the storefront.

"How've you been?" Cole asks after a few minutes alone with Lienne. The song on the radio fades out and switches to a new one that's oddly exciting. He almost wants to shut it off but he resists the urge.

She turns her head again and shrugs. "I'm okay. A lot of pain, still," she says.

"Do you...need anything? If--if you do, just ask."

She takes a few moments to think. "I could always use...a good story."

His grip tightens on the notebook, as if every word he's written inside will flood out if he doesn't keep hold of it. "Very funny," he says.

She smiles--it's the first time she's done so in the last couple of days. "Did you get her into it? The story writing stuff?"

He nods. "It helps her a lot, I think. And her imagination is just--crazy. So it's a good fit for her, getting all of her ideas out somewhere. Keeps her quiet for a while, too."

"You really love it, don't you?"

"Love what?"

"Writing. I can tell. You look so into it."

"Oh." He scratches his head and turns his eyes toward the window. "I guess. I kind of have to do it. It's the only thing I was ever really interested in, or good at, so..." He gives her a fleeting glance, but his head is soon turned toward the window again, where far out, a long stretch of grass meets horizon.

"You shouldn't be so embarrassed by it. It's good," she says.

He sighs and reaches behind him to retrieve a small backpack. He unzips it, drops the notebook inside, and tosses it into the back seat again. "It's because it's not just a stupid little story that I wrote in there. It's everything." He doesn't know how else to explain it. Every frustration and annoyance and--on the flip side--every delight and satisfaction blankets those pages. It's not something he's really keen on sharing.

Lienne notices his tone has taken on a near-hostile quality, so she lets the topic die out on its own.

"Were you a NASCAR driver?" Farrah asks Cedric. She stands above him, and he's in a crouch as he searches a lower shelf.

"No," he replies. She's been asking him questions non-stop these past few days, utterly fascinated with the skills he displayed behind the wheel when getting away from that herd.

"How the hell'd you learn to do that, then?" He just shrugs and rises to his feet. He holds out a can for her to put in her bag, but she crosses her arms. "Stunt driver. Movie sets and all that. That's it, right?"

"No," he says, pulling the strap of his bag over his head. He unzips it and places the single can inside. "Why are you so damn nosy?" he asks as he puts the pack back on and they continue walking.

"Can you blame me?"

He ignores her and picks up his pace. However, she easily keeps up with him. They turn into another aisle, and he lets out a final sigh of frustration. "Okay," he says, and he turns to her. She stops, waiting patiently for him to continue. "You really wanna know that bad? I was a street racer. There."

"Street racer...? Like the Fast & Furious illegal kind?" she asks.

He nods. "That's it. I stopped doing it--a long time ago. Back in New York."

Unfortunately, that only bumps up her intrigue even more; he can tell by the quick change in her expression. "Why? Did you get caught?" she asks.

"No. There was an accident and...a lot of crazy shit happened after. I told myself I wouldn't drive anymore."

"At all?" He nods. "Because of one accident?"

He continues on walking, and she waits a few seconds before following. "I wasn't even racing when it happened. This...lady, she just came out of nowhere, into the street. I didn't have time to stop so..." He clears his throat.

"Oh. I heard about that," Farrah says. It's a distant memory, but the news story sounds familiar: a pregnant woman, run down in the middle of the road. Hit and run, and the perpetrator no where in sight.