Dead Frontier/Issue 134

This is Issue #134 of Dead Frontier, titled Infected. This is the second issue in Volume 23.

Issue 134 - Infected
Adam, Duke, and Daniel re-enter the sector with one less person behind them. As they jog through the crowded streets and back to their apartment building, Duke glances at Adam and sighs.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Duke says. Duke honestly feels guilty for letting Andrew go, but what was he supposed to do? This judgemental look from Adam is just making his regret escalate further, making him second guess himself. And he’s not in the mood for it. “I’m fucking serious, man. Stop.”

“What do you want me to do--praise you for letting him fall like that?” Adam says. Duke stops suddenly, prompting Adam and Daniel to the same. “It’s really not the time for this.”

"Let me just explain this to you once, alright? It's us or him, and we knew him for--what?--a little less than a week? Seems like you'd be over this shit already, man."

Adam knows Duke's right, but it still doesn't make the act any less disturbing.

"Not really the time for petty little arguments," Daniel points out. "He's dead. Let's get a move on."

Adam leaves it at that and continues on, leaving Duke no other choice but to do the same.

When they reach the apartment building, they work to gather everyone. Adam even ventures back through the ruckus in the streets to retrieve Karl, and the group congregates in Daniel's top floor apartment. They obviously have a lot to explain, and with Ivy gone, too, things have gotten a bit too complicated.

"Okay," Adam begins with a clap of his hands. Multiple sets of eyes turn his way. "Ivy's gone, and, for some reason, an entire part of the sector has been taken out. That's what we've got so far." Blank faces stare back at him.

"Yeah, it's fucked that they're killing people but I think our main priority should be getting Ivy back," Hunter says from his spot at the kitchen table. There's a short silence.

"We could kill two birds with one stone," Dean proposes, standing from the couch. "People are already pissed. Tell them their 'leaders' just massacred a good amount of people and kidnapped a twelve year old and see what happens. They've got guns, but when you've got enough angry people, that doesn't really matter. Create enough chaos and we could probably sneak out of the sector pretty easily."

"But we don't know where she is," Lienne points out. "That's a problem."

"They said they were with Kastner so..." Jake says.

Lucy remembers her brief meeting with Kastner, where she revealed the location of her office. "Her office is on the top floor of that building they did all of our testing in," Lucy says. "If we can find her, we can find Ivy, most likely."

Somehow, they have to find a way to grab the attention of everyone in the sector. Karl taps Adam on the arm. "I've still got that megaphone," Karl says. "You might need it."

"He could've shot you," Tora says to Daniel after everyone disperses. The anxiety she felt when he ran into the street to help that girl returns again.

"I know," he says. "At least I gave her a chance." She frowns as he sighs deeply. When he takes a look at her, a similar expression forms on his face. "How'd you sleep last night?"

She shrugs. Asking her isn't really necessary, given how exhausted she looks. "The usual."

Someone calls his name. He turns and sees Adam standing by the door, megaphone in hand, and he knows it's time to go through with their plan. "Well, try to relax a little if you can. You look terrible."

"Wow. Thank you."

"You know what I mean," he says. "I'll see you a little bit."

"Alright. Be careful," she advises, and he offers her the best smile he can muster before heading toward the door. He follows Adam out into the corridor, Karl and Duke offering to go with them. All their doing is stirring up some trouble, causing even more hysteria so the guards focus is on controlling the rioters instead of on them. The brightness of the late afternoon sun beats down on them, but it’s still freezing outside. They push through the crowds and past the guards that try to subdue them.

“Over here,” Daniel says, nodding his head toward an apartment a little ways away. The porch is at a great vantage point; directly in front of it, a large group of people shout at a row of guards, demanding access out of the sector. “I’ll take over.” Daniel grabs the megaphone from Adam. There’s a small button on the side, and when he presses it, there’s a small burst of sound. He puts the speaker near his mouth and clears his throat. Immediately, the area quiets and all eyes turn his way. “Hello?”

Even the guards are too confused to do anything. “My--my name is Daniel Everett,” he begins. “I haven’t lived here very long, but I’m just as confused as the rest of you.” He suddenly feels nervous and runs his palm over his sweaty forehead. “I wanted answers as to...as to why we’ve been locked in here. So I got them.” There’s an expectant silence as the crowd waits for him to go on.

“A few blocks away from here, in the area they’ve blocked off, they’re--we think they’re killing people. We’re not sure why, but we saw it. We saw it ourselves.” They’re clearly starting to get restless, but there’s so much more to explain, he has to calm them down. And based on the guards’ looks, he knows he has to explain fast. “They’ve also taken one of our own. A little girl. She didn’t want anything to do with this bullshit, but they forced her into it. We can--”

Before he can finish, Adam grabs him by the arm and pulls him off from the porch. A few bullet holes puncture the area where they were just standing, and they’re forced to sprint away from the crowd that provides them with their only cover.

Heidi is an absolute mess. It’s about the umpteeth time she’s looked at these monitors of Wabash, and she can’t help but think it’s her fault. She authorized the order to get rid of the sick, afraid it’d be a repeat of the terror that unfolded months ago when a plague spread through one of the poorer sectors. But it wasn’t. These sick weren’t going to turn. Once the virus evolved completely, they would’ve been fine--would’ve just been living with this new virus.

The people she made the rash decision to kill would’ve been alive. Now that word has gotten out that an entire slew of people have been murdered, things have gotten out of hand. She was forced to send another group of guards in to calm the area down, but she’s not sure how long these people are willing to fight back. She underestimated them, that much is true.

Her next plan of action is to find a way to fix this mess. She’d wanted to release the girl, but Natesh is so adamant about finding out whatever he can about this virus that he’d gone against her decision. She’s not surprised his word is carrying more weight than hers now, with all the times she’s messed up.

Maybe it’s time to actually fix something for once.

She walks over to the small speaker next to a row of monitors. She presses her finger down on a red button and leans in close. “I’m going need to someone to take me into the Wabash sector. Thank you.” A few seconds later, there’s the crackle of static, and a male voice confirms a car will be there in just a couple of minutes.

Seeing the chaos up close is a lot different than on a television screen. Even with the protection of this car--its windows even tinted so outsiders can’t see she inhabits it--Heidi feels anxious, as if any second this mild riot could explode into something even more severe. “Stop. Stop here,” she says to the driver, and he brakes in a relatively empty area.

“You know this is a terrible idea, right?” the driver says, turning in his seat.

“Yeah, well, if I want to end this I need these people to trust me.”

“Alright,” he mutters skeptically. He pats his waist to remind her he has his gun ready, and he exits the driver’s seat. He goes around the car and opens her door for her, and she exits into the cold. “Put this on.” He holds out his palm, where there’s a small microphone. She takes it and attaches it to the collar of her jacket. “The entire sector’ll be able to hear you.”

“Okay,” she says, and her voice booms throughout the area.

“Mic’s on,” he says out of the corner of his mouth.

She quickly covers the microphone with her palm and replies, “Yes, I think I figured that out.” She shakes her head and he laughs briefly as he leads her the few feet down the street and around the corner.

People already wear confused expressions after hearing a quick sound from the speakers stationed around the sector. They see her form emerge, recognize her immediately, and the rise in anger is palpable. She could’ve done this from the safety of her office, but what effect would that have? She’d just be a coward that decided to hide. Maybe if they see her here, unafraid to face them, they’ll be more inclined to actually listen. Maybe.

“Hello,” she begins. “I’m sure you all want to know why the sector has been blocked off. I’m sure you want to know why an entire area has been...dealt with. Something has happened that we weren’t prepared for. We were afraid it was another outbreak--like last time.” This has an effect on some of them, as they recall the brief plague that spread through Denver some time ago. “But it wasn’t, and I made a mistake. And--sincerely--I’m apologizing to all of you. As soon as possible, this shutdown will be revoked, your power will be returned, and everything will be back to normal.”

There’s a silence that lasts too long, and it’s almost eerie. She feels compelled to continue on, but before she can, someone calls out, “Lying bitch!”

“Alright, let’s go,” her driver says, grabbing her by the arm. They sprint back to the car. They’re close to reaching it, but something stops them. There’s a loud crash, and when they turn, they see several trucks have completely ran over the gates that blocked off the sector.

Heidi grabs the mic attached to her jacket and rips it off. “What the hell is going on?” she asks.

The driver shrugs. “I--I don’t know,” he mumbles. The attention of the rioters has clearly shifted from them to the trucks, which groups of uniformed men now emerge from. they’re obviously much more well armed than the guards that are currently stationed in the sector, but Heidi can’t recall authorizing anything like this.

A truck barrels toward them, and she beckons it to stop. She stomps over to it, and the man in the driver’s seat rolls down the window. “What are you doing?” she demands.

“Mr. Verma sent us here to collect any of the sick,” he says simply.

“You don’t listen to Verma, you listen to me.”

“Because that’s worked so well before, right?” he counters. He rolls the window up and speeds off without another word.

Adam, Duke, Daniel, and Karl have since been able to escape Wabash immediately after those gunshots were fired. It was so chaotic they slipped away without a single guard noticing them. This area of Denver is much more peaceful--people mill about cluelessly, completely unaware of what’s going on on the other side of the city. After about an hour of walking, with no adequate protection from the cold, that familiar, obscure black building Lucy spoke of comes into view.

They slip inside, and the lobby is filled with oddly professional-looking people wandering around, their faces serious and glum. “You a good actor, Karl?” Adam asks, under his breath.

“Oscar-winning,” Karl replies and he flashes a smile. Quickly, he’s able to change his expression to something more dejected. He stumbles up to the counter, holding onto his abdomen and coughing.

The receptionist at the counter rises warily, and the people around them begin to stare. “I’m sorry,” Karl mumbles. “I--I just haven’t been feeling good, I’m sorry.” There’s a single security guard in the area, who says something into the walkie talkie attached to his shoulder. Karl continues his act, hoping to grab everyone’s attention so Adam, Daniel, and Duke can find a way into the elevators without being noticed. They do look oddly out of place with their street clothes while everyone else is dressed neatly.

A woman in a freshly-ironed suit, her face stern, waits for the elevator. Duke, Adam, and Daniel wait awkwardly behind her, and she inspects them with a distasteful eye. “Checking me out?” Duke asks.

The woman cackles. “You wish,” she replies.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Duke, not the time,” Daniel says with a grin. The elevator slides open, and the four of them make their way inside.

“Floor?” the woman offers. Duke, Adam, and Daniel exchange glances.

“Uh...fourteen. Thanks,” Adam says, and he looks back at them with a shrug. “Why are some of those buttons red?” Some of the circular buttons, numbers on the surface that denote the floor, are tinted a light-red.

She gives him another weird look. “A little out of place here, aren’t you?” she says. “You need an ID card to get up there.”

“Oh. Yeah, of course. Thanks.”

She turns silently, facing the doors. Adam slaps Duke on the arm and points to the ID card hanging from the woman’s waist. Duke points to his own chest, and Adam nods. “Fuck…” Duke mouths.

“Hey,” Duke says as the elevator begins to rise. “Lady.” She turns to him with a frown. “You never told me your name.”

She hesitates. “Nina.”

“Nina,” Duke repeats, taking a step forward. “Last name?”

“Kilderry.”

“Nina Kilderry.”

He takes a quick glance up at the display above the doors, and sees that they’re near her floor. He needs to speed this up. “That’s right,” she says.

“We’ve got about thirty seconds until we reach your floor, but I think that’s enough time for you to tell me where we can meet up later.” He pauses. “I’m new here. I think I need a tour.”

A small grin forms on her face, and she laughs softly. He takes another step forward with his eyebrows raises, and Adam and Daniel watch, nearly as infatuated as she is. “There’s a decent coffee place over on Elm. I can give you the tour after.”

There’s a beep, and the door slides open. “Sounds great,” Duke says. She turns and disappears behind the elevators now-closing doors. He turns to Adam and Daniel and lifts up the ID card, dangling from his fingers.

“Damn,” Adam says.

“Are you actually gonna go through with that?” Daniel asks.

“Hell no. You see her nose, man? Holy shit.” They laugh shortly, and Adam press one of the four red buttons. There’s a harsh beep, and he slides the card in the slot next to the rows of numbers. With no beep this time, the elevator ascends.

“Alright, you sad sacks. Let’s find something to do,” Hunter proposes, standing in the middle of the room. Everyone looks up at him without response. In just the hour Daniel, Adam, Duke, and Karl have been gone, Tora looks like she’s about ready to pass out, her skin dull and her eyelids drooping low. She insists that she’s fine, much to everyone elses dismay. “Anyone got any cards?”

“No,” Dean replies rudely. “And no one wants to play any fucking games.”

“What if I want to play a fucking game? Maybe I don’t want to sit around and cry like the rest of you.”

“Then don’t. But no one wants to play Go Fish.”

“Jesus, man, you’re very touchy today. What’s the matter?”

There’s a collective groan throughout the roam, but no one bothers to step in. “I’m fine. What about you? Ready to beat my face in?”

Hunter laughs, over-exaggerating it just a little. “Now this is a game I want to play!”

“Guys, come on--” Lienne attempts to interject, but Hunter cuts her off.

“No, this should be fun,” Hunter says.

Before it can escalate further, Farrah stands from the couch, taking a few uneven steps forward. And to Hunter’s surprise, she stares at him--absolutely fuming. “Your panties riding up too, now, are they?” he says with a grin. She doesn’t look amused. “Oh, come on, I’m trying to lighten the mood! What’s wrong with that?”

“No one’s going to say it, so I will,” she says. “You’re pissing everybody off. Shut up.”

His smile falls, replaced with actual anger. “Well, excuse you. That was quite rude.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Hunter, I like you, I really do, but sometimes I can’t help but think how much more peaceful everything would be if we didn’t have to deal with your shit. Every. Day.”

“Ouch. Awfully big words for someone I wasted my time saving. They really are.”

“Alright,” Lienne sighs, rising from the couch. “You--” She points to Hunter. “Over here. Let’s not cause more problems then we need. We’re already dealing with enough here.” She can’t help but think it’s like interacting with a child. Hunter mutters something under his breath. Lienne looks back at Farrah, freezes when she sees she has tears in her eyes. “Don’t worry about him,” Lienne adds, so only Farrah can hear.

“Yeah, whatever,” is Farrah’s meager response, and she returns to where she was before, the mood shifting back to its dejected state.

Jake sits on a stool, his elbows perched on the countertop in front of him, the tension having abated somewhat. He stares ahead absently. His rage isn’t visible outwardly, but he’s boiling on the inside. It’s only made worse when someone plants themselves in the stool next to him. Of course someone thinks this is the perfect time to talk to him.

When he looks up and sees that it’s Lucy, he’s really ready to leave. But he stays. For now.

She doesn’t say anything for a long while--neither does he--and they just sit, listening to the nervous murmuring of the others around them.

“So…” she begins. “Nice haircut.”

He shifts his eyes up to look at her, then turns his gaze to the counter again. She’s fully aware that if he doesn’t like anyone here, it’s most likely her. So she’s starting with simple small talk instead of apologizing right out--it’s so obvious to him. She swallows hard at his lack of response. “I’ve never seen you without the bangs so...yeah, it’s nice,” she adds.

That stirs up a memory in him, reminds him that he’s known her longer than anyone here. He’d arrived to the Hyatt a few weeks after the outbreak hit full force. Lucy had obviously been there since the beginning. She’d caught him drawing in the library on his second day there. It was more of a passing remark, really, but she’d complimented his art with what he assumes was sincerity. And he’d decided it was appropriate to go on a long tangent about shading, finding the right colors, which pencils to use. She’d sat through it without interruption, although he could barely get through a sentence without stumbling over a word or two. Maybe it’s because he’s reminded that she was the first person besides his mother to approve of anything he’d done, or because she’s not as shitty of a person as he’s made her out to be lately, but he feels ridiculous for even being angry at her in the first place.

That still doesn’t mean he’s going to forgive her so easily.

“Is there something you w-want to say to me?” he asks, turning in his stool so he’s facing her.

She’s clearly caught off guard by the bluntness of the question, and he raises his eyebrows. “And if you’re g-gonna cry or beg for forgiveness or whatever,” he continues, “please don’t. I can’t d-deal with that.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” she says. “I just wanted to talk to someone that wouldn’t give me that stupid sympathy look.”

“Oh.” He knows what she’s talking about. They put a comforting hand on your shoulder, look you in the eye--sometimes near tears themselves--and mutter an apology that usually isn’t even sincere. He’s seen it too many times, and he’s always irritated when he’s on the other end of that look. “Don’t expect it from me. I don’t throw p-pity parties.”

“Thanks. I understand the sentiment and everything, but it makes me feel worse than I already do.”

“Yeah,” he says. There’s a short pause, and he runs a hand through his hair. “You really like the haircut?”

She gives him a soft smile and puts an arm over his shoulder. “Yeah. Now you might actually find a girlfriend one day.”

“Whatever. I’ve had plenty.”

“Right.”

“Jake, c’mon,” Lienne says with a nod of her head. She stands by the door with her hand on the knob.

Jake slides from under Lucy’s arm. She folds her hands together on the countertop and watches as he walks away. Before he gets too far, he turns.

“Feel better, okay?” he says. He has to suppress a groan when he sees that she’s tearing up. She gives him a grateful nod, the corners of her mouth barely turned up.

Karl is still keeping up his sick act, insisting that he’s alright, but something seems off. All he’s doing is coughing, but everyone looks as if a bomb might explode at any second.

He soon finds out how big of a mistake this was. A simple cough isn’t just a simple cough anymore--not when they’re gathering any of the sick they can find. “Wait, no really--if you can just direct me to the hospital--” Karl starts as the security guard approaches him. The guard whips out a baton and a pair of handcuffs.

There’s a round of screaming as the guard smacks Karl across the face with the baton, knocking him to the floor. “I have one detained. Lab on Main and Walsh,” the guard says into the walkie talkie, and someone replies back with a confirmation to bring him upstairs. “Got it. Come with me.”

“No, please. Look, this is a misunderstanding. Really--”

“Shut up.” The guard drops the baton and slaps the handcuffs on Karl’s wrists, lifting him to his feet roughly afterwards. His cheek stinging, tears of fear rather than pain coursing down his cheeks, Karl can do nothing but comply as the guard leads him somewhere he knows he’s not going to want to go.