Dead Frontier/Issue 90

This is Issue #90 of Dead Frontier by Walkerbait22, titled ''Bury The Hatchet. ''This is the final issue of Volume 15.

Issue 90 - Bury The Hatchet
Luke rides in the passenger seat of one of the stolen trucks he hotwired as another prisoner drives slowly through the snow. "I think..." Luke says, trying to remember where the Hyatt is located. He'd been there once before, when he was around eleven or twelve, but this area of the city is still fuzzy to him. And the snow and stray vehicles along the road don't make it any easier. "Right. Turn right, keep going straight. It's right along the river."

While loading up the prisoners, Cole was nowhere in sight, but Luke made the rash decision to leave without him, considering the forty other prisoners he had with him. But there's no time to go back now.

Luke barks directions at the driver for nearly an hour and a half until they turn a corner, and down the street a large, out of place gate comes into view, and the word "HYATT" is spelled out in big letters along one of the towers. They honk at the guards atop the gate, who raise their guns in defense. Luke can't help but notice the nervous expressions on their faces.

Luke chooses to take the lead and exits the car with his hands up. "We're not dangerous," Luke says immediately. "We were prisoners that just escaped! A resident of the hotel told us to come here!"

The guards take confused glances at one another. "Who?" one guard asks.

"Cole Pruitt."

"And where's he?"

"We escaped, but he didn't make it fast enough." The guards don't look convinced, so Luke continues. "I know you're having problems with this other group of people; he told me that. If you need an extra forty or so hands for defense, we've got you covered. If you let us in."

"We can't let you in without a higher authority's consent first."

"Then get their fucking consent! Please, we...look, I know someone in there, and she can tell you that you can trust me."

"Luke. Fucking. Evans," Billie says in total disbelief as Luke stands before her.

"I have returned," he says, walking toward her through the lobby. After everything that's happened today, she actually feels herself smile when he wraps her in a hug.

"Never thought I'd see you again."

"Same here. Except I-I just thought you were dead. But this is a way better surprise than that was. How the hell did you get here?"

He pulls away, a smile on his face too. "Cole sent me here."

Billie's heart practically leaps from her chest. "You..talked to Cole? What--okay, back up. Slow down. How did you get in contact with Cole anyway?"

"I'll tell you everything," he says, grabbing her by the shoulders, "every little detail, but just tell someone to let my friends in here."

After hours of walking, Cole makes himself stop when the sun starts to go down. He faces the fact he won't be able to get to the Hyatt walking around in this condition, and that he's completely vulnerable with his injuries and one bullet. So when he reaches a street with rows of identical houses on each side, he limps up the steps of the least rundown one and tries the door. The lock is busted so it opens easily, and he slams the door shut behind him, finally escaping the cold. He shivers uncontrollably as he sits in a corner, knees pulled to his chest. The cold has numbed some of his less severe pains, but his head and side ache full force. Sleep is all he wants now, and that's what he gets, his eyes closing and his mind finally at rest in the warmth of the house.

When Cole wakes up, he’s not lying on the floor anymore, which is the last thing he remembers doing. He lies on a mattress that sits on the living room floor instead, wrapped in blankets and more blankets, a few candles lit around him in the otherwise dark room. However, he’s still cold, the rest of the room not providing much in terms of heat. But then, his instincts kick in as he realizes someone must be in this house with him. Even if they’re his savior or not, he can’t take any chances.

But when he starts to sit up, something in the corner catches his eye. A little girl with light brown skin and dark, curly hair, no more than 11 or 12, sits cross-legged on a plush armchair, looking at him with wide eyes. When she realizes he’s awake, she sits up straight. “Hey,” she says.

Cole looks around for a few seconds, searching for anyone else, an adult maybe. But he sees no one. “Hey,” he says back, still groggy and confused. “What...did you do this?”

“Do what?”

“Help me. Give me all the blankets and stuff.”

“Me and my mom. I got you the blankets while she put on all the bandages.”

“Oh. Thanks. And--uh, where...where’s your mom?” Cole asks.

“Still upstairs sleeping, I think. It’s late,” she says.

“Could you--would you mind get--”

“So what’s your name?” she asks, not giving him a chance to finish.

Cole nearly chuckles, but it comes out as a cough. He covers his mouth with his fist and finishes coughing before replying, “Cole Pruitt.”

“Cole...that’s a fossil fuel. Learned that last year.”

“C-o-l-e. Not c-o-a-l.”

“Why’d your parents name you after a fossil fuel? Did they really like coal? Were they coal miners? 'Cause that’s weird.”

“It’s not the same word--forget it. What’s your name then?” he asks.

“Ivy Harris.”

“Like the plant?”

“Mhm.”

“And I'm the one that has a weird name?"

"At least my name is pretty," she remarks.

"My name's not pretty?" Cole asks, pretending to be hurt by her insinuation.

"I didn't mean it in a...mean way. Boys' names just aren't as pretty as girl names. It's how the world works."

“'How the world works?' How old are you?" Cole asks, raising his eyebrows.

"Eleven. I'll be twelve soon, though. And I would be in the sixth grade but...the dead people and everything."

"Is that right? And when will you be turning twelve, Ms. Harris?"

"In 196 days. July the 25th."

"No way. That's my birthday."

"Nuh uh!"

"Uh huh,'" he says, mocking her tone, and she laughs. "How old will you be?"

"I'll be turning 26," he says.

"26? That's like--" She stops, holds her finger up, ordering him not to speak, and does the math in her head. "--14 years older than me."

"Is that old?"

"Not really. My mom's old. She's, like, in her thirties."

"Oh, come on. That's not too bad. That's only--" He's cut off when a voice shouts through the house.

"IVY!" the voice yells, and Ivy bolts from her chair. A woman rushes from the kitchen to the living room, where Cole and Ivy still reside, and grabs Ivy firmly by the arm. "I told you to stay in that room with me."

"I know--" Ivy stutters.

"Then why the hell are you out here?"

"Because! He--I wanted to make sure he was okay. He is, I think."

"Just plant your ass in that seat and do not move. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am." Ivy obeys her mother immediately by the taking a seat in the same chair she was in before. Her eyes are planted to the dirty and peeling hardwood floor.

The woman turns to Cole now, her gaze piercing through him. "What'd you say to her?" she demands.

"What--we just talked. I'm sorry, I should have made sure--"

"What'd you say?"

"She told me her name and her birthday. And she made fun of my name," Cole says.

"Which is?"

"Cole Pruitt. Thank you for helping me. Your daughter--she told me you did."

"She said you might have hypothermia," Ivy blurts out.

"Another word, girl. I dare you," her mother says, and Ivy's mouth snaps shut.

"Hypothermia?" Cole asks.

The woman's expression softens, but she makes clear the knife in her waistband. "You'll be fine," she reassures. "We found you in here covered in that snow. No frostbite, no hypothermia it looks like."

"You didn't have to use any of your supplies on me. The bandages, I mean. They're yours, don't have to waste them on me."

"If they're mine, I can use them any way I want, can't I?" she asks. She doesn't wait for an answer, and turns to her daughter. "Fix him up some soup. Bring it over."

Ivy nods and scurries off into the kitchen, giving Cole a fleeting glance.

He learns her name is Kendra Harris, thirty six, born and raised in Chicago. Now, she resides at Lane Tech high school, where she worked as a counselor. She currently sits on a chair she's brought next to the rickety bed Cole lies on, when Ivy brings her the bowl of soup. She stirs it a little and says, "Relax. Eat this."

"I can't take that," Cole says.

"What?"

"I can't take that. I can't take your food."

"Boy, I said eat this. Here." He forces himself to sit up and grabs the bowl from her. He scoops a spoonful of it into his mouth, much to her content.

Ivy slides over another chair, sits, pulls on her mother's sleeve. "Is it okay if I ask him something?" she asks.

"She wants to know if it's okay if she asks you something," Kendra relays back to him.

Cols slurps up another spoonful and says, "Sure, of course."

"Okay," Ivy says. "What color are your eyes?"

"Uh, they...they're blue. Bluish-greenish kind of. Why?"

"I dunno. Just wondering. I couldn't really see them since it's kind of dark in here. I like them."

"Oh. Thanks. Uh--"

"I have another question."

"Ivy, he looks tired. Leave him be, let him eat," Kendra says.

Cole shakes his head, actually a little amused by the girl's curiosity. "It's fine. Go ahead, ask away," he allows.

"You sure?" Ivy says.

"Yeah."

"Okay. Um...are you married?"

"Married? No." He lifts up his left hand and shows off his bare ring finger.

"Oh. Are you divorced?"

"Nope," he says.

"Do you have kids?"

"None."

"Are you gonna ask him for his social security number, too? That's enough," Kendra says. "I know you've got a crush on him but you don't have to make it that obvious."

"No, I don't! Mom! Why do you have to---ugh, nevermind. I'm gonna go clean or something," she says and she storms off, making sure to give her mother a glare while taking off in the other direction.

"Nice kid," Cole says. "Why are you guys here anyway? If you're staying at that school."

"We've only been here for about a day," Kendra says. "We were out with these two other women. We got caught in the blizzard yesterday, and these bandits or whatever ambushed us. In all the confusion, I took Ivy and ran. Left the other two, but they can defend themselves. I don't know how we ended up here, but we did. Found a few cans of food, though."

"And a weird guy sleeping on the floor the next day!" Ivy says from the kitchen.

"Now I'm weird?" Cole calls back.

"Uh huh," Ivy says, exiting the kitchen and coming into view with a dustpan in her hand. "You were muttering stuff while you were sleeping. Are you one of those weird people that likes to talk to themselves?"

"Muttering? And no, I'm not."

"Okay, how about you finish your interview with him after you're done sweeping the floor?" Kendra says, waving Ivy away again. She knows better than to protest and follows her mother's orders by heading back into the kitchen.

"Was I really talking to myself?" Cole asks Kendra, admittedly a little embarrassed.

"Not really talking to yourself. More like calling for someone. Your mom, I think."

"Oh. Must've been a subconscious thing. I don't really do that, ever. Or, I don't think I do," he says, and pauses quickly to eat more of his soup. "I guess I was kind of remembering something that happened a long time ago. A long time ago."

"Okay. Then what was this thing that happened such a long time ago?"

"It was..." he sighs. "It kind of felt like a dream. But it happened, I can remember it. It was--I was around 9 or 10, I think. And it was snowing a lot; the worst blizzard, at that time, I'd ever seen. And my mom had to work that day, so I said, 'Why not?' and decided to go outside during the blizzard. She specifically told me not to, but I was a dumb kid. Anyway, it was fun for a few seconds until I got cold and realized I locked myself out of the house. So I was stuck out there, in the snow, and my neighbors weren't home, but the entire time, I remember, I was calling for her. But she was working, so she wasn't coming, obviously."

"Then what happened? How'd you get back in?"

"My dad came home around a half hour later from his night out and let me in. I was ecstatic, honestly, even though he gave me the beating of my life afterward," he says nonchalantly. "As long as I didn't freeze to death...I guess I remembered that day and thought she would come help me if I called her...it's stupid."

He's suddenly not very hungry, but for the sake of politeness, he decides to finish the soup. "Where are they, your mother and father?" Kendra asks.

"Um...my dad, I honestly don't know and couldn't care less, but my mom died six years ago from lung cancer. Heavy smoker."

"That's a shame. I'm sorry. My older sister passed from lung cancer a few years ago. Smoker, too."

"And I still don't learn my lesson..." Cole says to himself. "I'm sorry about your sister."

"Thank you, but boy, you better not tell me you smoke."

"Stress-reliever, can't help it," Cole shrugs.

"You're gonna be really damn stressed when you're dying, I can tell you that."

"I know. It's bad for me. I've heard it a million times before, believe me."

"Mhm. Give me that," she says, and takes the empty bowl from his hands.

As she leaves to take the dish to the kitchen, he says, "Thanks again, Kendra."

"Uh huh," she replies. "But keep in mind, just because I'm helping you doesn't mean I trust you. So make sure you watch yourself."

The next morning, Lucy hears a knock on her door. Dressed in all black, she goes to open it, and Jake stands before her, hands stuffed in the pockets of his dress pants. "Hey," he says. "It's about t-time for everyone to be h-heading down s-so...whenever you feel like it you can...h-head down.”

She’s obviously been in tears for most of the day, and that fact makes Jake a little uncomfortable. Dealing with crying women isn’t Jake’s expertise, not at all, so he keeps his eyes glued to the ground as he speaks.

“I know, I just need a minute. Thanks,” she says and she proceeds to close the door. But Jake stops it with his foot.

“Um, I know y-you want these f-few minutes to yourself,” he says, “...but I wanted to s-s-say I’m sorry about your d-dad. I know I talked a lot of crap about him after--after what happened to m-my mom, but without him this place wouldn’t be possible. S-seriously.”

They sit in a silence that, for Jake, is a little too long, until Lucy says, “I’ll be down soon.” And she shuts the door on him.

After the burial and the ceremony for the deceased, most residents proceed out of the auditorium, going back to whatever business needs tending to. Time to go back to normal.

But a few people do stay, including Adam, Billie, Chloe, Lucy, Tora, Alec, and Lienne dressed in black and sitting in one of the front rows. "Maybe we should go," Adam says flatly, still shocked and confused by Adrienne's suicide yesterday. “Get some rest, if any of you need it.” Without a word, Lucy stands and leaves, leaving the six of them there.

“I’ll see you guys later, I guess,” Alec says, and he stands and waves. Tora and Lienne say their goodbyes and follow him out the door.

After a short silence, Chloe sighs and says, “I guess I’ll head out, too--”

“Wait. Wait,” Billie says, cutting her off.

Chloe, a bit impatient, decides to stay behind. “What is it?”

Cutting to the chase, Billie says, “I’m sorry for everything I said yesterday. It was...inconsiderate, rude, stupid, and I can’t take it back...but this shit, this death, it always gets to me. I shouldn't let it, but it does. It probably doesn't even matter, but I'm sorry."

"...Forget about it," Chloe says. "This is the worst time in the world to argue and be mad at each other so...forget about it. I don't care."

"Really?"

"Really." They hug, and even through all of his sadness, Adam manages to smile.

"Are we all friends again? Yes? Good," Adam says. "Pretty good note to end on, so let's get out of here."

Instead of heading to her room, as Adam and Chloe do, Billie looks around for Luke, and eventually finds him sitting alone in the cafeteria, pushing around some disgusting food on his plate. But he doesn't complain and shovels a spoonful of it in his mouth. Billie waves at him from across the room, and walks over to take a seat next to him.

"So, how was the service?" he asks.

"Fine. As depressing as you would expect," she replies. "How was your first night here?"

"Pretty good. Really liking the beds. And the running water. The food...it's food, at least, so I can't complain."

"You should ask Joe if you can make your famous bowl of beans if the food's that bad."

"Oh, God, you remember that?" Luke says with a grin, cringing internally. His thoughts shoot back to the day he and his father found her, and his meager offer of a can of beans. "That was my attempt at being...smooth, I guess. Wasn't very good, but I tried. Damn, this is embarrassing; why'd you have to bring this up?"

"Why are you embarrassed? I thought it was really smooth, actually."

"Liar. No, you didn't."

"I kissed you, didn't I?" Billie reminds him.

"On the cheek. That doesn't even count. It was probably a pity kiss anyway. I was so lame, you felt bad for me."

"You really don't give yourself enough credit," she says, and she leans in and gives him a kiss on the lips.

Per her request, Walter reports to Roxie's residence, but, of course, not without knocking. She answers without a word, appearing more exhausted than usual. "They both cracked," Walter says.

"Both of them?" Roxie asks, and Walter nods. "That was fast."

"The room was a pretty decent idea, you know."

"Decent? You're hurting my feelings, Walter. Let's go," she says and grabs her coat.

They walk together to the other end of the camp, where a large one room building sits. Walter unlocks it and the door creaks open to reveal a room with infected lining the perimeter. Only their necks and feet are chained to the walls, leaving their hands free to reach around them. And there, in the middle of the room, sit Hector and Hiro, knees pulled to their chests and hands covering their ears.