Dead Frontier/Issue 133

This is Issue #133 of Dead Frontier, titled ''Locked. ''This is the first issue of Volume 23.

Issue 133 - Locked
A small group of armed soldiers have spotted Andrew, Duke, Adam, and Daniel, trespassing in this blocked off area of the sector. Immediately, the four turn, running back into the safety of the apartment building. They can hear one of the soldiers bark an order into his walkie talkie, but they’re already gone into the depths of the apartment.

They scramble up the steps, attempting to reach the roof again. The multiple sets of stairs creak under their weight, obviously fragile, but they don’t bother to slow down. It doesn’t take long for the soldiers to breach the building, and the sounds of their entering reach the upper floors. The four pick up their pace.

Daniel, who leads, gauges that they have about three floors left until they reach the roof. “Come on guys, almost there,” he urges through heavy breaths. They reach another set of stairs, and Daniel stumbles as one of the steps falters. However, he reaches the top successfully. Adam follows his lead, and then Duke. Andrew brings up the rear, and when his foot collides with the flimsy step, his entire leg falls through as the tattered wood gives in.

Duke turns just in time to grab Andrew’s arm and prevent him from falling through completely. “Ah--fuck!” Andrew shouts. Duke tugs on his arm to pull him up, but Andrew protests with a pained scream. “My fucking--leg!”

“Come on, man!” Duke says.

“I’m--I’m stuck! What the hell do you want me to do?!”

Duke gives him another pull, then looks back at Adam and Daniel. They’re waiting near the final set of stairs, listening intently to the powerful footsteps of the soldiers. Duke looks Andrew in the eye; Andrew can feel Duke’s grip loosening.

“Whoa, what the hell are you doing?!” Andrew shouts.

“I’m sorry, man.” Deciding he can’t wait any longer, Duke releases his hold on Andrew’s arm. There’s the loud shattering of wood as Andrew falls to the floor below, but Duke runs without a second thought. Daniel continues up the steps, but Adam’s eyes are glued where Andrew just was. Duke is forced to grab him by the sleeve and pull him up.

A few seconds later, they hear a pleading scream from Andrew, and then the sound of a gunshot.

"The infected portion of the sector has been exterminated."

The uniformed soldier utters the word flatly, any semblance of emotion nonexistent in his voice. And it shakes Heidi to her core, although she authorized the order. Hypocritical isn't a good enough word for what she feels.

But those people were sick. Something spread throughout those few blocks of Wabash--and she doesn't even want to think of what would have happened if it wasn't contained. What kind of state would the entire city be in right now?

At her side, Natesh begins to speak. "Thank you, sir--" he starts.

"Wait," Heidi interrupts, and she turns her gaze to the soldier. "Tell me everything. Everything you saw."

"Uh..." the soldier says. She gives him a pointed look that tells him he should get on with it. "Oh. Didn't look very good. Most of sick...almost looked like the infected. Their skin was pale, looked like they wanted to pass out."

"But they hadn't turned?"

"No. They were still rational--they could talk to us and everything. But it was clear they weren't going to last long. Turns out there was a CO leak in one of the buildings, too. We’re guessing that’s where the initial round of infected came from. Whoever lived there turned, escaped...”

“A CO leak...and then everyone else got sick?”

“That’s...what it looks like, yeah.” He clears his throat, and he appears just as confused as she does. “We’ve actually got one of the sick, if you wanna look at him. Mr. Verma’s orders.” The soldier nods his head toward Natesh.

Natesh looks down at the sick man strapped to the metal table. There really is no reason for him to be detained, since he barely moves. Most of the color in his skin is gone, and his eyes take on a similar paleness. He doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t move, until he parts his lips occasionally and lets out a painful moan. Natesh has already taken a sample of his blood--but the worst part still isn’t over.

“I’m very sorry,” Natesh says so softly that the man’s not sure if he’s said anything at all. The man’s eyes dart to him.

“I’m...okay,” the man groans, but Natesh shakes his head. Natesh’s eyes are moist, and the man tries to deduce if they’re tears of sadness, anger, pity, or an odd mixture of them all. Natesh turns, where the countertop behind him stocks an array of surgical tools. Carefully, he picks up some kind of knife--it’s not very large, but the tip is alarmingly sharp. The man isn’t able to turn his head, but from his peripheral vision he can see the brief, bright reflection of the metal against the ceiling lights that beat down on them.

“No--no. I’m fine,” the man croaks out.

“I am very sorry,” Natesh says again, and he gives the man a firm stab to the forehead. He removes the tool, a thin trickle of blood running down the man’s forehead. With a sigh, he slides his gloved fingertips along the knife’s tip, wiping it clean.

The light in Lienne’s room is dim, and behind her from her spot at the counter, she can hear the faint murmuring of Jake and Ivy talking on the couch. Their tone is grim--Lienne decides it’s best to let them get through this on their own rather than intervening. It seems like they’re able to ignore the commotion outside, too, with their conversation.

Lienne’s mind is wandering somewhere she doesn’t want it to. There’s a familiar darkness in her thoughts that she doesn’t like. She’s been here once before, in a state of mind so low and bleak. She hates it, but she can’t help thinking so negatively when nothing’s going right.

It only gets worse when she exams the skin on her wrist, leading up to her forearm. She no longer uses bandages to cover the cuts that mar her arm. Looking at them has her stomach churning, and she clenches her fist.

She rises from the counter and over to one of the bedrooms. She frantically searches through bag after bag, dumping out the contents of each. With a sigh of frustration, she exits into the living room again. Ivy and Jake’s conversation immediately ceases. “Do we have a first aid kit anywhere?” Lienne asks. Ivy and Jake glance at each other and shrug simultaneously.

“Are you okay?” Jake asks, standing.

“Yeah--I’m fine, I’m okay. Do you know where one is?”

Jake can sense some impatience, so he decides not to dig with more questions. “Uh…” he mutters, and he spins around. There’s a black backpack peeking out from behind the couch. He picks it up, unzips it, searches through for a few seconds. A small red bag emerges when he pulls his hand out, and he tosses it to her.

Lienne catches it, mutters a ‘thank you,’ and slams the bedroom door shut. Before sitting back down, Jake gives Ivy an odd look. “Is she okay?” he asks.

“Probably not,” Ivy replies.

Lienne can hear the subdued sounds of their conversation return as she presses her back against the door and slides down with the kit held tight in her arm. She unzips it, and several items come falling out. She ignores the majority of them and picks up a roll of white bandages.

There was a reason she covered up those cuts on her arms in the first place. Suicide isn’t something to be ashamed of--she doesn’t think. It was a low point, she’s moved on, so there was no reason to hide it anymore. And the bandages came off. But those thoughts are coming back again. Not necessarily that she wants to off herself, but she’s afraid her negativity will escalate to a dangerous level if she doesn’t do something about it now.

She grabs the end of the bandage and pulls it until most of the white fabric lies messily on the floor. She uses her teeth to rip off a substantial section and, sloppily, quickly, she wraps it around her arm--starting at the wrist and working her way up until every ugly, jagged cut is out of view.

She takes deep breath and lets the roll of bandages tumble out of her other hand. She’s not sure why this gives her such a relief, but she feels at ease for the first time in the last couple weeks.

And she’s not surprised that feeling doesn’t last more than a few minutes.

There’s a violent banging on the front door, and she jumps to her feet, back into the living room in just a couple of seconds. Jake and Ivy are at attention as well, staring at the shaking door. The banging comes in even, powerful intervals.

"Hey!" Lienne shouts, marching to the door. "What's your problem?"

"We work for Dr. Kastner. We need to come in," says a man from the other aide of the door.

That woman she talked to--Dr. Kaster. Her promise to leave Ivy alone flashes through her mind. She should've known it was complete bullshit. "What do you want?" Lienne calls out, taking a few wary steps forward.

The man hesitates. "To ask you a few questions. It won't take very long."

"How many of you are there?"

"Two."

"You can ask all the questions you want without me opening the door. You can hear me perfectly fine, right?"

The man chuckles. "I'm afraid that's not how it works. Please, open the door, ma'am."

Lienne swallows hard. Some kind of threat is veiled by his words. “Y-yeah. Of course. Just a second.”

Lienne looks back at Ivy. She’s come to the same conclusion that they’re here for her. Lienne rushes over and grabs her by the arm. “You need to hide. Go under my bed--don’t make a sound.”

Ivy nods and she disappears into the other room. Lienne takes a few quick measures to compose herself: wiping her sweaty hands on her pants, pushing a few strands of hair out of her face.

"Ma'am, open the door or we'll open it for you," the man says.

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Calm down..." Lienne undoes the locks and opens the door slowly. Instead of two men she's met with five bulky figures. One puts his hand on the door before she can slam it shut, and Lienne is forced the step away and let them in. "You said there we only two of you."

"I must've miscounted," says the one that was talking to her earlier. Strands of white are intermixed with his brown hair and beard, and a pair of glasses sits low on his nose. He looms over Lienne, looking down at her distastefully. "We've been sent to collect Ms. Harris."

"That lady told me she didn't have to deal with this shit anymore," Lienne says, and she struggles to lower the hostility in her tone.

"That's for her to decide. Not you. Where is she?"

"She's not here."

The man narrows his eyes. "Where is she?" he repeats.

"At a friend's apartment."

"That doesn't tell me anything."

"What do you want with her?"

"That's not what we're discussing right now, miss." He's unable to hide his impatience, and he lets out a deep sigh. "Tell me where this friend is, and we'll leave."

"I don't know. Somewhere on the second floor," Lienne says.

"What room?"

"I don't remember."

"That seems like something you'd keep track of."

"I've got a lot on my mind. I guess I just...forgot."

There's a short pause, and the man laughs heftily. With a smile still on his face, he takes a step toward her. He's forced to lean over to put his face close to Lienne's. "Would you mind if I took a look around?"

"Go ahead," she says coolly, but she can barely hear herself over her heartbeat. The man widens his smile and stands up straight.

"Thank you." He does a circular gesture with his hand, and the other four men disperse around the apartment. Lienne takes a few steps backward and plops herself onto the couch. Her hands are shaking, so she folds them on her lap to conceal the trembling. She and Jake try to keep their faces as emotionless as possible, but they're just waiting until they peek under that bed...

Two minutes pass. Then ten. At around the fifteen minute mark, their search characterized by a slew of overturned furniture, the spectacled man returns, thoroughly disappointed. "I'll tell you what," he says, switching his gaze between Lienne and Jake. "I'll have someone stay here with you, and we're gonna go check the second floor. Every single apartment. If we don't find that girl, we're gonna have a problem."

The man forced to keep watch over Lienne and Jake is much less intimidating than the others. He's large, but doesn't look a day over thirty. He's clean shaven, his hair blonde, and he sits at the kitchen table, barely paying any attention to them. He picks up a salt shaker and twists it in his hands, staring down at it with a bored expression.

Lienne and Jake are still positioned on the couch. They speak in low voices, the man far enough away that he can't hear them. "We need to get r-rid of him," Jake says, taking a glance at the man, who yawns and sets the salt shaker down.

"Okay. How?" Lienne asks. Jake is silent for a few seconds as he scans the room. His eyes dart around until they lock on something that Lienne can't make out. "If I can g-get into the kitchen, m-maybe I can grab a knife or s-something." It's easy to see that he's not very confident in his plan, but Lienne doesn't have any better ideas.

It's absolutely freezing outside. Ivy shivers, the tips of her shoes peeking out over the thin ledge of the apartment building. The window she slipped out of is opened just enough. She presses her back against the brick and looks down, not surprised that no one has noticed her yet. People are still in hysterics, still clambering guards with questions on why they can't leave the sector. Feeling a bit queasy, she looks up, then decides enough time should have passed for her to re-enter the apartment.

She knows this is wild and ridiculous, but those men would've found her hiding under that bed in a matter of minutes. And it's easy to see that their intentions weren't exactly good. Slowly, carefully, she turns and reaches her hands onto the window's ledge. She places one foot inside a missing chunk in the wall, where a brick has apparently fallen out of the fragile structure, and lifts herself up. With a grunt, she slides herself up and over the windowsill, landing not-so-smoothly on the carpet below. The heat is off, but inside it's much warmer. She rises to her feet, rubbing her chilled arms, but stops when she hears someone ask in a low, unfamiliar voice:

"What was that?"

The man has risen from the table, looking toward the bedroom--the origin of the thump. Jake and Lienne have jumped to their feet in just as much surprise. They're not sure where Ivy concealed herself, but she couldn't have stayed hidden for long.

He pulls the gun from his waistband and points it between the both of them. He looks nervous, sweat starting to materialize on his brow. "Don't. Move," he demands, and he travels the few feet to the bedroom doorway. He's honestly surprised when he sees Ivy standing there, trembling when she comes in contact with the breeze from the window. They checked this entire apartment, turned it upside down--where did she come from?

Also on his belt is a walkie talkie that he detaches. He presses his thumb against a button and puts the speaker close to his mouth. "This is Mason. I've found the--" He's not able to finish as someone latches themselves onto his back. His gun and walkie talkie fall out of his hands. It’s obviously Lienne, since he sees Jake run up from behind him and grab Ivy by the arm.

“Get her out of here!” Lienne shouts. Easily, Mason grabs one of her wrists and tosses her to the ground like a ragdoll. She lands on her backside, and before she can rise, he gives her a hard kick to the back.

She can only hope she gave them enough time.

Mason reaches down and grabs the pistol and walkie talkie. Someone’s frantic voice explodes from the speaker, but he doesn’t bother to reply. His gun is at the ready, and he barks at Jake and Ivy to freeze before they can even reach the door.

“I don’t want to hurt you, kid,” Mason says, his words obviously directed at Jake. Jake and Ivy turn slowly, still wondering if it’s worth it to make a break for the door. But when they see his gun, they know they can't risk it.

Without taking his eyes off of them, Mason presses a button on the walkie talkie. “This is Mason. I’ve got the girl.” He pockets it and returns his look to Jake. “Come on, kid. She’ll be fine. Just hand her to me.”

“No,” Jake says.

“Kid, c’mon. I’m telling you, you’re making a big mistake here.”

Ivy feels Jake’s hold on her arm tighten, and she makes an effort to jerk it away. “What are you doing?” he says to her.

“He’s gonna--” She gives her arm another jerk, and her lets her go. “--hurt you.”

“Who cares--”

“I do. If he kills you, he’s gonna take me anyway.”

“See. She’s smart,” Mason says, and Jake shoots him a glare. This elicits a smirk from Mason, but Jake just looks away, back toward Ivy.

He knows she’s right, but he can’t just let her go, unaware of where they’re taking her or if she’ll even be back. But nothing he says or does is going to change her mind. When she walks toward Mason, he doesn’t do anything to stop her.

Ivy is in near tears as the image of Jake’s face as she walked out that door sticks in her mind. He was obviously angry--more angry than she’d seen him in a while--but it was mostly hidden behind his clear defeat. She doubts Mason, who’s currently driving as she sits in the backseat of a black car with tinted windows, would care if he put a bullet in Jake’s head. Jake probably wouldn’t care either, but she does. No way would she let that happen, let alone be there to witness it.

The car rolls to a stop after about twenty minutes. They’ve since left the Wabash sector, as this area of the city is more peaceful, not plagued by incessant rioting. The door opens and, since they didn’t even allow Ivy to get her jacket, she’s forced to wrap her arms around herself to block out some of the cold air.

“Just follow me and be quiet,” Mason barks at her. She complies without protest. He leads her into a black building, up an elevator, and down a brightly lit corridor. At the end of it, there’s a large metal door with a keypad on the right. He presses a few numbers, and the door opens soon after. “In here. Someone’ll be with you shortly.” After a short bit of hesitation, she takes a few steps inside. The door slides closed with a bang.

It’s oddly chilly in the blue-tinted, hospital-like room. Almost everything is metal, and the bed doesn’t look very comfortable, either. The only thing that stands out is a large mirror that encompasses nearly the entire wall across from her.

She doesn’t know what else to do, so she takes a seat on the room’s single chair. She absentmindedly swings her legs on the chair, waiting, her fear having subsided substantially since her entrance. An indeterminate amount of time passes before she hears a beeping from outside the door, and that metal barrier slides open.

The familiar grin of Natesh that set her at ease before now sends a chill down her spine. He enters, and the door closes behind him. “Hello. Nice to see you again,” he says. She’s occupying his seat, so he plants himself on the bed instead.

“You said I didn’t have to talk to you anymore if I didn’t want to,” Ivy says. “And I don’t want to.”

“That’s correct. But something came up and it’s...absolutely necessary that I’m able to ask you some things.”

“What if I don’t want to talk to you?”

“Then this will be a very unfortunate meeting for both of us.”

She’s not sure if a threat lies behind those words, and she doesn’t want to find out. Her fingers clench around the chair’s armrest as Natesh tries to force comfort into his look. It isn’t working. He doesn’t want to seem hostile. With her being the first living person they’ve known with this new virus, the answers to her questions are invaluable. Aggression isn’t going to get him the answers he needs.

“I have some very simple instructions,” Natesh continues. “I’m going to ask you questions, and you are going to answer them.” He raises his eyebrows to make sure she understands. She nods vehemently in response.

“Here is what I think,” Natesh begins, and he clears his throat. The huge room is mostly empty, save for a table that holds several figures, including Heidi. Natesh, having just completed his interrogation of Ivy, stands up straight and places his left hand in his pocket. “The CO leak has nothing to do with this...outbreak. Lucky for us, the deaths of those people in that apartment building just brought our attention to that area of the sector. The real problem lies in this infection. The man we brought in was...very sick. And after a few looks at his blood, it's clear that the new virus had found its way into his system." He pauses and takes a sip of water. "The girl told me she came down with something a few days before news of the initial outbreak began to spread. Her symptoms were very similiar to the man's. She also holds this new virus." He pauses as everyone tries to draw their own conclusions. "I’m assuming that this old virus is evolving...it's so strong, the attack and the change so sudden, your body isn't prepared for it. And that's when the illness kicks it."

"But the girl is fine--" someone interjects.

"Yes. I'm assuming the illness isn't deadly. More of your body coming to terms with this new threat, trying to fight it off but failing. So, eventually, your body succumbs to it, you return to normal, but the virus is still inside of you, in this new form. When you die, you become one of the stronger infected instead. This means that exterminating that area of the sector was useless. The virus is still going to evolve--it doesn’t matter what we do. It’s only a matter of time before others are affected as well. And it won’t take long."

Natesh says that last part almost too nonchalantly. He nods his head at Heidi, and she stands. "We've also gathered others from that part of sector. Only about a fourth were actually sick. We're guessing that some kind of...antigenic difference in their blood is what leads the virus to either change into this new form--or stay how it’s always been.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jake asks again. Both sitting on the couch, Lienne rubs a painful spot on her back, but she waves off Jake’s concern.

“I’m fine,” she says. She looks at him. He’s clearly trying to hold back his mix of anger and apprehension brought upon by Ivy’s absence, so she adds a quick “Thanks.” He nods, and there’s a long pause as they both know they have to come up with a plan soon.

“How do w-we get her back?” he finally asks. She has no idea what to do, same as him, but being the adult, she feels obligated to give him some kind of hope.

“We find out where she is. We get her back.” She says it as if it’s the simplest thing in the world, but there’s enough sureness in her tone to set Jake at ease. “I don’t think they’d hurt her--”

“They’re probably p-poking her with tools and shit.”

“Just listen to me. She’s way too valuable for them to hurt her. And even if they’re planning to, we’ll get her back before they can.”

He doesn’t have the smallest bit of faith in her words, but he nods anyway.