Dead Frontier/Issue 75

This is Issue #75 of Dead Frontier by Walkerbait22, titled ''Building Bridges. ''This is the third issue in Volume 13.

Issue 75 - Building Bridges
A few days later, Adam lies in the hospital bed, conscious bus slightly dazed from pain killers. Clean white bandages are wrapped tight around his chest, and his head is slightly elevated on a fluffed-up pillow. He smiles as Cole, who sits at the foot of the bed, and Billie, who sits on a stool next to Cole, talk to him for the first time since the shooting. His memory is a bit unclear; he remembers roaming around the store, an excruciating pain, and waking up in the medical room.

"Getting shot...sucks," Adam says faintly.

"Tell me about it," Billie says, vividly remembering running, and the bullet ripping through her back. "But are you feeling okay?"

"Eh...not really. Everything pretty much hurts. My head. My chest. My back. And I feel...I don't know, kind of foggy? Is that the right word? My thoughts feel all jumbled and confused. Painkillers, man."

"You've got a lot to catch up on, man," Cole says.

"No shit? What happened?"

Cole glances around the room, notices the few other patients and one nurse. "I...I don't know if here is the best place..."

"At least explain why the hell someone shot me?" Adam asks.

Cole makes eye contact with Billie, and she shrugs. "You can go ahead," she says.

Cole clears his throat and lowers his tone as he speaks. "It was Hector Petit. From what he told me the plan was to kill all of us on our run. He wouldn't have gone through with it if it wasn't for Marsh threatening to hurt his sister in some way if he didn't. Said if he didn't do it, he would kill Hector and his sister both. But he agreed to and couldn't take us all out. Wrigley didn't make it, and you got hurt. That's the condensed version of the story."

Adam is silent for a few seconds, staring up at the ceiling with his hands crossed on his stomach. "That's fucked up," Adam says at last. "Really fucked up. What happened to Hector?"

"When Marsh found out he didn’t...finish the job, so to speak, Marsh tried to kill him. Stabbed him in the stomach. But he’s okay. Ran off to his room and hasn’t come out since yesterday. Alexander said we should take some precautionary measures against him, but I don’t know what he’s got planned.”

“Alexander? What about--?”

“Adam, don’t stress yourself out. When you’re up and can actually think straight, we’ll explain everything. Okay?” Billie says.

“Of course, mother,” Adam replies, and Billie laughs as she squeezes his arm playfully. “You know, thanks for coming to see me. Even though I can’t remember half of what I’m saying...”

“Of course. Every day ‘til you’re up and walking again, we’ll be here. Everyone else, too,” Cole assures. “I should even get a cowbell, so you can call me whenever you need anything. Need help changing? I’ll be there.”

“Th-that’s too much,” Adam says, then he laughs. There’s a sharp pain in his chest, and he stops, coughing instead. “Ah, man. That shit hurts. But you wanna know what’s funny? Not ‘ha-ha’ funny. The other kind of funny...you know what I mean.”

“What is it?”

"...When it happened--when I got shot, I mean--it hurt pretty damn bad initially. Excruciating. Some of the worst pain I've ever felt. But then...it didn't. Not like it hurts right now. Then I was just lying there, and I was sure I was gonna die. I was sure of it. But it didn't hurt anymore. All the pain, I forgot about it and I just...it's hard to believe but I forgot the world ended for a few seconds and I had all these...not visions. But memories. Really good ones, like with my parents and stuff. It was nice despite the fact I was bleeding out on the ground and some guy had a gun shoved in my face.

"But you know what? I was okay with dying right then and there, because when your time comes, your time comes. Can't do nothing about that. But then I remembered you guys and my only regret was that I couldn't say bye, y'know? Because everything we've been through since the Goddamn Super 8..." He sighs heavily. "That warrants a goodbye, at least. You think so?" He doesn't know what to make of their silence, and thinks he may have rambled a little too long. But he continues anyway. "I--I dunno what I'm trying to say. I mean, I do know. Just thanks, for being there and...and being the two people I trust more than anyone. After a close call like that, I needed you to know that."

Cole swallows as he feels a lump forming in his throat, and he curses himself for letting his eyes sting. He manages a smile, though, and pats Adam on the knee. "Jesus, Dugall. Gonna make me cry," he says. He sees a tear fall from Billie's cheek and she sniffles. "Too late for her, I guess."

"Whatever. Shut up," she replies and kicks him in the shin.

"I can't tell if these are happy tears or sad ones," Adam says.

"A mix. Sentimental tears. I don't know, but we've got a long way ahead of us. No goodbyes anytime soon. Only 'see you laters.' Right?"

"Sounds good to me." Adam forces a smile as the door swings open and Griffin enters, clapping his hands together one time.

"Adam and friends, hello," Griffin says. "My sincere apologies, but I have to end this visit. I gotta drug up Adam some more."

"Yes," Adam mutters to himself.

Griffin rummages through the shelf of orange pill bottles, looking for the right ones. When Cole passes by the shelf to leave, Griffin nudges him with his shoulder. "Hey," Griffin whispers. "Good work." And he winks.

Cole and Billie walk side by side through corridors and up flights of stairs, heading to their respective rooms. The carpeted hallways prevent even the sounds of footsteps from penetrating the awkward silence. Cole clears his throat for the umpteenth time as they begin to ascend the steps to the fifth floor. They both know they should say something, address the kiss in the store, decide where this relationship is going. But neither can bring themselves to do it. Until Billie halts on the stairs, her hand clenched against the steel railing, and says:

“Are we going to talk about this? Or do we forget it ever happened?”

After a long bout of ignoring the entire incident, he’s surprised by her abruptness. He turns and, standing a few steps above her, looks down. He walks down a few stairs so his face is level with hers. “Alright. You really wanna know what I’m thinking?” he asks.

“Yes, I do.”

“You sure?”

“Cole...”

“Okay. You are...” He pauses for a few seconds, for dramatic effect. “A great kisser.”

“I’m being serious,” she says, but she cracks a grin.

“I know, I know. Sorry. Trying to...to lighten the mood, ‘cause this is too awkward for me to deal with.”

“Then let’s end the awkwardness sooner and get this inevitable talk over with.” She crosses her arms and leans her back against the railing. She then nods her head, urging him to talk.

“Oh, so I’m going first?” he asks, pointing to his chest.

“Yep.”

He doesn’t even have his feelings worked out, so he spends a few seconds with his eyes glued to the ground, millions of different ways to phrase his thoughts swirling through his head. “To be honest with you, I wasn’t thinking. I mean, I was thinking. Of course I was. But I didn’t think through the...the repercussions of taking our relationship to a level where it probably shouldn’t be. You know? I--you made a good point: we shouldn’t push people away just because we--we’re scared, afraid of what could happen if the other person...if something were to happen. We both took that risk before, and we were unlucky enough to experience the worst case scenario. We know what it feels like, losing someone you care about like that.

"Until we’re secure here--really secure, and safe--I don’t think I want to take that chance.” He sighs and scratches the side of his head. “What I’m saying is, kissing you, it was an in the moment thing. Don’t think I regret it, because I don’t...I think it’ll be easier on both of us if we keep what we have...what we have. Do you get what I’m saying?”

Although he refused to make eye contact with her the entire time, her eyes are glued on him. “I get what you’re saying,” she says, and, at last, he looks up.

“And...you’re cool with this?”

“Being friends? Of course. We’ve been friends for...seven months. And you’re the one that kissed me, technically.”

“But you led me on. Technically.”

“So?”

“Oh, so you admit it?”

She shrugs. “Maybe...look, I just wanted to try it once, at least.”

“You had a crush on me then? Wow, you probably still have a crush on me.”

“Could you try and not be so...annoying about this?” she asks, slightly irritated, and he laughs. “It’s not funny.”

“You know I’m doing it on purpose, right?” he asks, and he finds that he can’t stop his lips from forming into a large smile. “And it’s funny when you’re embarrassed.”

“Who said I’m embarrassed? Because I’m not.”

“But your cheeks...they’re so red.”

She scoffs loudly and raises her hands to the sky in exasperation. “You know what? I’m going to my room now. Good conversation.”

Her failed attempt at suppressing a smile makes him chuckle softly, and he follows her up the stairs, to the end of last hallway they have to venture to her room. “I’ll see you, Cole. At dinner?” she says as she slides her key into the lock.

“Yeah. And, uh, I hope I didn’t annoy you too much,” he says as she opens the door. She leans her shoulder against the door frame as he stands in the hall, a few people passing by behind him.

“It’s fine.”

“I know you thought it was cute. I can keep going, if you want.” She groans and shakes her head before shutting the door.

2 MONTHS LATER

Cole groans and opens his eyes slowly, the sunlight shining through the window blinding him momentarily. He relishes in the comfort of of the mattress and the blankets covering every inch of his body. He groans at the pounding in his head and yawns, stretching out in the large bed. Unexpectedly, he feels his foot hit something and freezes.

Turning his head to the left, he sees someone lying there. A woman. She lies on her stomach, orange-colored hair lying across her pale-skinned bare back. When she turns her head and her eyes flutter open, he can finally get a good look at her face. Faint freckles riddle her cheeks, and the skin around her bright green eyes crinkles as she smiles at him.

"Good morning," she mumbles.

Cole sits up and says with uncertainty, "Uh, yeah. Good morning." He has no fucking idea who's in his bed right now. She's gorgeous, yes, but no name pops into his head. He thinks is might start with an R...or was it an S? He can't remember.

"You have sexy bedhead," she grumbles, and he laughs nervously. "What's wrong?"

"Oh. Nothing. Y'know, still a little tired." He scratches his head and feigns a yawn.

"Oh, God, you don't have a girlfriend, do you?"

"Nah, nothing like that. A lot of Christmas Eve drinking last night and I'm still kind of out of it...holy shit, it's Christmas isn't it?"

She laughs at him and grabs his hand. He tries to sneakily pull it away, but she's got a strong grip. "Yes, it is our first apocalyptic Christmas."

"That means...there's a big breakfast downstairs, right?" Cole asks.

"Not for another hour. I think that's mighty sufficient time for a little bit of fun, yeah? Do you agree?" She grins slyly and scoots closer. Instead, he stands from the bed and grabs his wrinkled jeans and dark blue T-shirt from the floor.

"Actually, I can't," he says as he hastily pulls on his clothes. The woman gives an exaggerated frown and sits up, propping her head up on her fist. "I've got...stuff to do. Sorry."

"You're no fun, Cole," she complains, and grabs her bra from the foot of the bed. "What about later?"

"Um...Jesus, it's 8:00 already. I told Duke I'd take his watch shift, I gotta go see him and apologize. I'll talk to you later." He forces a smile to to the disappointed, mysterious woman on his bed and speeds out the door, dispersing to the lobby, which is already rumbling with the sounds of people.

As he progresses through the sea of people, shaking hands and muttering "Merry Christmas," he feels someone smack his ass, then hears a faint giggle. "Woah!" he says, and he turns to see Lucy smiling at him. "Did you just...slap my ass?"

"Is that a problem?" she responds.

"I mean, is this a thing now? Spanking me? If that's the case, the deal should go both ways. It's only fair."

"Ha ha. Very cute, but no. Think of it as my way of saying Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you, then," he says, and they walk side by side to the cafeteria, where Joe and some others are preparing as nice of a meal as they can create.

"Why'd you ditch me last night?" Lucy asks as they take a seat at an empty table.

"I got caught up with some things. Yeah. That's what happened." Cole looks down at the table, smiling and pulling at a string that sticks out from the white tablecloth.

"Such a terrible, terrible liar. I saw you leave with that Monica chick."

"Uh, who?"

"Monica. The red head?"

"...So that's her name."

Lucy scoffs. "Don't tell me you ditched me for someone whose name you didn't even know."

"Sorry, sorry. It was a hectic night. Although, I'm free tonight if you are...?"

"How about I think about it?" she teases.

"Oh, come on...I've always got Monica to bounce back on, you know."

"If you can remember her name next time."

"Ooh, good one," he says with a sarcastic smile. Lucy is thinking of another clever retort, but she's cut short when someone calls her name. She groans and turns to see Jake approaching.

"Hey. Your dad wants your opinion on one of my paintings," Jake explains.

"Now? Fine." She says a quick goodbye to Cole, and he sits for a few minutes, fiddling with a napkin on the table.

Once Duke sees that Lucy is out of sight, he approaches Cole at the table. He sets his bottle of water down before he slams his palms on the surface; Cole jumps with surprise.

"Are you serious, man?" Duke says.

"Wh-what the fuck? Are you okay?" Cole asks.

"I'm fine, but you're really fucking with Lucy? Hell naw, man, she's bad news. Didn't she rat you out to her dad? ...I mean, come on, now..."

"Her shit personality has nothing to do with her skills elsewhere. That's all I'm gonna say."

Duke smiles, pulls out a chair, and takes a seat. "I see what you're saying. I see...My boy, growing up so fast.” He wipes an invisible tear from his cheek with his index finger. “I’m just messing with you. But remember man, you gotta be careful with the crazy..."

After the less-than-desirable breakfast--there was barely enough food to feed everyone--Hiro leans his elbows against the concrete ledge of tower 1’s roof. His nose is tinged pink from the cold, and he’s wrapped in layers of clothing that keep his body adequately warm. He taps his foot impatiently, staring out onto the emptiness of the city and the river below on his watch rotation, waiting for Tora to appear. He’d beckoned her to visit him at around this time, but she gave no clear answer. Her annoyance for him was still apparent after two months and, although he wouldn’t admit it, it hurt him to see her look at him with complete detestation for a few weeks.

The door to the roof opens after a few more minutes of tedious waiting, and Tora walks toward the ledge, a hat pulled over her ears and a coat pulled tight over her shoulders.

“Merry Christmas,” Hiro says.

“Yeah,” she mutters. “What is it?”

“It was two months ago, Tora,” he says, wasting no time and reflecting back on his harsh words to her, taunting her struggle with depression.

“I know that. That doesn’t change what you said.”

“You’ve barely said a word to me for two fucking months. That’s not like you. I keep trying to get you to forgive me, but you just won’t. I’m sorry. How many times do I have to say it?”

“Okay, Hiro, there comes a point where sorry isn’t enough when you keep fucking up.” She quickly brushes away the dark hair blowing into her face that blocks her vision. “You’re my brother, and I’ll always love you no matter what, but after twenty years of you not knowing how to fucking grow up, it gets frustrating. And then you keep trying to mend the fence, and it won’t work all the time. You got this same speech from mom and dad, yet you still think saying sorry and admitting your wrongs is all it takes. It’s not, if you keep repeating your shitty actions.” There’s a long silence, only harsh wind whipping past their faces as they wait for the other to say something. Hiro mutters something but Tora can’t hear.

“What?” she asks.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say, okay?” he says at last, and she notices his voice falter at the end of his sentence. He angrily uses his finger to get rid of a lingering tear and turns his face away.

“Are you--are you okay?” Tora asks.

“What do you want me to do? Really? The shit that comes out of my mouth, I don’t mean it half the time. I do things, and I do them for me. I don’t care about the consequences as long as I...I--forget it. I’m done. I was wrong to bring up all that stuff about you and...if you want to ignore me forever, okay. I get it.” She can hardly remember the last time Hiro cried....was it after their dad’s death? She doesn’t know, but seeing it now, she’s at a loss for words.

After a few minutes of quiet and more adjusting to the cold, Hiro says, “Why are you still here?”

“You look lonely.”

“I’m not.”

“Can I just--I want to be here.”

He sighs and shrugs, and she joins him on his watch as they see the first few bits of snow fall. Hiro periodically looks through the scope of his rifle, seeing nothing but infected roaming a few miles out. “Do you know if--” Hiro starts, but then something catches his eye in the scope. He squints and makes out a car speeding down the road, then another, and another. “Woah. Look at that. Cars.” They drive recklessly, following one larger truck through roads leading to the Hyatt. “Oh, shit. I think they’re coming this way.”

“Here?” Tora asks, now alert.

“Yes, here."

"Should we go down?”

“Uh...stay here.” He shoves the sniper rifle in her hands and she stares down at it.

“I don’t know how to use this!”

“Figure it out if you need to.” Hiro rushes down the many flights of steps to the Hyatt’s bottom most floor, and he tries to hide the fact that he’s out of breath from the various passers-by. When he’s near the lobby's front door, there’s a loud honk of a car horn, then a few others follow it. Heads snap toward the entrance, and those keeping watch at the gate stand guard.

“Everyone,” Hiro says. “Just stay where you are.” He exits back out into the cold and observes the row of five black cars lined up a few meters from the gate.

“Yo!” Archie yells from the left side of the gate. “Roll down your windows!” It seems hesitant, but the passenger side window of the car nearest to the gate opens and an arm sticks out, holding a white t-shirt. The person waves it in the air and shouts, “I’m coming out!”

The door opens and two black boots smash into the ground, crushing the small pieces of gravel and glass under it. When the person stands straight, Hiro sees that it’s a woman, brown hair that barely falls to her shoulders, striking blue eyes that take in every detail of the area around her. Her eyes seem to fall on him, but just as quickly, she looks away, instead glaring at the two guards near the gate.

“Jesus Christ, put your weapons down. I’m not armed,” she says. Archie reluctantly lowers his rifle, and the man next to him does the same.

“Wh-who are you?” Archie asks.

“Oh, you don’t know? Alexander must have some explaining to do, then. I’m Roxie.”