Dead Frontier/Issue 129

This is a preview for Issue #129 of Dead Frontier, titled Denver. This is the third issue in Volume 22. The entire issue is planned to be posted the week of November 11, 2013.

Issue 129 - Denver
Lucy hears him scream.

It’s torturously vivid.

She picks up her pace in response, out the house’s yard and into a reckless street. People mill around in confusion; others run, like her. A group of men with guns fire wildly into a mass of infected. A group of unarmed people is huddled behind them, and Lucy soon figures out they’re being protected, hopefully led somewhere safe.

She sneaks herself into the unarmed group, jogging alongside a man with long dark hair. “Do you know...where they’re taking us?” she asks between heavy breaths. The man looks to her, blue shadows under his eyes, and a flash of recognition crosses his face.

“Oh. Hey there,” he says a bit too cheerfully. He’s quick to realize Lucy doesn’t know who he is. He wouldn’t really expect her to, either, with the current situation. “You don’t remember me? I’m offended.”

She takes a second to think. “Sleeptalker guy?” she guesses. She vaguely remembers him apologizing to her and Cole throughout the night for his uncontrollable muttering. Night terrors, he proclaimed.

“Yeah. Andrew."

"Lucy."

"I've got...no idea where they're takin' us. I'm just following along. They've got the guns and I don't." She doesn't look to be in the mood for talking, with her bloodshot eyes and barely noticable tracks of tears. But he needs to do something to keep himself together. "You seen these things before?"

"I've heard about them but...n-no. Not before this," she says. She has to raise her voice over the screaming and gunshots, but even then Andrew can barely hear her. He opens his mouth to respond, but they stop short as the crowd before them comes to a halt. There's an obnoxious series of honks, and from down the road a convoy of large trucks, covered in military-style camouflage, run over some of the infected with ease. They brake suddenly, and, from each one, a figure in a dark uniform slips out of the driver's seat. They head around to the back of the trucks and open up the heavy doors.

People are ushered inside, as more men with guns exit the trucks and fire into the steadily approaching herd. Lucy, her arm instinctively locked around Andrew's, follows him into the back of one of the vehicles. The interior is so much larger than what she would have expected, and she slides in close next to a shivering man and woman, arms wrapped around each other. The truck is filled quickly, with armed and unarmed alike, until the space is uncomfortably cramped.

People throw out questions to the uniformed men, but they go unanswered, and the doors are soon slammed shut. There’s no light, but it doesn’t take long for anyone’s vision to adjust to the dark. Nervous mumbles mix in with gunshots and the truck’s overly-loud engine.

“H-hey,” Andrew says. “I think they might be taking us to Denver.” He’s still breathing hard, and sweating, from that unexpected amount of running.

Lucy looks up at him. “How do you know that?” she asks.

“The uniforms. Look at that guy.” He points to one of the uniformed men, a rifle sitting in his lap. His face is stoic as he looks at one of the truck’s walls. “The--the insignia on his arm. They’ve all got it. I fuckin’ had one when I lived there. They’re a part of the...I guess you’d consider it their National Guard or some shit. Surprised they’re helping us…” He says that last part a little louder than the rest, and the uniformed man gives him a quick glance. The man turns away soon after.

Andrew notices that Lucy doesn’t look surprised by this revelation. Or excited or relieved. She’s completely impassive, and Andrew tries to read her. “Oh. Oh, shit,” he says, once he realizes Cole’s absence. He runs a hand through his hair, then scratches his head. This seems to elicit the first semblance of emotion he’s seen from her today. “Man...don’t tell me that Pruitt guy…” He trails off, hit with a pang of sadness he hasn’t felt in so long. All because of a stranger, a guy he barely knew. Lucy’s look isn’t making it any better.

He can practically see every emotion cross her face in those few seconds it takes for the last of her resolve to disintegrate. Absolute rage. Denial. He can’t remember the last time he saw grief that heavy. It doesn’t take long for her cover her face with her palms, all eyes in the truck turning to her as she begins to weep loudly.

Andrew’s unsure of what to do. He hesitates, then pulls her into a hug. She doesn’t react to it, it doesn’t make her feel better in the slightest, but she accepts it.

Heidi Kastner watches a row of television monitors. She struggles to keep her face emotionless, but her eyes give away every ounce of her anxiety. Clusters of screaming infected terrorize the area right outside Denver’s walls, and a few trucks are returning, presumably with residents of the Outskirts.

She has no idea what to do.

She sent those trucks out to rescue whoever they could when word got to her about the herd. What makes it so much worse is that this isn’t a normal herd, the ones they’re so used to, but one composed mostly of this...new breed she doesn’t even know what to call. She’s suddenly rethinking her decision. She knows letting these rejects back in here isn’t going to sit well with half the population, but leaving them to fend for themselves wasn’t even an option; there’s no way they would be able to, with their meager armory and overflow of deplorable citizens.

“Open the gates. Let them in,” she orders, surprised by the steadiness in her voice. A few men behind her scramble out the door on their left.

Natesh Verma, a large man with a well-groomed moustache, takes a step forward. He looks over Heidi’s shoulder, at the monitors, and gives his head a slight shake before exiting the room as well.