Dead Frontier/Issue 100

This is Issue #100 of Dead Frontier by Walkerbait22, titled ''Hurt Locker. ''This is the fourth issue in Volume 17.

Issue 100 - Hurt Locker
Cole can't even begin to guess how long he's been in this room. Maybe it's a result of his anxiety, but if it hasn't been hours it sure feels like it. He paces from one end to another for the umpteenth time, tries again to open the door--only to find it locked, as expected. He's not even sure why they have him here. He has no information to give, and if they wanted to kill him he assumes they would have done it already. On the one hand, he's lucky they haven't murdered him yet; on the other, they have to be keeping him for something, and he doesn't want to know what.

Attempting to make sense of the situation isn't him doing him any favors, but only makes him more stressed. Answers are all he wants, and just when it seems like he won't be getting any for another long while, the door opens, revealing two people, one of which he doesn't know: a stern-faced man with a dark beard. The other person, however, is someone he knows too well, although he's never been face to face with her until now.

The door closes behind them, and Roxie steps forward, and Cole instinctively presses his back against the nearest wall. Walter stays near the door, his fists clenched at his sides, and Cole makes careful note of the gun holstered at his hip. But compared to Roxie, his presence is insignificant. She walks to Cole with her hands clasped behind her back and stops only when she's a few inches away from him, her face close to his.

"What's your name?" she asks simply, not the slightest bit of malice in her voice. She sounds like anyone else would asking that same question, but he doesn't reply. She can't tell if his silence is out of fear or disrespect, but either way, it doesn't sit right with her. "I'm not going to stand here as you give me the silent treatment. So I'll ask you again to tell me who you are. What's your name?"

"Why am I in here?" he asks, and it's a response that Roxie rewards with a swift punch to the stomach. He begins to double over in pain, but Roxie grips him by the throat and pushes him backward into the brick wall. "Sorry--I'm...Cole," he says through quick gasps for breath, and she reluctantly releases her hold on his neck.

"Thanks. Your friend didn't want to tell us."

Cole's heart instantly falls, the pain in his stomach now forgotten. "What?"

"She didn't want to tell us anything. Really stubborn." She notices his expression darken. "What's the matter?" she taunts. "Wanna know who? Well, she wouldn't tell me what her name was, but I think I can do a pretty good job of describing her. About 5'7, 5'8, I'd guess around 20, blonde, blue eyes. She's a really pretty girl. Oh, yeah, the look on your face is really telling me you know who I'm talking about."

"Don't do anything. Please."

"No, no, no, I'm going to do something, definitely. You can't come here, destroy the place, and expect me not to do anything about it. I've spent a long time building what I have here, making these people who they are, and now it's gone and most of them are dead. Because of the fucking Hyatt Regency hotel. And you're going to pay the price on behalf of everyone there, okay? Okay."

"You're wasting your time."

"No, this is actually a really great way to spend my time. But I kind of have to deal with the fact that my camp was just assaulted by a bunch of assholes. So here's what's going to happen. My friend Walter back there is going to let you see this girl you're about to fucking cry your eyes out over. And then he's going to gut her in front of you. Or the other way around, I don't know, it's his choice. It's really simple."

Cole is at a loss for words, and Roxie takes that as a good sign. She pats him on the cheek and walks back to Walter. "This is all you now," Roxie says. "Tell me how it goes. Oh, and the girl is two rooms down." She then leans in close, her voice down to a whisper. "When I come back I wanna hear all about it, so make it good." He nods, and she's out the door.

Almost immediately after Roxie left, Walter did as well, leaving Cole alone once again. Now, instead of pacing, he sits on the hard ground, completely defeated. Just the thought of what's to come makes his chest tighten, his blood go hot, and his stomach churn violently. And this time, he doesn't have to suffer with his own thoughts for long, because Walter is back soon, his grip tight on Billie's arm. Behind him, two men stand with rifles slung across their shoulders. She stumbles into the room after he pushes her in, but she quickly regains her balance. Her heart jumps at the sight of Cole, but with three armed men in the doorway, she stays frozen in her position, glaring at them.

"Have some fun playing catch up," Walter says. "Should be fun talking about your imminent deaths, right? Don't worry, though, I'll be back once I decide how I want to do this." He leaves the room, slamming the door shut. His absence means the loss of any immediate panic, so Cole and Billie waste no time embracing the other tightly.

The only obvious injury he can see is her split bottom lip, which has leaked a tiny bit blood onto her chin. "Holy shit, you're not hurt," she says, disbelieving. "They told me they did all of this shit to you--but you're okay, thank God."

"I'm fine. What happened to you?" he asks, pulling away but still keeping his grip on her shoulders.

"She punched me. Fucking bitch. But that's all. I'm fine."

Now that he knows she's relatively unharmed, his initially worry disappears, and his expression quickly switches to one of anger. "Why the hell are you here? I didn't need you to come back for me."

"I wasn't going to leave you here to die, Cole. Me, Jake, and Adam came back. I--I don't know what happened to them, but all three of us came back to get you."

"Why? It wasn't worth it, now you're here, and we're both dead. Both of us. Fucking great." He leans his back against the wall.

“If it was me, if I was in your same position, would you have left me here?” she asks. He just sighs, a response that’s not to her liking. “Would you?”

“You know I wouldn’t.”

“Ok, then. So you know why I did it. And I fucked up and got caught. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for coming to my rescue. Just...God damn it, this is so fucked up. Do you know what she said she’s gonna do? Did she tell you?” She gives a quick shake of her head. “This is it, do you realize that?”

“Cole, it’s not--”

“It is. Everything we’ve ever worked for, trying to survive this long, all out the fucking window now. That shithead with the beard is gonna kill us both, and that’s it. No one at the Hyatt will ever know, and we’re just gonna be...dead. And it’s not even about me. It’s the fact that you, you’re here, when you don’t have to be, and I have to sit and wait in fucking agony for whatever’s going to happen to you. God damn it, Billie...” He smacks the wall with the palm of his hand, and then slumps down against the wall. He holds his head in his hands, in a state she’s never seen him in before, and she’s seen him at his best, his worst, and everything in between.

“And this--this is different,” he says, lifting his head, angrily wiping a few tears from his face. “This is different than anything else because I know it’s fucking over now. It’s like a suckerpunch in the face, knowing it’s all fucking over, and then you wait for the final blow. The one that knocks you out. And--oh my God, I can’t do this. Can’t fucking do it.”

Knowing her words will be no help to him, she just takes a seat on the floor to his left, and lies her head on his shoulder. “It’ll be...fine,” she says. “We can find a way out, do something.”

“Door’s locked, we’ve got nothing to defend ourselves with, and they’ve got the big guns. Odds not really in our favor right now.”

“Then you want to give up?”

“I really don’t know right now. I just don’t.” He gives a deep sigh, leans his head back, and looks up at the ceiling.

“...and then one of the guys shot him. Bullet went straight through his neck. Saw it happen,” Billie says, recounting for Cole Luke’s sudden death, and the tightness in his stomach only escalates with each word. She still has her head set on his shoulder, eyes locked on the blank wall in front of her.

“Jesus...I’m sorry. Did somebody...put him down?” Cole asks.

“Duke did.”

“I--I’m sorry, I dunno what to say. Where’d you guys go after?”

“We were in the middle of a fucking war, we had no other choice but to leave him there. So we did,” she says softly. “But the back gate eventually opened, we took out the guys that came through, and went in that way. After that, it went as planned. We killed a lot of them, searched the place, Griffin called for us to fall back. Me, Adam, and Duke waited for you guys to come out--we didn’t see you, and Duke was getting more anxious. But then we saw Jake, Tora, and Chloe. Jake was the only one that stopped long enough for us to talk to him, and he told us you and Alec were still here. Duke didn’t want to come back, so it was only me, Adam, and Jake.”

“And where are they?”

“No idea. We...compared to the three of us, we were still outnumbered. We got separated, long story short, got cut off by this group of guys. And now I’m here and I don’t know where they are.”

“Shit...all just went bad didn’t it?”

“When doesn’t it?” she says. “And this is the time it really goes to shit...and I just want to get it over with.”

“You just want to...die, that’s it?”

“When I know it’s only a matter of time, I’d rather have it done now than sitting here...I don’t know, maybe this is my big karma moment. I fucked up so much since this entire undead crap started, and this is how it comes to bite me in the ass. And I must’ve fucked up so much that not only is it me that has to sit here and suffer right now, but I have to watch it happen to you, too.”

“But you’re not a fuck up. Don’t say that.”

“Whatever. You know it’s true. My whole entire existence has been defined by just this one year, Cole, and so has everyone else’s. This last year has been when everyone realizes who they really are, how selfish you can be, or how heartless. And I’m not a good person. I know that now.”

“But who is a good person anymore, honestly?” he asks.

“I don’t--I don’t fucking know, okay, I just know that I wish I could have went out...someone different. I mean, look at Adam, and you, too. You just--you can still crack a joke when everything’s going wrong, you can forgive people. God...you’ve forgiven me for shit I can’t even forgive myself for.”

She doesn’t even have to say it. Hannah’s and Finn’s deaths, the single day that destroyed both of them, a single day burned into their minds, one they’re unable to forget, and here she is, believing he, at one point, blamed her for it. He turns to her, and she picks her head up. She’s not sure how she hasn’t fallen victim to tears yet, and she looks at him, waiting in anticipation for whatever it is he has to say.

“If there’s one thing I ever want you to know, it’s that I never put the blame on you for that. I never even thought about blaming you for it. And if I could change what happened, and have her be here, or him, but it meant losing you for the last six months, I wouldn’t do it. Because there’s a reason you’re still here, okay?” She manages to nod, but before she can burst into tears, she gives him a hug, one she’s fully aware could be one of her last and cherishes it for what it is. A simple hug.

After another half hour, they sit in the same spot, his arm placed over her shoulder. They’ve both composed themselves and sit in silence. When the door opens, neither gives much of a reaction as they’ve both accepted their ends. Cole just closes his eyes and sighs when he sees Walter, along with another man, enter the room, closing the door behind them.

“Show time,” he says with a smile, but it’s eerily sinister when matched with the rage cloaking the rest of his face. “I decided, and Roxie said she wanted something really good. Something I could tell her about, since she, sadly, couldn’t be here.”

“Now here’s the thing,” he continues, pacing around the room as the man stands in the corner, silent. “We don’t need you. You’re not an asset to us. We don’t need to get information out of you, and even if we did, you probably wouldn’t give it up anyway. But what you and your buddies did today is destroy everything Roxie’s been working for for a year. You come here, and you murder people I care about and destroy where I live.

"You know I found one of my friends in the infirmary supply closet, a bullet straight through his head? He was defenseless, injured, and one of you just shot him. And my other buddy, yeah, known him the entire time I’ve been here, shot right in front of me. Begged me to save his life, but I couldn’t. Bullet hit him in the heart, and there was too much shit going on for me to do anything about it. So he’s dead now. And so is 80% of everyone who lived here because of you.

“That doesn’t sit right with me. If someone does me wrong, I don’t let it slide. That’s not how I am. So I’m gonna give you a little taste of how I’m feeling right now. You wish I could send you back to your little fucking hotel where you can drink your coffee and watch TV and lounge in your deluxe fucking suites, but I can’t. So you’re going to feel, hopefully, at least a little of this rage I don’t even know how I’m keeping in right now. Sound good?”

He takes a few steps forward, and crouches down in front of them. He gaze flicks between them both, taking in their stiff body language, and notices their hands are locked together. “How. Fucking. Cute,” Walter says. “Why are you shaking, man? You angry? Afraid? What if I said I was going to kill her? Would you...would you give me the ‘Don’t you touch her or I’ll rip your balls off’ speech?” he adds with a chuckle.

“All I’m going to say is fuck you, because I’m not wasting my breath trying to change your mind,” Cole says.

“Oh, wow, he wants to die with some dignity. That’s nice.”

It takes every ounce of self control Cole has not to retaliate in some way, whether it be verbally or physically. He just looks to Billie, and puts a hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry I made you think you had to come here, I’m so--I'm just...sorry,” Cole’s nearly in tears by this point, and Walter responds with an eye roll.

“I was gonna do this differently, but you piss me off, guy. Ricky, can you hold him so he doesn’t try shit.”

The man in the corner, who watches with an indiscernible expression, steps forward. Before he can lift Cole from the ground, though, Billie squeezes Cole's arm and says a simple, “It’s okay.”

The man lifts Cole from the ground; he winces as his arms are twisted behind his back and he’s pulled to the wall. He’s kept in the man’s grasp as Walter’s focus is turned on Billie. He wastes no time getting down to business; he grabs her by the throat, and she gasps, clawing at his hand to remove his grip. But he’s too strong, too big, and too angry.

He lifts her from the floor. “What the hell did you get yourself into, girl?” he asks. He loosens his grip just a bit, and she inhales as much air as she can. “What the hell are you doing, anyway? How old are you?”

“Nineteen. I’m nineteen.”

“Nineteen? Not even out of your teenage years and you don’t even look the slightest bit scared of me.”

“Because I’m not,” she lies, but it’s still slightly convincing to him.

“Really? But a grown man over here is shaking in his boots?” he says, gesturing to Cole.

“That’s what it looks like. But do whatever you need to. Whatever makes you feel better. If killing both of us does that, then go ahead.” Her voice is calmer than anyone would expect, but near the end, it falters just a little.

“I’m glad you feel that way. Makes things a whole lot easier for me.” He grins just a little as he retrieves his knife, and she catches her breath when he presses the tip of the blade against her stomach.

But then he stops, his shiver-inducing stare placed on Cole. He completely releases his hold on her throat, and instead punches her in the stomach. She doubles over with a cough, but he lifts her up, and gives her a hard smack to the cheek that causes her to hit the floor.

“How does that feel?!” Walter screams in Cole’s face, spittle flying from his mouth. “How does it fucking feel?!” Cole slams his eyes shut, refusing to witness what’s to come, but he can hear every single second of it.

Billie hears a crack as Walter slams the toe of his boot into her side. She coughs uncontrollably as she tries to get her breath back, but each kick brings her back to square one. He finally stops, breathing heavily, and wipes some sweat from his eyebrow. He bends down and lifts her up by her arm. “Fine. Don’t...watch,” Walter says to Cole, whose eyes are still clamped shut.

Billie feels the pressure of the knife blade digging into her stomach. She doesn’t shout, doesn’t feel as much pain as she thought she would. Maybe it’s the adrenaline, or maybe it’s because she feels that it’s her time. But she’d take all the pain in the world if it meant the same didn’t happen to Cole, if it just meant he was spared and didn’t have to be here, but she’s defenseless now. Then she feels the knife plunge into her chest, the blood quickly filling her lungs, making breathing nearly impossible. Walter lets her hit the ground, wipes the bloody knife on his pants, and replaces it back in his weapons belt.

He walks to Cole, and stands a few inches to his left. “Look,” Walter says quietly. “Look.”

Cole opens his eyes, feels his knees go weak instantly at the sight of her, and closes them again. “How’s it feel?” Walter asks again. “Feels fucking terrible, doesn’t it? She’s gonna turn, too. Maybe she’ll save me the trouble of killing you. We’ll see.”

As soon as the man lets him go, Cole falls to his knees, opening his eyes for good this time. Billie’s lies on her back, chest unmoving, her white shirt now dyed a dark crimson. He hasn’t even realized Walter and the man have left. He just crawls over to her body, wondering what he can possibly do. But there’s nothing at all. He starts to sob, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against hers.

Cole sits against the wall, his face blank, Billie’s head in his lap. Her eyes are closed, but he looks forward, staring at nothing in particular, his mind wandering. He’s thought about destroying her brain so she doesn’t turn, but he can’t find the will to move.

And then he feels her stir. It was only a matter of time, and he’s still not sure if he can bury his cowardice and get it over with. No knife, no gun. Walter forced him to get messy. He scoots away, setting her on the ground as her eyes start to open. He makes himself stand, and uses the wall to keep himself steady. He feels dizzy, ready to collapse at any second with the stress of it all, but he stands over her.

Her eyes are now a dull grey instead of that piercing blue he’s so used to seeing. He raises his boot over her head, is ready to bring it down, but he can’t; he just stomps on the ground next to her and shouts. He balls up his fists, smashes them into the cement wall.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry, I can’t...” he mutters.

She growls, struggling to sit up, sensing flesh nearby. He wasted his chance. She’s turned. He was the only one responsible for preventing it, but it’s his own fault she has. More angry at himself than anything, he stands over her again, breathing hard. He lifts his foot again.

And he brings it down.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

Sobbing.

He turns his head away, refusing to look at the sight. He stumbles away, turns to the corner, and vomits until his throat burns. Lightheaded, his stomach empty, he falls onto his back, disregarding the fact that his hands are soaked with blood and covering his face with them anyway, alone again.