Dead Frontier/Issue 120

This is Issue #120 of Dead Frontier, titled ''Invade. ''This is the finale of Volume 20, and the finale of Part Five.

Issue 120 - Invade
Lucy refuses to let herself look up, out of fear of seeing Chloe's body again. She's never seen anything as terrible as that in her life. She shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath in a failed effort to calm herself down. Eventually, she feels a tap on her shoulder; she opens her eyes and looks to her right.

Daniel wears a concerned expression, but behind the fear in his eyes he still looks relatively composed. Definitely more so than anyone else. He has a natural comforting air about him, as if at all times he wants to help everyone in any way he can. "I'm just going around making sure everyone's doing okay," he says. "Are you alright?"

She debates telling him she's not okay--she' s just thinking about how saw someone she knew get their head bashed in my psychopath. But for some reason, she can tell he already knows that, and he's just being considerate. "I'm okay," she says finally, and he gives her a reassuring nod. 'Everything will be alright' he says without really saying anything. "How are you so calm about everything?"

The question appears to take him off guard, and he shifts from his crouch to taking a seat next to her. "It's easy when you're used to stuff like this," he says, and the curious look she gives tells him he should probably clarify. "No, not--this specifically. I mean in general. Being a cop, you see a lot of crazy stuff. Beyond crazy. Stuff that really sticks with you, and it doesn't matter how...terrified you are by it, you still have to be there for people. Because that's your job."

“Couldn’t do that,” she says quietly, almost awestruck.

“Everybody’s got it in them, somehow. If you’ve survived this long, especially.” She’s suddenly preoccupied with the hem of her shirt, twisting it nervously between her thumb and forefinger. He has a good outlook, she has to admit, although it’s very unrealistic. And now, when she feels as hopeless as ever, it’s hard to believe every person has that strength in them, somewhere; a quick glance of the room even confirms it.

“Doesn’t seem practical, I know,” he says, pulling out her thoughts. “But it helps if you think of someone like that, someone you knew. Like my aunt. I wouldn’t be me without her, and I do what I do to...make her proud, I guess.” His last words are more somber than the rest, and his eyes briefly take on a faraway look. “Miss her.”

Their quiet talk ceases for a few moments as the others around them continue on or decide on silence. Daniel relaxes a little more, lets his arms rest against his knees and leans his head back on the wall. He keeps his eyes towards the ground, for good reason. “Who’s yours?” he asks. Before she can ask for clarification, he continues, “My aunt’s like...my model, of who I wanna be. I think we all need someone like that.”

Her mind instantly goes to family; not even close to her favorite topic of conversation. That final thread holding the last of her composure is on the verge of breaking. A deep breath repairs it some, and she fumbles with her words during a period of hesitation. “I don’t--I try not to...think about that,” she says. “As little as I can. I’m sorry--it’s not...anything against you. Just a personal thing, and especially right now--” She cuts herself off and decides not to ramble.

“I can understand that,” he says, and his mind wanders again.

Cole looks at Adam. Pity is probably the last thing he wants, but that’s all Cole’s look can convey. “I--” Cole begins, and the look Adam gives makes him stop.

Cole can’t recall seeing Adam look like this before, and it only takes a second for him to realize it’s because he never has. Adam’s never been one to push his feelings on anyone, especially in times of crisis. A quick “I’m fine” is his usual answer whenever he’s prodded, dealing with whatever he needs to on his own. He could hide, but now--that’s impossible.

Cole doesn’t know what to say. How do you even address pain that heavy? The answer, Cole decides, is that you don’t.

“You okay?” Cole asks hesitantly.

“Yeah," Adam says. He wants to say more, but his voice cracks. He falls into a bitter silence. "You? How's the leg?"

"Can't really feel much. I dunno if that's good or bad."

There's no response on Adam's part; Cole thought some kind of conversation would...pull him out of his grief, at least a little, but it almost looks like he's made it worse. "I'm sorry, man," Cole says at last.

"For what?"

Cole's taken aback by his harshness, and he scrambles for something to say. "Don't feel bad for me," Adam says. "I don't need you to."

"I'm trying to help you out here."

"What can you say that's gonna help me? Bring her back, or get us out of here--that'll help, not some fucking pity party."

Cole finds an irrational anger building up. He's hurting, Adam's hurting--they all are, and as much as he told himself he wouldn't let this situation get to him, it's getting increasingly difficult. And the fact that his best friend feels the need to talk him down isn't helping.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," Cole says sincerely, and he sighs as Adam turns away.

There's a heavy banging on the front door, and Hunter snaps his head around. The wooden door rattles, and he turns back to Tora, who's pressing another rag to Lienne's stomach. Her eyes have closed completely now, but her chest moves up and down with each short breath.

Hunter’s gaze locks with Tora's, and there’s a silent, clear understanding between the both of them.

“I’ll find Jake and Ivy,” Tora says, standing and grabbing a nearby rag to wipe her bloodied hands, “Get her into one of the bedrooms.” She darts away quickly, but Hunter hesitates over Lienne’s body. She looks so fragile, with her pale skin and shaky breaths, that he’s afraid to lay a hand on her. But that incessant banging on the door negates that fear quickly and, as gently as he can, lifts her into his arms.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," he mumbles to her. She's obviously in pain, as she lets out a few labored groans. He proceeds down one of the narrow halls, then turns down another, still not entirely confident in the house’s layout. One of the doors is open slightly, so he kicks it open. The mattress, bed frame, dresser, and nightstands are overturned, along with most of the other furniture.

The only place he can set her is on the floor, muttering a few more useless apologies. “Stay still, okay?” he orders. She can’t provide him an intelligible response; she gasps for air, feeling the blood from her wound spilling out again. “Jesus--fuck!” He knows he should probably stay, but he can hear harsh whispers of his name pouring out from the hall and into the room. He rises to his feet and rushes to the door, where he nearly runs into Tora--Jake and Ivy on either side of her. Their fear multiples once they all get sight of Lienne. Hunter ushers them inside and slams the door shut. Just as he does, there’s a terrible shattering sound; they knew the front door couldn’t defend them for much longer.

“You two--stay back there,” Hunter demands, vaguely gesturing Jake and Ivy to another corner of the room. He grabs Tora by the arm and pulls her over. In his nervousness, his eyes are unable to stay in one place, and sweat drips down his face, even in the coolness of the room. “If he’s in the fucking house, what the hell do we do?”

For the first time during this entire ordeal, Tora looks unsure of herself. That adrenaline has worn off and her eyes sting with the fear of what’s next. “I don’t know,” she says.

Hunter mutters a few curses and runs a hand through his hair as he begins to pace around the room. He has no weapon; that guy has a crossbow. He’s got no flashlight; the house is empty. He’s got three people to protect; it’s likely that whoever this is has no remorse. All odds are against him.

“I’ll go,” he says quietly, keeping an ear out for any noises outside that door. There’s nothing.

“Alone?” Tora asks.

“You stay here with them. I’ll be fine,” he says, mostly as reassurance to himself. “As soon as I leave, barricade that door. Keep them away from the windows.”

He scans the room quickly as Tora returns to Lienne's side. He looks for anything he can use as an impromptu weapon. His sights first fall on a lamp that’s been tossed to the floor. He’s got no time to figure out a better option, so he lifts it off the ground and throws the lampshade. He takes another second to press his ear against the door, but the banging has stopped, and he hears nothing else. Hesitant, but aware of the possible consequences if he doesn’t go through with this, he flings the door open and exits out into the hallway.

As soon as the door shuts, he hears rustling from inside as they work to barricade it. Other than that, the hall is dark and quiet. He's wary of each creaky footstep; he never realized how loud everything in this damn house is. The lamp is nearly slipping out of his sweaty hands, but he keeps his grasp on it as tight as he can as he turns down the first hall.

The lack of light makes it difficult to make out any of the details of where he's going. It only takes a few minutes for the his vision to adjust and, oddly, the sound of his own heartbeat that overwhelmed his hearing earlier begins to fade the longer he proceeds through the house. He repeats reassuring thoughts in his head to calm himself down, and they work--for a moment--until he hears a rugged groan from a faraway area of the house.

"Fucking hell," he whispers almost inaudibly. He follows the sound throughout the halls. The sole infected's grotesque garbling gets a lot clearer, until he's almost certain it's just around the next corner. He freezes, adjusts the grip on the lamp, and takes a deep breath.

He takes a gamble and gives the lamp a firm swing. He feels it hit something, and the groaning stops, replaced with the loud thud of a body. The house is refilled with that eerie silence again, but it's broken just as quickly as it returned.

Hunter is absolutely certain he can hear breathing a few feet behind him.

He drops to the floor immediately, landing on the rotting body of the infected below. An arrow whizzes over his head, and Hunter rises to all fours. He scrambles to away before another arrow can fly. The steps to the second floor are to his left; as quietly as he can, he crawls up the carpeted stairs, grateful that these don't happen to creak.

Dean and Cedric exit the truck, leaving the doors open, and hide behind the bulky vehicle, respective firearms in hand. Cedric can't help but notice how uncomfortable Dean looks holding the small pistol, but at least he's putting in an effort.

The headlights illuminated three figures, obviously no one they know. The rest of their trucks are still parked outside, but their people are no where in sight.

"Did they see us?" Dean asks.

"Like I fucking know. Look, we'll go around back," Cedric orders. A beam of light shines from the inside of the store. The flashlight darts over the truck, but Dean and Cedric keep their heads down and out of sight. When the light suddenly shuts off, Cedric pulls Dean roughly by the arm, and they move in a rushed crouch to reach the end of the store.

"Terrible idea, terrible idea, terrible idea," Dean mutters, and Cedric gives him a slap to the shoulder. They keep their bodies pressed against the outside wall, until Cedric comes across an emergency door. It opens silently, and he and Dean slip inside. A wall of shelves acts as their immediate cover, and they freeze at the sound of angry, hushed bickering. The words are hard to make out, but the echoing click of a gun is all they need to hear.

"Find them," Conner growls, and he shoves the only gun they have into Olivia's hands. His sledgehammer leans against a nearby wall, and he snatches it. Vaughn is left with a small dagger, but really, that's all he needs. Conner grabs one of the lanterns, heads toward the storage room, and swings the door open. The light makes clear the fear on each of their faces, and they cower a little more into their respective corners.

"I'm fucking done--with all of you!" he screams. His face has taken on an even more sinister quality than before--something they didn't know was possible. He lifts the sledgehammer over his shoulder and scans over his choices.

A gunshot from the front of the store makes him hesitate, and he snaps his head around. With a shout, Duke jumps to his feet and rushes toward Conner. Before Conner can swing, he already has him pinned to the ground, and the sledgehammer tumbles to the concrete. "Go!" Duke screams to everyone else, and he punches Conner square in the nose.

Farrah and Lucy scramble out of the room first, as Daniel and Adam lift Cole to his feet, half-dragging, half-carrying him out the door.

There's a sudden gunshot, and Olivia feels a sharp pain in her arm. The pistol falls out of her hands, and she grips the wound on her right arm, where a bullet grazed her. Looking up, Dean stands there, gun shaking violently in his hands. He can hear the familiar shouts of Duke, Adam, and the others, and he knows they must've been captured somehow. And he knows he should pull the trigger. But this girl has some kind of odd innocence about her that prevents him from doing so.

"Please--don't," she says, her voice frail. His finger hovers over the trigger, and she takes a wobbly step forward.

“Stop. Don’t...d-don’t do that,” he says. She doesn’t listen, and he can see her hand slowly inching toward her waist.

He doesn’t fire, but Cedric does, from a few feet behind him. Olivia crumples to the ground with a bullet in her skull, and her body twitches one last time before going motionless, for good. Dean turns to him, but he’s already gone. There are at least two more people they need to take care of, and Cedric’s not about to dwell on one life. Dean gives himself an internal scolding, and then a promise, to never doubt himself like that again.

Duke continues his assault on Conner, but, without food or water for hours, he’s significantly weaker than Conner. Easily, Conner turns him onto his back and smashes his fist into his mouth. Conner regrets it instantly, as pain shoots up his hand and a small cut forms. Duke uses this to his advantage and grabs Conner by the shoulders, tossing him to the left. As he’s down, Duke crawls over to the nearby sledgehammer and grasps it in his right hand.

Conner lifts his head and his eyes widen at the sight of Duke. With animalistic abandon, Duke gives the sledgehammer a swing, and Conner hurries out of the way just in time, allowing the hammer’s head to smack against the ground where he just was. Conner flees out of the room, into the storefront. He panics as he hears Duke pursuing him, but the sight of Vaughn taking on Daniel and Adam with just his knife gives him a little more confidence. Cole curses himself for being a liability, as all he can do is lean against one of the nearby shelves.

Focus never leaving Vaughn, Daniel shouts a muddled order for Adam to get Cole and leave. Adam is reluctant, but he complies, and leaves Daniel to fend for himself. He’s approaching Cole, when he freezes at the smallest bit of movement behind the shelf.

Cole feels an arm clasp around his neck and pull him backward. He reaches for the arm, trying to release the grip of whoever it is, but it’s ultimately a failure as the last of his energy seeps away quickly. Now that Cole’s ended his struggle, Adam can see Conner’s face clearly, and Conner’s able to position his hands to prepare for a quick snap of Cole’s neck. One final kill before Duke can find him.

Adam watches, helpless, no weapon to defend him or Cole. Behind him, he can hear Daniel struggling with Vaughn, and Daniel lets out a pained yell. A gun fires somewhere close by; Adam can’t tell exactly where, but the target is obvious. Conner and Cole both hit the ground. Cole gasps for air, but Conner has a fresh bullet hole in his temple.

Dean stands a few feet behind, mostly concealed by the darkness. A risky shot, but from what he can tell, he got the right guy.

Vaughn takes another lunge with the knife, but Daniel can tell that gunshot has him flustered. Vaughn’s frustration isn’t doing him any good, either. He’s trying too hard to take Daniel out quickly, and he’s making idiotic mistakes, like allowing Daniel a firm shot to his midsection. He bounces back from it quickly, and Vaughn takes another jab with his knife. Daniel grabs his wrist, amused by Vaughn’s sudden look of surprise. He gives his wrist a twist, and the knife falls to the tile. Daniel gives him a swift kick to the shin, and Vaughn collapses onto his knees. In just a few seconds, while never releasing his grip on Vaughn’s wrist, he reaches for the knife, and brings the blade up and into the side of his neck.

Just then, with one of Cole’s arms over each of their shoulders, Adam and Dean rush by, and Duke follows soon behind. Daniel grimaces at Vaughn’s body. He retrieves the knife and wipes the blood on his jeans before following them out to the trucks.

Hunter waits at the top of the staircase, hiding himself behind the wall immediately to his left. His assailant seems to be getting frustrated. Any regard this person had for stealth or cautiousness has disappeared; they stomp through the lower level of the house, rummaging loudly through hall closets and rooms. After a few minutes, Hunter hears that labored breathing make its way toward the bottom of the stairs. He’s at even more of a disadvantage now that that lamp is out of his possession.

The man ascends the stairs slowly, narrowing his eyes in the dark: this is Jack, and Jack is panicking. Two people already got away, and he can only imagine Conner’s reaction when he finds out. He just needs to get this done as quickly as possible; no more stalling, no more torment.

He’s grateful for the quietness of the stairs. He’s already been so loud, and he realizes he should probably tone it down a little. He keeps his finger wavering over the trigger of the crossbow.

He hears a faint shuffling to his left, and he pauses on the stairs. He contemplates heading back down to the ground floor, but if he strategizes here, he’ll be able to get the upper hand. And it could be one of the kids. Easy targets.

He takes a minute to wait on the stairs, listening for another sound. He hears nothing, not even breathing. He’s doubting himself again--something Conner warned him about. He tightens the grip on his crossbow and takes another step, then another.

Something grabs him by the leg and pulls him down. He falls backward, crossbow plummeting down the stairs as he hits his head on one of the steps.

Hunter releases his hold on Jack, and he rolls down the stairs with painful grunts, landing on the ground below in a crumpled heap. But he’s still alive; Hunter can clearly see him crawling toward the crossbow, still loaded with an arrow. Hunter bounds down the staircase and steps on Jack’s hand; he screams, but Hunter doesn’t release the pressure of his boot.

Finally, he does, and Jack brings his gnarled hand close to his chest. Hunter reaches down and grabs him by the hair. For the first time, he notices how young the kid is; probably early 20s. But Hunter’s rage blinds him, and he completely disregards Jack’s youth. Positioning one hand under his chin and the other atop his head, he snaps his neck swiftly.

Ivy is huddled into a far corner, away from where Tora tends to Lienne. She’s finally decided she can’t look anymore. She buries head into her knees, unaware of how much time has passed when Jake scoots next to her. “Are you okay now?” he asks. She can tell he is: his stutter’s barely there, and when she looks up, he has a comforting look in his eyes that she’s never seen before.

“I’m okay,” she says. There’s a short pause. “Is she alive?” Jake nods, and Ivy lets out a relieved sigh. Jake has nothing more to say; he decides it best to deal with this on her own, and he knows he's probably not the best person to provide her with reassuring words.

"Why are you being so nice?" she asks suddenly.

He pauses. "Uh...am I m-mean or something?" he asks.

"Usually."

"How?"

"One time you said you didn't like my hair," she says.

"I'm honest, n-not mean."

"And you said I'm immature."

"Oh. Well--I just...s-say whatever. Sorry."

"I never make fun of your stutter, or your hair."

"What's wrong w-with my hair?" he says, running a hand over his head subconsciously.

"You look like you should be in a boy band."

He scoffs. "M-maybe I can sing, you don't know," he says.

"No, you can't."

"Guys," Tora says from the other side of the room. She puts a finger to her lips, and they snap their mouths shut. Jake gives Ivy a reassuring smile, and, to her surprise, she finds her anxiety lessening a little more.

They continue to wait, hopeful of Hunter’s return. They jump, turning their heads to the door, when they hear a loud thud from somewhere inside the house. Not soon after, a scream shatters the silence, and all is quiet again. It didn't sound like Hunter from what they could tell, but when, after a few minutes, he still doesn't return, their hopes aren't lifted.

There's another bang, this time louder, and the dresser blocking the door rattles. "It's me, it's just me!" Hunter shouts from outside. Tora rushes to the door, beckoning Jake for his assistance. Together, they slide the dresser across the floor, cringing as the legs screech against the hardwood. When it's moved far enough, Jake opens the door and Hunter stands with his trophy in hand: that crossbow, arrow still loaded.

Ooooo, kill 'em.
Twenty volumes down, four more to go. Thanks, y'all. :)