Dead Frontier/Issue 136

This is a preview for Issue #136 of Dead Frontier, titled Riot. This is the fourth issue in Volume 23. The entire issue is planned to be posted by November 29, 2013.

Issue 136 - Riot
Adam's body ceases movement as he watches Duke twitch and writhe on the floor. The white tile is soon slippery with blood, and Adam rushes toward him, although their pursuit hasn't ended. "Adam!" he hears Daniel shout. The call is futile, as Adam ignores it completely.

"Oh shit, man," Adam mutters. On his knees by Duke's side, the feeling of his jeans soaking with blood makes him want to gag. Paired with the ugly bullet wound in Duke's throat and the torpid, dejected quality his eyes have taken on, Adam knows Duke will be dead in a matter of seconds. But right now, he's still breathing. "All three of them, we're gonna get them out, alright?" Adam nods, but it's a gesture that Duke doesn't have enough energy to reciprocate.

A bullet shatters the cement of the wall to Adam's left--his cue to continue his escape. A quick look up reveals not much space remains between him and those soldiers, so he speeds to his feet and slips around the nearby corner, out of view. Daniel waits for him there, eyes in a frenzy, and he pulls Adam by the sleeve to urge him along. "Elevator, elevator, elevator!" Daniel says in a harsh whisper. He smashes the button with his thumb repeatedly. It rises, the numbers on the display above increasing. But it's taking too long.

The door slides open, and they hurry inside. Adam hits the 'Close Door' button rapidly. Their metal barrier slams shut just as a round of pounding footsteps are heard turning into the corridor.

Adam presses his back against the wall, breathing heavily. He impatiently removes his bloodied stolen lab coat and tosses it to the ground in a wrinkled heap. He manages to hold in every vulgar remark he's ready to unleash, and he instead lets his rage boil in silence.

He realizes the elevator is ascending. "There's still one floor we haven't been to yet," Daniel explains without Adam having to ask. If they're hoping to find Ivy, this is their last chance.

Jake and Lienne have since departed to her suite, where the mood is still sour but sufficiently less hostile. Lienne stares at the streets below, hands clenched around the windowsill. Struggling people are escorted out of their homes and forced into trucks. They all have the same gray-toned skin and exhausted expressions. She's just grateful she hasn't come down with whatever sickness is going around. She takes a glimpse at Jake sitting at the couch behind her. He's not showing any of the symptoms either, much to her delight.

He's barely said a word to her; just a few curt responses here and there when she asks how he's been. His mind is clearly wandering elsewhere, his thoughts taking a turn for the absolute worst. He notices her looking and meets her gaze with some hesitance. He nearly forgot about those bandages on her arms, but seeing them again piques his interest further. "Hey," he calls as she's turning back to the window. A geniuine look of surprise flashes across her face at his beckoning.

"Yeah?" She turns fully and props herself up on the windowsill.

"What's with the...the b-bandages?" He pats the skin of his forearm.

Lienne lifts her arm slightly and looks down at the sloppily-wrapped fabric. "I don't like the scars so...I cover 'em up."

"Why can't you just wear l-long sleeve shirts?"

She laughs shortly. "This just seems more...official. With a shirt I can just roll my sleeves up, but with this it's more like they're really gone. Like I can heal them, I guess." She pauses, her eyes flickering from his to a random spot across the room. "I know it's dumb and they're still gonna be there if I take these off but..." She shrugs, and the last of her response doesn't come.

"B-but it helps, I'm guessing. Which is good," Jake says. Silence overtakes their conversation, and Jake clears his throat. "I thought about it a few times, honestly." At the end of his sentence, his voice falters, but the hitch is barely noticeable. "The b-bullying got really bad at one p-point, and I didn't know what else to do. But I never like, tied the noose o-or put a gun to my head or anything."

As far as he knows, her life was normal, besides the fact that she was a foster kid. She seems relatively happy, too--he can't figure out how she'd reached a point so low that she actually wanted to end it. "Why'd you do it?" he asks.

She releases a tired sigh and shifts her body uncomfortably. "Because I knew I wasn't the type of person that was meant to live this long," she says. "I told myself I didn't want to live this long. I chickened out--changed my mind--and here I am. Made it farther than I thought." She grabs a flimsy piece of the bandage and twirls it absently between her fingers. "Now I can feel myself going back to that same place and I really don't want to." Her eyes are growing moist, but she has enough self-control left to not cry. Especially not in front of him.

"Sorry," he says. These really aren't his types of situations, and it's the only adequate response that comes to mind. She forces a sad smile and slides off the windowsill.

"I'm gonna get myself together before this gets really bad," she says with a dry laugh. She wipes at her eyes hastily; without giving him another look, she slips into her bedroom.