Slipping down the bench onto the ground, he leaned his tired head against the seat and stared at his sleeping daughter, her beautiful face marred by dirt and tears, a face that belonged to the only piece of his heart that he had left, having felt the terrible break that shattered within his breast not more than a week ago when it all fell apart. That beautiful face, those cat eyes draped with dark hair, that slender form of a girlish youth yet harvested by the dregs of time, now faced with her father, the uncertain future of futile efforts and harrowing losses that would plague them for long yet to come, if that future would even come. The only way was...to survive...
the fire
...survive.
II.
Franklin Ferro, known to his friends as Frank Freddy, to the FED's as Frankie Two Irons, Frankie The Crow, a man who'd never had qualms about killing. This of course was a sad statement for the FBI, as Frank never killed an innocent person in his life, of course the lines of innocence are drawn differently by one person after another, he followed one of the most basic rules handed down wiseguy to wiseguy in what he and his called "This Thing of Ours" and that was to keep the killing amongst their own kind...it was always simple, take a vow, get your button, don't break the vow, and if you break a rule, break it right or guys like Frank Freddy would be the last you'd ever see before the devil carried you to Sheol.
It wasn't the life he'd wanted but given the history, he was one of the few who had no choice in the matter...a nine year old boy abandoned outside a Loftmart Superstore in the middle of a southern California desert hovel like Yucca Valley, with his twin sister Fiona, was not a prime candidate for a cushy lifestyle. No, that day mom left them both to find for themselves was the day that birthed a survivor, a killer...it all began when four men pulled up in a van, snatching the two off the road, a night filled with depravity and agony that found the two young children once more left on the side of the hot desert road. Scarcely able to move naught but his right arm, Frankie crawled to his sweet twin and held her in her final breaths before someone would dare stop and offer help. The last time he'd ever be near her...to this day he could not find what paupers grave they'd given her, no picture, nothing but a tiny little keepsake being a torn piece of her shirt sleeve when the paramedics had tried to separate them that one final time. Since then, he'd found himself escaping sexual abuse in a children's home in Chicago, to living on the streets of New York... his only ace card was the fact that not only was he full blooded Italian, but that he spoke fluent in the dialects of his grandparents on both sides, mother being Sicily and father from Naples. He had grown hard, rough, and with the edge to do what ever it took to survive.
At age thirteen he met Jean Capolongo, brother of John Capolongo who in six years would become the Boss of the most prestigious family in New York, thus officially becoming the Capolongo family. Floracuzo family enforcer Ercole de Fitti had introduced him to Jean as a prospective look out for the girls that walked Mason Ave at night to make those dollars these mobsters coveted so dearly. All he had to do was whistle if comes were rolling down the road, or shout off if a customer was getting too rough with one of the girls. De Fitti would have made Frankie a Floracuzo associate had he not been pinched by the FED's for trafficking speed, then been taken for a ride the moment he was free... a term meaning to be taken somewhere and killed... Ercole was not a talker, but Dominic Floracuzo was young, ruthless, and sure as hell not taking any chances. The Santana's and the Croface's were not seeing eye to eye with anyone associated with the Capo's or the Floracuzo's so going there was not an option, and the Marlomarese didn't even know he existed, so Jean was the only friend Frankie could turn to for work...
Ferro quickly rose through the ranks of the Capolongo associates, even marveling at the great year he had when he met Sophia Santana, half sister of Freddy Santana (often called Freddy Spictana) cause American Italians associated the name Santana with Spanish ancestry, but the name had originated in Sicily long before Spain, then Mexico, and Latin America. John and Jean warned that Frankie should choose someone else cause the girl was only half Italian and no respecting family would take a Half-Ginzo like his son would be, but Frank didn't care, an Italian girl with milky white skin, and Irish green cat eyes like Sophia's was too good to pass up.
They married, and the same year his son was born, so were his twin nephew and niece, children of Freddy Santana, who ended a century long feud by naming Dominic Floracuzo godfather to his son, and Diego, (Dominic's younger brother) Godfather to his daughter. The Capolongo and Floracuzo's stropped arguing with the Santana's and Croface families. The Five families got peace and watched amused as the world believed the mafia dead, when in truth, only the weaker fucks went down. A great year indeed for the families, and now Freddy who'd joined the Santana's and even became Freddy's underboss shortly after the commission opened the books finally.
His only shame at the time had been knowing the truth of his nephew and niece, the nights Frank and Karen, (Freddy's wife) spent alone together, knowing full well they were not in love, but wanted to sate their lust with each other...the only time he'd ever been unfaithful to Sophia.
The world seem to fall apart when Freddy was arrested by the FBI on RICO violations and to keep a distance between the media frenzy that followed and the family, Frankie was ordered to give Vinny Gallo the reigns of the family as acting boss, and to remain as Vinny's underboss for the time being. As soon as Gallo learned that Frank was calling the real shots while he was simply a lightning rod for the FED's, Vinny had two of Frankie's closest friends killed and set out a hit for Frankie as well...
Seeing this coming, Ferro took off for Southern California, strangely where all his hell began, in Twentynine Palms and Wonder Valley were he could hide with Sophia, Lexi who had just turned eighteen, and their seven year old daughter Amber. Their son, who'd disappeared to San Francisco a year ago following a fight they'd had about his sexuality and desire to change his gender, refused to hide with them while a feud played out between the factions until the FBI cleaned up a few broken records, and all could be set back in line...Frank couldn't help but worry that the day was fast approaching that federal agents would haul him away for his own trial that would leave him in prison for the rest of his life...he could see his daughters futures now "Growing up Ferro" reality TV spectacles.
These worries went up in flames the morning Frank came home to sleep off a hangover after spending a night drinking with the Marines at a farewell party on Sun Valley Dr...noon approached and he was jolted from his sleep by the sounds of screaming outside of his window.
No fucking way!!!
His mind shrieked
They didn't find me, and they'd never go after the girls! We have RULES!!!
He jumped from his bed pistol in hand and ran outside to the last sight he'd ever have of his beautiful Sophia and sweet Amber.
Sophia was lying lifeless on the faux grass lawn with her eyes wide open and hallow, Amber's small form was lying over her mother, her pale jaw gnawed into her mothers flesh before she turned a sickly torn half face towards her father and with a gruttled death groan and stalked towards him. A bullet rang out striking her behind in the skull dropping the blood covered youth near her dead mother. A young marine named Oswald, from the party last night, held the rifle, catching eyes with the stricken Franklin, seeming to call out to Frank who stood unhearing, unmoving, as he watched helpless. His eyes scanning over the scene down the road sloping south on Two Mile to behold many that looked like his daughter did attacking the frightened and panicked, Oswald was shooting the attacking hordes with impressive precision.
The images from the countless movies and comic books flashed in his mind watching the horror with breathless stoic motion. "No." he whisper "No...impossi...no...not...this...not this."
Frank's fears were brought to reality as he looked down to see his wife rising from her corpse state with empty hunger in her dead eyes, narrowed on him for only seconds before she dropped with the loud blast from Oswald's rifle.
"FUCK!" Frank shrieked raising his pistol in Oswald's direction who had not a moment to react before Franklin fired three shots dropping the young Marine half dead, to be covered by the attacking dead, devouring his flesh as he died.
...
the fire
...
Frank heard shrieks from his car just a few feet away to see Lexi in the back seat with the windows up, and two attacking walkers trying to get in. Taking his breath deep and painful down his chest, Frankie raced towards the attackers and fired into their bodies, too absent of mind at first to remember the aim must be hire, as they turned towards him. Firing again he dropped em both and ran into the 99 Blue Saturn his daughter was hiding in, unable to get her to look up at him, he smashed the passenger side window in and climbed inside, to start the motor...
"LEXI! LEXI!" he yelled for her attention "Shit!" he cursed at his unsuccessful attempts to get her to acknowledge him, so he gunned it in reverse and sped off, going left on Adobe, to find the entire desert town in the throws of the horror. The chubby guy that worked the fast food drive through down the road was swinging a heavy bat at all the risen that came at him, only to be tackled down and devoured.
Driving fast, watching many he'd come to know in the months they'd lived here dying or dead and invading as he sped on down the long road hill towards the Base, watching horrified from the miles away to see the entire Marine base up in smoke, before turning right on Amboy and speeding through the sparsely inhabited highway town of Wonder Valley into the direction of the almost Ghost town of Amboy...the half hour drive was silent save the thumping of Frankie's heart and the stifled sobs of his sweet little Lexi.
"You'll be safe, baby." He started hoarsely with a great throb in his head "I wont let anything happen to you sweetie! Daddy wont them hurt you, daddy wont, daddy wont, daddy wont" he repeated those two words for how long he could not know, for his mind was stuck with the images of Sophia and Amber, and strangely those days his three babies were born, how small they were, how he melted for them, even him...his son...somewhere scared and alone, maybe now a daughter, but still his baby...
oh god
he thought
why the fuck is this really happening?
III.
What should have been a safe empty hiding ground in the town of Amboy was filled to the brim to exploding with many marines and military personal who had the same bad idea. Frank found a place to pull over long enough to pull a few weapons off the street, more than likely discarded by soldiers who were dragged away in the throws of being eating alive, judging by the blood stained tracks leading off the roads. Lexi had regained enough of her senses to whimper and squeal at her papa to keep driving,
don't stop the car
...
He headed north towards Barstow where he found the town to be almost completely deserted and devoid of life, it was in Barstow he happened upon the Western-Flats Apartment complex. Gated by primitive but effective enough chain linked fencing, he'd only need to find a way in quietly and quickly with Lexi behind him, and keep as silent as a mouse the entire way in till they found a place to board up and properly hole up in for the time being. Remarkably the survivor in him traded knowledge with the zombie movie fan to piece together every little detail of outliving this incredibly unbelievable event that still seemed far to unreal to even be happening. His mind was a whirl with these details, so much so that he fought to keep Sophia, Amber and...and
him
...out of mind just enough to secure his only treasure he still possessed...Lexi, sweet Alexis, who more and more looked just like her aunt whom she'd never met, that still held dearly to her fathers heart after so many years...Lexi just HAD to live.
The climb over the fence was awkward to say the least when the back of Lexi's jeans snagged and made a small rip over the left bum under the back pocket, not too wide, but enough to show the white and pale faded blue stripped underwear to anyone who took a close eyeful. No blush, no embarrassment, just fear, unabashed and terrible fear rushing through the man and his daughter as the links rattled breaking the silence with a deafening tink-tink-rink, that caused their hearts to stop mid-breath momentarily, and look about, before she hurried and left herself fall into his embrace, her ankle smacking the hard grass mound with the plunge.
By the time they'd reached apartment 9C on the third floor, Frank had killed or at least finished three walking corpses with melee attacks, using a discarded baseball bat found by the swing set of the apartment play area, for fear of the attention they'd attract with any unwanted noise found at the end of a gunshot blast echoing over the desert valley, that would most certainly alert any and all possible Deaders (as Frank called them in mind, aside from Zombies, Walkers, Stinkers, Stenches, Groaning, and Draggers) still in the area; Not to mention the need to conserve ammo. Back in Amboy he managed to get five military issued assault rifles, two AKM63's, a Beretta Model 59, a bull-pup Bushmaster M17S, a Colt M4 Carbine, as well as handguns, three Browning Model 1903's, with his own .45. He had a nice arsenal but the trek into Western-Flats required that he leave most of it in the car under the backseat, carrying only one Browning, the .45 he gave to Lexi, and the Beretta 59 over his shoulder, so a large scale Dead invasion at the moment was not a good idea. He'd go back for the others later, as soon as he found a way, but the apartment came first.
