The Dead World

The scent of smoke was the first thing Diablo noticed when walking out of the greenhouse. It was late, but they hadn't needed a fire since they'd come upon the resort... it wasn't a familiar scent on the wind, not like this. Campfires were one thing. Dark, stinging smoke like

this

was something else entirely. In haste, Diablo moved into the lobby of the Northern tower and was assaulted by thick clouds of smoke, and the crackling sound of burning wood resonating from down the hall.

"Mierda!"

His dark eyes went wide, dropping the apple he'd retrieved from the greenhouse as he jolted across the room to snatch the two-way radio where it was positioned on the wall. "Uh, Boss?! We've got a

REALLY BIG

fuckin' problem down here! We need everyone back at home base, stat!"

It didn't take long for the men to all gather to battle the fire, which had started in the kitchen. Negligence, more than likely. Someone left an eye on or something in the oven... it could've been the old wiring fucking up from years of no maintenance—there was no telling. In any case, it was a bitch and a half to stop the fire from spreading, and they were fortunate enough to be equipped with running water, otherwise, it might've been a lost cause completely.

When the blaze was tamed, half the kitchen was in ruins—what was worse, the fire had spread into the storeroom. Oz and Diablo made an attempt to save what they could. Majority of the time, Skully stood back, stoic and irate, not seeing a point in helping. This was a clear sign to him they needed to move on, as infuriating as it was, it would mean things went further in his favor.

With the fire finally extinguished and the men all coughing up a lung, they made their way back to the lobby and closed off the wing leading to the kitchen and storeroom; well over half of the stored and salvaged provisions Charlie had stockpiled were now gone. Mostly everything that wasn't in the greenhouse or canned. It did not go unnoticed that a certain set of young men were not in attendance, either.

"Where the fuck is Dog?!" Skully demanded, "Anybody seen Charlie?! When was the last time anyone had eyes on the boys?"

"Probably at the south tower together, Dog likes to share the graveyard watch shift with him—" Diablo shrugged.

"I told him to stay away from down there."

The deadly tone his second-in-command levied at him had Diablo throwing his hands up and lifting his brows, as if to say he was not the one to be reprimanded for it. He took a step back and shrugged dismissively.

"Ey,

don't look at me,

amigo...

that's between you and him."

"This isn't just some fucking coincidence, somebody started this fire and I'll put anything on it that Charlie's responsible for this—"

"You don't have any proof of that... why don't you just shut the fuck up, and sit the fuck down? Why're you always looking for a fight?" Oz's patience had run thin.

His brother responded by shooting a nasty glare toward him, crossing his toned arms over his chest in a clear challenge of his brother's commands. He stood his ground, smirking at the older man crudely. "That little shit has been sneaking around causing all sorts of problems

since we fuckin' got here,

Oscar... so why the

fuck

do you keep defending him?"

"Excuse me?" Oz started toward the younger man, eyes narrowing dangerously, not at all appreciating the blatant disrespect his brother was exhibiting now.

The only man bigger than Oz stepped between them smoothly, patting his leader on the shoulder gingerly with a smirk. "Don't kill little yapping child. He is child, this we know."

"Nah, Ruthless—I'm really fucking tired of everything going to hell around us while my big fucking brother has gone soft, running charity missions and putting us ALL in danger. He's supposed to be in charge, right? Then tell me why the hell we're down to scraps for rations, our fuckin' vehicle needs hauled off the edge of a bridge with two blown out HMMWV tires and we've

LOST

two of our fuckin' men?!" He took the opportunity to lunge across the way, held back now by Ruthless, whose expression eased in the slightest. For once, the younger brother had several very solid points. Even he couldn't argue. "You wanna be the fuckin' boss, right?

Then fucking act like it!"

Oz drew back a fist, ready to plant it firmly into his younger brother's jaw, and Diablo stepped in to prevent a full-on brawl between the two. He aided the taller Russian man in separating their first and second-in-command, pushing them away from one another.

"I swept the south tower down to the barricade... ain't go no further. The boys put down what's left of that herd and dipped out... can't say what for, though." Slash had rejoined the men from outdoors, wiping the soot and sweat from his brow. He grinned and looked between the two brothers who had yet to stop glaring at one another even at the distance they had moved. "Well fuck, what I miss?"

"We need to recover the Hummer before we do anything else. Ruthless, with me at sun-up. Slash... I want you to get after the boys and get them back here—

safely.

We're not sure why they're gone, they could just be out hunting or maybe checking the area nearby for supplies—or just doing what kids do. Regardless, it isn't safe for them out there by themselves. That horde of wasted people is still swarming all over the area... they couldn't have gotten far. Skully... bring your ass with me, do something useful for a change—Diablo, I want you here to keep an eye on things and in case the boys make their way back before we pull the Hummer back in." He growled the final statement.

Skully shrugged and waved a hand dismissively, throwing his arms up above his head as he spat back his infuriated reply. "Whatever you say,

BOSS!

Fuckin' jackass—gonna get us all killed!"

Oz had already started toward the door to the stairwell, letting it slam unceremoniously at his back. It seemed every few moments these days Skully wanted nothing more than to undermine his authority. It seemed more every day he had the desire to run the show, and honestly, with the way things had been for so long, Oz was tempted to let him. He was tired. They'd lost good men during his leadership in the past, and that, Oz was certain, drove Skully's animosity.

His only true concern was that his brother's moral compass had become horribly askew with every passing year roaming the wilderness and fighting other groups of living humans for survival and that he would inevitably drag the rest of the men down with him. Oz tried not to think about it as he climbed the stairs to the second floor, and made his way to the suite he had claimed for himself, closing the door behind him and locking it securely, in the event Skully thought to come up and bother him any further.

"This shit is getting out of hand, he knows it, and I know you all do, too. So the only question is how much longer do we sit around, waiting to die? If we leave now, we could all be better off in an actual fucking community, not hiding out waiting for a larger group who have the numbers and ammunition to stumble by and slaughter us all in our sleep."

"He has point." Ruthless shrugged.

"We've got enough juice to get through winter here, though... the area around is pretty deserted. Not likely to be many travelers, everyone's gonna settle for the season if they wanna make it through winter," Diablo murmured hopefully.

"Not enough food now... not anymore. Not without huntin' and fishin' the whole fuckin' winter through... gonna need those boys back for that. Dog's the best shot, Charlie's good at dryin' the shit out an' makin' it last... fuck I'm starvin' just thinkin' about it, I'm killin' a fuckin' chicken tonight—" Slash uttered bitterly.

"We need everyone here, working together, to make it through the winter no matter where we are... here, on the road, or Raleigh. Raleigh could be burned to hell for all we know. Those boys aren't going to make it a winter alone if they're trying to break off by themselves..." Skully's tone had eased now that Oz was no longer among them, seeming to win the agreement of the rest of their group with his feigned concern over their youngest wards' state of wellbeing. The men mumbled their quiet agreements.

"I should be out there looking for them in the morning, too, but we all see Oz would rather throw tantrums and have Ricky out there by himself with a herd of deadheads swarming around the area... we used to live around here, Oz and me, back when we were kids. I know the area. It makes sense."

"Sleep... your head is too hot." Ruthless' monotonous, heavily accented advice was met with a light smile and a nod from Skully. Ruthless clapped the younger man on the shoulder before heading toward the stairwell himself, not wanting to linger around any further—the smell of smoke was heavy on him still and he meant to clean his weapons before bed and heading out to help retrieve the Hummer. "Take some time, find nearest military base, da? We need tires when we go."

"You're not wrong," Skully mused and watched as Diablo too waved them off.

"Guess I better get to sleep, too, sun'll be up in no time."

As the room emptied, Slash and Skully were left sitting across from one another, and Slash already knew what was to happen next.

"I'll find 'im."

"I know. When you do, kick his ass for me for whatever hand he had in this shit... but bring him back here. As for Charlie..." Skully had none of the kindness or mirth in his tone any longer, his sharp blue eyes watching his right-hand man's expression as he grinned slowly,

"Kill him...

I mean... if you want to be merciful just make sure you 'lose him' on the way back. We can send Dog to see where he goes after he gets a little attitude adjustment spending some time by himself in the woods with the rotters."

He expelled a sigh almost as if the decision was truly difficult, but Slash's wicked grin had not faded away, and inspired Skully to give a devious smirk of his own, "I'd prefer him dead. I don't like the way he sways Dog. If we're going to survive we need numbers... not liabilities."

"Shit, then say less... he's as good as dead."

—————

Under the cover of near darkness, it was difficult to make way back to the first camp. Dog moved fast, holding onto her hand so that she didn't happen to lose her way... and all down the gravel path she could hear them, out in the trees. The primal snarls and groans strangle Charlie's already frayed nerves. But up ahead, not far from the crashed military vehicle on the bridge, rested an old, rusty Ford pickup truck. As expected, the thing sat without the keys with it... he figured Slash had purposely gone back to remove them for whatever reason or another a while ago. He might have anticipated Charlie would try to slip off once again.

In any case, Dog made certain to keep her near him even now. She wouldn't have many bullets left, and they might be better saved for any survivors she happened to cross paths with as she made her way upstate. He could practically feel the nervousness radiating off of her, and some part of him felt the tendrils of very real fear himself, pushing her to run like this without gear or a strategy.

Dog didn't doubt everything would go wrong if they tried to plan things out thoroughly again... Charlie had told him during nights spent together about her first attempt. They planned well the last time and saw it fail in a matter of minutes. He saw an opportunity and took it on a whim as quickly as the idea came to him, fueled by her desperation and the troubling recount of her growing run-ins with the men in his group...

He made sure that his comrades were distracted while they slipped away, and he timed it well so they wouldn't come looking in the darkness with the clusters of dead still milling around the area, gathering along the coastline and wandering the surrounding forests. It was now or never... she would have a hell of a head start. If she got far enough, they wouldn't even bother to follow her, having their own worries and turbulence among each other now.

The brothers had been fighting more by the day about whether to stay or to go. There was a deeper division between them than there had ever been before, a kind of splintering he had never seen... the pressing issue to come to an agreement on what fate lay ahead for their group would be more important than recovering a boy who clearly didn't want to be found.

"Won't they notice you're gone?" Charlotte whispered to him as they neared the vehicle, the gravel crunching beneath their boots. She tried not to look over her shoulder more than necessary, and stood at the side of the door as Dog dropped the backpacks he toted into the bed of the pickup with a rough thud, drawing a few choice items from his own bag. The Prius was gone, likely returned to the parking garage... It was a shame. He had hoped to snag the rations and water Charlie had packed into the trunk when she tried to make her first escape.

A pair of wire strippers and a screwdriver, as well as a rather hefty black flashlight, were dug from his back before he pulled the handle of the rusted, creaky door and dropped into the driver seat, craning his head down. He fumbled for a moment with the screws before ripping the panel the rest of the way off the damn near ancient Ford, passing the flashlight to Charlie.

"I figure they'd have been after us by now... you'll get into trouble if they catch up." Charlie's fearful whisper was met with a soft smile, and Dog glanced at her through the mess of dark hair falling haphazardly before his eyes. He nudged a set of fingers beneath her chin to perk her head up and gestured for her to take the light for him and help out. The quicker he got this done, the sooner Charlie could breathe a little easier.

Messing with wires wasn't his expertise. In fact, he'd done this shit a handful of times, and only that. Most car batteries didn't have enough life left in them to be worth the trouble. Slash had shown him a year or so ago in the event that he was ever in a bind and needed a sure and quick way out of a bad situation. It was really only possible now with old pieces of garbage, like this pick-up, and it wasn't exactly a quick process.

"Thank you... for helping me," She blamed her inability to be quiet on her nervousness, the sounds of crunching leaves, and the snarling, wheezing dead stumbling about nearby most unsettling. She didn't want to rush Dog, or draw any more attention to them out here than need be, especially with the dead still heavily numbering the area.

He worked for perhaps thirty minutes or so before taking in a deep, frustrated breath. He brushed his hair from his eyes with slender digits, and tried the next bundle of wires, having turned on half the lights and the static-laden radio. The wire colors were different from the first car he hotwired, but sure enough, as he stripped back the protective coating and began to carefully twist a set together, he watched the dash illuminate and the headlights flicker on, quickly dimming them with a smile.

"Did you get it?" Charlie piped up hopefully and tried not to lean too entirely into the vehicle so as to not crowd him. She saw sparks begin to flicker as he teased the live wires together and heard the engine grumble several times before finally roaring on. He pressed his foot into the gas pedal to rev the engine and force the power to flow, quickly twisting the wires together and carefully sliding the panel at least somewhat back into place. Now was the hard part. The steering wheel was locked, as any car's wheel would without the keys in the ignition. He gestured for Charlie to get in.

"...Aren't you going back?"

Dog's expression was unreadable in the dark. He had yet to decide if he was going to return, playing a million and one scenarios in his mind. He'd never contemplated abandoning the group before, the thought alone seemed almost impossible... but... he had also never had a reason to want to. Danny never had any other purpose than to remain loyally at the side of the brothers, to show his gratitude for the way they'd taken him in, protected him... brought him back to the world of the living. It did not sit easily on his conscience to leave them so suddenly. He gritted his teeth, and grasped the steering wheel hard, jerking it to the left, and then the right.

"They're getting closer!" The woman at his side urged fearfully, barely able to keep her eyes on the shuffling monsters in the dark. Dog grasped the wheel and yanked it roughly to the right, trying to break the lock.

"Danny..."

It had yet to budge, causing him to slam a hand into the steering wheel in frustration, and reach for the screwdriver. "

WATCH OUT!

"

Without warning, one of the nearing corpses lunged against the driver's door, slamming it closed and fighting viciously to make its way through the partially rolled down window. It snapped its rotted jaw ferociously several times, snarling as it attempted to clamp a mouthful of any part of the slim male in the driver's seat it could get its teeth around, and Charlie fumbled for the gun as he struggled to avoid its snapping jaws.

She blinked, and nearly missed it. With certain precision Dog drove the screwdriver through the grotesque, mangled eye socket of the violent corpse, causing it to cease all movement and slump down against the side of the car before sliding down into a lifeless pool. They both could've done without the stench of the rotter.

"There's more!

A lot more are coming...

we should run—before we get stuck inside—"

He grasped the handle to crank the window up, but after only a few turns the damn thing snapped clean off. Dog jammed the screwdriver into the ignition, still dripping blackened, stagnant fluid that had once been blood, and popped the metal seal off. He grinned wide, feeling the resistance in the steering wheel release immediately at long last, and without a second thought, he put the car into gear and the old pickup lurched down the gravel path.

The herd of twenty or so corpses tried their damnedest to keep up, shuffling along after the glowing red tail lights with snarls and groans. The two disappeared quickly down the gravel road, making their way swiftly to the main road.

Charlie turned her head, peering back through the old, dirty window of the pickup. She eased her way closer to Dog after a moment, realizing that not only had the crowd of the dead been left behind, but no headlights were trailing after them, either. She turned to look ahead, down the long, empty, pitch-black road. Above, it seemed thousands of stars glimmered in the inky black sky, strangely beautiful in the chill early winter night. A cushioning of thick, dark gray clouds was building rapidly overhead. The storms swept in from the sea were far more frequent these days.

He fiddled with the heat and was pleased it kicked on without needing further attention. At least something worked in the damned relic. Charlie's nerves were slowly subsiding. As she settled into the center seat near him, he dared to loop an arm around her waist and bring her closer. His boot pressed down a bit heavier on the gas, wanting to put as much distance between them and the resort as possible.

"...You're...

not...

going back... are you?" She was almost certain as she questioned him and afraid of herself to be hopeful.

Dog was sullen as he shook his head slowly, but definitely. He had made up his mind. He could have simply left her with the truck, and supplies... he'd have nothing to worry about walking ten, hell, even twenty miles back to his group, but... she needed him. Charlie needed him far more than the men in his group did. If he could get her to someplace safe then maybe he would double back, or find them on the way north up the coast... it wouldn't have been the first time he disappeared for some time. They swore they had lost Dog the full winter last year, only to stumble back across him in the ruins of New Orleans, as comfortable as ever. He told himself that once she was someplace safe, he'd make his way back to the brothers, and hold strong to his debt.