The Dead World Ch. 12

"Permission to be dismissed, sir?"

"Granted, Private. I'll see you both compensated for volunteering. Give my regards to your father..."

With lazy salutes the pair stalked off into the dark, quiet streets in seemingly good spirits, laughing and gossiping over the night together and quite likely to continue on their evening sharing the extraction story over liquor in the barracks. Alpha set his sights on his remaining man, and clasped his shoulder tightly as he nodded to the Jeep.

"My friend... would you see that Scout makes it to the morgue downstairs? I'm going to follow up with War. If Denver has anything to say I doubt he'll have much time to do so."

A solemn nod was all he needed before he turned and headed inside the hospital. The quietness of the halls was always unsettling to him, but there were a handful of medical personnel on hand, and they knew precisely what it was he was after. He was directed to the lift, and to the third floor marked for surgery, where Denver had certainly been taken. The moment the doors of the elevator opened, the hospital seemed to have burst into activity.

The medical personnel were frenzied, and as he carefully avoided being in the way of the men and women suited in pale blue scrubs, he found himself seeking out one particular individual. Just down the hall, the agony of the newly awakened Denver could be heard echoing through the mostly empty halls. He grasped the shoulder of a smaller woman hurrying past, speaking quietly, yet firmly.

"Is the Doctor here?"

"He's on his way up. Begging your pardon sir--I've got to hurry..."

She rushed off before he could ask any further questions. Alpha set his sights on the room down the hall... he certainly wanted to wait for the Doctor, but he knew very well he wasn't liable to get another chance at this. With iron resolve, he made his way to the room, ignoring the nurses who tried shooing him away.

"Sir? Sir! You really shouldn't--"

"Alpha, sir, you can't go in there--"

He drew back the privacy curtain to find the red-head writhing and groaning quite miserably, the mangled limb he'd tourniqueted with the belt freshly flowing of blood. Denver was pale, deathly so. His eyes were bloodshot and his thick chubby fingers gripped painfully at the safety bars of the hospital bed as the nurses did their best to make him comfortable.

"The surgeon needs space, please--" She tried fitting Denver with the oxygen mask, while another busied herself with inserting an IV into his arm, but Alpha drew the mask away impatiently not wanting to risk the loss of information.

"Who did this?"

The heavy, demanding tone he took wasn't one such tone to be denied. Denver's ragged breaths were heavy. The nurse inserted a needle into the reception place of the IV, sending morphine directly into the distressed and critically injured man, who's heavy struggled breaths eased at last, sweat pouring down his thick jowls as he shook his head.

"I can't say... Alpha... I barely.. saw... maybe four men?" His face distorted in pain as his faded words were pushed out. "Cambridge, he... he spotted them... a week back... ripped through the backroads in an old classic car--sss!--gahh! Fucking pigs hacked my fucking leg off!"

Alpha's brow knit hard together and he finally nodded to the exasperated nurse, permitting her to place the oxygen mask over his face at last. It did little to help his strained breathing. The only comfort he seemed to have in the moment were the narcotics entering his system through the IV line.

"Only four men? Can you describe them?"

"I only saw f-four... they moved so quick--solid unit, p-probably ex-military... could've been a dozen--C-Cambridge... I told him we shouldn't... I'm s-sorry.. I knew.. We sh-should've never.. n-never been... out..."

The vitals monitor stuttered, his final word escaping his lips in a low groan as he breathed his last... the machine screeched its deathly song that said there was nothing else to be done here. The nurses scrambled frantically to attempt to revive Denver, who's eyes had gone devoid of any signs of life, his body limp and unresponsive.

With a heavy, frustrated inhale, Alpha pushed himself up onto his feet and drew his pistol from its holster, putting the barrel to Denver's forehead and pulling the trigger without hesitation. He'd lost too much blood. If they could even manage to revive him the chances of survival were too low to bother to waste the resources.

The gathered medical team all flinched in simultaneous horror as the shot rang out and sprayed blood and brain matter over the crisp white sheets of the bed. Alpha shoved the gun back into its holster, quite irritated he hadn't a chance to learn more, turning away from the scene and making his way toward the door. He needed to write the report... and tomorrow was going to be one hell of a day.

"Collect a blood sample for the Doctor, then get him downstairs to the morgue..."

----------

The coastguard safezone seemed like a bad, hazy memory to the group a week after the violent run in, if for nothing else than the looming threat of hostile survivors in the area. Diablo had been right, in a sense. It would have been far better to make friends than enemies. The men hadn't even been aware there was an established colony of survivors in these parts, which meant one of two things: they were either very reclusive, or they were hostile to their core to the point other survivors avoided their territory all together.

By their only interaction thus far, they could make an easy assumption on the matter, and Oz was wise to think it was better to avoid the group entirely. The smartest course of action was to make themselves scarce, and quickly, but their luck had taken a turn when the humvee refused to start and even with Slash's best attempts... the process of repair was slow. Troubleshooting the ancient military transport was no easy feat. He could only hope that the

If they had the fuel for it, Skully would have pushed to leave immediately, but that was one thing they hadn't managed to secure on the run. Slash had siphoned what he could from the cars in the garage of the resort just for the Yukon and Firebird to make the trip out to the safezone to begin with. Their only other option would be to cross enemy territory on foot... and with the rival group now actively seeking them out, that seemed a death wish in itself.

Daybreak was upon them. Slash was up early, and Skully late, it seemed. The younger man didn't quite look the image of someone who had rested well... but he had looped a hunting rifle over his shoulder and met the mechanic at the lobby doors. Dog lurked not far behind them as they started toward the derelict building, the Barrett over his own shoulder, like an obedient shadow prepared for first watch, and as they vanished into the building and slowly made their way down the long drive toward the bridge the teenager tapered off. Slash cast an eye behind to just barely spot the youth settled higher up on one of the balconies of the threatening, menacing looking tower, his scope dutifully trained in their direction.

It was not long at all before the resort was well behind them, and the dark, barren forest lay ahead, and among the trees as daylight began to filter through the shuffling forms of reanimates slowly came into view.

"...boy still in bitter spirits over it all, ain't he?"

"He'll fall in line. They both will... shit, I actually figure Charlie will shape up a lot quicker than Dog. It's a shit hand, but it is what it is... he could've avoided it all a long time ago, but playing hero seemed a better idea to him." Skully's quiet, deep voice was difficult to read. The long rope Slash carried over shoulder was slowly loosened as they neared a cluster of the rotting corpses, and while Skully baited them to a stumbling line trailing along after him, while Slash was quick to get in close enough to tie the slow plodding reanimated corpses together, one by one. Three, so far.. it was easy work. He was going to have to slow them down, if he meant to give Charlie the day, like they had agreed.

"Got room for maybe five more here before it gets risky..."

"Let's stick to the coastline. The first horde that came through the day she crashed the hummer made their way up toward the pier and the town on the island... too many there to handle safely. And the further we head out into the woods the more likely we are to come across our pissy fuckin' neighbors."

"Was thinkin' we did a bit of foraging, once we got 'em back. Them MREs ain't any better now than they ever were back in Iraq no matter how fuckin' hungry ya get..."

"Shit, you're not fuckin' wrong about that. Where'd you bring down the last doe, off toward the little hideout?"

"Yeah, due west a bit, out past the bridge. Gotta hand it to the kid... he's a clever lil' shit. They'd have been long gone if I ain't catch 'em up when I did. Been thinkin' 'bout headin' back that way, pick through them units the way they were, too... maybe set somethin' aside... just in case the shit goes south and we need to double back." With the slow moving group of rotters in tow, the pair of men made their way through, the ground far more firm beneath their boots than it had been in weeks earlier. The rain had finally let up, which certainly made for better traveling, even as the cooler winter weather began to settle over the south.

The silence between them was disrupted by the guttural groans and vicious moans of the rotters on the lead, trailing behind after Skully desperately in hopes of being able to sate their unending hunger, with Slash keeping an ample eye on them from behind should they get distracted or overly eager.

"...that girl's shaping up to be a lot of fuckin' trouble... but you know... it's hard, not to think about her."

From behind the skull-print bandana his icy gaze dropped back to Slash, who couldn't help but smirk, and sigh in mocking reminisce, placing a hand over his head in comical jest.

"Shiiiit, thought it was just me! Fuck if I ain't go a lil' easy on her... y'know, I figured maybe it was just the end o' the fuckin' world that made her so appealin', but nah, there's somethin' about that one ain't it?"

"Maybe we're all just fuckin' out of our minds these days. There's no telling. Don't get all soft and fuckin' stupid on me though, like Dog. She's an asset and a fuckin' burden. We're gonna catch a lot more hell having a female along with us then we ever did, just us men... you ready for that?" Skully ripped the rope from the head of the group, causing the rotters to stumble and hiss and pace themselves at a distance with the knots tied between their necks.

"Can't be any worse than when we took on the boy, how many fuckers tried buyin' him off us last winter? It'll be straight... 'specially if she keeps walkin' around pretendin' she's just a lil' fella."

"She's right fuckin' behind him on the life debt, at this point... more than ever since we've got hostiles on our tail. I've got half a mind to collar her 'til we make the Carolina's. Shit... maybe well after that with her bad ass little attitude--she's worse than Dog ever was when it comes to just royally fuckin' shit up for the group."

The wicked, roguish grin that curved over the blonde's lips, not at all dissuading Skully from the idea of forcing servitude onto Charlie... the younger man certainly had a way of getting anyone to see his point of view, whether they liked it or not. There was just one small issue with his scheme. He shrugged his shoulders absently, scratching at the bristle growing out on a gaunt cheek as he stalled the herded rotters in their tracks.

"How ya reckon yer gonna get a pitch like that past big brother, boss? I mean, I'm all for it... but you know's not a cold chance in Hell that Oz'll let that slide. He ain't gonna fuckin' have it."

Skully fell quiet, and gestured out with a gloved hand at a fresh pair of far swifter biters rushing through the barren trees toward them. Slash halted the parade of once-human corpses harshly as Skully moved to engage the rushing pair, taking ample care in disabling at least one leg on either to slow them down, dropping them down to the earth before herding them toward the back of the line. Even with severed achilles tendons they were still far more spry than the mostly decomposed group of three they'd gathered earlier...

"It's well past time for Oz to step down. I'm going to challenge him to lead. Once he's not calling the shots it won't be hard to loop in Diablo... he spent more time than anyone dragging her ass back to the world of the living, that's compensation well earned. Dog wouldn't fucking dream of acting against it--that'll be four to three. She'll have to accept Judgment, or break off solo... and either wait around for the friendly fuckin' murder brigade to find her, or struggle to make it through the winter without power or heat."

"Gotta hand it to ya, Skully. Ya play one hell of a fuckin' game, ya mad fuckin' genius..."

He wasn't certain yet how long they had been out, now. A good few hours. The sun had risen well into the sky though, which made it both easier to see their intended targets stumbling out in the wilderness, and much more dangerous when paired with the thought of coming across any scouting parties from the unfamiliar group whose territory they were surely intruding upon now. Slash knew at the very least though he'd have to keep Skully busy until sundown to hold good on his arrangement with Charlie, at the least... and Skully certainly seemed in far better spirits than he ever did back at the resort. He would milk their tasks out in the wilderness for as long as he could, and with a bit of luck, the younger Callaghan could be convinced not to think too much about the ongoings of the group's 'problem child' and her accomplice...

Back at the resort, Dog was certainly overly anxious today. He had settled as high up as he could think to get a clear view of the surrounding forests and the long stretch of barren road winding off through the evergreens dotting the coast. He laid flat on the balcony, with the sniper rifle arranged carefully its barrel between two of the thick steel bars. He'd swiped Slash's back of cigarettes, puffing through them with careless abandon as he tried to calm his constantly frayed nerves. Solace seemed a fleeting idea these days...

It wasn't long before he heard a heavy knock upon the door of the old, rundown room, layered in dust and virtually untouched since the day it had been abandoned by the group gathered here. With a lazy sort of indifference, the lanky youth dragged himself back into the room from the balcony, leaving the high powered sniper rifle where he had assembled it, pushing Charlie's goggles up from his eyes.

Insomnia had become a fond friend of his lately. It was hard to rest when everything felt so utterly fucked and chaotic among the men, and he felt quite certainly far more isolated than he ever had with the group. He longed to make himself scarce, but that had also become a very real danger with scouts in the area. Peering through the small peephole, he undid the lock on the door, and opened it for the tall russian man.

The stern face of the massive blonde was always difficult to read, his thin lips pressed into the typical unfazed line as he looked down at the disheveled youngster, and clapped a broad palm upon his shoulder shaking him gently in what could only be considered a fond greeting from Ruthless.

"You are looking like shit. Do you sleep?"

Dog shook his head with a frown, drawing in a deep breath and lazily swatting away the older man's hand, shrugging off his concern.

"Get rest, Dog. Must be alert, da? Go. Speak with Oz."

The teenager hesitated for a few moments as he pieced together what it was Ruthless meant to relay. He threw a thumb back toward the stairwell, and grunted lowly. Dog's brow furrowed in slight confusion as he moved to retrieve his weapon, carefully slinging it over his shoulder before starting down the hall with Ruthless in tow.

"Will finish look-out shift. Go to Oz. He is needing to speak with you."

The dark haired youth slipped his hands into the pocket of the dark hoodie, lurking down the hall and slowly descending the nine or so flights of stairs, wondering very well what it was Oz meant to speak to him about. He hadn't seen Slash or Skully return, which was a bit of relief, especially since the men he had once deemed his favorites among the group had gone absolutely fucking feral in the last month or so. The only thing he could possibly fathom he meant to talk to him about was their newest member... and at that, he felt a flutter of hope that she might be in attendance for the unexpected calling.

He picked his pace up ever so slightly once he made it to the derelict lobby, hurrying through the courtyard and back toward the tower that faced the ocean, finding Oz waiting in the lobby where they typically gathered with Diablo perched at the welcome desk languidly thumbing through a rather large book. The older Callaghan offered him the typical gentle, unassuming smile, his arms crossed over his chest. He nodded for Dog to sit who did so with slightly less excitement, not finding Charlie among them.

"Everything clear up top?"

The teenager gave a solemn nod, and flopped down into one of the arm chairs, throwing his long legs up to place his boots upon the coffee table. His hazel eyes lined in dark rings of fatigue settled upon Oz, asking very clearly the meaning of drawing him down from his duties and solitude, and with an understanding nod the older man didn't hesitate to hold out any longer.

"I need you to go up and talk to Charlie..." He began, and watched very sharply as Dog's mood seemed to improve dramatically, perking up very clearly at what he received as clear permission to do something his second-in-command had expressly forbidden. Dog had very nearly leapt to his feet, causing Oz to chuckle lowly, and raise a hand to halt him from rushing off.

"Yeah--I kinda figured you'd be happy to do it, kid... listen up first, though. I went up a few hours ago with Ruthless to check on her and I suggested that she rest up this week and travel with us up to the Raleigh settlement. She still isn't fond of the idea... and I don't much have the heart to tell her that this place isn't going to be a functional sanctuary for much longer, or that there are dangerous individuals very close by. So I need you to do it."

The attached request had earned a slow, knowing frown from Dog, who played back the taunted details Skully so eagerly relayed and her own recounts of less than comfortable run-ins with Slash in his mind with simmering irritation. He wanted to refuse. He was so very close to shaking his head to decline Oz's request, but the older man had read his reluctance too easily, and arched both brows.

"If she stays here, there isn't a doubt that she's going to die, Dog... it's just a matter of when. I don't want that, and I'm sure you don't either. There are so few of us left in the world..."

As Oz trailed off, Dog's eyes pulled away, and dropped down toward the ground to search the velvety threads of the carpeted floor for some answer of how he should go about this... even if he didn't want to. He would have gladly risked everything to try and spirit Charlie away as many times as it took to be successful. It was only the threat of what would happen if he was not successful that stopped him, and now, the idea that they could run into something far worse in an attempt was even less persuasive. There would be no doubt now the hostile group in the area would be watching the roadways...

"...she trusts you. She's right to trust you. I'm trusting you, too... if she'll listen to anyone, it'll be you, Dog."