The Dead World Ch. 13

Oz had done his best to assist, but the fact of the matter was as handy as the older man was, he was no mechanic. They struggled with it for the better half of the day, with Skully and Ruthless out further securing the perimeter, and Diablo and Dog taking turns keeping an eye out on the road. The moat of dead had been returned to perhaps thirty deep, a sizable enough group to make anyone think twice of trying to come through. They set about removing any traces that there had been any recent activity in the area, tearing down the remains of their initial campsite and scattering the place the fire had burned. As long as they were quiet, and kept close, they just might walk away from this one, yet...

He meant to keep Oz distracted, more than anything.

The younger Callaghan was making calculated moves amongst the others of their group, and that required finesse, and careful wording. Ruthless especially had an ironclad will and fierce loyalty to Oz, for very much the same reason as any one of them... he wouldn't be alive if it weren't for Oz. They met well before Skully had stumbled across his brother, hundreds of miles away over a period of time most referred to as 'Red Winter', not long after the pandemic became a global catastrophe.

Red Winter was the first cold season during the first year after the world all but ended, a time when massive numbers of survivors began to die off if not from the immense hordes of roving, lively reanimated corpses then at the hands of other survivors desperate for food, and shelter. The remnants of the American military struggled to organize, and communities and safe zones dropped like flies. The season was unforgivingly frigid, and as a cold front surged across the States the likes of which had never been seen before with freezing temperatures as far south as Mississippi. People died off in massive numbers and added to the roving herds--thousands deep--of fresh reanimated corpses that could sprint, see, and hear you half a mile away.

It began to snow during early October over much of the country... and it did not stop until nearly the end of February of the second year. As such, with the violence, murder and destruction, much of the country had been stained red in the blood of the last humans on earth. Most of the country had died that winter, and if you managed to survive, the experience alone would have left you a shell of your former self.

Ruthless had been imprisoned in Nevada at the time at a military encampment struggling for survival, and it was pure chance that Oz had come across the camp traveling down from Washington, when all hell broke loose and the encampment was over-run as infection spread rapidly through starving civilians they were meant to aid and protect. The soldiers had just begun eating captives, out of madness or desperation Oz was never really certain... and Ruthless was the very last one of them left.

It had been he who released the Russian man from his cell--he hadn't spoken a lick of English back then, but they banded together and made their way east, where they ultimately encountered Diablo seeking out a community that no longer existed, in Salt Lake City. They came across Oz's younger brother and Slash out near Denver almost entirely by accident, existing in a small tense group that eventually split paths with them as the men clashed over who would lead, and finally, they stumbled by Dog when they crossed over from New Mexico into the Texan wilderness.

Skully hadn't much success trying to peg his brother as incompetent, or incapable--not to Ruthless. As quiet and brooding as he was, his mind was sharp, and he had kept tabs on much of the younger second-in-commands' predatory behavior over the last few weeks. He had only a hunch to go on, based on what he saw, and heard... and he tried his best to warn Charlie when he could, to keep her from wandering off alone, because the few occurrences he had witnessed surely weren't the first signs of mental deterioration he had noticed from the younger of the brothers.

As nightfall began to approach and the sun began to dip down over the treeline, the men broke apart, and the time drew nearer to the moment he had been waiting for. Skully had taken a seat in the lobby, his boots upon the coffee table. He was dressed dark for the occasion, and warmly as others had, not wanting to push the dwindling barrels powering heat through the entire hotel. His hands were bare, toying with his favored blade, the long knife with the sharp and serrated edge carving effortlessly into the wooden armrest.

Diablo had claimed the lounge area as he commonly did, replaying through a collection of old movies left behind over the large flat screen television that gave an otherworldly essence to the evening... almost as if the entire world hadn't gone silent and still and been that way for years now. It wasn't long after that Dog had sulked from the west wing to join him, wordless as ever, and looking far worse for the wear. He avoided Skully's gaze, and Slash as he slumped down into a wide armchair in the corner, his hood pulled up and a pair of headphones he had found checking through abandoned luggage firm over his ears.

As Slash slid the door open, wiping his hands on a tattered rag, he exhaled a heavy sigh.

"Tell ya what... 'bout to say fuck it. Smartest we can do is salvage the battery and try and fit it in another unit, 'cause I'm losin' my shit tryna get it runnin' again."

"Yeah? Thank the girl for it." Skully rolled his eyes, and did a mocking sweep of the room before glancing to Slash, "In speaking... anybody seen her lately?"

"Nah, she doesn't come down much. Oz went up to talk to her yesterday, then sent Dog up after to try and convince her to move out with us. Don't think I've seen her since she woke up, though." Diablo tore his eyes away from the screen to crane his head back to look at the agitated Skully, who shook the slightly spiked dark hair from before his icy gaze, throwing back a snarky flash of straight white teeth before his usually intense expression returned.

"Yeah... I'm sure Oz has. She sure is dodging fuckin' accountability. How many times has she fucked shit up since we got here? Supplies, the hummer... and now wolves at the door for saving her ass? Did I miss something--is Charlie running this shit now? Exempt from the same fuckin' rules the rest of us follow?"

Diablo shrugged his shoulders absently, but arched his brows and nodded his head gently as his lips pressed into a tentative frown.

"Si, got a solid point el jefe. Oz takes it easy on her, but I mean, c'mon... she's just a little chick. Y'know how he is."

"Oh I do. His fuckin' bleeding heart always comes back to try and murder one of us." Skully slammed the sharpened blade of the hunting knife into the arm of the chair before moving to stand and ripping it free, sliding it back into its sheath in the back pocket of his jeans. "Y'know, I think it's about time we called a sit down over it. I'm really fucking sick of him dishing out the special treatment as he sees fit leaving the rest of us to pick up the slack..."

"Hell yeah, I'm for it. We'd be halfway up the damn coast by now if she ain't try and run off with the hummer and burn down half the fuckin' supplies in the kitchen..." Slash's wicked grin flashed as the mechanic cleared the space, and turned down the tower. "Get big brother. I'll tell Ruthless to come down."

Dog shifted nervously, the twisting feeling fluttering in his stomach, something beyond difficult to ignore. Being essentially voiceless in the world had never made him feel so helpless before. He felt sick, almost, and would have been far too happy to make himself entirely scarce as the group gathered together once again and left a feeling of tension so thick all he could do was train his eyes upon the ground, and feel his head beating heavily in his ears. The headphones had been attached to Charlie's iPod, recovered from her now empty room. He all but drowned out the voices of his group as he tried to sink down into the armchair, wishing nothing more than to be entirely invisible as the men began.

"Wanna tell us what this is all about, Colt?" Oz had spent much of the later evening trying his best to find what was stalling out their most valued vehicle, and when that had failed, Slash suggested he clean up and leave it for him to worry about, and so he had done just that. He had redressed for the occasion, suited in very much the similar style of his younger sibling, in worn comfortably fit jeans, a pistol on one hip, and the strap of the long blade looped across his chest. The sleeves of the forest green cotton button down he wore were pushed back to his elbows, his hair having grown out considerably since the first haircut they'd enjoyed when they first arrived. He looked tired. He was, very much so.

"I figured it would be a little obvious, isn't it? We need to talk about the girl."

"Yeah, what about her?"

"Oh don't fuckin' start that shit Oz--you know good and fucking well what about her--she's a fuckin' ticking time bomb. Ever since we got here... ever since you realized who the fuck she really was, you've been making poor choices. Staying here was a poor choice from the start. Taking her in was a poor choice... one I might add you didn't run by any of us. And now we might fucking die on the road trying to get the fuck out of this territory with God only knows what kind of fuckin' lunatics aiming for our fuckin' heads."

The deadly calm of his voice as he spoke now was perhaps far more intimidating than his voice in anger. Dog shifted uncomfortably, crossing his thin arms over his chest, his eyes darting from Skully to Oz as he read their lips, and watched Oz shake his head slowly.

"If anyone had an issue with Charlie joining up they would've brought it up well before now."

"Where is she now, hm? Slashing tires, maybe? Slipped off without anyone noticing to lead the fuckin' head hunters on back?" The space between the two began to disappear as aggression rose, and their men stood, stoic and alert as the two most influential members of their group clashed tensely. "Maybe she's back in your room waiting on you to double back after you feed us another batch of bullshit and keep us waiting around to fuckin' die, is that it?"

"You're out of fucking line Colt." It was a long time coming. Diablo now glanced anxiously between them, but couldn't find a point in which to interject... and try as he might, he couldn't really poke any holes in Skully's logic. There was no reason for them to be here any longer, and thus far every setback they had to moving on was tied directly to the woman who called the place home. There had never been any reason but ample curiosity to even make their way so far east, aside from avoiding the highways, which had never been particularly safe to begin with.

It seemed their little vacation had taken a dramatic turn for the fucking worst.

"After Birch and Savage, it was you who said never again, wasn't it? Or do you need another fucker to knife you in the back while you're sleeping before you realize that we can't trust anyone who isn't us? Who's really out of fuckin' line, Oscar?" They had drawn so near now that their faces were mere inches apart, Oz a steeled look of slow rising irritation and Skully, a deathly expression torn between amusement and utter hostility.

"This isn't the fucking same, and you know it."

"Yeah? Then why the fuck hasn't she been called down for Judgement? She's got a hell of a tab at this point and she's well enough to fuckin' contribute, but hey... what the fuck else does she got to put up but a pretty face, and a tight little ass?" The quiet laughter from Skully was met with smothered snickers from Slash, who had taken his favored hatchet and tossed it aimlessly into the air. It spun, the heavy sharpened steel dropping toward the carpeted floor before he caught it once again.

"I say it's high time she pays up. If you're gonna keep her here, she needs to fuckin' contribute--and she has a fuckin' list of shit to answer for now, you know it as well as I do. I think it's time we draw a contract for restitution. All of us put our fucking lives on the line to make her well... I for one am perfectly happy taking my dues in the bedroom." Oz's expression had gone deadly harsh, his brow knitting hard together. The cool smile over Skully's lips had widened to a most diabolical grin.

"We don't fucking enslave women... you've gone too fucking far, kid. Give it a rest. We're done here."

"Ah, yeah, you see I fuckin' figured you'd say some shit like that... but what's fair is fair. We never had the fuckin' cause to pull a contract before, but here we fuckin' are, sitting ducks at the end of the world risking our fuckin' throats for... one pretty little fuckin' bird."

"I'm not talking about it for another fucking minute. When she comes down, if she doesn't choose to cut ties with us when we head out--"

"Oh, I see how it is, now... you were hoping to just charm the little bitch into your bed and keep her for yourself, hm?"

"Excuse me?" Oz had almost cleared the lobby and started into the hall. He was so very, very close before Skully's final taunting jab had finally sent him over the edge. Dog shifted, adrenaline slowly flooding his veins... he had paused the quiet tinkling of the piano Charlotte enjoyed so thoroughly by now, and like the others, was watching on with bated breath as the brothers clashing all but exploded before their eyes. Oz had turned on his heel, and closed the distance between himself and Skully, who shoved him roughly.

"You fuckin' heard me."

And that was it. What happened next was absolute fucking madness.

Ruthless had shifted toward the door, regretting not bringing down the semi-automatic he carried most often, and Diablo had cleared away from the lobby center to stand as anxiously as Dog did to the side as the brothers' clash ignited in a fury of swinging fists, and violent throws. They were evenly matched in height and mass, but it took only seconds for Skully to charge the older male, scooping him low and sending them both to the ground with a violent thud, shattering the coffee table into splintered bits of wood.. Oz had locked a hand around his brother's throat as he brought his knee up between them into Skully's stomach, forcing the younger man from atop him, who had moved to his feet as quickly as they were parted, squaring up as Oz gritted his teeth and rose to stand..

They had both taken certain stances of men who were experienced boxers, their steps swift and precise, deadly and calculated as if in some manner of violent dance. They moved in a clockwise circle, trading several flurried, vicious jabs, and Slash had moved to take seat atop the desk as the men faced off watching with intensifying focus. It wasn't the first fist fight in the group. He doubted it would be the last.

Oz had caught Skully several times now in a dip of his guard, perhaps due to experience, or the fact that he was certainly the more angry of the two of them--and he began to advance forward with several rough shots to the rib cage and the right side of the younger man's jaw. Even with the evasive slip at the last minute, he had caught Skully square, the metallic coppery taste in his mouth only forcing adrenaline faster through his blood stream. Skully wasted no time planting a heavy boot into his brother's knee to force him back when their brawling sent them across the floor and violently into the wall, a new height of violence achieved as he reached back for his blade.

"Come the fuck on then!"

The singing sound of Oz drawing the longsword in retaliation all but reverberated into the air, and the heights of the men's concern had finally stirred them to move. Diablo had stepped forward, meaning to come between the two of them once weapons were brought into the fight, but neither brother heeded him. Skully rushed him, taking several sharp swipes that the older man deflected with trained precision with the long edge of the blade, kicking out to catch Skully in the stomach and send him stumbling back.

"Noooo no no, uh-uh, that's not it amigos, y'all need to calm the fuck down--"

"Shit, let 'em have it Diablo... they been needed to air this shit out." Slash's bemused grin had widened and he chuckled wickedly, and neither of the brothers paid any mind to the frantic attempts of Diablo and Ruthless to pull them apart. It wasn't until Oz drew the blade up to eye level after parrying Skully for the third time, balancing it carefully in hand that Skully lunged again, attempting to plant the knife square into his chest.

The sharp diagonal angle he swung the blade down with had met fabric and flesh, and Oz had stepped back just barely in time to avoid an injury far more serious than a flesh wound. He twisted to the left side of Skully, bringing the heavy hilt of the blade hard into his temple, sending him violently to the ground. It might have been enough, the single blow... but before anyone could make sense of the fist fight turned deadly, he had turned the blade down on his brother.

The younger man just barely released his knife to catch the point of the blade between his hands, blood dripping down from his fingertips as the sharpened steel bit into his flesh. He struggled breathlessly against the full weight and might of the older man who was all but entirely set on forcing the blade into his throat, gritting his teeth... he felt the sharp edge slowly teasing his skin as he struggled to keep him from driving it clean into his throat. One slip... one falter... and that would be the end of it.

"Ahhh, well shit... I guess the fun's over, huh?" Slash hopped down from the desk, not at all intending to witness the Leader of the group let a moment of fury end with something so unspeakable as murdering his own flesh and blood. He drew his pistol, and angled the barrel at the back of Oz's head, drawing back the hammer as he slowly reached to take the hilt of the blade and attempt to guide it from Oz's hands. "C'mon Boss... put it down, yeah? Y'don't wanna do that, trust me man... this yer fuckin' lil' brother."

"Oz, come on man... let it go..." Diablo all but pleaded with the older of the two. With absolute anger boiling in his usually mellow deep blue gaze, a busted lip and certainly harsh bruising to his torso, Oz slowly calmed his breathing. His hair was a haphazard mess of unruly salt and pepper strands as he eased on the force with which he attempted to drive the younger man through, kicking Skully's knife away from him for good measure, and finally allowing Slash to take the deadly weapon from his hands which he raised into the air as he stepped back and away.

"Should've fuckin' finished it you fuckin' pussy. You're fucking WEAK, Oscar! Do you fuckin' hear me?! You're not fuckin' fit to lead." The deathly malicious tone the younger Callaghan had taken was nothing short of furious, and he shifted onto his side, spitting blood onto the carpet before rising to his feet, retrieving the knife with bloodied hands and shoving it viciously back into the sheath at this back pocket.

"I'm calling the fuckin' vote for it, now. Those in favor of Oz's resignation?"

Slash rose two fingers promptly as he moved to set Oscar's blade aside on the welcome desk, well out of his reach. His eyes shifted to Diablo, who's troubled expression did not stop him from nodding firmly as he crossed his arms over his chest. The eyes shifted to Dog, who avoided their gazes nervously, raising a hand in a brief but definitive gesture before they set their sights upon Ruthless. He stood, unreadable as ever with the exception of his hardened expression. Of the men gathered, Ruthless would not cast his vote for resignation... but it hardly mattered if it was a unanimous decision at that point.