Golden Gate to Hell

[cat.]

Connie’s eyebrows raised more and more as Alex kept talking. He didn’t seem very articulate--like the things he was telling were spilling out just now, like an impromptu confession. She saw that his hair was clean, though, with the way he ran his fingers through it and it didn’t stay like gel.

She felt guilty for thinking he was frightening--she remembered one man that had tried to steal some of her ammo when she was low, maybe a month ago, maybe more. Perhaps if he had asked, she would have shared generously, but when she received a smack to the temple when she caught him rummaging through her bag, she had bitten into his arm, drawing blood. She had ran off as far as she could possibly go, cursing to herself for letting another person’s blood get in her mouth, and her temper getting the best of her, but neither of them got a chance to apologize to the other--the man began coughing and sneezing, coming down with the fever. The next time she had seen him, he was on the verge of turning. She got her ammo back, but when she turned the corpse over, she also got a nasty shock when she saw the bite mark that had turned him, that was crusted over with green pus, rampant with infection, had not belonged to another infected, but her.

That was the most frightened she had ever been when she was on her own, besides the moment where she had lost contact with Robert. She had shared canteens with other travelers, and they had remained fine, but none of them stuck out in her mind as much as the unnamed thief. Compared to a lot of what she had seen, Alex didn’t seem that bad. She had no reason to be scared of him, and even if she did, now that her head was in a clear spot, she was reassured of her own abilities.

<And besides, he has his own story... I may not know it yet, but everyone has their own story, after all that’s happened... Just give him a chance, Connie. You’ll be fine. You’ll find Robert, everything will be fine. And he’s apologizing! That’s all you gotta do, just give him a chance.>

“Well... well, thank you,” she said, managing a grateful smile. “You didn’t treat me like crap, I’ve had a lot worse than you,” she laughed. “By the way, is there anywhere I can shower around here?” She saw him open his mouth and turn slightly, as if to point her in a particular direction. “No, no, it’s fine, you don’t have to tell me now. I just need to get my clothes and hair washed after dinner, it’s no big deal.”

She could smell food wafting up from the first floor. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious, nothing like what she was expecting food on The Rock to smell like. She felt giddy for food, for Johnny, for so many healthy people to be in once place, however grim it was. She hadn’t been around this many people in a long time. She began talking for the sake of filling silence, but found the sincerity of her words surprising her.

“I wanna say thanks. Like, really, I mean, really, thanks for training me out there and everything, or at least trying. I know it was only a short time, and I know I’m not that good at the hand-to-hand stuff yet, but... it was actually kinda fun. Like, it was scary, but kinda like those old roller-coasters, that kind of scary, where it’s still fun. I dunno... I haven’t had fun in a long time, you know?”

[Tiara]

Alex let out a pent up breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He felt like there was a window made of crystal clear glass on his forehead, and Connie could see right through to his brain, to his very thoughts. It felt strange. The guys didn't really care to look too hard beneath the surface, but Connie was a girl, a woman, and weren't they supposed to just know things? What was it called? Woman's intuition? Did she see that something about her made him feel crazy, and a little desperate?

<You're gonna jack off thinking about her again tonight, aren't you?>

Whatever Connie saw in Alex's mixed up, jumble of a brain didn't disturb her too much because she kept on talking. Rambling, really. But Alex didn't mind. It was clear she felt bad about how they both had acted this afternoon. The guilt ran both ways.

“I wanna say thanks. Like, really, I mean, really, thanks for training me out there and everything, or at least trying. I know it was only a short time, and I know I’m not that good at the hand-to-hand stuff yet, but... it was actually kinda fun. Like, it was scary, but kinda like those old roller-coasters, that kind of scary, where it’s still fun. I dunno... I haven’t had fun in a long time, you know?”

A light began to glow in Alex's eyes, and a smile made the right side corner of his lips raise upwards into a smile. "You are gonna kick some mutant ass out there when we finish your training. Wilde wouldn't have me teaching you if he didn't think you could handle yourself. He sees something in you." Alex awkwardly ran a hand through his hair again. "We all do. You're special, Connie." The comment was as good as confessing he had a bit of a crush on her, and Alex could feel the tips of his ears heat up. Now he was embarrassed. Al tried to fix it, and added, "I mean- I think, you know, that your-"

"Oh, there you are Concetta," Johnny interrupted, holding two plates of hot food. He had a mason jar of the homemade beer that Jacob concocted and everyone drank at dinner tucked in the crock of his arm. Johnny looked from Connie to Alex, and then at the food he was holding. "I didn't bring you a plate..." He took a half step back, then stopped. "You could grab one and join us."

The look that passed between the three of them, the stiff awkwardness in the air, seemed to stretch the moment into a million years. The remnants of humanity died, the mutants shambled aimlessly, the wilderness reclaimed cities and towns in the few seconds it took Alex to find his thoughts. Was Johnny interested in Connie? Alex had never heard him talk of any girls before, and now he wanted Connie? Did Connie want him back?

<Shit! I'm up against Johnny?>

"Um, I'm fine," Alex murmured. He backed up from Connie, putting space between them. "I'll just, ah, go join the others." He pointed down to the main floor. "Yeah."

[cat.]

Alex turned to leave, heavy footsteps echoing on the metal and descending the stairs. Johnny seemed aware of the strange tension in the room, and offered Connie one of the plates. She took it, and saw a spoon with a giant opal resting on the handle, a tarnished knife, and a mediocre-looking fork resting on top of a small roll of bread, a large lump of mashed potatoes that took up most of the plate, and something that made her smirk when she saw them--beans.

“Hey, what’s in the jar?”
“Just some beer. Jacob put young ginger in it this time. Want some?”
“This place is a dormitory, a training arena, and a brewery? You guys are really reaching here in San Francisco.”
“And you’ve already seen the downstairs office, and the thousands of undead surrounding the outside,” Johnny said, giving her a small smile as he unscrewed the jar and offered it to her.

Connie hesitated. She hadn’t drank in a long time, not since she’d had a meal like this, which was possibly a year ago. She didn’t want to get drunk and put herself in something horrible, especially when the Rock deemed men like Reese as capable of being a contributing part of their community. Then again, she knew food was a big deal, and for the Rock to not only spared her life, give her gun back to her, give her a place to sleep, and to share a meal with her?

She smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, reaching out and taking the mason jar. “Sure.”

<I’ll do it, but just because I need them to trust me. I need my radio back.>

The beer was certainly spiced, and overly-so. She had tasted home-brewed beer before, though, and could remember it being five thousand times more horrifying than Jacob’s ginger-beer could ever be. She peered at Johnny over the glass rim as she swallowed, a smoother finish than she was expecting. Her head buzzed a bit, but it was manageable. He wasn’t eagerly looking on to see her drink, but was instead chewing the mash, closing his eyes and nodding.

“Are the potatoes good?”
“Is the beer good?”
“Yeah, it’s great. You could tell there was ginger in there. Jacob knows what he’s doing.”
“Jacob does pretty much everything for us food-wise. It’s kinda his thing, you know?”
“Everyone has a thing,” Connie said, spooning some of the mash into her mouth, and almost crying when she thought she tasted butter.
“What’s your thing?”
“What’s yours?”
“Asked you first.”

Connie swallowed. It was nice to be sitting on a bed with a cute boy, with hot food made by someone other than herself. She was still so confused, though. Even if all she wanted to do with Johnny was talk and distract herself, she still didn’t know what happened.

<He’s a nice distraction from what’s going to happen tomorrow. More training, then what? What’ll happen when I actually have to go out there? What do these guys even do, anyways?>

“Well, I’m a sharpshooter. I know I have a machine gun, but I do better in long-range. I gotta say, with all of that hand-to-hand stuff... what would you guys have me doing out there?" She took another sip of the beer. "I mean, it seems weird that I’m asking this now, but what were you guys even doing in the city?”

[Tiara]

Alex clenched his fists into tight balls as he walked away from Connie and Johnny, and their little date. The sound of his thick souled boots clunked down the narrow stair case to the main level. It was if he couldn't put enough space between him and them .

“Yo, Al!” A shout echoed across the room. Quickly, Alex stalked over to the table where Marky and Jacob sat side by side. The loud, grating sound of metal chair legs scraping against linoleum proceeded Alex flopping into his seat. 

Marky lifted his chin at the new arrival. He had a strong jaw and a wide, flat nose that flared when he found something offensive. Beside him sat Jacob, pale with deep set grey eyes, shoveling food into his mouth. Their forearms touched in an easy and intimate way that spoke volumes of their relationship. 

“What crawled up your ass, dude?” Marky inquired. 

Hearing Marky speak, Jacob looked up from his food. “He’s got that look, I think,” he interjected. 

“What look?” Alex snapped. “I do not have a look!" He slammed his fists on the table, making the plates and silverware rattle. 

Jacob rolled his eyes, and Marky tutted. 

“You two think you know everything!”

“You’re so green with envy, Al, the grass is jealous,” Jacob replied cooly. He scraped his fork across his plate, scooping up the last of his potatoes. 

Alex scowled. “And where did you two come up with this theory?” 

“You don't have the quietest voice, and the acoustics are fantastic her on the Rock,” Marky said, informing a displeased Alex. “Plus, it's been written on your face since you first laid eyes on her that you wanna bone her.”

“And everyone knows Johnny is sharing a romantic evening meal with our darling miss Connie,” Jacob finished. 

Alex’s eyes softened, and he gulped audibly making his Adam’s apple bob. “Romantic?”

[cat.]

Johnny looked mildly surprised at Connie’s question. He continued talking with the same direct, mellow voice he always used.
“Well.. Wilde formed it all. He and I were in the army together. We were stationed down in Central America, he was Sergeant First Class and a licensed physician, I was, well, a Lieutenant.”

Connie drank another swig of the spiced beer and raised her eyebrows, wishing she could un-hear what he had just said. She did not like the idea of Johnny being an American stationed in “Central America” during the war. For a split moment, a flash of her old house came back into view, and she could smell something burning, like firecrackers...

Stop it, she told herself. You’re just freaking yourself out for no reason, that won’t serve you any good. He probably wasn’t even there. He couldn’t have been.

Johnny continued.
“He had been mentoring me for a while, and when we were both sent to the west coast, that’s when the virus started taking its first form. We lost of bunch of soldiers, and in about a month, only eight of the forty remained.
Wilde told me he wanted to find a cure, so he began dissecting the bodies, staying up all the time, working out things and looking through his books... but we had to evacuate and head up here once the virus started evolving. All those nights he’d stayed up, wasted. We thought if we went North, the virus couldn’t survive the cold, and he could continue working, but unfortunately, we were wrong. As you can see, this place is littered with those things.”

Connie could definitely see Wilde years younger, cutting open the bodies of his old platoon, staying up all night to the music of flipping pages and scribbling notes with graphite and chalk. The thought of it made her stomach coil like a snake. But Johnny kept talking.

“So we set up camp here in the old prison, taking any survivors we could that would be able to volunteer. Got all the pipes working again with their help, they made it livable. We gave them physicals, food, shelter. Wilde and I even used our connections with some of the army to get a minor trade agreement going, which is why we have food so often.
And, you know, things were looking like they could turn around, but whenever we went out in the city, we ended up losing someone, either in front of our own eyes, or they wandered off and didn’t get back on the boat in time. It never has been... steady. There’s a huge turnover here on the Rock.
Luckily we have a lot of skilled survivors right now, and and most of them are veterans. We haven’t lost anyone in two months. And if any travelers come through the city, they know we’re here. The graffiti is a great way to communicate with the mainland.”

It was a lot to take in. Not only was she growing more uneasy, but wasn’t used to having people reveal so much to her about their pasts. She had lived by a rule when she set out to find Robert that she was not to have friendships or relationships of any sort. If she needed to trade, so be it, but she never revealed anything about herself aside from her name and where she had came from, and always took caution to be just as kind and charismatic as she could to get what she needed, but not to make someone think she liked them too terribly much.

Distractions, Di. Distractions. It isn’t forever, don’t get stuck here. Remember why you’re here. You’re Concetta Diane Pizzo, here to find Robert. Wilde was a physician. Johnny was an officer. Maybe this will be useful someday.

“That’s great! I mean, the graffiti is genius, that was what really intrigued me--”
“Hey, what’s that scar on your hand? Looks like nothing I’ve seen before, and we’ve seen a lot of scars around here.”

How did he know it was a scar?

“Oh, huh-huh,” she nervously laughed, setting down her fork. “Oh, it’s nothing, I don’t know how I got it, it’s actually a birthmark.”

She studied it, pulling back her right finger. It was a fourth of the width of one of the bullets her M16A2 took, and it was a mottled, deep bruised purple. The borders weren’t smooth and sometimes trailed away, like a drawing made by a child who didn’t color in the lines. Connie put her hands down and picked up her fork again, taking a moment to appreciate just how strong Jacob’s beer was--her head was buzzing strongly, but she wasn’t drunk. At least, that’s what she thought.

Better not have anymore.

“Yeah, I guess I always knew it looked strange... my older brother used to make fun of it all the time. It’s nothing, we’re both fine” she added hastily, hoping her lie was convincing enough through her tipsiness.

“Oh,” he said raising his eyebrows. He took the jar away from her and gulped down a swig of the beer. “Really cleaned your plate there,” he added lightly, giving her a small smile.

Connie looked down and saw that all of her mashed potatoes were gone, and she was absentmindedly scraping the plate with her spoon. She could feel herself smiling, despite her discomfort.

“Yeah, I’m, uh--pretty hungry.”
“Yeah, with the state we found you in, you probably could have used a meal hours ago. Sorry about that, but we do keep a tight schedule, no matter what.”
“No, it’s fine, I understand. The food was good, so I’m happy.”
Another lie.
“How’d your training go?”

Oh, nothing, a strange man I met just hours ago pretty much threatened to kill me in the courtyard of Alcatraz more than ten times while I stabbed a dummy over and over, and he also potentially thinks of people as disposable.

She fought the urge to say her thoughts aloud.

“It went... splendid.”

[Tiara]

Jacob and Marky burst out in hysterical laughter. The two of them sounded like hyenas barking over a zebra carcass.

“It’s not funny!” Alex screeched, folding his arms over his chest. He leaned forward, threatening to leave.

“But you’re face!” Jacob gasped between laughs.

“Man, you should’ve seen it!” Marky added.

“Seen what?” Wes asked, sliding up to their table and taking a seat. He slid a plate in front of Alex. “Wilde said to make sure you eat, but if you don't want it, I'll have it.” Alex took a begrudging bite of the now cold food. The beans had congealed, and it tasted like shit.

With a smug, knowing smile, Jacob said, “Alex has a crush on the Wendy-Bird.” He watched Alex’s face closely, his eyes twinkling.

Wes looked confused. “Wendy-Bird? Who's Wendy?” It took a moment, but realization hit. “Oh! You mean Connie?” Wes smiled, and it was devious and down right catty.

Alex groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Well,” Wes began, “Connie ain’t the only girl in San Francisco.” Wes’s legs jumped in excitement. “The Fillies are back!”

“Great,” Marky groaned. “There goes the team...”

“Speak for yourself,” Wes said. “Connie clearly has her pussy locked up tight, and I'm not gonna wait ’round like Mr. Lovepuppy to get some.”

[cat.]

“Just ‘splendid?’”

Connie’s eyes looked down at the dark blanket on her bed, the spiced beer warming her belly. Her plate was completely clean, with her having scraped all the mashed potatoes off to the point of using her fingers, and Johnny was near finishing his. “Well, it went alright. I think I was more pleased with it than he was.”

Johnny raised his eyebrows. “What happened?”
“He made me stab that dummy, and when I did, he ordered me inside.”
“He was probably pissed that you were able to, it means he’s going to have to train you for the next week. He hates when he’s not able to go out. Stuck here, safe from the city, another day alive,” Johnny chuckled. “Typical of him, really.”
“How is that going to go?”
“Your training, or the city?”
“Both.”

Johnny sucked a bit of oil off his finger. “Well, you’ll train in the courtyard with Alex while the guys head out to the city. Wilde always holds back, he’s down in his office in case anything serious happens like a breach. Alex will teach you everything you need to know, really. You should just focus on sleeping tonight. Two weeks from now, you’ll wish you had.”
Two weeks?! Her stomach dropped.
“I guess I’ll ask him tomorrow. Hey, I was actually going to ask him, where do you guys shower?”
“Most of us don’t, if we can help it. The showers are ice-cold, and the pipes make horrible noises that can scare you half to death if you’re in there alone. But if you have to take one, they’re on the same level as Wilde’s office.”
“Maybe tomorrow, then,” she said, grimacing.

Johnny had finished, which she was glad of. Her warm, happy, giddiness had worn off, and her head was swimming in a sea of anxiety. She saw him collect his plate, and took hers, silverware and all, off of her lap, and tuck the spiced beer under his arm again.

“Speaking of tomorrow, you should probably get that rest I was telling you about. You’ll have training with Alex in the morning, and you’ll have met everyone by dinner. When you hear the bell, wake up and be ready for breakfast in five minutes. Everyone goes out a half hour from then. Meet Alex in the courtyard by seven. He’ll tell you everything you need to know from there.”
“Seven. Got it. Oh, and uh... could you send Peter up? If that wouldn’t be too much trouble, I mean.”
“No problem, Concetta,” Johnny said, and once again, she heard his footsteps echoing down the hall. She turned over on her stomach, and smelled the pillow she had been given. It smelled musty, but with a hint of disinfectant.

Probably from an old hospital.

She turned over and thought about what The Rock must have been like when it was first Wilde and Johnny. He had said they would take anyone they could... now, she had been put through a test to see if she was a capable killer to earn a cell here. Peter’s mother had paid an unknown cost for her son to seek refuge here.


What changed?

[Tiara]

Wes was fourteen, and someone Alex knew he could count on to watch his back in a fight. However, he was not one of alex’s favorite people. We had a tendency to whistle in a high pitched squeak, pinch stuff from your cell, and talk behind your back.

“Shut your fucking mouth, Wes,” Alex demanded. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to respect women?”

“Yeah, she made sure to fit that lesson in between my eighth birthday party plans, contracting the plague, turning into a mutant and abandoning me at a Wal-Mart,” Wes quipped back sarcastically. His grin was sardonic and bitter.

Alex clenched his jaw so had, his teeth began to ache. “I am your superior, I'll remind you.”

Wes rolled his eyes, and leaned back in his chair. He kicked up his legs and crossed them on the table just centimeters from alex’s plate. Mud and gunk caked the treads of wes’s boots. “Only because you kiss ass. You’re nothing more than a figure head.” He cracked his fingers and smirked. “I mean look, Wilde has you on babysitting duty. You are ’training’ Wilde’s little Disney Apocalyptic Princess while the rest of doing real work.”
“That’s not true.”
“Even Peter is going out with us to make runs, and he can’t shoot a gun or use a knife. What does that tell you, Al?”

Trying to keep control of his rising anger, Alex closed his eyes and breathed in deeply through his nose. He counted to five. One, two three, four, five.

<Whoever invented anger management was full of shit.>

“Wes, do you want me to have you thrown in the bay? Because I am seriously considering it. You do not deserve to be a Lost Boy.”

Wes paled at Alex’s accusation, his eyes brightening with fear. He knew Alex had enough pull and power to make it happen. It had happened before. One conversation with Wilde, and Wes knew his fate could be sealed.

Alex pushed out his chair and stood. “I’m going to bed,” he said, more to Jacob and Marky. “Think about what I said, Wes."

[cat.]

Connie had been staring at the ceiling for what seemed like five minutes, or half an hour. Peter was supposed to be coming up any minute now, but she honestly felt relief that she didn’t have to talk to him. She had no problem with the boy. In fact, she thought he was rather sweet. However she hadn’t had a moment to herself since this morning, something that she wasn’t used to. She was used to trekking alone in a hot, dry climate, the Mexico sun beating down on her shoulders, the smell of expired sunscreen filling her nostrils, and the crunch of her shoes as she overstepped shrub and rocks, the only conversation being the ones she held with herself. This was the most human contact she’d taken part in for a long time.

She felt her eyes welling again, and a wave of shame washed over her, furrowing her eyebrows together. Sure, this was different, much different than she had ever expected. But crying? How many times had she cried today? Too much.

If I’m ever going to find Robert....

Connie let the thought trail off. It had been quite a day. She had shot a man, almost died, and had eaten the best dinner since she could remember. And she still needed to shower. She closed her eyes, and felt a relief that she gasped at, even if the light from above her cell flooded through her eyelids, making her dark world a spiraling, shifting shade of dark magenta, with bright blue orbs blinking on a set course. She reveled in the image, the tiny movie playing against her eyelids, something she had to herself, something she didn’t need to share with anyone. The voices and clattering of plates and cups continued downstairs.

I smell so bad...

Robert’s crooked nose was the last thing she saw, and his laugh the last thing she heard before the magenta and blue took over. And then, she was gone.

[Tiara]

Alex collapsed on his bed with a groan. This day felt like it was never going to end. It was almost as if someone else was controlling his life, a God-like force, and he had no say in it whatsoever. God had a pretty sucked up sense of humor.

Thoughts pounded inside his brain, and sleep was illusive. He sighed, and rolled over. Still no good. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. Something was just digging at his mind. Wes and their argument, Johnny and Connie. Oh, God. Connie

Was it because she was so close, but so far away that made him want her so much? Or was it the fact that she had survived on her own? She could handle herself, and kept her head. It wasn’t as if she was the only female in all of San Fran. There was cluchies, and of course, the Fillies were back. They were always up for a big time. Maybe because their was something about them, their beliefs, their lifestyle?

The shuffle of feet walking down the hall caught Alex’s attention. He sat up in bed, and squinted in the dimness to see who it was. He rose, and walked towards the cell door.

“What do you think you’re doing, Wes?” He questioned, his voice low. Alex crossed his arms over his chest, his mouth set in a firm line.

“Fuck off, man,” Wes returned.

Alex clenched his teeth. “Turn your fucking ass around, Wes, and leave her alone.”

Wes smirked, and cocked his head. “I never said anything about Connie.”

“You don’t have to, I know how that weasly brain of your’s works, dickhead.” Alex took a step closer. “Now leave!”

“Go to Hell,” Wes cursed, and flipped Alex off. Alex returned it with a glare, and Wes backed off and turned around.

Now he felt worried. Wes was one thing, but the Rock was filled with how many other sex-starved men? Would one of them try to do something to Connie while she was sleeping? He decided he would just check on her, make sure she was okay, and then go to bed.

So Alex tiptoed down the wide corridor past the few cells separating him and Connie. The first thing he noticed was her cell door was wide open. He cursed softly under his breath, and as quietly as he could, slid it closed. Even though it wouldn't provide too much protection -it didn’t lock- he felt a little bit better.

Peering in, he could make out her sleeping form. the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed, her hair fanning out on the dingy pillow, the way her whole body seemed to relax. A smiled played at Alex’s lips. He liked seeing her like this. She looked free.

<I’ll just sit here outside her cell for a little bit, make sure no one else tries anything.>
<You do that buddy.>

Before he knew it, Alex fell asleep, leaning against the concrete wall between cells, one leg bent, and the other stretched out in front of him. His head lulled forward as he slept dreamlessly.

[cat.]

A Few Days Later...

---

Connie’s next week was filled with long hours of training, sore muscles, and bland food, but at least the city saw sunshine. The courtyard was where she had found herself almost panicking at least three times a day during her training matches with Alex. Oddly enough, she found herself learning a lot--he had her doing what seemed like a professional workout. She was pleasantly surprised--she hadn’t expected Alex to be capable of furthering anything but his ego, but even with his large personality, he proved to be a great teacher. While he may have been boastful, his stories also proved to be full of helpful advice. He would mainly tell his tales of killings in the city while circling the courtyard in the cool morning mists while she did her rudiments, dripping with sweat. She listened, though, and took away from them as much as she could.

As fearsome as he had initially been, Connie discovered his first impression had not been completely accurate. He took her training seriously, despite being chastised by the rest of the Lost Boys when they came back from the city. He was patient with her when he chose to be, but even when his temper flared up, it cooled as quickly as it sparked. Connie soon found herself thinking nothing of his outbursts. She even found herself talking back to him at times. But most often, she found herself smiling at the irony of it all. The fucked-up guy who tried to scare me in the middle of the storm is training me not to be afraid of him.

She had mastered the Rock, too, or at least, that’s what she told herself half-jokingly. In truth she only knew the lighthouse, where the bathrooms in the Cell House were, and the shortest route to her cell from the Warden’s house, a place she liked to explore in her free time. On the third night after dinner, she had finally had enough of smelling herself at various points in the day--a sweet, ripe pungency rising into her nostrils. She ventured down into the showers while everyone was washing up the dishes. The ghostly green light flooded the room, and there was a faint stench of mildew rising from the tiles. She had approached a tap and timidly reached towards it to turn, not knowing if it would glide smoothly or be rusty and requiring a wrench to operate. The water--as she found, following a couple grunts of effort--was freezing and came out in a jet that stung her skin, but she managed to warm up by doing jumping jacks once she got back in her cell in dry clothes.

Her fourth day in however, the sky clouded back up again with rain. By mid-morning, the courtyard was drenched, and she found herself back at day one, the very first time she had faced Killer, and sunk a knife into him. She began her sit-ups on the ground while Alex began setting up obstacles all around her with whatever he could find.

“Gonna make you fight what’s called an ‘onslaught’ around here,” he said, grabbing a couple of plastic trash bins and dragging them out into the center of the courtyard. “Basically a bunch of infected coming at you at once. I’ve already got that tower of soup cans ready to go. The goal here is to let nothing touch you. Pretty uncommon, you’ll probably never get into this kind of situation with the routine stuff you’ll start with, but it happens. So it’s great to be prepared.”
 “I only have a fucking knife. I can’t even have a gun, or anything? A gun would be more probable, but just as useless.”

“Mouth, Pizzo. And I guess you’ll just have to be creative. Run, if you can. Your choice,” he said, grinning.

Paying attention to what Alex told her, no matter how pompous it was, took her mind off the cold, wet clothes now clinging to her body. She had done everything to his satisfaction so far, but the weather wasn’t what she was used to fighting in. In fact, she wasn’t used to fighting at all--trekking across Mexico had been dry, hot, and always sunny, and using the old freeways made the infected easy to spot at a distance and kill. Mexico had been just that--easy.

Here, the rain had run into her eyes, making everything look the same shade of dull slate, and the water burned her eyes every time she moved them. The air was thick with moisture and moved slower in her lungs, and the saltwater in the air burned them twice as had as they had back South. Connie could feel her heart beating in her ears. She didn’t know what would happen if she failed the tests Alex gave her. She didn’t think she was failing. But what if she was? What if she wasn’t what they were looking for? Would she be killed? Raped? Or possibly worse, sent back to die on the mainland? She didn’t think the Lost Boys would do any of those things, but she couldn’t take a chance on being sure. She’d have to get out of the city, radio in hand or not. Where would she go? Back to Mexico, probably. A familiar place with people she knew, if only a bit. If she didn’t find Robert in the next month.... There had barely been anyone in Fisherman’s Wharf, and the Lost Boys had only been there the same time she had by chance. Were there any other people out there? How did she hear those stories if there weren’t?

“GO!” Alex’s voice rang clear over the rain.

“Run, if you can.” Well, I can.

Connie didn’t see the basketball coming towards her, but she lifted her arm, and impaled it in front of her chest, the air audibly leaking out with a high-pitched wail. She turned to run towards the chain link fence, not bothering to flick the empty, heavy shell of the basketball off her knife. She heard the clash of cans behind her, but didn’t look back. She leapt onto the thick wires, finding her footing and climbing upwards to get a better view. She saw Alex, and flicked her knife so that the limp, bumpy rubber flung towards him. He sidestepped it with ease, and laughed at her.

“Come on,” Alex shouted, crazed. He picked up an old baseball bat, and swung it, combusting another soup-can tower into the air towards her perch. She jumped to the left, the fence swaying as it caught her weight, cans rattling against the patch of fence she was before. Putting the knife between her teeth, she jumped down into a roll, and ran across the courtyard, Alex now throwing whatever he could find at her. He rolled an empty oil drum into her direction, which she jumped over. “Don’t you want to die today? It’s a great day to die today! Great time for an infected amputated limb to the mouth!”

He had then swung an old, rubber chicken at her, droplets of dark, muddy water ricocheting off of it onto her bottom lip. Even through the rain, Connie felt it. She stopped, silent. Half of the things Alex had set up were untouched. She felt a deep sinking in her stomach.

“You just died, or at least in five hours. It’s never a given that a maggot’ll come at you in one piece. Next time, duck,” he called to her over the rain. He walked over to the edge of the courtyard, overlooking the Bay.


Duck, She thought. Duck, duck, duck. She briefly imagined herself ducking from a flying limb, only to have her ankle pulled out from under her leg from the giant mutant she had killed. She held her breath, and kept her eyes on her new sneakers as she paced one in front of the other quickly, slowing her heart rate. She felt her lungs hammering against her rib cage. She kept her eyes her shoes, but she focused on Alex’s shoes disappearing around the corners of her eyes. A few crunches on the gravel from him, and then nothing but her own steps.

“There’s a reason I stay in this city, you know. It’s a fucking arena. Everything can be used. The cars are the most useful. You can throw a can, or a bottle against a door from an alleyway, distract someone who’s dumb enough to walk through the streets...”


We’re supposed to be killing somethings, Connie had thought.

“...and then, when they’re guard is down, BLAM!” Whether you sneak up and twist their neck, hold them at knifepoint, or just plain shoot ‘em, this city will do half the work for you. Much better than a fucking meadow, I’ll tell you that.”

“So, uh... am I good?” Connie shouted at him, walking up behind him.

Alex turned around. “Huh?”
“To go out in the city, am I fine?”

“You’ll stay the week, then we’ll take you on on the mainland, Wilde’s orders,” he said, clipped and official. “So tomorrow, you’ll go out for the first time. You’ll be doing rounds, meeting with people, that sort of thing. You’ll still be training, though. We wouldn’t put you into a melee situation if we didn’t need to. And we don’t. In fact, we rather like to avoid those,” he said, with a note of resentfulness. “You’re a good student, though,” he added, but it seemed like an afterthought.
“Uh, thanks.”


The whole week?

Quickly, he turned around and smacked her upside the forehead, just enough string to make her sharply inhale.
“Hey, what the hell?!”

“Not just maggots we’re fighting. Just because someone’s immune or uninfected, or just because we’re trading with them, doesn’t mean letting your guard down won’t cost you your life all the same. Got it?”

Connie rubbed her forehead, which was now a slight pink color. “Yeah, I think I got it,” she said.

He quickly made a move to hit her again, but she grabbed his arm and with the knife, tore his sleeve all the way to the shoulder, the thick cotton making a rich ripping noise over the rain. She immediately regretted it--she could have just punched him or slapped him upside the head right back--but didn’t take her hands off him, or move the knife. She immersed herself in a different reality. She imagined he was Wilde, back in his office, and she was taking all her shit back and leaving. Her brow furrowed, and she pressed the tip of the knife into Alex’s arm, a juicy bead of red blood ascending, and then washed away with the rain. Alex just smiled, which Connie had found to be a bit patronizing, but it was far better than being hit.

“I think you just might survive us Lost Boys,” he had said. “Twenty pushups while I get you a sniper rifle--yeah, your turf. And you owe me a new shirt.”

[Tiara]

SPOILER: Click to show

Alex thought of connie's boobs. Then he thought of them some more when he handed her a super duper, high powered sniper rifle that was called the 'shudupmotherfucker'.

"Okay, connie, my love, my sweetheart, the girl I picture making scream my name when I jack off, knock dem over."

"But, Alex. What if I can't do it?" Connie asked, her voice quavering. "Dose empty beer cans are soooo scary!"

"Do it, or else" Alex came up behind Connie and yelled in her ear, "ZOMBIES!"

Connie jumped.

"HAHA, good luck! I still love you!"