Alive and Fighting: Lost and Found
July, 2035
"Listen Keith, I'm tired. We've been through this waltz for three stanzas now, aren't you ready for a new song and dance?" the Grey Klansman asked, lifting the split chin of a very broken Keith.
"Already…told you, Lynn…fishin'…by the bridge…nothin' else…" Keith gurgled through coughs of blood.
"Keith. Keith Keith Keith, anyone ever tell you how much your name sucks to say quickly? It does. Like I said, I'm tired, so unless you've got some fancy footwork you've been savin' for the last note, I'm gonna go get the rope." Lynn said, standing up from his crouched position.
"Doesn't…change it…crate said 'Leviathan'…caught it under the bridge…that's all…" Keith managed, before spitting a mouth of blood onto the dirt floor, which bore the stains of more mouthfuls than Keith's.
"Suit yourself Keith, we didn't want to have to hang Lacey, she's uninfected s'far as we know." Lynn said, walking towards the door.
"Wait!…don't…don't hurt Lacey…should never have sent that letter…" Keith added, pulling his head up to look Lynn in the eyes, remarkably difficult since his own were mostly bruised shut.
"Oh? So this whole dance you've had your eye on someone in the corner have you? Just stringin' us along? Pipe up, this last two step's a doozey." Lynn harped, returning to crouch in front of Keith.
"Back of the lid…had a tracking marker on it…looked functional…thought I'd sell it for scrap…others…might use the same radio channel…" Keith slurred, blood once again filling his mouth.
"Well, someone had his shiny shoes all tucked away didn't he! Well, better to use them for the last note than to never get a chance to wear'em at all…now where is it?" Lynn demanded, taking a hold of the back of Keith's drooping head.
"My apartment…in the coffee pot…don't hurt Lacey." Keith replied, spitting another mouthful of blood against the dirt.
"What a good big brother you are. I give you my word, no harm'll come to her…unless blood webs start poppin' up on'er, that is. If she turns I can't uphold my end, s'the best I can do." Lynn explained, to which Keith nodded once before passing out.
"Jackson, get Mr. Keith here all patched up, and tell Hank's guys we won't need to go get Lacey." Lynn ordered into a walkie-talkie.
Seconds later the sound of metal gears turning alerted Lynn that Jackson was already there and opening the large sliding door to their interview chamber. The dirt floors and rusted walls matched the rest of the Grey Klan's base. It was one of very few buildings constructed in the time after the Infection wiped most human life off the globe over twenty years prior. Jackson flicked a switch as he entered, illuminating two more bulbs, bringing the total number of lights in the room to three. Each hung on a single wire, no shade, no housing, just a connector and a screw. Jackson entered the room as Lynn stepped out of it into the sunlight of the courtyard. The base compound surrounding the courtyard was a large square building constructed of scrap metal and salvaged steel. Sitting around the edges of the open courtyard were Grey Klansmen of all ranks, all in black shirts and drooped white hoods and masks.
Lynn continued through the courtyard, back into the compound building, all of it lit with the same shadeless bulbs as the interview chamber. Some of the other Klansmen nodded to him, which he returned, while some avoided what little gaze escaped his mostly concealing mask. He moved quickly through the building to a heavy metal door, flanked by two men, each with a rifle at
July, 2035
"Listen Keith, I'm tired. We've been through this waltz for three stanzas now, aren't you ready for a new song and dance?" the Grey Klansman asked, lifting the split chin of a very broken Keith.
"Already…told you, Lynn…fishin'…by the bridge…nothin' else…" Keith gurgled through coughs of blood.
"Keith. Keith Keith Keith, anyone ever tell you how much your name sucks to say quickly? It does. Like I said, I'm tired, so unless you've got some fancy footwork you've been savin' for the last note, I'm gonna go get the rope." Lynn said, standing up from his crouched position.
"Doesn't…change it…crate said 'Leviathan'…caught it under the bridge…that's all…" Keith managed, before spitting a mouth of blood onto the dirt floor, which bore the stains of more mouthfuls than Keith's.
"Suit yourself Keith, we didn't want to have to hang Lacey, she's uninfected s'far as we know." Lynn said, walking towards the door.
"Wait!…don't…don't hurt Lacey…should never have sent that letter…" Keith added, pulling his head up to look Lynn in the eyes, remarkably difficult since his own were mostly bruised shut.
"Oh? So this whole dance you've had your eye on someone in the corner have you? Just stringin' us along? Pipe up, this last two step's a doozey." Lynn harped, returning to crouch in front of Keith.
"Back of the lid…had a tracking marker on it…looked functional…thought I'd sell it for scrap…others…might use the same radio channel…" Keith slurred, blood once again filling his mouth.
"Well, someone had his shiny shoes all tucked away didn't he! Well, better to use them for the last note than to never get a chance to wear'em at all…now where is it?" Lynn demanded, taking a hold of the back of Keith's drooping head.
"My apartment…in the coffee pot…don't hurt Lacey." Keith replied, spitting another mouthful of blood against the dirt.
"What a good big brother you are. I give you my word, no harm'll come to her…unless blood webs start poppin' up on'er, that is. If she turns I can't uphold my end, s'the best I can do." Lynn explained, to which Keith nodded once before passing out.
"Jackson, get Mr. Keith here all patched up, and tell Hank's guys we won't need to go get Lacey." Lynn ordered into a walkie-talkie.
Seconds later the sound of metal gears turning alerted Lynn that Jackson was already there and opening the large sliding door to their interview chamber. The dirt floors and rusted walls matched the rest of the Grey Klan's base. It was one of very few buildings constructed in the time after the Infection wiped most human life off the globe over twenty years prior. Jackson flicked a switch as he entered, illuminating two more bulbs, bringing the total number of lights in the room to three. Each hung on a single wire, no shade, no housing, just a connector and a screw. Jackson entered the room as Lynn stepped out of it into the sunlight of the courtyard. The base compound surrounding the courtyard was a large square building constructed of scrap metal and salvaged steel. Sitting around the edges of the open courtyard were Grey Klansmen of all ranks, all in black shirts and drooped white hoods and masks.
Lynn continued through the courtyard, back into the compound building, all of it lit with the same shadeless bulbs as the interview chamber. Some of the other Klansmen nodded to him, which he returned, while some avoided what little gaze escaped his mostly concealing mask. He moved quickly through the building to a heavy metal door, flanked by two men, each with a rifle at
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