Chapter Summary
- RESCUE JACK
That was the Weeping Man I heard. I got to find Jack before he does. - Kyle
FOURTEEN: PERPETUAL COWARD
"Jack! Jack!"
Nothing but monstrous howls echoing through both the tunnels and comms.
"Shit!"
Crane was particularly flying down the underpasses. Adrenaline surged through him, making his legs go as fast as they could. Right into the break of what felt like a long-winding tunnel, he immediately assessed the situation.
Volatile nest. Not his concern.
The Weeping Man was. In the dark chambers, the new mutated Volatile held someone up by the neckline of her red jacket.
That someone was Jack, hung up high while she tried to free herself from the thing far more treacherous than Freakazoid.
"Ugrah!" Crane hollered, the battle cry drawing the Weeping Man to him.
There wasn't enough time for his opponent to bring out that illusion of his. Kyle particularly tackled him down like a football player.
It was a tumble; the grasp on Jack loosened. But the Weeping Man barely went down. So of course, Crane didn't let go. Trying to get his footing while keeping his hands in a grip lock was already as tough as it would have been if he had tried this as a human. The strength of an infected was immeasurable, but if anything, he had to be on par with the Weeping Man. Jack's life depended on that.
During the scuffle, the brunette had pulled herself together and rose up on her feet, the syringe ready in hand. She hurried over, and there was a moment—not out of hesitation. She couldn't just stab anywhere and hope to get a blood vessel.
"Anytime now!" Crane grumbled as he gained the upper hand and pulled the Weeping Man back.
Once she found an artery to her liking, Jack raised it up like a dagger.
But golden eyes of the strange new creature caught her out of the blues in that one second. It was an expression she had seen many times. Only when in danger, in terror. When the moment came, the beholder knew it was over. She read the emotion out of an infected person—like Freakazoid!
"NO!"
A single word. She had heard it through her ears. And it also came to her mind, like the many times Freakazoid had done 'thought-talking' to her. But the word has a powerful effect. The ear-piercing holler had metaphorically dug its way into her grey matter with pins and needles before her vision warped.
Warped was the only word she could use. It was like someone picked up the remote and changed the channel around her. The stone walls and floor around her were gone. Instead, she was somewhere in a farmhouse. Light blasted its way through a door forced open.
A stranger held a dagger at her. Ready to stab if she were to put a fight. When did the roles switch? She couldn't speak. She couldn't move. All she could do was watch, frozen solid in this strange scenario.
Behind the home intruder were people in the midst of the chaos. A woman in her forties, a young boy in his teenage years. Two other bandits being big, bad, and threatening. One person became the focal point of the dreadful incident: a young girl around Siv's age, tears down her cheeks as she was being grabbed by the hair. One of the bandits had her.
Then an electrifying pain shot throughout her brain.
"Gargh! " Jack shrieked, her hands immediately grabbing her head as she felt herself being reeled back.
Her neurons were fried by the foreign memory. It didn't belong in her head. The figurative watcher with the remote control had flipped back to her reality. Back from some sunny farmland to the gritty, dark rural tunnels. And not even a minute in the tunnels had passed by.
What's happening?
She couldn't proceed from the experience, unable to stop herself from collapsing to the floor. And she wasn't the only one. Kyle wasn't worse for wear. It was frightening, yes! But he didn't go down like the unstoppable ex-kickboxer did.
"Gah!" The ringing in his ears...it wouldn't stop! Then came his one mistake. He had let go of the Weeping Man.
An elbow bashed him aside, giving enough space for the monster to put all of its attention on him. For a split second, Crane looked back at Jack, but she still hadn't risen back onto her feet. She writhed on the floor from the splitting headache.
He made half his mind to get Jack to safety. But as he did that, he noticed the infected man, first looking at the ex-kickboxer before turning to Kyle. That was bad, targeting Jack as his next meal and Freakazoid as someone to compete over food.
Just when he thought the Weeping Man lunged for Jack, it instead lunged at Kyle. Furious, violent, and swinging one claw at him.
He dove to one side. Too close!
"Murderers!"
Crane tensed up at the inhuman voice. It wasn't his. It came out of the monster, as vocally disturbing as his.
But that didn't matter. He needed to take control of the situation before those shadows would come back. Before Jack would get hurt. Was it because the feral was in a blind rage?
"I won't let you hurt them!"
What was wrong with this thing? No, that was a stupid question. These things couldn't think rationally!
Who were them anyway?!
"I'm not a coward anymore!"
"Good for you! " Crane couldn't help but retort.
The outburst provoked the Weeping Man. Somehow. With a wail and salvia flinging everywhere, the new Special charged. That thing was set on killing Kyle.
That blindness helped. At the right time, Crane seized the right arm and pulled him directly forward. His one plan was quickly foiled when the beast wouldn't budge too much from the pull.
Ok, throwing him over the shoulder wouldn't work. One sharp kick at the right leg and what was like a tower to Kyle finally gave way. With all his might, he spun the freak off his momentum and down hard.
The body hit the floor. No, not enough. Kyle quickly distanced himself for the next Judo technique because he knew full well that it didn't break the spine, despite the force he used.
If anything, that just pissed the Weeping Man even more. Like a child breaking into a tantrum before he decided to take measures in his own hands. He charged like any running Volatile and this time, the two monsters locked together. Crane's talons lunged up to his enemy's head, keeping the jagged teeth from biting into him.
Shit. He didn't have a good way to toss him back. Where did this strength come from?!
It was only then, did he have a good look at the face. It was hideous. Like his. But frankly, it was also oddly familiar... No. Stop thinking right now and focus!
He did just that. "Gah!" This time, he pulled himself back and took the Weeping Man for the ride. One kick at the chest, and he booted him across the chamber. Far than Crane expected to!
Ok, his own strength was still frightening! But the thought died. Not just because of the tension, but the monster stopped the momentum with his talons dug into the stone. Up he rose, pure rage at Crane.
"GAAARGH!" Another frustrated cry out of the Special.
"You're making him madder, Freakazoid!"
At one point in the chaos, Jack had gotten up. Not without some struggle. Jack's head was still recovering from the strange throbbing while fumbling to get up to see the mess before her. Two mutant brutes brawling each other. And she didn't get invited.
Freakazoid gave a short look of relief. But Crybaby gave a much stranger look. A look of alarm. Why towards her?
"Jack! Behind you!"
The howl of a Volatile already warned her from behind, leaving her with no choice but to wheel around and swing her weapon. Right at an ugly, putrid head. THUD!
Right! They were still next to a Volatile nest!
Stop adding more problems when she hasn't gotten the blood sample!
"Stop!"
Freakazoid took the word right out of her mouth. But she couldn't while trying to evade the new invader's swings and bites. A human in the midst of so many predators hoping to chow down on her, minus one. She particularly had to dance around, ducking down at every attack from all sides. Arms up as she had always done in the ring.
To make matters worse, Crybaby seemed persistent in coming her way.
"You want me?" she taunted, the Mad Jack slowly lashing out with the equivalent of a pitbull snarl. "Come and-ugh!"
She didn't get a chance to finish. The Weeping Man shoved her away. Just a push, taking her off her feet and sending her a good few feet.
And it hurt! Easy to take the wind out of a professional fighter.
"Jack!"
For a moment, Crane thought he had a window—the Weeping Man looking stunned at his own claw. But apparently, hurrying over to save Jack pissed him even more. With one threat down, the mutant Special snapped back to Crane, and again, Crane found himself in a wrestling hold. For a mindless monster, the Weeping Man made every attempt to separate Kyle from Jack!
Not just that but he couldn't help when he was eye-to-eye with Death trying to rip off his head. The more he looked at the wailing man in front of him, snapping through his shielded arms, the more his opponent looked familiar to him.
The face. It was subtle thanks to the infection, but the details weren't completely gone. But Crane could make out a face, even with the blood-shot amber eyes and pulsating veins. It didn't register to him at first, but slowly and surely...
A chill ran down his spine at the realization.
Crane knew this man when he was alive.
He has met this man before.
It was like a faraway piece of memory but still just as vivid as he remembered: the bald man weeping like a child, shaking in his boots, too petrified to leave that small corner of his farmhouse basement. The slaughtering of his family by bandits nearly broke him when Crane found him. The life in the poor guy only came back when he found out his daughter was alive.
So Kyle couldn't believe it.
"Ercan?!" he blurted out the name.
No! It couldn't be-
"LEAVE US ALONE! "
The suckerpunch came out of nowhere. A frail of the muscular arm was far more painful than a right hook to the face.
"Omph!" Crane found himself on the floor—the whole world spinning uncontrollably until he felt a stop.
The once weak, cowering man he found in the Countryside… It was a terrifying, ominous sight that sent Kyle to his knees. Ercan had turned into something like him. Pure rage fueling that monster to do horrible things…
No. Ercan was gone. Kyle had to remind himself of that. There wasn't such a thing as human anger in an infected—the poor man was moving on nothing but primal instinct.
"Ercan! Stop!" It was probably pointless. Crane didn't know why he tried. "It's me!"
Another roar out of the new type of Volatile deafened Crane. He wasn't even sure if that desperate thought could have been heard telepathically.
"Shit!" Crane was pulled back up onto his feet and forced into another lock. As quick as he could, like any Judo user, he again stopped the teeth from sinking in with a claw clutched on the scruff of Ercan's ragged clothes and the other at a belt he managed to grasp. But one hard throw wasn't enough.
Ercan wasn't that frightened man anymore. Bandits, murderers, the sort? They were a joke now. The same was said to Crane. A predator stepping into his territory? Look at who has the upper hand now.
Then Crane took the upper hand back.
POW!
"Gagh!" Ercan staggered back from the headbutt, a move an infected didn't have the sense to use. But he didn't fall completely on his knees, his body stopped by the Hunter.
"I'm sorry!" Crane apologized. Again. And again!
Someone had to do the finishing blow. He grabbed for Ercan's head.
Snap his neck like the many times Crane did before.
"I have to do this-"
"GAAARGH!"
Crane, however, truly underestimated the difference in raw power. Again, he thought it was similar to dealing with normal walkers or Biters. They didn't have any comprehension of basic fighting skills.
But the new zombie type adapted. It reacted differently. Before Crane knew it, the Weeping Man grabbed him again.
"Wh-Whoa-WHOA! " It took him by surprise-his own move being used against him but better. He was easily picked up like he was a crumpled piece of paper. And just like trash, Kyle was tossed away in one go.
"Ugmh!"
What he thought should have been the wall somehow bent under his weight and ushered out a voice that wasn't him. Just as Jack climbed back up again, riling to get back in the fight, her eyes bugged wide behind the shades at the sight of Beastly coming her way.
All she could do was let him take her for the ride.
Both bodies tumbled into the maintenance door Jack had desperately tried to pry open. BAM! Well, it's open now!
The impact, though. Vertigo hit hard on Jack as she processed her surroundings. Another dark place. Much bigger than the cold-war tunnels. She saw two crashed vehicles nearby and other things.
There was a nest.
And another one.
A third one-
She lost count after the fourth and fifth.
"Shit." It wasn't a nest.
It was a Volatile colony!
And it stirred up like a hornet's nest.
Jack scrambled back at the growing sight of red eyes. One. Two. A dozen. Then more. This was a fight, not even the Wild Dog was willing to go through.
"Freakazoid!" she hissed as quietly as she could, searching for him with a nervous patting of her hand. Once she found his shoulder, Jack quickly helped him up without tearing her eyes off their new friends.
"We gotta go."
Wha-why? Crane was still too disoriented to ask that question. His vision finally settled down for him to witness the terrifying scene they had landed themselves in.
He wanted to curse.
The Volatiles howled.
Then another bellowed wail mixed in with the chorus.
Crane wheeled back to the door to catch a glimpse of Ercan creeping out of the cold-war tunnel menacingly.
"GO!" This time, Jack's whisper turned into a holler.
The two bolted from the rushing riot.
The noises behind them almost prompted Jack to look over her shoulder. The sudden intrusion of the Weeping Man, the aggressive snapping between two types while only a few stragglers decided to give chase. But that could buy them distance from their chasers.
So keep looking forward! Because they were still in a nightmare in broad daylight.
The new tunnel they were in was a covered highway, about roughly twenty or thirty feet wide and twenty feet high. The length seemed endless in the darkness but it didn't lack abandoned vehicles and more nests. Almost every corner they skidded around, a new Volatile just popped up. So much blood and flesh cramped in the lanes.
Jack had gone through the tunnel once, way, way before the outbreak. From the Harran's Border to Scanderoon. Was this the Strait? If so, were they at he start or the end? This was only part of an even longer highway, stretching across the country!
"GAAARGH!"
An apex predator leapt onto a collided sedan. Just her luck. That turned on the alarm and lit up more of the undead in the covered highway.
The end of the tunnel was but a sphere of light. The closer she ran to a blockage of of buses, the further that light dimmed from her. Nothing but a death trap, despite knowing they were close to the finishing line.
"Jack! "
The loud, harsh scraping of metal across tar went off terribly to her ears. At the side, a vehicle seemed to unearth itself. Almost as if something was rising up. She could hear the tension in those flesh-like ropes shot out of Freakazoid, giving all his might to unhinge an area open for her.
It was mad. But to Jack, it was brilliant.
She skidded into the narrow gap. A look back, and already Freakazoid clumped their entrance with whatever he thought could work from the wreckage's debris.
"Between a hard place and a rock. Wonderful."
It was a straight line after jumping off the rest of the concrete barriers. Fewer cars, fewer nests close to the light. But it was clear from the noise around them, their pursuers had started to climb over the blockage. Rats in the walls, scratching through holes for the scrape of food gone down the grate.
Luckily, they were so absorbed in seeking out their target, they went gung-ho beyond the area Jack hid under. A matter of time before the adrenaline would wear off and they would rely on their other senses.
Did she have enough throwables to reach the end of the tunnel?
"What I would give to have that invisibility of yours, Freakazoid…"
Jack was about to draft out of a plan, then get Freakazoid on the same page-
"Invisible."
For some reason, a lightbulb seemed to light up in Beastly's head. A surprising discovery for Jack. All this time with him, she had taken him as a dumped bag of emotions that took the less-complicated approach.
Crane surveyed their cramped area and latched onto the bent front door of a car, the noise masked by the howls and alarms. With a shake, it gave way and spilled out a corpse.
Crushed by the past impact. Rotting. Adding more to the soupy floor they stood upon.
It almost brought bile into Jack's throat, and again even more as she watched the mutant's claws took a dive into the corpse in a literal sense. It ushered out a low cough out of the ex-kickboxer.
"Hell's bells and buckets of blood!" she choked. Why was he doing that?!
Maybe she should have expected it. This was a man turned into a monster, then came back-
"Put this on you."
The bloodied claws reached out to Jack, prompting her to back away as far as possible. The roof of a turned-over car stopped her.
Her shades slipped down the bridge of her nose. "I'm sorry. What now?"
"They can't find you if you smell like them."
"How on earth did you come to that conclusion?"
Oh for the lord of-! Now wasn't the time to care about hygiene, Crane thought.
"Hurry!" he barked, but the gloved hands pushed the claws away.
"While I give you credit for being a little creative, I am not going to smear myself in corpse grime-"
There was no say in the matter.
"Hey! What are yo-"
In the small space, she couldn't stop Freakazoid from grabbing her by the jacket and flinging her down into the mess. It went all too fast, but it immediately hit her.
Before her very eyes, the bastard dunked her into a puddle of corpse grime!
"You filthy bastard-!"
"Quiet!" Crane ignored her muffling and her frantic raking to take his claw off her mouth.
BAM!
The brunette ceased her floundering at the sudden tilting and loud creaking of the vehicle. A head popped through the gaps. Mandibles flayed with every sharp turn as it let out a low growl.
Its orange eyes searched swiftly for a human's muffling.
Jack stayed frozen. The Volatile was too close for comfort, and this was as close as she had ever been to one. Freakazoid acted as an extra shield for her trembling body, his eyes fixed on any sudden movement. The Volatile had to have seen both of them, right?! In plain sight!
Or was it blind in the dark? Because after a few sniffles, the Volatile climbed out and ushered out another holler, declaring it had found nothing.
Then it disappeared from the wreckage.
She couldn't believe that it worked. These things really had a heightened sense of smell.
Finally, the claw was off her mouth. But she kept her aggravated sigh in.
Freakazoid wormed closer to the other end of their narrow hole, examining how their way out should go. "The exit's about a hundred feet. You run and don't look back."
"When this is all over-"
"Yeah, yeah. You'll kill me."
"Oh," Jack whispered. "Killing you will be the least of your worry, mate."
Whatever. He completely ignored her glare as he took out a flare.
"Ready?"
Ready? Was she after all that? But she flared her nostrils deeply, still pissed after that little show. "...Go."
They ran.
Footsteps stormed loud within the walls, stirring the devils up. Hell pretty much welcomed itself around Jack.
Pft-flooooosh!
The lit flare was tossed aside, cardinal red smoking up. Dozens of flies to honey.
Keep going!
It always seemed like a Volatile was onto her. Or the rancid camo was a fluke. But the skinless brutes completely missed her as she passed their pouncing forms. And just when one had pinpointed her position by sound alone, the shooting tendrils disrupted their mid-air pounce on Jack.
One good spin, and the Volatile was pitched away like a weight throw. The impact dented into the side of a bus and nearly pushed it off its wheels. More noise for the infected to target instead.
You're almost there!
Sunlight immediately welcomed her out of the highway tunnel. Jack could feel its warmth within catching grasp.
It was a short-lived sense of relief once she was out into the afternoon sun. First was the whiplash of having run a marathon. Jack gave more appreciation to the pacemakers in those Global Athletic Games. She breathed in the slightly-better fresh air more than anything!
The next thought was the area—this side of the highway… They were still in Scanderoon, somewhere at the Bayside. And yes, walkers everywhere, but hey, they were nothing compared to the terrors back in that tunnel.
Something flopped down behind her. No! Did one of the Volatiles escape out even under the scorching UV rays?
Oh, right. Her comrade. It almost took a moment—how could she not feel on edge when Freakazoid looked just like any threat.
The sapping… Kyle had some idea how all of this worked on this body. The more he pushed himself, the easier it was for his energy to be spent under the sun. He had no choice but to huddle down, like he was freezing. The irony? His flesh felt like it was being cooked.
Get up. He could recover elsewhere… And his legs slowly did as they were commanded.
"Shit!"
What now? He felt himself spun around, with Jack's hand grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling away from something clawing at his back. Just a breeze. At the border between daylight and shadows, several Volatiles had caught up close to the edge. They desperately tried to pull either one back into the tunnel, but the scorching sun kept them at bay.
"Ha," Crane couldn't help but laugh. "Daylight's a pain, ain't it?"
"Stop taunting the Volatiles. I am here with you!"
Yeah, but he would love to flip them off as a final measure. Volatiles, a damn nuisance even to him in this new body.
"C'mon." Out of nowhere, Jack offered more help, pulling his arm over her shoulder and shuffling his weight to get him moving faster on his feet. To the blissful shade under the awnings of nearby shops.
"I'm fine," he mumbled vocally. The burning seemed to be dulling. Or maybe that was his mind trying to fake the dull sensation.
"Do I need to run the rules with you again?" Crane bit his lower lip at the remainder. "Move."
It was annoying. He hated it. But now wasn't the time to complain. He complied.
But Jack suddenly halted.
"Oh, bloody-"
"Hey!"
That didn't sound like the kind of holler that said to Crane, "Help is coming their way". Not far from the highway was another one of Bayside's tourism district zones, more suited for newcomers entering Scanderoon from another city along the coast. Sure enough, parked at one section of a road was a gang of armed men. On patrol. More alarmed to see two unidentified strangers coming out of the Strait.
"GRE," Kyle murmured.
"These mercs are more annoying here than in the Outskirts!"
Jack's grip on him loosened just before he could tell her to bail on him. He could stand on his own. Itchy to beat the crap out of that asshole organization. He might still feel a bit tired but he wouldn't pass the opportunity to crack some jugheads-
"What are you doing?!" Jack hollered from behind, prompting him to turn to her. Why did she look flustered now? "Stop idling and move!"
Maybe the tactical retreat was the right call—his energy didn't return to him at the best perk. No matter the willpower he pushed, if his body said it couldn't perform great in the day, then his body couldn't. So he quickly followed her to the back of a clothes shop, the metal fence cutting off any chance of being gunned down. And that was if the mercenaries would go in the densely-packed district.
THUD! Jack gave the door a good kick.
Inside, the shop's dark storage room helped Crane recover—strength slowly returning back to him. What was he, a Midnight Bride plant?
Cree-Clank!
Just before a brightly-orange skeleton hurried cautiously to the door, Jack pushed a wardrobe over, clothes fumbling onto the floor. That would keep the thugs out.
"We found a woman fitting the description," he heard a man say very crystal clear.
"Door won't budge."
"Go around, you idiot!"
"We're surrounded," Crane thought-whispered, a silly attempt now that he thought about it.
"What's new?" Jack droned as she searched for an alternative way out of the clothes shop. A stairway to the second floor...that could work.
THUD!
The front banged. Not a door busted down or glass broken when the nifty corner shop was opened to the public. But something certainly made the noise. One peek out and yup, Jack confirmed it. GRE paced their way slowly into the store.
She readied her weapon, her back flat to the wall, and a glance back to Freakazoid, now regaining most of his strength. Better to get the jump on them and take care of the problem now.
"Come on out."
Crane steadied himself with one deep breath to finally exhume the rest of his agony out. He pasted close to the entryway and looked without looking through it, his x-ray vision was their best advantage against five men. He lifted two fingers up—a signal for Jack on when.
One GI crept closer to their door.
Get ready, Crane silently said with his claw.
Jack's weapon rose higher.
"Shit!"
Tik-tik-tik-tik!
Bullets flew all of a sudden. Both Freakazoid and Jack braced down in their hiding spots, still plastered to the walls. Too tense to move. Did they find them?! Were they shot?!
"What are you doing?!" One of the men pushed the assault rifle down, nearly yanking it out of the other's hands.
"I-I thought I saw one of those Virals."
No, there weren't any infected inside the store. Besides himself. Crane was sure of that. He took one watchful peer out of the storage room.
The damage wasn't much, other than the exotic-branded clothes shredded by bullets. On the floor, four mannequins tumbled over each other. A family display. A leg and two arms had broken right off from their fall.
Did the guy really mistake a mannequin for a Viral?
"Not the pluckiest bunch GRE hired," Jack whispered very softly. Or the brightest.
Crane hushed at her, the shush unable to break down her formidable jolliness. The grunts went back to their search. Didn't look like they had heard them.
Then came a roar.
Louder than the usual Volatile howl. More aggravated.
Something snapped.
Jack couldn't help but join Freakazoid in his sightseeing—just a peek through the door. Just in time to catch a shadow lunge onto the furthest GRE mercenary.
"GAH!" He went down. Throat ripped apart.
The rest wheeled around.
"There's more of them!"
Another? But Jack didn't see the wandering walkers stroll into the store at the commotion. In fact, it looked like a shadow had materialized and pounced towards one target.
All they shot at was nothing but air. Then the second guy yelled with a final cry.
The two hiding at the back knew the trick all too well. For some reason, somehow, against the burning sunlight, the Weeping Man had followed after them and attacked GRE.
"What's going on?!"
"Shoot it!"
The scene behind them made Jack think about their own run-in with the Weeping Man. Seeing how easy the men were being torn open? Armed to the teeth. Trained for mercenary business. Covered up with the protection against bullets and riots. They were being finished by a monster out of their league.
She would not last as long as she did without Freakazoid. This thing was indeed a beast. What happened?! It was like the crybaby became berserk on a hair-trigger.
A glance to Freakazoid showed he had the same thought she did—better them than us. She numbed out the cries far easier than Crane did.
He had thought about it—stopping Ercan. After the fourth grunt crawled away desperately. But Crane decided against it, hearing to the guy be pulled back by the Weeping Man, screaming for help. A loud crack!
Then for two minutes, it became quiet.
The last remaining visitors of the shop looked at each other. Freakazoid tried to survey from their spot but a furrow of his eyes told Jack he didn't have a clear sight of the Weeping Man.
Luckily, there was a movable mirror by the entryway. With the hilt of her weapon, Jack tilted the mirror at a nice angle. Slowly.
In the reflection, she spotted the Weeping Man and...the disturbing massacre around him. That was how the previous men went down in the tunnels and sewage line. Then after that, for some odd reason to have redemption, Crybaby prepared those men in a way just to 'make him feel better'.
He would do the same thing again in the shop. The Special did take his time, panting heavily. After that angry display, of course, the Weeping Man was fatigued. But that didn't catch her attention. The oddest thing was him kneeling down to one of the fallen mannequins.
He almost tenderly held the broken torso up, one claw cradling the fake-eyed head and the disheveled dark wig. As if it were a newborn baby. Only then did Jack notice that the broken mannequin was for the teenage line.
"K-Kadri..."
Crane narrowed his eyes. A name at a time like this? He tried to wrap his brain around the strange performance—with conclusions that Ercan had really lost it. Jack was instead watchful, paying attention to every little detail out of the reflection. Nothing in the actions lied to her.
For a moment, Jack witnessed a man sobbing for a loss of a child. Not a weeping monster.
A bit of humanity rising to the surface. Just like Freakazoid did—only delayed to this point for some reason.
The air suddenly changed on a dime. The crying eerily softened. It was as if it made way for a growing, seething build-up. The doll in his hands fell apart.
The illusion was over.
"You…"
Bursting out was a wail. Different from his weeping or the howls. It was a voice mixed in sorrow and resentment. It wanted to blame.
So he attacked the dead.
"Bandits! Murderers! Monsters!"
The claws, unrolled into fists, basically bashed on a deceased man's head until the very sound turned from bone-cracking to something liquefied.
No setting the dead to rest. No closing the eyes or crossing the arms. He literally mutilated the corpses. The unnatural change in behavior… Could he be reverting, Jack had to wonder. Or was the pre-existing damage done from the virus on a human brain starting to surface?
Too many variables. It would be nice to have him behave like Freakazoid, and cooperate. A new species of intelligent biped. No, that would be a scary thought. Even more frightening was if the Weeping Man suddenly had the same thinking as Freakazoid, he could prove more dangerous than currently.
Fear has a way of twisting one's mind. Jack had already witnessed that demonstration out of Beastly.
Now what? They were still trapped with a hideous killing machine.
Another glance at each other, and it was easy to anticipate what their next step should be. Two choices were laid out for both of them: they could leave now or do what they've been after this entire time. Freakazoid's glare showed no sign of cowering away.
Jack agreed in silence. She held the syringe in her other hand for him to see. She still had it and was ready.
The plan was clear. He pounces. Jack stabs. After that, the Weeping Man was as good as dead.
Simple.
They exchanged nods. Now or never.
Crane took the first leap. Jack followed out of the entryway, weapon held high.
They both stopped.
Jack frowned first with surprise at the sight of the empty store. Then disappointment, the more she searched. The Weeping Man vanished. Just like that. The sudden end to the massacre scene.
"Well, that was anti-climactic," she exclaimed.
Crane rushed over to the front. It might have been a pointless, hopeful thought to catch a glimpse down the street. His shoulders slumped down at the realization that he had really missed his chance to give that man mercy.
Guilt came back.
Ercan was gone. Keep that in mind, Kyle.
Was that even Ercan?
It made him wonder… Other than Harran, what happened in the Countryside? He still didn't have a grasp of how long it had been since he lost himself to the feral side. He remembered everything back in the dam—the death and the end of the Faceless. But the rest of the people? What happened to them after he left the Countryside?
Ercan was with his daughter the last time he saw him, upstairs at Jasir's farm. With other people. Humans who weren't infected!
"Even with a doll, he still keeps to his methods."
Crane barely caught wind of what Jack said. He couldn't help but feel a gut-wrenching, foreboding feeling.
"Freakazoid."
Jack called him out of his cluster of thoughts. She was on a knee, where the mannequin laid. Two blood-stained smears painted down on the eyes while the broken arms were crossed—one held in place thanks to the sleeve.
"You all right?"
"I'm… " It started off as a tussle with himself. "I'm fine. "
"Really? You look like you've been suckerpunched hard. Guess it would come as a shock."
Another quick, tiny pause. The reply Freakazoid gave? It did come off like an excuse. Maybe it did hold some truth, but his second delivery on that line was undermining.
"Shock? "
"Seeing another Special like yourself. I can almost see the resemblance."
He grimaced. "What's that supposed to mean? "
"When I first met you." Now he was on the same page, slowly digesting the information she would speak. "You weren't exactly clear in the head. But neither were you like the other infected."
"Really?" Crane glanced back. On the off-chance that Ercan came back. "Can't tell the difference. That...thing..." He fought against the guilt. "Was like any Volatile."
"True." Jack folded her arms after stepping closer to the front of the store. "But do Volatiles go spurring names like that? You said a name too on our first meeting."
"I did?" He was so tempted to ask. But he knew Jack would never let it go for him. What name did he ramble out?
"It was almost like you were remembering someone… Maybe that's the same for the Weeping Man."
Remembering.
That didn't sit right with Crane. If Jack was right, then Ercan could be experiencing the same freakout as he did days ago. Even if Ercan did come back as fragmentedly sane as Kyle was, it couldn't be possible for anyone to accept their new fate.
The only reason Kyle has made it this far was because of Jack. He made the objective to kill Jack on the assumption he had infected her. If he hadn't, he might have relapsed.
Which meant that was another likely scenario for Ercan.
Either outcome wasn't the best.
He had to find Ercan.
"We better look for him," he started while giving some more thought. "No telling what he'll do."
"Who's Ercan?"
He made a mistake, but his whole body tensed up at that name drop. Crane nearly spun too fast, and his animalistic eyes flashed too wide. Because it was almost like Jack had somehow gained the ability to read minds and picked up that name from his head. For that mistake alone, the observant woman had already picked up the little hints.
"You called him that name," Jack pushed. It was as if she was unsure. The question wasn't made entirely to pull out more information.
So she hadn't caught on. But no way could he give her that chance.
"I did?" Crane feigned ignorance. "You sure it wasn't from that thing...? He said a name, didn't he?"
"That thing… When did you start labelling him that?"
Crane stepped away from the unreadable woman. Did he make another mistake? Shit, he already just did! He fought every fiber not to get pissed at the successful probing.
Jack closed the distance between them. Not right in his face, but it was already invasive. "Are you sure you don't remember anything?"
Talons curled up. The damn sunglasses. It always made it hard to read her eyes.
"I told you. I don't remember. "
"Really? You're white as a sheet-"
"I. Don't. Remember."
This time, no comeback. No snappy remark out of her. If only that was it. No matter how threatening Crane was, especially with that monstrous voice of his, Jack was still as a statue. Steadfast. It was like a damn hawk's eyesight searching for any subtle movement.
Forget this. He had better things to do.
"If you're not moving, I'm looking for him myself."
"Freakazoid."
That wasn't his name. And his real name was dead to him.
If Jack wanted to keep following him on the job, fine. But he wasn't going to stay for any more of her prying. Stick to this job with or without her.
Crane took off and disappeared under the surface's shadows.
Hesitation. As clear as day. For a zombie with high awareness and a forgotten past, Freakazoid sure knew when to be careful. Where and when to tread lightly if backed into a corner by a person like Jack. Eluding around the truth.
When to blatantly lie.
The only reason she hadn't called on his bluff right there and then was because of how frazzled her brain was from that close encounter back in the tunnels… Jack wasn't even sure if she heard the name, Ercan, correctly.
But Freakazoid knew. The body betrays the mouth after all.
He had the mindset of a pro; that was for certain to Jack. Knowing how to camouflage oneself? That was, in a way, an adaptive and improved level of survival skills in this zombie situation. He knew a lot more than he let Jack believe.
This was no ordinary Tom, Dick or Harry. She couldn't compare his capability on the same scale as hers but it was definitely different from her skills, even her line of work. And there certainly was a sense of softness in his actions. A tall tale that he had been made to do he wanted to say no to. Something drastic that he didn't like.
Just who was this guy before he got turned?
Jack sighed.
"First he soaks me in cadaver piss. Then he sods off. It's almost like he deliberately wants to tell me all his little secrets."
"So. How should we find him?"
Comms. Something Crane didn't think about nor could he escape the woman's annoying voice. But it was an easy sweep back into the brunette's normality. In hindsight, Crane didn't shun it. They were back on track with the job—not on his memory. At least Jack knew when not to babble her mouth away on things she shouldn't talk about.
He was streets away, up in the canopy of rooftops. But he didn't give the one human tailing him a chance to catch up. Kyle was too focused to search for something way up there. A clue. A lead. Anything. Even another wail from the childen's boogeyman, the Weeping Man.
Nothing.
"You can't be expected to comb every dark place in the city, can you?"
"It wasn't hard the first time," he rebuked, stopping himself from saying the next regretable thing. In the end, Kyle continued, first with a sigh. "He sticks out like a sore thumb."
"Like a certain Freakazoid out in the open for anyone to see."
That prompted him to stop and grimace. Then look around carefully. She had a good point. A mercenary or those prisoners could shoot him down from this angle.
If they looked up.
"As much as you want to bet on that infected making noise, we might have to change our perspective on him. He's not the same Crybaby as before."
"He wasn't…" Crane stopped himself again, almost mumbling the last part of the sentence. The remark was rather insulting on Ercan, after everything he had gone through.
But already, Crane had dropped the hint accidentally.
"Boys can cry. Same goes for men and infected, mate."
And there were a lot of assumptions hanging on those words. A rebuttal. Crane should have come up with a rebuttal! But he couldn't when he had come across talking infected and crying Screamers before. So he focused on the real mission at hand.
"What do you mean he's not the same?" he then asked.
"Usually, these freaks aren't always organized. Half the time they drop their meals and go off chasing down another poor sap."
"I get your point. And?"
"Crybaby's not like them anymore. He's like you... Almost like he's trying to be human."
That was a scary thought.
"It's the same pattern as yours after you took my perk," Jack pointed. "You were completely hell-bent on me the first time 'round."
"Hell-bent?" Sheepishly, he rubbed his neck. He didn't have the faintest idea what she meant. "W-What did I do to you?"
"Well, you did chase me through the streets."
Oh, he remembered something along those lines. Shit, was he an ass.
But Jack continued—a thing of the past. "That was the first time an infected like you had a different reaction. I just never imagined how much of an effect it would have."
"Yeah. Your blood is damn scary, you know that?"
"I've never said I liked it," Jack chided. Something was off about those words.
He brushed it off. "So, you think he's got a goal in mind."
"Partially with whatever is left in that noggin of his. He made it very clear he doesn't like bandits."
"That's an understatement." Crane couldn't blame Ercan—that was if he was back in the head—the man had gone through the worst time in his life, being a survivor while his family was slaughtered. Someone like that would harbor a lot of hate. "There's no way he's going after every crook in the city."
"Just the closest. Besides GRE, Alexander's outposts are all over the Bayside."
"That's not much to go on."
"No. But we've gotten enough clues to know the kind of mess he leaves behind. He has a lot of commitment in putting bodies and a mannequin to rest."
Right. An MO they could follow on. It wasn't like anyone could close the eyelids and cross the arms of the dead in the outbreak. Generous, sure.
Only this act was twisted by Ercan's broken mind. Was it something he had wanted to do for his dead wife and son?
"Find that kind of arrangement of corpses. We find our Weeping Man."
"Exactly."
Was it that convenient? Ercan now had bloodlust. Complete tunnel vision. It wasn't like they could wander around and find the same MO in the Bayside. But it would stand out.
First step, look for one of those stations Alexander's men have set up. GRE wasn't much of an option; although they were everywhere, it didn't look like they had a base of operation.
Crane climbed even higher and scanned about till his poor daytime eyesight fell on what looked like a similar structure as the one in the Red Rill. Also the same crowned skull logo on the banners.
"I think I found something." He glanced back and easily spotted the woman in red vaulting across the lower roofs. "Another outpost straight ahead."
From down there, Jack wouldn't be able to see what caught his attention in the outpost. But she took his word and headed in the right direction. Crane was already halfway there.
Why did this outpost stand out from all the others? Obviously, it was empty. Not a single skeleton patrolling the streets the closer Kyle got. The stench of fresh blood hit his nose way before he reached the gates.
No sign of force entrance; the prisoners never saw it coming. One point of interest showed evidence of a surprise tackle, knocking down a UV light to the ground. That opening was what the intruder needed—like a wolf slipping through a slightly agape door. With nothing to stop him, a bloodbath was brought into the yard.
Crane would take this as nothing of concern. An idiot crook forgetting or underestimating a Viral caused the whole outpost's downfall. That would have been his presupposition.
However, he found the same 'funeral' scenario as before among the carnage. Four bodies didn't wear orange or the attire of a modern barbarian. Four bodies were laid down in a peaceful state. Arms crossed, and blood smears on the closed eyelids.
"Everyone's dead. And he did the same MO."
Four adults. Locals by their appearance. One of them was a woman.
Most noticeably, their hands were bound together—the story already told Crane they had been captured by the convicts, only later to be killed by a monster.
"Is Crybaby around?"
He gave the base one more look before he replied back. But his "no" stayed back in his mouth.
An orange skeleton. Shaking back and forth somewhere inside what was a two-storey workshop inside the outpost. Someone was alive.
"Freakazoid?"
Crane swooshed his way past the opened garage door, barely making any sound. His eyes fixed on the small ball hiding behind the blood-soaked cashier counter—a freshly-mangled body of a guard limped on the floor. If a thug has survived the ordeal, he should take him out quickly before any unexpected surprise attacks.
The skeleton moved back, but there was nowhere for them to go from under the table.
They were trapped.
Without thinking, Crane lunged forward and dragged them out.
"Gaaah!"
The body he lifted out was rather light for a trembling, grown man. The shriek, however, wasn't that of a man's. Once Crane pulled them out from the table, prepared to shake the prisoner for a bit of information, he realized his mistake.
"Ahh!" cried a young female local, bound hands shielding her face. A teenager who survived.
Crane quickly unhinged himself off her.
Oh god.
Stepping away from her did nothing to calm the girl down. She was already traumatized—from bandits, the slaughter, and finally an infected particularly reciting a horror scene to her. She tried to make herself smaller, but the edge of the table stopped her from going back down. In the end, she could only sob and accept her fate.
Should he leave? He should! Just his presence alone urged the young girl to get away from him. It was his fault that this got worse for her. Nonetheless, the side of him that wanted to help almost rooted his feet to the floor. Crane even attempted to calm her down.
Stop it. He retracted his claws. He was the monster here...
"Hey!"
The flash of red was what woke Crane out of his shock. The yell wasn't directed at him but at the scared girl, as slender hands cupped her cheeks and forced her to gaze at the eyes.
Still, the teenager couldn't tear her own eyes off the beast right next to them.
"Hey! Look at me!" Jack's voice was firm. Absolutely arresting the youngster to focus on her. Nothing more, nothing less. Forehead against forehead. A sort of spell dispersed the fear out of her frail body, though it was replaced with confusion.
Jack lifted one hand from her face for her to see.
"Do exactly as I say. Breathe in. 1, 2, 3, 4."
Her fingers counted up.
"Breathe out. 1, 2, 3, 4."
Then they counted down.
"Repeat after me."
The breathing wasn't as steady as Jack's but it was a gradual change.
"Breathe in. 1, 2, 3, 4. Breathe out. 1, 2, 3, 4. Breathe in. 1, 2, 3, 4. Breathe out. 1, 2, 3, 4."
Again and again. It wasn't a basic breathing exercise; Crane had used that technique back in his training days. But the ex-fighter committed to it like a ritual. Every sentence became softer and softer, and even the young girl recited the words mentally in her head. Until finally, the atmosphere inside the workshop lightened up.
Crane didn't feel heavy anymore. Shockingly, he found his own breathing following the rhythmical pace, and he was calm again.
The brunette's performance stunned him. A woman with a maddening personality and a vicious fighting spirit like hers was able to control the situation. Whether it was to poke at the already-lit fire or tone it down several notches, she was always swift to turn it around just so it could be on her own turf.
She was the instigator, no matter what.
Once everything had settled down calmly, Jack released herself from the young girl.
"Better?"
A bit out of it but the teenager nodded.
"Good." Jack took her hands off as gentle as possible. "What's your name?"
No response. It was as if she was wrapping her mind, repeating the question to herself: what was her name?
"E-Esme."
"Alright, Esme." The merriness had somehow blended into Jack's tone without anyone noticing it had ever changed. "Can you tell me what happened?"
The fear crept back. Out of impulse, she glanced over Jack's shoulder. Lips trembled. Eyes widened.
At Freakazoid? Or at the bodies behind him?
Jack purposefully stood in her way.
"Tell us what happened."
Esme was grounded. Just a bit. She nervously peered to her right, a small little mouse shaking under the looming weight of a hungry lion.
"He's a friend," Jack intruded, her soft voice grasping Esme's attention again. Only at Jack. This time, she saw the brunette's wide smile. "He's not going to hurt you."
The reaction should have been shock. Anger. Looking outrageous. How could she say that to her?! She obviously saw what Crane really was up close, under these clothes.
And yet, just like that, the spell had captured Esme again. The delusion of safety was better than staying in the grim reality. Crane, however, felt like it was deceitful to keep staying close to the poor girl, so he took to guarding the back door.
That should at least give her some more breathing space. Finally, she spoke.
"T-Those men… Caught us w-when we were trying to get to the b-beach… W-We just wanted to leave Scanderoon." Esme trembled again as she looked down at the red marks on her wrists. "T-they did something to me. T-Tied me out and took me away from my family… T-They said...they were going to keep me."
She breathed again for the next part. Swallowed next.
"T-Then t-this...thing jumped out of nowhere. H-He… H-He killed everyone."
Tears swelled up in Esme's eyes, and her teeth chattered so loudly.
"He killed my family."
Esme battled against crying. Two hours ago, her family made the decision to run to the coast and flee by boat. But during the travel, they were ambushed and dragged, kicking and screaming, to this outpost. Fifteen minutes ago, she got separated for an unknown reason. The last ten was nothing but a blur.
But she remembered hearing her mother, father, uncle, and brother die among the screams.
Then she heard one of those men running towards the counter, reaching for a shotgun. A gurgled holler, and the man's blood dripped down her right.
Esme almost thought it was over when the monster came to the table for her.
The last survivor.
She should have been dead.
"H-He...he found me… B-But then…he disappeared…" Crane spied a timid peek at him, and he quickly turned away. "I-I thought you were him..."
"You're doing good, Esme."
No, she wasn't. But the kind voice gave her some strength—she could have already collapsed on her knees a while ago.
Crane didn't like what he was hearing, though. Things have escalated. Now Ercan was taking more lives than just crooks. He couldn't differentiate between the innocent and the wicked.
That reason was another nudge for Crane's resolve. The faster they could find him, the quicker they could stop him. Before he took more lives with him.
He couldn't keep feeling pity for Ercan anymore.
"Did he say a name?"
Crane became puzzled by the latest question to which he looked back: what was Jack's plan there?
"W-Who?"
"That infected." The expression on Esme's weather-beaten face already confirmed what Jack had thought. "He said something, didn't he?"
Esme thought as hard as she could against the devastating memories, freshly burned into her mind.
"K-Kadri. He called me Kadri…"
That little hint.
That was what Jack wanted to hear.
"T-That's not my name."
"It's an infected. They say whatever they want," Jack assured her.
Finally, when minutes felt like an entirety, the heaviness on Esme's shoulders lightened. In those minutes, she had been fighting in a way she only knew how. The nightmare was over, even though it came with a heavy cost.
She swallowed, recalling her father's words. She had to be brave until they were out of the city. Esme's fingers trembled, but right now, she felt awful and safe altogether. But she wanted to stay brave.
She wasn't out of the city yet.
"T-Thank you… For finding me."
"Don't thank me." Jack nudged her chin at the quiet, watchful man by the door. "I wouldn't have known without him."
Crane frowned at her. Again, passing the ball back to him… What was she planning? He didn't feel happy at all to be given praise. Why pass on the gratitude to him? Maybe the brunette's madness had somehow infected the girl; she had forgotten she was terrorized by a monster. Twice. Esme still looked dazed after everything.
The guilt stayed in Crane, however. He didn't feel better. But he didn't reprimand.
"Let's get you somewhere safe. Ok?" Jack started.
Esme's nod was a little more hardened, but a young teenager in the middle of an outbreak—additionally being kidnapped and having lost her family—had to take a moment to collect herself.
"Jack here," she called over the comms, finger to her earpiece. "Need someone to pick up a survivor at theee…" Ah, there was the sign. "Sunfish Automotive shop. By the Strait."
"H-Hello. We have B-Team there on a run. I'll tell them your location."
"And this is?" The voice was a young man's. It was familiar—where had she heard this voice from?
"Orhan. We talked outside the infirmary."
"Orhan," she uttered. What a surprise to hear his voice again. "Up on your feet already?"
"Y-Yeah." The lack of confidence was detectable in Orhan's voice but gradually that rolled out the more he spoke. With an added nervous laugh. "I can't sit around and do nothing, can I? B-But I'm just the radioman for now."
"That's an important job for the runners, Orhan. Don't go selling it short."
"Thanks... Hang on." The line went quiet for a second. Then back on again. "B-Team's heading over to your position now."
"Much obliged." With the end of the call, Jack wheeled back to Esme. "Some folks are going to take you to the Junction. Safest haven in all of Scanderoon."
Take her?
Esme almost didn't know what to do on the spot. As terrified as she was, she couldn't help but look at the four bodies resting peacefully on the wet soil. She trembled, biting her lower lip to fight the shakes and the returning sting in her eyes.
She couldn't leave them like that. Then again, she wasn't sure what to do. What preparations did she have to do? Get a shovel? Say some rites?
Jack's body intentionally blocked her view, compelling Esme to see eye-to-eye with her. Already, the adult could see the teenager's mind overwork herself to death with grown-up stuff.
"There's nothing here, hon."
Esme was back on the ground again. She hadn't realized how she almost floated off, ready to jump out of the workshop. It was stupid. Everywhere were the walking dead. What could she do now for her...her dead family.
The word 'dead' finally struck her heartstrings. When another pull of sorrow tried to worm their way to make her cry, she went back to the breathing technique. Softer though. Quieter. She couldn't break down-
Esme felt a hand on her shoulder. She didn't have to look back at the brunette.
That did it in. But this time, she didn't sob uncontrollably.
It was sad. She had lost her family in a single day. That revolution finally hit her harder than she thought it would.
The crying was short-lived when suddenly she didn't feel the ex-kickboxer's presence in front of her.
Esme watched the woman in red suddenly walk to the back of the workshop. Looking at the table with a disapproving frown.
"Esme. When you said those men did something to you, what did they do?"
She wiped the tears off, cleared her nose with her shirt. "I-I don't know… They stuck a needle in me."
"Neck or arm?"
Esme pulled back her ponytail. It was still painful there. "My neck."
Crane furrowed his eyebrows. The back of the neck? He narrowed his eyes even more before he and Jack glanced back at each other. In her hand, she carefully picked up a broken blood vial.
Did they inject her with something? No, not inject. It was only then that Crane noticed the testing kits on the table, with four other vials scattered about.
Jack went to work and combed about. First, the surfaces.
"Did they say anything important?"
"Uh… 'Tell them it's 'three' this time. All positive'." Esme thought some more. "'Don't damage them like the last two'."
Positive? Damaged goods? What was going on, Crane wandered.
Jack continued with her search. Alright, now under the table.
That was when she found a lovely present. One big, fat clue that she dragged out into the light was another crate like the one from the outpost they infiltrated. GRE's signature stickered on the side, mostly filed off as if to hide that fact from anyone.
She flipped off the clips and looked inside. "Another GRE med-crate…"
And half of the contents had been used.
The three letters were a curse to Crane's ears. They had their hands almost everywhere. It didn't help that Jack saw something he didn't, besides their damn reputation.
"I-Is something wrong?" Esme's voice was almost inaudible. "T-They were going to do something with me, weren't they?"
Jack stood up and smiled, stopping her from thinking up wild ideas because of her anxiety. "No. Nothing's wrong."
A white lie? It sounded like the truth. Crane would later ask for the details regardless; his senses had already picked up on the approaching group of three skeletons vaulting up high.
It was time to make his exit. Before the runners reached the gate, Crane raced in the opposite direction and hopped over the walls.
"Looks like the cavalry's here," Jack exclaimed at the immediate notice of Freakazoid's disappearance.
"Where did he-?" Esme's head was like a frightened songbird, frisking about left and right.
"There's a doctor at the Junction," Jack explained. "Tell him what you told me about your neck."
Esme shrank back again. "...Ok."
"Just a regular checkup," she reassured her. "You'll be right at home with the folks there."
Jack left with a stride that said a 'badass'—if Esme could pick a word to describe it. A little more currying for her composure.
"Make sure she gets to the Junction safely, boys." She pointed a thumb at the young teenager as she left. The boys should stop gapping at the bloody sight around them and hurry on back to the Junction. Too stunned to ask questions about what had happened here.
Skies were still gray, but it was better to be safe and out of the coming rain than sorry.
Up towards the roofs, she climbed. And she found Freakazoid exactly where she predicted he'd be: watching from afar the group of people and Esme leaving the Bayside. His silver eyes stayed on them until he couldn't see the faint outline of their orange skeletons.
Now he had to hope they'd make it back safely to their homebase.
The sound of heavy breathing wasn't from one of the few groaning walkers on the roof. Looking down, he watched one particular woman catch her breath. Having clumsily worked her way up a three-floor-high building.
Amateur traceur. At least she was improving.
"You know, you could have called me down there."
"Ah-ha. Well… I can't say no to any challenge, mate." Jack straightened herself up. "Even a...superhumanly vigorous...person like you."
He scoffed and went back to looking.
"So see our mark?"
"Nothing…" And that was already bad to Crane. "He could have gone underground."
"He might have. He might… Maybe to another outpost somewhere. If it wasn't for him, Esme might have ended up far worse."
"Far worse?" Kyle couldn't believe his ears. How insensitive. "She lost her family. He's killing innocents now. What's worse than that?"
"Those men separated her for a reason."
Hearing the level-headedness in her tone made Crane recall his earlier thoughts about her thoughtlessness. He could almost hear the gears turning loud. Not a spot of heartlessness. Just stating the facts out.
"From the looks of things, they have some kind of operation in the middle of this outbreak," Jack pointed. "You don't see convicts knowing basic medical knowledge like drawing blood."
Alright. He'd amuse her. Now he was curious where this was going.
"Unless they've opened up bodies, no… They're not doing the same thing we're doing, right?"
"Actually, I think they are. But for a different reason. You saw those kits on the table, right? Those are for rabies." Crane's head jerked back. "Well, the normal kind."
"Then...they were testing for- "
"The Harran virus," Jack finished. "'It's three this time.' Three infected survivors. Two clean. But they kept a teenager in the back for that reason alone."
Crane felt a foul taste in his mouth. And he hadn't tasted anything. He connected the dots, ending with a grim thought. "You don't think...?"
He couldn't finish his sentence.
"No point in dwelling on what could have happened," Jack said, shooting down the grimness without so much as batting an eye. "Esme's safe. Her family would have wanted that for her if they were willing to take the risk and get out of Scanderoon."
It was a comforting suggestion from her silver tongue. As usual, she was right. Her words held so much strength in them that they made Crane relax a little.
"The question now is how far up is Alexander in GRE's arse to be doing this kind of operation."
A click back to a pressing topic—the expression on her face explaining to Crane she couldn't drop it.
"What about GRE?"
"They didn't just happen to come across med-crates out of nowhere," Jack pointed, her finger tapping on the roof's mid-high ledge. "I can understand if they ransacked from the GRE. But throwing their lives for high-grade stuff? That's being raving mad."
"They were given those crates."
"Gift baskets." Jack nodded. It was so nice to have someone follow the conversation. "Baffling, isn't it? What would mobsters and thieves benefit from helping an organization that let the virus out into the world?"
"You're asking me." A normal reaction would be one majorly being pissed off, angry, at GRE. Just like Crane himself. "Makes even less sense the other way around."
"Oh, on the contrary, it makes more sense. Last I heard, GRE was stretched thin after the Harran incident. Best way to get more manpower would be to ask the local help. But only at an arm's length," Jack continued explaining. "They've screwed up once. They don't want to add 'collaborating with prisoners' to their resume."
A good point. "You think there's more to this?"
"I don't doubt that this is one part of a bigger picture... Too many holes for me to piece them together…"
"You're pretty hung over about it."
"It's more like...something about this doesn't add up."
Silence hung. It was as if Jack was still trying to reach a conclusion. Find any sort of hint within her bank of memories she could have missed at first glance. Like she said, too many holes in the mystery.
Kyle had to agree with her. Everything about the GRE and these prisoners? Something was up.
But they were just banging their heads on a wall that wouldn't break.
"So what now? Look into this operation? Or keep on looking for the Weeping Man?" Now it was Crane's turn to feel defeated. "Already half the day's gone, and we're still nowhere closer to catching him."
Jack grinned.
Crane actually took a step back from the brunette.
Since their first encounter, when he was fully able to be his old self again, Kyle has learned that Jack wore many kinds of grins. The catty one. The cocky one. The gentle one. The one that challenged Kyle. And there was the taunting one she loved to shine at her foes.
But this one? It started off slow. Methodical. A nice notion had dawned on her.
Crane immediately regretted reminding her about their current objective.
"Crybaby does respond very quickly to a call for help. Just as fast as you do."
"Ok. And? " He shouldn't have said that.
"What do you do when you have the advantage over someone you're catching?"
Spinning him around again. Regardless, he thought it over.
"Well… Make a trap for him."
Jack bobbed her head. The correct answer.
"If we can't go to Crybaby, then we have to make him come to us."
Make him come?
Hang on.
What was Jack planning exactly?
"Alright." She clapped her hands, drawing not just Freakazoid but also the stragglers to her. She didn't care - a push off the roof would be enough for the walkers. "Let's get together some mannequins."
"Mannequins? What for?"
"To play a little game of house."
What?
Jack was silent. Hands in pockets and that scary-looking grin present on her face, she simply trotted away with an unknown goal in mind.
"Jack? Hey!" Don't keep him out of the loop!
"C'mon, Freakazoid," she ordered in her usual, nonchalant tone. "We're burning daylight here."
If Crane asked, he'd get nothing. Even if he did get an answer, he wasn't going to like it. Whichever way it could have gone, it'd be the same result for him anyway.
Again, he asked himself the same unanswered question like before. What did he get himself into?
Kyle heaved a deep sigh.
Reluctantly, he dragged his feet and tailed after the woman in red.
A/N: 28/1/2021 Heyo again and a new chapter is out. As you might have noticed, for the old readers, I'm actually switching around plot points about and I do have to say...this direction is one I never thought of taking! Or at least, keep a particular character alive.
I think back in the original, I didn't have a clear solid idea to put together these small ideas and hence, why I just decided to kill the Weeping Man off in the original. But now, the more I wrote, the more I wanted him on the same level of threat as mutated Crane himself. With the mystery being pieced together, it helped me a lot on how I can put those small ideas together. So the Weeping Man won't be killed off. Yet.
Regardless, I'm actually happy with the direction I'm taking and the depth it's taking me. And MORE prying Crane open on his emotional development! :D Yes I'm a sadist. Hopefully with the mystery I am building, it's not too much exposition or some parts dragging. As well as targeting some important points some readers have been asking for the longest time (as for Jack learning the truth? Eeeeeh, nope. Long way more :D )
Enjoy this chapter. I'll see how the next chapter is written around next week or so.
28/1/2021 - Fixed errors and missing line.
9/2/21 - Added new lines, fixed mistakes and edited parts according to new timestamp from pilot.
30/10/21 - Reworked on a portion at the Strait entrance.
27/12/21 - Edited lines and phrases.
1/3/22 - Went over a full chapter edit with some fixes, retwists, deletes and adjustments. Edited the beginning fight.
11/1/24 - Final fixes and changes, I hope