Chapter Summary
- ALWAYS GREENER ON THE OTHER SIDE
With the hydrodam running back online, the city can have a better chance of surviving out the storm. Now if only I can do something about these weird...dreams... - Jack
SEVENTEEN: NO REST FOR THE WICKED
Did he really fall asleep?
On watch?
While in the rain?
"Can't believe you dozed off."
Crane couldn't help but feel in a daze when he patted himself down for the bullet. But there was no hole in his head. Or gut.
He wasn't shot. That was just a dream.
Crane inhaled and exhaled as he rubbed his eyes. He almost made the attempt to look at the time...then realized he didn't have a watch anymore. His body was the clock now—no feeling of UV burning on his skin. Yet.
So it wasn't morning. But the sky did look like it was lightening up.
He swallowed. Like the previous ones, it felt real—like somehow, he was pulled back into the past. Jack's past. Watching her play out the scene on the stage.
And at the end...it felt like he was in her shoes.
What is going on?
Why was he having these weird out-of-body dreams? This was all thanks to this virus.
Well, who's fault was it going to the Countryside?
With a sigh, he warily stood up from his perch. It was over. His mind was in the present, not the past.
He needed to check the dam again. Who knew how long he went out like that. He had been up for hours—the dam remained safe, the power ran onward, and the city stayed lit up.
Nonetheless, a damn Biter wandering into the base could end up touching something. Recreating disaster like last night.
Surprisingly, it was quiet indoors. In fact, just him and Jack. The entire time the infected could have taken them out during their sleep and that irked him a little. It was two against a horde anyway; one infected survivor and a sentient zombie. The UV lights and barriers couldn't be the only things to keep the mob out.
And yet, nothing stirred.
As if the zombies wouldn't dare invite themselves in...
It was so strange. But Crane's mind was mostly on the dream. Third time a charm. No way could his mind be making things up when they were so vivid. And was it even true? That's just grasping at straws from dreams. Dreams! That was on the road to being a madman.
Well, he probably was one now.
It has all been a guessing game. The only way to know was to ask Jack. Out of the question.
He could see it coming: "Oh, sure. The talking zombie can bloody well read minds." And that was if he was right. This...dive dream thing was intrusive.
It wasn't like he asked for it. So, as he had guessed before, the best course of action was not to do anything. Again.
He already witnessed Ercan getting his shit beaten out by Jack. Who was to say Crane wouldn't get the same payback? Or worse.
Once he was done with his round, he went to the office, seeing Jack's orange silhouette up and awake, with a hand to the ear. Only, she wasn't in the office—she hung around outside, the other arm on the railing.
A long night's rest did her good. That made him feel mostly relieved. He couldn't forget the previous day.
It didn't sit right on him, leaving Jack up on the roof for five minutes. It felt like eons waiting. Then it was over when she came back down, wearing no fear, like always.
But that bit of worry stayed in the back of his mind.
"Dreams? What sort of dreams?"
Crane stopped in his tracks.
"Just...things… Vivid. Dreams…" Jack answered. "Feels like my head's splitting open though."
"But you are taking them, right?"
"Yes, Bones. I have. I'm not that forgetful."
"Then...could they have anything to do with, you know, the virus, or-?"
"If it did, wouldn't everyone have the same symptoms?"
"I don't think so. I have dreams too, but not in the way you're describing them."
"So it's isolated?" Jack cut herself off to let out a long yawn.
"Maybe? I don't have much of a field in neuroscience."
"Sounds nonsense, if you ask me."
Uh oh.
Uhhh… No, no! Pretend you know nothing.
So what?! Crane had no idea himself. He scratched his head sheepishly, almost wanting to bail out before the conversation could possibly tackle one specific common point. As he passed the office door, half-opened, he noticed an open book just beyond the gap.
The sketches were what got Kyle piqued.
He never imagined Rahim to have some artistic side to him—which gave him a bit of an ache. Never did he take the time—maybe just a minute—to learn much about Rahim beyond his personality and chatter. The 'job' had always been important and now looking back, it really cost him more than he'd bargained for.
Kyle most certainly never expected the wild firecracker to have an artistic side herself. The sketchbook was a little rough compared to Rahim's in the dream but also a very different style entirely from street art.
What got most of his curiosity wasn't just that fact alone. It was the drawings themselves.
Infected. Black and white sketches of Biters, Goons, Toads and other types he and Jack have encountered. All in good detail—the kind a scientist jolted down every single detail behind a newly-discovered creature. Right down to the facial structures a profiler would pinpoint.
He ended up on the latest pages, the newest entry showing a familiar-looking infected. "Crybaby" written down at the bottom. The mutation really didn't do Ercan any justice. He couldn't call him a Volatile, or the rare Night Hunter Crane barely escaped in the past. There were similarities, from bone spurs to dangerous claws and increased muscle strength, that rivaled the best fighters.
But he also almost looked human. Almost.
The second new entry was worse than Ercan's. Boy, even if the drawing was well done, did it look horrible. Not even the torn drapes could help hide it. When did Jack come across that thing?
"That's an ugly bastard. Hope I never meet him."
The only 'good' things Jack wrote were the eyes and its strength. A pair of 'soulful', 'sad' blue eyes. Nothing explanatory, and Crane didn't get the punchline there. An artist's poetic bullshit? The other piece of info she wrote seemed to indicate she had fought it. Gloves off.
He disagreed with the notes. There was nothing admirable about this freak. Until he read the name at the bottom of the page. "Freakazoid". Bolded and underlined by pencil.
"Wait a minute." Also, when did Jack see his body?!
Then he felt something over his shoulder. Spotted a peek behind the sports shade when he looked back. Jack had heard his thoughts and glanced over her shoulder to see the culprit.
Ah, shit.
He was caught red-handed with Jack's sketchbook.
He planned out what he should say in his head: "This is yours, right? I didn't read it."
What a terrible lie.
"I dunno how to tell you, Jack. If these dreams are a problem, you should try to take it easy."
"They're not a problem," Jack replied to her radio friend, too tired to care if someone had peeked into her personal belongings. "Haven't had anything like that in a long time…"
"Jack?"
Jack squeezed the bridge of her nose, as if trying to dull out a headache. "It'll pass." She then changed the subject, more for herself. "Have you heard anything from Talo?"
"His group's at the edge now. You might be able to pick up his radio until they arrive in Harran."
"So nothing," Jack said disappointedly.
"They are heading down those train tracks. Maybe with some luck, they could find the Tower on the move."
"Doubtful. Harris is smart enough not to take those Volatile grounds. He'd try an alternative if it means saving a large group."
Even Crane agreed with that. Because he already saw that alternative up front—a large barge made to set sail as a last resort. The problem was that its completion was left in the air before he left for the Countryside.
"Well. Still, we can only hope. We are the Ravs."
"We are the Ravs," she recited, in an attempt to bring her confidence back and believe in those words.
"You're...still not planning to go to Harran, right? "
Jack gestured out her hand in small air circles. "Oh. I dunno. If I find a Candidate that wanders into the Slums, then maybe."
"Just give Talo time. His group's got the best Rangers."
"I assume that's Hardwin and Baki, right? I have full confidence in them. Talo, not so much."
"Hey, we're stretched on manpower here. Take what we got," Bones remarked. "They'll find them."
"Yeah. I know. I know…"
Crane's frown thinned tightly. There it went again—his heartstrings being pulled. Where in Harran was the Tower?
"For now, go find Ender and Riza. We want that sample coming to the Outskirts asap."
"Oh. So those two will finally go back."
"No." Jack's face scrunched up at the response. "The rains hit the tunnels on that side so hard, none of you would be able to get back anyway."
"Ok. How are we supposed to send the sample to you?"
"Ender said he found an idea. With some help from Geyong."
"And that idea is?"
"Dunno. You're gonna have to ask them yourselves."
"Of course." She groaned. Just give it to her straight, for goodness sake. "Freakazoid's here. Should we get this started?"
"Sure. Before Asem heads out. Hang on."
With the comms talk put on hold, Jack turned back to the next issue, hands in pockets and a judging gaze.
"Uh, I...it was lying there… Open… I like the art."
Crane failed. Hard.
"Hard to believe I have other talents besides kickboxing?"
"Can't deny they are good." Crane handed over the sketchbook to her.
"That's because I had a good teacher," she said proudly. Nostalgically. "Loudmouth. But once you get him to focus on something, he goes all out."
Again, the painful needle was thrust into the heart. It was bitter. But he couldn't tell her to stop talking about Rahim.
He did agree on two things. Rahim was a damn loudmouth. And he did give it his all. If it wasn't for him, Kyle wouldn't have learned parkour on the go.
He quickly ushered out something, just to shake off the anguish. "When do you even have time to sketch?"
"Whenever we're not running for our lives. It's much safer than using your phone," she chided as she put away her small notebook. "Put your comms on Channel 3."
"Why?" he asked casually.
"Our boss wants to talk to you."
Oh.
Ooooh-oh, no, total no. Nuh-nuh. Nope. Nada.
Every goddamn time he talked to someone sitting high up on their chair, it'd always go wrong. His GRE officer? Told him to burn that crate of Antizin. Made contact with Rias and what did that get him? A whole load of bullshit morals, hypocrisy and pain. Tried to make a reputation in order by being an apostle with the Faceless just to talk to the Mother? Crane became this!
He backed away. "Yeah. I got some chores to do. You know, zombie stuff. Really important stuff. So I'm gonna skip this call-"
"You can't keep running away," Jack said disappointedly. "You're the one who spoke up back at the hotel."
"Well… I mean… Your radio guy started it."
Jack simply rolled her eyes. She was surrounded by children. "If you have a complaint with how we do work, then take it up with the Ravs. I'm not their feedback box."
"I'm not showing anyone how I look. Not even to your group." Especially after seeing that drawing of himself. Also, he wasn't that big! "Hell! You freaked out when you heard my voice on the comms."
"Where did that confidence go? You were doing so well too."
"When that girl screamed at me."
"You didn't get shot," she chided. "You've gone through a lot of trials and passed with flying colours. See how well everyone takes you?"
"You mean how well they can take to a circus freakshow."
What a whiner, Jack thought, but zipped those words behind sealed lips. "You can't keep crawling back into your hole because you're not one of the cool kids anymore."
There were so many points in that sentence that Crane wanted to attack and demolish. "Oh shaddup. I'm not-"
"Wait. Hear me out. I told you before that you're the biggest mystery behind this virus. Asem wants to know what we're dealing with."
He still didn't budge. "Asem being your leader, right? Does your whole faction know you're running around with a sentient zombie who could kill you at any moment?"
"Sure. The whole group knows about you," Jack said without any hesitation. At first, he took it as a joke. After all, what he said was out of sarcasm. "I have to report back every now and then."
NOT WHAT HE WANTED TO HEAR!
"Most of the group thinks you're a figment of my imagination, but some assume you're just a human who believes he's a zombie and the rest actually buys the whole talking infected gig."
Refrain from struggling her neck, Kyle. Stop yourself from doing it, Crane hollered in his head as he used every ounce of energy to control his claws from grabbing her.
"What about you? You're also a damn mystery with your weird poisonous blood!"
Now she didn't budge. "Repeat that sentence again, Freakazoid. It's poison. Not a cure. I've already gone through every single test imaginable before I took this field trip."
Crane glared at her. He tried to think of a comeback. But watching her stand like she was the bigger adult present in the conversation made him come up with blanks. Her hands on hips, looking all like "I've already gone through this, so stop your complaining and grow a pair."
Crane tried. Along the lines of "Well, you're not like a monster like me!" or "I still have rights not to be pricked with needles!" or, or...
He couldn't win this argument.
"You're part of the Ravens now. If you want us to trust you, you gotta trust us too. You rub our backs, and we rub your...scaly, bony, back. Thingie."
Ok, he'd let that one slide.
"It's just a call. You're not being hazed. Neither are you being forced to jump through hoops."
"...You know I haven't agreed to join, right? "
"On the contrary, I think you fit perfectly with the Ravs."
"Jack," called the radio guy. "She's here."
"Roger that," she said, and with a gesture that said she passed the stage over to Crane, she exclaimed, "Behave yourself, Freakazoid."
Behave. Oh sure.
He held down a long, demotivating groan as the brunette gave him his space. He'd behave, alright, and that was if this Raven leader didn't tick him off right off the bat.
"This is Asem," said the other line. A woman's voice, and there was a native tongue to it. "I take it that this is Freakozaid speaking?"
This was gonna suck. He cleared his voice, hoping that would make it less hoarse than usual, then again for one good measure before he gave one deep sigh...and spoke bitterly. "...Yeah." Again, he cleared it. "This is me... Speaking."
There was a moment of pause. Yup, the bold captain of the Ravs was stunned to hear his voice. And Crane anticipated that this woman wouldn't want to talk to a freak.
"...Not what I expected. Bones made it sound like he was hearing a Volatile on the other end."
Well, that was anti-climax. But that told him this woman was going to stay. Great, another person like Jack. "Yeah. I can just leave right now. I don't need this."
"Rash and headstrong.I see why Jack took a liking to you."
He wasn't too sure how to take that. Should he be afraid? "Back up... What do you mean 'a liking'?"
"Jack has already informed us about your...state of mind."
Ok, sure! Let's dodge that, why don't we?
But Kyle continued. "That's putting it lightly."
"Believe me when I say this. We've already seen a lot to know that this outbreak isn't normal."
"Of course, it isn't. The dead shouldn't walk."
"And neither should someone who has crossed that bridge come back. Which begs the question: are you a threat, or something more?"
"Only if someone is a threat to me," he murmured softly and angrily. "Or do you think I'll be a lot worse?"
"I meant it with good intention. Men have drawn guns on us before." Nothing continued for a while, as if she was thinking over the choices. Which was few. Then she made the decision on the spot. "Jack has better judgement than the rest of us."
"Better judge-? " That sudden outburst caught Jack's attention; she hunched up an eyebrow at him. Crane quickly turned away and hushed his voice a little. "I'm sorry. But are all you people...crazy?! You're putting your fate on one person! Who's also crazy!"
"Hm-hm." It was a laugh. A genuine soft chuckle. "The fact that you don't believe that tells me she's 'rubbed off' on you... Good."
Crane couldn't believe it. Maybe he was right about this group being cuckoo in the head.
"Am I missing something here?"
"When you've worked with Jack long enough, you know how she operates. You tolerate her."
"Actually, I'm this close to the threshold with her."
Another soft chuckle. "You're not alone. However, a friend of Jack is a friend of the Ravens."
"You really don't see how bad this is. Again, infected, ready to tear a human limb from limb?"
"And have you yet?" she asked.
"Uh… I hope not."
"Then I have every bit of confidence she'll be fine with you. Or she kills you before you snap."
"Oh. Joy," he grumbled sarcastically. "My fate in her hands. Do I have any other choices?"
"None of us have any good choices. Which is why I wanted to talk to you. I have a favor to ask."
Here we go again. "There's always a catch," he growled. A literal growl of an animal. Didn't matter if the change in his voice reflected more of his true nature. Let her know he wasn't her toy.
"I am not asking for your loyalty." The woman went straight into business. "I want you to look out for Jack."
The irritation inside Crane's throat quenched down. Babysitting? That was a very different kind of request compared to the hundreds he had gotten.
"She's already told you what this project is, yes?"
"Something about testing her blood on Special infected?"
"Hm. She was supposed to keep it a secret... Better you than a human, I guess."
"Again. Can just leave. What's wrong if she tells someone this big secret of hers?"
"A human whose body poisons anyone infected with the Harran virus. How do you think people will react to that?"
How?
"They'd think it's a cure," he started and slowly made the connection. "And they'll kill just to get her."
"...We had a riot when we first made this discovery. That's why we're keeping this under wraps."
A riot. Crane could imagine how that went. Some would see that person as a threat. Others think they were a weapon.
"This is a poison…"
He replayed the Mother's words in his head distastefully. Ironic for another type of 'poison' to be on two legs and punching zombies.
Exactly where did Jack get this perk? And for the Ravs to just let her go off on her own with such a valuable ability...
"Well, I hate to break it to you, but sending out your only lead to do a job isn't really a great idea."
"Believe me when I say we've tried looking for other people to help Bones do his project. And Jack is only a recruit."
"Wait a minute." He nearly raised his voice again. "She just joined you guys?"
"Yes."
What-Who—what a self-centered, inconsiderate, big mouth she was! Jack made it sound like she was one of the confidants under this Asem woman. Now he was finding this out?!
She was as bad as Rahim when he first met him! No wonder he was like that!
"Not a lot of good choices, huh?" he asked tiredly.
"Only with what we've given." How the hell could this leader stay so calm? And with talking to him? "It was Jack who asked to take this assignment."
"Wait, she asked for this?" Actually, he believed that. "Yeah. Of course, she would." Why wouldn't she?!
"I wouldn't have sent Jack if I didn't think she was capable. There's nobody we trust better than her. She has her blood. And now her Lifeline," she pointed. "Ender told me you took that responsibility."
"Because we made an agreement. I help her with this pet project. She helps me with...my issue."
"You sound sane enough to me."
"That's not good enough." He tightened a fist into a ball. His brain could switch off and lose that fraction of humanity at any moment...
"Jack did say you're a very hesitant person."
Crane scoffed. "When you're in my shoes. You...you don't know what it's like. Being like...this."
"Quite the opposite. I know more about how you feel than you think."
"Please," he spat. Like anyone would know. How about sticking it up your ass-
"For what it's worth, you're more clear-minded than I thought."
That compliment came out of nowhere. Now, how was he supposed to feel? This lady took away his moment to be pissed.
Moreso, this Asem person wasn't what he had imagined. She got a better picture of the kind of person Crane was from picking at points in their talk and Jack's intel. This wasn't a happy-trigger thug, a brainless baboon or a Viral she was talking to. She gave Crane a chance to communicate. All because of Jack.
"So," Asem started. In a way that said 'Are you up to the task or am I going to hire someone else?'. "Can I trust you with Jack's life?"
"You're asking a lot out of an infected."
"And yet Jack has more faith in you than you do in yourself."
"Really? I'm pretty sure she has confidence in her own blood that I won't kill her. Maybe too much!"
Another laugh. "That's Jack for you."
Well, he had to give her that. Not going to admit it out loud, but he had to agree.
"...Sure. What do I have to lose."
"Good... One more thing." Of course, another needy group. "You've probably heard of her reputation as Mad Jack. She has a notorious tendency to go off on a tangent."
"Ok. So it's not just me."
Crane could have sworn Jack heard that last part. Oh god, he was asking for a punch. Thankfully, it didn't seem like it caught up on her, so he inched a couple more steps away from her, just to play it safe.
"Jack's skill as a kickboxer has always been formidable. But she can push her body too far without thinking."
"Sooo...what are you asking from me?" he asked confusedly.
"Make sure she doesn't go berserk."
Berserk? Was she really asking the right person for that? "I think it should be the other way around-"
"I mean it."
That caught him off guard. This woman...unexpectedly cared about one of her own. She wasn't as heartless as Rias to abandon all his men or devious as the Mother to put the wool over the eyes of her sheep under a pointless, deceiving doctrine. Asem reminded him of Jasir...if Jasir was a military man and not a farmer.
"I… Sure... You have my word."
"Thank you, Frea-" She stopped and cleared her voice. "What should I call you?"
"You were gonna say that stupid name, weren't you?"
"If it's a bother, then you might as well tell us your name. You were a human once."
Human. Yes. He had a past, a name.
"It's…"
But saying those two words was difficult. Resentful. He wasn't even playing as the amnesiac anymore, but something just stopped him.
"It's nothing," he explained. "Don't have one."
He outright refused to say his name.
"...I see. Unfortunate."
And that ended the chat.
Yeah. Real unfortunate. Everything about him since he arrived in Harran has been unfortunate. An irritating itch made him clench his sharp teeth so tightly.
He wanted to bury the man, Kyle Crane, as deep as possible into the ground. Because that coward was dead.
He was supposed to be dead. He should have stayed dead.
But fate was a bitch and had other plans for him, he supposed.
"So what did our Mother Hen say about me?"
Just like that, the heavy, cocky accent broke the stiff air around him. Jack was ready and riling to get back to work now that the call was over. It was like she was herself again…
The self-centerd, over-the-top, inconsiderate, big mouth Crane had been regretfully working with.
"Pretty sure she had a lot of nasty things to say about me," Jack chided.
"Mother Hen?"
"She certainly acts like one. Always worried about her little Ravens going outside with predators everywhere."
"Ugh."
"What? Chicks get eaten all the time. Nothing to be grossed about."
"Not that. It's the fact you call your boss 'mother'." If this group becomes another Faceless cult, he was leaving. "I've already climbed through the ranks for a crazed prophetess who calls herself that."
"Asem is a mother. She has a son. So of course, she'd be a little protective."
"Oh." Ok, now he made this awkward.
"Sounds like the last group you worked for were a bunch of nutjobs," Jack continued on, completely impregnable to the discomfort Crane just put flat out on himself. "You don't have to worry about that sort of thing with us."
"Aren't you all nutjobs too?"
"I imagine we're livelier than your past clients." Jack first headed inside the office to recollect her stuff. "Pack up, Freakazoid. We're heading out to make a delivery."
She had only turned around, barely out of the door. Fast as always, Freakazoid was gone to the dock. Nothing he needed to get ready.
What was the rush for? They saved the city. People had power back, and the monsters were warded off.
Fine. She took her time out of the dam. Partly because there was no worry. Partly to purposely annoy Freakazoid at waiting.
Out of the working hydrodam, she gave one look back. Mahir's crew should be taking over soon. Anytime from when the power went online till now, Alexander's men could have tried to reclaim the base. But maybe because the blackout hit their other places of operations just as badly as losing the dam.
"For a reformed zombie, you did a pretty good job keeping this place in check-" She stopped with a frown. "What are you doing?"
Freakazoid wasn't at the bow of the boat like usual. His claw was barely touching the keys when he caught the rare scowl out of her.
"I'm driving us out of here." And he got here first. So shotgun.
"Why?"
"Ok. Sure. It looks weird to see a zombie control a boat from your end. But I can drive for you-"
"I am fine and dandy that I don't need a chauffeur. Now move over."
"Sheez. Ok. Ok," he mumbled before sliding back to the bow. "Stubborn woman."
"It's a sweet thought," Jack said. And the strangeness of a beast riding a vehicle would have been entertaining to watch. "But I can't let my clients escort me during work hours. I have a reputation to hold."
He wasn't even stepping on toes, but how arrogant could one get? Fine, Crane would let her have her way.
In the keys, turned, and the engine rumbled on. Freakazoid gave the boat a push from the stoned pier, and off they went, back towards Scanderoon where the lights acted as their guide back to the channels.
Three minutes later, Crane ate his words. The itch in him couldn't go away, and it wouldn't be long before he would behave like a gentleman again. He really was too soft.
"You know it doesn't hurt."
"What does?" Jack asked. Oh, she knew where this was going-
"Letting someone take over the wheel."
Ok. Not what she expected. "I appreciate the help, Freakazoid. But you're making a mountain out of a molehill."
"You literally smacked heads with a Special infected last night. With Volatiles. And convicts running around."
"Nobody would believe a story like that," she chuckled. "But hey, we came out alive."
Crane didn't join in with her jesting. And he didn't let it go. If it was any comfort, at least Jack was back to bantering. Maybe he just worked himself over nothing back then.
Now it were the questions. He was bursting at the rim. But if he asked any of them, Jack could figure things out. And there was the most important one of all—he had forgotten about it during the blackout. At the start, he had been dreading it, but he knew.
It was either now or later.
He didn't want to wait.
"...So...aren't you gonna ask?"
"About your past?"
The sudden twitch out of Freakazoid stopped her from jumping into more questions. The amount of wanting to not touch that topic with a ten-foot pole.
"I admit. That's a lot of baggage you're carrying. More than a sane person should. And I screwed it up for you."
Just like that, the tension in Crane lightened up. No probing, no prying, no tricks he could see.
He scoffed. "Yeah. You royally did."
Jack's chuckle softened, her voice drowned by the sound of rising seafoam. A bit of peace in the stinky air. "That sort of thing… It's not something you can talk about easily."
"Sounds like you've been down this road before."
She laughed. "I'm sure it's nowhere close to what you've been through."
Why did he find that hard to believe when she said it like that?
"But I know enough how this goes afterwards. Harder to dwell on the past and even harder to make it all go away. Like pretending to have amnesia."
He cleared his throat. But this time, Crane didn't deny it like before.
"...I'm sorry."
But Jack shook her head. "You needed some sort of coping mechanism. Only way to get through the day."
"Coping…" Kyle repeated. It didn't sit right on him, but he had done other things just to cope with the grief and guilt. "Was it really coping?"
"If you're talking about before you were turned, I don't have the answer to that. You do." She sidelined a gaze at the Freakazoid, seeing him digest her words as he shrank a little smaller. "But I can offer an ear."
The turn of his head was quick. Like that came out as a surprise from her.
"They always say, 'it's good to get it off your chest'," Jack explained. "So your story? Take it slow. I got all the time in the world to listen."
An advice Crane never thought to hear. He has had his bottles tightly closed for so long, and some cracked open to Jack under the pouring rain. He had made a small mental note—he had to tell her everything; the reason for the lies, the villains he spoke out against, and the charades he played.
The problem would be where to start. What should he say? He drew so many blanks, waiting for the right moment to say it. Just say it.
Then to be told to take his time...helped clear his mind a bit more. It wasn't as cloudy as before.
"Does it get easy? Getting it off your chest?"
For a moment, there was hesitation. Did he manage to catch her off guard? Still, Jack recollected herself and thought…
"...Yes and no," Not the best answer Jack could muster out. "...I'm still burying the rest of my demons. Until all that's left is just me."
A throwback to what she had said to him that same day. And he stayed quiet, witnessing the little things before him.
Jack inhaled deeply. Her fingers counted again. But this time, she didn't recite the numbers. Kept to the finger movements as a routine.
It's always routine.
Crane reflected on the many words she said. The feeling she shared...he wasn't alone in having an inner struggle. Who were to say how many demons she had created surviving the Harran Outbreak.
All that's left is just me… It was a line that carried to him like a wave. He had never had this sense of clarity until a mysterious brash woman in red said those words.
Ok… Step by step. When the right moment came, when he would organize his thoughts, he could let the past out slowly. One memory at a time.
Then maybe...he could be Kyle Crane again.
"You really are something," he then admitted. "Here, I thought you'd be twisting my arm to spill the beans."
"Oh, where's the fun in getting all the answers? I enjoy the guessing games."
And theeere it was. The hyena-like persona she wore like a badge.
He huffed at the arrogance. But he welcomed this shift in mood.
"Weren't you telling me to take it slow?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "Doesn't mean I can't have a little fun while I wait. I've stayed long enough to learn a few things about you."
"Oh, really?" He'd like to see her try. "With the amount of shit I went through, I find that really hard to believe."
"Just the surface. Nothing too deep. That would imply I can read minds."
"Yeah. You're a pretty good profiler if ever I've seen one."
"Well, I have to be good. When you're against your opponent, you have to read every move. Their body language. Their faces. Same goes outside the ring. They end up giving me a lot of hints without knowing. A little huff that says 'oh please'." Then came Jack's grin, a little more suspicious-looking than usual. "A furrow of the brow saying 'stop poking in my business.' A shift in the eyes can even tell me I have a liar."
And now, Crane was getting uncomfortable. Because he had been giving similar signs throughout their talk.
He flared his nostrils irritatedly. The prying again. One minute ago, he had changed his mind about Jack. The next? He stopped.
This woman!
"A scorn like that can say 'you're reading too much into it'."
"Ahem," he coughed and tried to sit properly in his seat. How long was this boat ride for?
"By the time they've realized it, I've already turned the conversation around to my favor. Be by word or by fists."
"Uh-huh." Crane straightened up, with a huff out of him. Just to show he wasn't going to be played. "Alright. What have you figured out about me?"
Oooh, was he going to regret that. The smile on her face said exactly that to him.
"For starters, you're no local. American with the way you speak. Ish… Chicago?"
"Hmph," he uttered. "...Illinois."
Jack smirked at her first guess being correct. Time to keep rolling. Don't undersell it with just that. "Two, the way you fight, your athleticism, your proficiency in firearms...you served in the United States Armed Forces. Black Ops."
"Easy guess. But half-right. Never worked for that division in my life."
"Well, you certainly are a workaholic who can't take a sodding break to save his own life."
"Hey," he whined. "I know how to take a break."
"Sure. If you're going to the dojo on a regular basis. You know how to use Judo... Black belt, 5th Dan."
"6th. With some of Brazilian jiu-jitsu."
"Ahhh. Explains some of your moves. And I was right about you being an only child, hm? Loving family. White picket fences and all that?"
Then she heard the disapproving gruff.
"Oh. So not the American Dream. Grew up in a rough neighborhood?" Nothing on that. So she was right. "Orphan?" No budging, so wrong. "Abusive parents?"
"What? No. I have...good parents."
"But you left your folks on bad terms?" This time, she got nothing. "Was it because of your career choice or their high expectations?"
"...Both. He didn't want me throwing my life away… For heroics."
Strict father. Now she could see where that sense of rebellion came from.
"...Guess he was right. Look at where I ended up."
"You made that choice. Couldn't let him govern your whole life, now could you? And you served your country till now-"
"Uh...yeah, that...? Didn't really last long," he admitted sheepishly, catching the high-rise brow from Jack.
"Not enough for you to get a pension, hm? Dishonorable discharge?"
"Well... I wouldn't call it dishonorable."
"After that, you took up freelancing."
"Uh… I mean…yeah..."
"And your latest job had the best pay you couldn't refuse. You dropped in Harran, got bitten, things got out of control, and you told your boss to shove it up their arse when the mission flew south for them. You decided to go do the heroics for real."
He couldn't believe his ears. It didn't help with that schmuck smile drilling into his damn shame. Couldn't hide anywhere on the boat; all he could do was make himself smaller.
"How close am I?" she droned.
Too close for his own comfort!
"Ok." This time, Crane talked. How dangerous she was that she managed to see everything on surface level. Now he knew, he couldn't have hidden his white lie any better from her. Even if he tried. "You're scary, you know that?"
She gave a slight bow at the wheel. "I'm simply showing that my skills aren't for parties. People in these kinds of times? They don't think properly when emotions get in the way. So I jump in. Stop the explosion before it gets worse."
He could detect some truth in the words—there had been many times she had defused a heated situation. From a quiet child to a crying teenager, to a trapper man who hated her gut. She played her cards so well. Far better than Crane when the end result was mostly getting shot by men.
"Doesn't always work, mind you. Especially if you're the cause of it."
A little slip. Or was it a small confession?
"You can ask, you know."
A stir out of Freakazoid. Like he had been wanting to take a stick and poke at an unknown bomb, but threw it away before he did.
"You don't have to be a bloody churchboy. I've gotten this far with you, so it's only fair you get get to know me more."
Again the arrogance. As if Crane would never solve the mystery behind the brunette.
"I remember you telling me to go find out on my own."
"Yes. After you asked me 'what my fucking problem is'. If you're after another challenge, then by all means. I can't stop you."
"You're...really infuriating sometimes."
"Helps bring down walls. 'Least you have a friend who will listen."
Friend. It gave him a complete overhaul to how he used to see that word. He had made friends in Harran. But it was always put at a distance. Never more but never less. First because of the charade, then because he couldn't take it anymore.
"...I've met a lot of people. But...I don't think I stayed long enough to...really...you know. Have a good friend."
"Hm. So you've never told anyone for the longest time... I imagine you couldn't tell the truth the longest time either."
He laughed weakly to himself. How right she was again...
"Was one of those people Ercan?"
It did kind of catch Crane off guard, but he had expected it all the same.
"…I was asked to check out on a farm."
"The Countryside?"
"Yeah," he bitterly answered. "Family got attacked by bandits."
"Mother and son killed? Daughter survived?"
Ok, that guess caught him off guard. "Shit. Yeah... Christ. That was a good guess."
He didn't spy the displeased look on Jack's face, too amazed. It wasn't a guess, though. She couldn't take any credit. In fact, Jack's grip on the wheel became tighter with apprehension.
What was that flashback she got rammed into her head? Was it really real?
"The father… Ercan. I found him locked up in the basement... Uh. This was before I turned into this."
She got it, waving out her hand. "Continue."
"...The last time I saw him, he was human. A nervous wreck. But when he found out his daughter was alive...that gave him something to live for. I haven't seen him or the rest of the folks there since."
"Then he appeared in Scanderoon. As the Weeping Man."
"Shit…" Crane shook his head heavily. "I don't know. He wasn't bitten when I found him… I don't know what happened…"
Silence. Freakazoid was with his own thoughts, trying to find a sound theory. Anything. A lot of unanswered things he left behind, Jack pondered. But there wasn't much of a point in what could have been done.
"So what are you going to do now?"
It lifted Freakazoid back up—his head bobbed sort of like an ostrich.
"He's still out there," Jack pointed, seeing that it hadn't dawned on Freakazoid till now. "Doesn't look like a second dosage is going to cut it."
No. And for that man to have full intent on his own humanity...that would be horrible.
"I...wouldn't wish for anyone with the same kind of fate as me… It's too much."
"Nobody wants that."
Not much reassuring, but it lightened a bit off Crane. Jack was right, as always. This time, he couldn't hate her for it.
"We already have the sample."
"Yes. We have it. But it doesn't feel like the job's done, does it?"
He agreed with her there. But he didn't think she'd continue on even after getting their mark.
It felt unfinished. Crane aimlessly glanced at the buildings by the channel's banks. Somewhere out there, Ercan was hiding. Unable to control his thoughts. Letting the feral side win. With the new state of the city in disarray, there was an uncomfortable feeling for Crane that the bald-headed man could be on to the next prey without realizing it.
"...'It's us or them'." He took a moment. He didn't want to say it, but it had to be said aloud. A final slam of the mallet in his head.
Jack was pensive. Calm. Compliant.
"Then let's go hunting. Use those senses of yours and find him," she said.
It was impressive. They've been after the trail of the Weeping Man for...almost a whole day. He didn't think a person could be fully committed to a cause. Some could call Jack crazy, and then he remembered, she was.
Crane let out a heavy sigh. "...I don't like it. But someone has to do it."
"Better from someone he met than a total stranger."
"Really? We aren't...that much different from any other infected. In fact...shouldn't you be prepared? You're right that I needed someone. But I...I also need someone to take me out if I really lose it."
"That's what Lifelines are for. If you're too far gone that my blood can't stop you, I won't hesitate."
"Wow," he scoffed. After he gave his speech too. A little sympathy would be nice. "Don't know how I feel about that. But...yeah… Thanks."
"My pleasure." Ok, she really wasn't making it easier on him. "And I expect you to hold your end of the bargain too. You are my Lifeline, Freakazoid. Don't hold back when my time comes."
"Your time?"
An eyebrow rose behind the shades. "Of course. I may be Mad Jack. But that's just reaching for the stars."
A sinking feeling dropped into the pit of his stomach.
"But...I thought that perk of yours would…"
"Keep me from turning? I still don't understand it at all, mate. Who's to say it could backfire for me," she explained confidently. "So. When I cross that bridge, be ready to stop me."
He didn't think about that…
No, he should have. He believed he had given Jack the virus from the beginning. He had made a pledge to take her life. Willing to follow through. But now, it spelled a different story for him.
What he had thought was getting his final stop, a final plea for his life to be taken mercifully before he was lost completely. Not the other way around. Yeah, it did irk him a little—the idea that someone would kill him—and he couldn't complain when he was in this 'state'. But the thought of doing a merciful kill on Jack by his hands…
Another mercy kill…
Flashes came back in his head. Two faces raced at him, to kill him. He literally had to turn away—the first reason being the faces, then the second being Jack. Talons gripped the railing as hard as they could to steady himself.
Why did everyone have to make it more difficult for him… Didn't help how earnest Jack sounded when she made that request to him.
That burden now felt so heavy...
"So what is your name?"
Next question of the day.
Crane swallowed. Turned back to the smiling brunette while making sure his face didn't give it away.
"You know I can't just keep calling you 'Freakazoid', now can I?"
Now she was being polite? "You've been calling me that this entire time. Why change now?" he scoffed.
"That was because you played the amnesiac card. Or are you telling me you have forgotten your name?"
His name. No, he hadn't.
But Jack didn't need to know what it was.
"I'll...let you figure out. You said it yourself," he exclaimed, trying to add a bit of a tease to his tone. "You enjoy guessing."
"Now you're making me into a bigger prick than I wanted to."
"Who's fault is that?"
An open palm from the ex-kickboxer yielded up high. "Alright, alright. I'll take the challenge. Mark my word. I'll figure your name out."
No. Not until he has done everything on his long list of amendments. He needed to rehearse the lines better in his head. Rescrambled them around so that they weren't shameless. That he truly meant every word.
If his gut was right on the money about Jack, he had to prepare himself to say his piece. Before he could tell her his name.
He returned to the sightseeing. Get his mind off it. Which wasn't any better. The aftermath of the blackout was present everywhere he looked. There were bodies in the streets, inside houses, on rooftops. But the nearest safe zones with orange skeletons moving gave him a ray of hope. Despite how long the second collapse had lasted, Scanderoon revolted long enough to stand against one night of pure darkness.
He and Jack managed to save lives in a dying metropolis.
"Hopefully, last's night power-out didn't do too much to the cit-"
The stop in her tone was enough to make Crane glance back to see the drastic change in Jack's mannerisms—how easily that frown on her face stretched.
"Oh no."
Before he could ask, the boat went on full throttle. Speed that Crane could have been warned. It nearly shook him off.
"Hey! What's wrong?" he asked, holding on tight. "Jack?"
Crane trailed after her stern glance—she had just been fixated on something far away. It was the closest stream of black smoke rising from among the buildings like a long, crooked chimney.
That meant fire.
But the direction they were headed was a little familiar. In fact, it brought the grim, ugly reality back to Crane. Immediately, he knew where they were going before the boat turned at a bend, and he spotted one location a street from the riverbank.
"No… The Orphanage."
Dawn was still a moment away, but the orange embers shone the way for Caroline. Brighter and brighter. It was all too quiet for Crane's liking. No sound, no movement, no highlighted bodies.
The boat barely stopped before reaching the riverbank. Jack took off without fastening the boat down. Who was going to steal it again.
Crane followed. She was their latest human visitor. Of course, she was shaken! Those were kids!
Their pace eventually slowed at the sign of the front gate.
UV floodlights blinked and sparked violently through broken glass. The spiked barriers had been torn down with bodies littered. A few familiar faces, many unfamiliar faces. There were even a few strangers among the corpses, wearing that familiar attire in orange.
The old stones of the Orphanage couldn't protect the residents during the blackout.
"Babak!" Jack called out in the foyer as she bolted inside. The smell of blood and gunpowder was old. A few hours ago. The further the two continued inwards, the more the body count became. "Marvin! Carl! Kitchen lady!"
No response.
It was silent…
Jack tried again. "Lina! Ekrem! Hilmi! Rashid! Zeki! Liam! Anyone!"
Nothing. Not even a Viral drawing to Jack's voice.
Crane couldn't speak, his eyes warily gazing at the carnage. Even after all their attempt in bringing the power back, a loss was bound to happen. This wasn't old to him, but it wasn't fair either.
And to happen to an Orphanage… To children.
Frustration boiled inside. Again. How many times again…
Then he became hopeful. Desperately so. Crane had to at least try. At least someone—anyone—had to be alive. So he searched, down the opposite direction from Jack.
The seconds ticked by drearily, and Jack slowed down in her pace. Nobody came down the stairs, none of the children came rushing over to the old celebrity. The irking thought was horrendous at creeping into her mind. Because it was the logical outcome. The only thing that did catch her eye was a weathered-down painted circle she hadn't seen before in her last visit. By the stairway. Wavy lines radiating of the symbol washed down by rain through the ceiling's holes, that she couldn't make out what it was originally.
A child's drawing? Even a grimmer thought crossed her mind: that the child had been standing by the stairs just as the lights went off and the defenses fell apart.
"Jack."
Did Freakazoid find something? Jack quickly turned back and found him by the now-destroyed kitchen. He pointed a talon at a small closet—a food pantry. The look on his face said it all to her: there was someone inside.
Both of them went on the defense. They had seen the new additional visitors to the Orphanage, their bodies lying outside the gates and inside the halls. Human and infected. So for the person inside the food pantry, were they friend or foe? A human or a monster?
Jack gave a nod at Freakazoid.
Slowly, she reached for the doorknob, turned it and pulled.
"Wait! Wait! Don't kill me!"
Out tumbled a large, cowering ball, shaking arms stiffened up like a shield.
"Carl," Jack called, attempting to calm the man in the Stuffed Turtle shirt down. "Carl! It's me, Jack."
A peek through the arms and slowly, the half-Turkish man registered that he wasn't surrounded.
Then he noticed the man behind Jack.
"GARH! Mons-!"
"Carl! It's ok." Jack held him back. Seeing the chubby man frail did pull at Crane's gut. It was a reminder of how that girl reacted to him.
"Stop. This is pointless." It didn't seem like the man named Carl heard that thought either.
"Carl! Look at me! At me!" she demanded. She had to clutch the petrified man's face and direct his frightened eyes onto her. "He's a friend. He's not gonna hurt anyone."
It worked. A little. The longer he stared at the calm brunette, the more that repose leeched onto him.
"A-A friend?"
"Yes. A friend."
It sounded hard to believe. The more Carl looked at the hooded man...he kind of saw a normal person. But why were his hands like that? And his eyes.
"What the hell is he wearing...? Some Halloween costume?"
Crane was about to say it. In the end, he did in a whisper. As soft as he could go. "Sure. Let's go with that…"
"Convincing, isn't it? Helps him get blend with the walkers easily." A creative way to help loosen the suffocating neurosis on Carl. "Can you tell me what happened?
He was still flabbergasted. Still reeling from everything. Surviving the night in a small closet.
The memory was fresh, burned into his mind. He couldn't help but rise up his hands, feeling them stiffen-
"Carl. Breathe in." Jack held her fingers to count to four. "Breathe out."
The same ritual she used for Esme. And like before, Carl followed through. But he didn't commit to the third round.
He needed to speak. Tell Jack what happened. He felt obligated to do something.
Carl swallowed again. There was a swimming feeling coming from his stomach. "...The lights went out. W-We tried to get them back on b-but w-we couldn't. We were surrounded."
"The infected snuck in?"
"They came out of nowhere. F-From behind!" Carl hollered. "W-We couldn't leave through the front. Everyone tried to run but…"
The front? Even if they could have, the infected outside would have gotten them there as well, Crane thought.
"What happened?"
"I-I… I…"
"Carl. It's ok. They're not coming back."
His brown eyes were suddenly at their largest. A realization came to him immediately.
That broke him.
"They're not coming back." The plump man broke down in tears. "Oh god… They're not coming back."
"Carl-"
"Everyone! Babak, Marvin. A-And the kids… They're...gone." Carl completely fell to the floor, unable to stay. He literally took Jack down to a knee, but she said nothing to it. "I just hid. I did nothing. I do nothing here!"
Crane had seen this before. Survivor's guilt. It was the same story for many he had met and for the people of Scanderoon. All too well, it reminded Crane of Ercan—being the only one who survived at his farmhouse.
"I'm useless… I'm always useless," Carl whimpered. "I-I should have died-"
"You lived."
The broken man almost couldn't comprehend what Jack said. That sounded wrong to him. But the brunette kept going.
"You're alive and they're gone," Jack said straightforwardly. "You gotta tell their story for them now."
It was a similar speech Crane had said to Ercan. Something along those lines she said to him back at the pipe. It didn't exactly carry the same powerful sway as it did to Crane. If anything, it barely helped the unfortunate man out of his guilt.
The reality was too strong for him to shrug it off.
"B-But... They're gone," Carl repeated, and shamefully shook his head in his hands. "All of them. We had kids here. They were just kids-"
Jack was about to say the next thing. Try her damnedest to get Carl back-
"How many?"
"Gargh!" Carl shrieked. He searched for that monstrous voice. That came from Jack's friend, didn't it?!
"How many kids were there?!" Crane barked vocally. He didn't care about exposing his secret.
The man in the Stuffed Turtle shirt wanted to leave, but again, Jack held him back from running. These people were crazy! The Orphanage was abandoned. Everyone was dead. And kids, KIDS, had died!
Carl swallowed down the lump. Maybe he was the insane one. "S-Sixteen. We had sixteen... " The number hit him hard. "Oh god… We had sixteen…"
"I count twelve."
Twelve? Carl rose his head up from his shaking palms. Jack stood up as well, digesting what she had heard with building amazement.
A deceiving hope. But it was tiny that Jack couldn't help but find herself grasping it.
"They're alive," Freakazoid told her.
She knew how.
"Hide n' seek."
The hooded man nodded. A simple child's game to pass the time. To have fun.
Jack sprinted out for the first hiding spot.
"H-Hey! Wait-!"
Jack didn't wait for Carl. She was off.
Freakazoid was already on the search, leaving the poor, confused man alone in the foyer. No need to make it worse for the guy while Crane stayed on the comms as Jack's guide. His eyes saw through the floors and walls as he followed up as well, just like the first game Jack played.
Clever hiding places, Jack told Lina. The Orphanage had so many hidey-holes the walkers couldn't find them.
Clever indeed that it potentially saved twelve children.
One by one, they found them. Every child Jack had met the previous day, and a few more. Always Freakazoid first with his x-ray vision but he never approached the kids—staying an appropriate distance for their sake, keeping one eye out for any threat. His wingmate did, opening a door to see the children's eyes up to her.
First was Hirim, Zeki and two other children hiding in a small compact under the staircase. Rashid with his little sister, Klara in the small utility room. Instantly, the young boy apologized for using it again the moment he saw Jack.
Jack forgave him. And like the other children she found, she sent him downstairs with Klara. Carl was waiting for them there.
"Four left," Freakazoid said on the comms. "Upstairs."
She hurried to the top floor. To the special room for the needed. The door had recent claw mark—something had tried to break through.
With one hard shove, Jack barged right in. Thud! The snapping of a kid baseball bat was loud and inside it was deadly quiet. Suffocatingly so to her. The cots were empty, the play area was ruined. But nothing of splattered blood or tiny, cold bodies. A room that was supposed to give broken minds some peace had lost all of its colors.
Near Ekrem's bed was a closet room made to keep equipment and crates of toys away.
Jack opened it slowly.
The shadows shuffled before the four pairs of frightened eyes blinked. One of those owners, in a flash of panic, put his own body between Jack and the other three kids. Only eleven, traumatized and out of the horrible experience, he tried to show bravery with tears.
"Hey. It's ok," Jack said with a relieved smile, dropping down on a knee and taking off her shades. Showing them her friendly face clear as day. "I'm not a zombie."
Their scared eyes were frozen on her. Only the brave little boy slowly rose on shaky legs, almost needing a minute to look at her. To fully grasp what he was seeing.
One familiar one-armed child called out before the brave boy could speak.
"Jack?"
"Hello, Ekrem. Jackie's here," she assured him. She wasn't a ghost or a figment of their imagination. And she took his hand, a tight squeeze, as a sign that she was real. "Did you get bitten?"
The brave boy was the first to shake his head and then the other three children with barely a shake.
"T-The monsters. They, they came for us!"
"It's alright. They're gone now." Again she reassured the brave boy, tightening her hands on his shoulders. Stay grounded. It's ok.
"W-Where are the adults?"
This time, she refrained from answering. When the brunette did visit the Orphanage for the first time, she counted the total number of folks staying, excluding the children. Now, the count was pointless—she could easily guess the likely outcome. The survivors could have fled from the Orphanage the moment lights were out. They could have been dragged away by the monsters. Something worse could have happened...
The unknown was a better answer than the expectation. So she truthfully said, "Carl's downstairs. With the other children."
It didn't sink on the four right away. The brave boy turned around with such trembling hands to something in the closet's darkness. It was there Jack noticed a fifth kid curled up in a blanket. The oldest among the group.
"Lina's sleeping." He didn't turn back when he said that to Jack. "S-She came here. Locked the door. Told us to stay."
Lina became a hero last night. That last-minute thinking saved five altogether. Jack could only imagine the sheer terror the girl had, together with her burning courage to get to the special room and lock it up for the crying, scared children.
Like father, like daughter.
"I'll carry her. You four go on ahead."
They didn't move. So petrified on the spot. It was a sad ordeal—seeing young minds relive a nightmare.
Then the eleven-year-old brave boy stepped out. His hand held tight to a girl and then to the third kid. Ekrem grabbed the girl's dress with his one hand as a lead. And with a bit of help from Jack, she pulled them slowly and exchanged their hiding place for her spot. But they couldn't move on towards the hallway.
"We'll be right behind you."
The brave boy nodded. Slow at first, then aggressively. They did as they were told, and Mad Jack scooted further into the closet towards the sleeping thirteen-year-old girl. Jack's flashlight helped illuminate just how tired Lina really was. Poor girl must have tuckered herself out.
"C'mon, sleepyhead." Jack carefully scooped her up into her arms and rolled her over, letting her rest on the brunette's back. "Let's get you out of here-"
It was a soft, crinkly sound of a moan. Too weak for a shriek and too sinister for a cry. A familiar kind she had heard from the bypassers everywhere, with no ability to form any sort of words. The thin, pale arms of a thirteen-year-old reached sluggishly into Jack's peripheral vision and latched onto her shoulders like superglue.
She understood why Freakazoid had said 'four'.
But it happened so fast.
"Grgah!"
"Jack?!" yelled the voice over the comms.
Teeth sunk down on her neck. But unlike any survivor who mistakenly took an infected child on their back—who would scream at the surprise attack and frantically shove the biter off him—Jack bore down on the pain.
She stayed put.
Because she knew how this would all end.
"Of course."
The choking was loud in her ears. The jaws unhinged off her skin. The grip loosened.
"But of course…"
Carefully, Jack caught Lina before the lost soul fell back from the venom. A hand under her head, and slowly, the brunette laid her down on the wooden floor. Right there, Jack could already see the damage.
"I should have found Crybaby much sooner..."
A bite wound on Lina's small hand.
Jack couldn't have changed anything, even if she had tried to come back.
"It's ok, Lina." All Jack could do was watch the tiny zombie gargle and contort, with foam from the mouth and uncontrollable tears from red eyes.
There was a small moment. A voice incapable of saying words begged with heavy gasps. Like Lina was still behind those eyes. She was there. Save her. Please. Save her friends.
That person was long gone. Pleads from a person at that stage of the infection were just tricks. But Jack grasped her bite-wounded hand and held it tight. A parent giving one final squeeze of remorse and reassurance by a sick child's bedside.
"You'll see your father soon."
It had been an exaggeration about Jack's blood. That they die within seconds. It started off as an anaphylactic shock. Limbs going numb. Whatever beat left in their heart gradually stopped.
There was no coming back again once they'd taken a bite out of Jack. Or she had taken a bite out of them.
" The sun is marvellous,
Everyone has its troubles,
Mothers carry the burdens,
Are we aware of that? "
The Turkish lullaby had a soft, soothing tone that no human could hear from the ground floor. But it fell on Crane's highly sensitive ears. He had been watching like a hawk on the same floor, first hiding in the shadows so that the four kids wouldn't see him. In the meantime, making sure no surprises came Jack's way. The way her body was right now to him—it was hunched up like a mother holding her sleeping child in her arms.
" Come, let's pick flowers,
To carpet the way for her,
With songs full of tenderness and love,
Let's give them to our mothers.
With songs full of tenderness and love,
Let's give them to our mothers. "
Kyle had never heard the lyrics before. But he listened nonetheless, translating each word in his head as briefly as he could. He had to learn Turkish for the Harran job, after all.
" Mother takes care of her child,
Mother takes care of their home,
Mother works day and night,
Mother prepares for the next day. "
Gradually, down the few lines, the sun's rays stretched longer into the closet. Morning had fully covered the concrete-jungle hilltop.
The seizures dispersed, and the young orphan's eyes weakened.
She stopped moving.
She never stirred again.
Jack didn't let go. She hummed the chorus until her voice grew softer and softer.
This wasn't the first for her.
Once the last hum was sung, Jack rested the limped hand down, leaving something precious in it—the little bottle charm with the small clover inside.
Jack moved to make final preparations. A child in a world like this didn't deserve anything half-assed. Carefully, she slipped the broken spectacles off the girl's cold face and folded them into Lina's shirt pocket. Gently, Jack closed her eyelids and moved the damp, dark hair from her face. Before she placed the blanket over the small body.
"Goodnight, Lina."
A distasteful sensation seeped into Crane's mouth. His shoulders felt heavy. A child's death wasn't something old. The virus had taken lives. What made this one the hardest was that it happened in close proximity. He could have done something. And yet, he couldn't, like always. To save a life.
Witnessing someone's death up close and hearing about a person's passing from afar were two different things...
Then he spotted a small orange skeleton by the door of the special room.
Jack heard the sound of a creak before Crane could warn her. She went on alert-mode, thinking an infected had crawled in.
She stopped when she saw the black jacket and terrified green eyes.
"Ekrem-"
The boy didn't listen. He ran for the stairs, as quiet as a scared mouse.
He saw it. There was no denying it.
Crane's eyes trailed after the young, one-armed boy, who raced as fast as he could from the woman in red. Until he reached down to where Carl and the other kids were, huddling like chicks under a plump rooster.
The 'monster' on watch wheeled back to Jack, who took the longest time to leave the special room. Eventually, she rose up and trotted away, meeting Freakazoid out in the hall.
Crane didn't say anything. He couldn't. Her face already confirmed it for him. It was like a gravedigger who had just recently buried his wife.
"Siv, do you read?" Jack went straight for the comms.
"Hey, heroine of the day. What's taking you so long? Me and the runners are setting up the party for you."
"Party's cancelled, Princess. Need you to send pickup for the Orphanage."
"Pickup? Does Babak need something from us?"
Jack inhaled. Then exhaled. With that, she just said it.
"Place got hit badly… Babak and the others aren't around."
"Wha - when-" The young runner couldn't continue, the sound of her chair backing away from the shock. But she tried to regain her composure and fire a question. "Because of the blackout?"
"We have one adult and twelve children here," Jack continued without going over the details. No time to wait. No time to stop. "No other survivors. Think they can stay at the Junction?"
"Definitely... Mahir's sending a group your way by boat. Five minutes top."
"Much appreciated." At the end of the call, Jack put the earpiece away.
"...You ok?" Freakazoid's voice entered her head.
She was quiet. Too quiet. He could hear the breathing technique so soft. In, 1, 2, 3, 4. Out, 1, 2, 3, 4.
Jack had sheer willpower to keep herself calm. Caging up something that, if she let it out, it could be nasty. It wasn't a pet peeve Crane could miss.
"Yeah… This sort of thing is common." It was almost like her usual cheer tried to break out and bring down the grim tone. Give her some sort of strength to pull on.
She's been numb to such emotions for the longest time. Reminding herself: this was no different.
"Jack…" He tried to think of the words. He really tried. "...We did everything we could."
If he had said those words to himself, he would have punched himself in the face.
It did manage to bring out a fragile smile. "Not asking for miracles here… The hard part is the ending."
"...You jump in."
Jack nodded. As she said before, her communication skills didn't always work. Half the time, it helped give some relief to the other party.
"Stop the explosion before it gets worse," she repeated.
Someone else could do the job. Anyone else could. Not Freakazoid for obvious reasons. But Jack had to. She had always been the negotiator in any conversation.
She rubbed the ache on her neck. "Five minutes. Give a holler if you see any Biter."
"Jack. Those teeth marks-"
Suddenly but gracefully, she wheeled to Freakazoid with a shake of the head. Don't, her expression told him.
Don't say anything. That their friend turned and was put down by her.
Crane connected the dots. Even if he could have, he didn't have the heart to terrorize the children further. He did as he was told.
Jack wore back her shades. Out of respect for the dead. Out of clemency for the living. The two trotted down the rows of stairs—Crane's pace slowing down until he hid again at the bottom floor while Jack walked back to the brightly lit foyer.
"The Junction is picking you up. They'll take you in."
The brunette completely halted in her tracks. Out of the twelve children, one went deep into the flock. Too afraid to look at her for what she had done.
Ekrem gripped onto a boy named Berat and hid his eyes into his shirt.
Yes. She shouldn't make him any more terrifying than it already was.
Carl nodded nervously at the news. Gratefully. "T-Thank you. Thank you so much."
Jack didn't want his thanks. All she did was get things moving forward. Nothing could stay in the past, or change it.
She was the villain.
"Where's Lina?"
The brave boy managed to speak up. After all, Jack didn't come down with a thirteen-year-old girl wearing glasses.
"L-Lina's still upstairs." In a desperate attempt, he broke away from the flock and hurried. A zombie was going to get her! "Lina should wake up-!"
But Jack grabbed him by the shoulders and stopped him from scampering off for the stairs.
Put him still and have him look at her.
"She's not coming back."
The words sunk in painfully. Truthfully. The blind courage inside the boy died out. First came the anger—why would a grown-up lie to him—but Jack standing as an unsparing fortress, blocking his way, made it hard. Then the tears seeped out uncontrollably.
Jack wrapped her arms around him and let him cry over her shoulder. Let it all out.
"B-But she was fine… S-She was just sleeping…"
"I know," Jack pointed.
The boy named Mete. He played the memory in his head. The lights went out immediately. The noises downstairs horrified the children in the play area. Then he thought a monster was coming for the attic door. Instead, Lina jumped in, running from what looked like Nasia, the English Teacher. She shut the door and ushered everyone into the closet.
Mete saw the bite on Lina's hand.
"She was already bitten," the boy said through trembling lips.
"I know."
"S-She...she said she was fine."
A lie to make the already-scared children stop worrying...
Jack didn't speak.
More tears fell. The woman in red never let go. A few of the older kids wept too, with the youngest children unsure of what was happening.
"H-Hey. It's ok." Carl gathered up the children tightly. "L-Lina's in a good place now. Yeah. And-and, you all. Y-You're still alive."
It was a nice try. Carl Rover, the residential oaf, wasn't the strongest or the bravest. Sadly, to himself, he wasn't the best-looking either. He did whatever he could do but many times, he fumbled his attempts at being a better man.
He wasn't a married man yet. But he tried his best for the orphans. Carl owed them that, as Jack said.
"A-And...it's thanks to Lina! It's thanks to her…"
It helped the little ones. However, it would take a long time before the children would be fine again, and much longer for Carl to feel fine.
Five minutes had counted down. Mete heard footsteps coming from the barged doors of the Orphanage. He felt Jack stand up, wiping his tears with her thumb. She turned to the group of armed people entering. Three men in light military attire and other local folks.
They had scary guns, the kind the adults carried inside the Orphanage. The kids were told never to touch them. They were for the zombies.
Jack talked about something Mete didn't fully listen to. Then one man approached him and kneeled down.
"It's going to be ok," he told him with the gentlest smile the adult could try to muster. "C'mon."
Mete followed. Or at least, was led away because his feet couldn't move on their own. The rest of the children were shepherded out, with Carl right behind them. The large group headed together for the exit—to the canal where a boat was docked.
For most of his life, Mete had lived in the Orphanage. Then things changed, and the teachers told the children they couldn't go beyond the walls anymore. He made one childish mistake and nearly lost his life to a Viral. Then he was moved to the top floor because he was afraid. Scared. Screaming. Breaking down.
Now they were leaving their home. But he didn't feel sad. He felt...uncertain, and still scared.
Then Mete realized someone was missing. He glanced back, still being led forward by the man.
Jack stayed behind in the foyer, standing tall and strong.
He wanted to ask why she wasn't going with them. But Jack waved at him with a soft smile. She'd meet him soon. Don't you worry.
He tried to wave back. But Jack was gone from his sight the moment they exited the building.
Jack's feet rooted on the spot. She waited for a few more minutes until she heard the roaring engine become far away. Then nothing.
"They're gone."
Crane poked his head out from the dark shambles of a hall. He still kept watch though, seeing the many orange skeletons leave by boat until they disappeared towards the Junction.
He finally let out a sigh of relief he had been holding for the entire time.
"Those kids..." he started that. His own way of believing. "They... At least they can be safe now."
That wasn't convincing, even to him. Safe? Look around you, idiot.
Nobody could be safe.
N word out of the crazy woman. Nothing to make this pitting feeling in his stomach go away. He couldn't believe that he was missing her annoying personality and 'winning' smile. A quiet Jack gave him the red flags that something was wrong.
"Jack?" he called.
"...Remember when I said about this poison blood being a nice, little perk?"
He did. But he didn't reply.
"Sometimes, it's convenient... Gets rid of the Biters. Sometimes, you get familiar faces... And, some of those faces haven't even been turned yet."
The weight of the sentence turned the atmosphere on a dime. A bite off her flesh made the infected drop like flies. The more a Special takes, the saner he becomes—Crane being that one example. And he survived the fatal effect. Several times.
It never crossed his mind. What about people who hadn't gone over the edge? Those suppressing the virus with Antizin? Yeah. Why on earth would anyone try to taste her blood?
Unless it was intentional. Or accidental.
"I've never liked it…" she explained, being cold and honest. "But I make do with what I can... Because nobody else will do the job."
Another side of her Kyle never thought would come out. But then again, no one, not even him, would want such a feat. No matter how much Jack had colored it up.
Which made him think: when she said it was common, did she mean the regular deaths by the outbreak or deaths by her perk?
He wasn't the only one with his own problems. A freak like him? That was on the outside. Jack's poison came from the inside. She weaponized it against the monsters.
Outside of that, it was beyond her own control.
It explained why Jack had extreme patience. Not all the time, but for the right people. Especially an infected child.
It wasn't only awe-inspiring. Enough to stir men out of sorrow, despite it being the blunt truth. Crane couldn't see himself, the human self, doing that to a couple of orphans. He did try, better than most people he came across. The job was always at the top of his list, and he was always against the clock. That didn't mean he wouldn't stop for a kid over his mission in a split second.
But Crane couldn't do the truth either. A white lie would have been better. Because it was the right thing to do when the truth was a lot darker for a child.
"Let's get going…" The ex-kickboxer strolled out of the abandoned Orphanage. Like someone from a movie after a tragic, bittersweet event. "No rest for the wicked."
Kyle's gaze fixed on her body was meaningful. But he said nothing. If the roles were switched, even he couldn't see Jack trying to rile him up after what happened. That one line? Really full-blown that he couldn't help but feel...sorry.
Jack gave mercy just as Crane did to those who crossed his path. So he could relate to the task and the cost. Including deciding the next course of action.
Because there was no time to grieve. They had to prepare for the day.
A/N: 25/2/2021
Hello everyone and a special chapter indeed. Not because of the take I've done but happy anniversary for 2 years of Dying Light: The Descent since it was first uploaded. Wow. 2 years. I know I didn't do for the 1st year but then again, I wasn't too sure how I wanted to go with my story in the first place. And yeah, 2 years. One big reflection that I've taken this long to get a plot structured how I want it to go and I'm not even midway through this story. Brilliant indeed! (please brain don't make this take me so long i'm gonna regret it down the line)
That said, half this chp has been a goldmine for me to write and the other half is a better revamp that I didn't think could be pushed better. The first one, really be tackling Crane's development and with Jack more, I suppose the lighter word, invasive into his backstory. At an arm's length. Sure she hasn't scratched into his events in Harran but hey, this actually shows to Crane he is gonna have to be ten times more careful around the profiler here. This also makes way for him to slowly regain his previous self, a sort of therapy I reckon you could call it. It's also not taking the usual direction I had in mind - trying to keep a secret about someone's death(s) and never telling it. I've decided for a while to change up the formula on the secrecy and how Crane should take it from here on out.
Additionally, this isn't entirely just Crane's story. We also have Jack's side and her dealing with her perk. It had always been my intention that what she does is just a show to hide the real person inside. And that she is still human to feel things. She can be hurt just as badly as Crane, if anything she would feel powerless in the kind of situations you have see in this chapter. She might be a professional but she ain't cold-hearted (well, not as soft as Crane of course).
One thing to note, I've changed one part: using a real Turkish song rather than creating a new one (because I suck at lyrics). Called Annemize türkü or in English, "Song for Our Mother". This lullaby will have a strong plot element behind it down the line. Especially what the lyrics are above when I did my research on it, playing with the theme 'mother'. The above translation is a mixture of two sets I found on the internet (and FFN won't let me put those links gaaaah) and I did use a translator to be sure since this song was the most difficult to get accurate on. If the translations are incorrect, please do let me know and I'll fix them.
Another change to announce, at the time of this chapter, I've made one minor aesthetic change to Crane's zombie character and will be going back to reedit again (which also mean editing mistakes cuz I saw them again last time). As written above, Jack's sketchbook has his eyes as 'blue' and I thought would be a good indication of sentient zombies because I had been researching the Following DLC for some lines and realized one trait I saw out from one particular zombie that we DL players know well in the Following. What's more, thinking in gameplay logic, it would make it better if you could make out which 'zombie' is your partner when everyone's infected eyes glow red or yellow. Plus, sounds nicer for Crane. I guess? :Y
Although, seeing something with glowing blue eyes would still be as creepy as any other color honestly.
Alright, I hope you enjoy this chapter. The next chp will be in the works within next week, followed by two intermission chapters.
27/2/21 - Fixed a mistake.
27/10/21 - Fixed lines.
21/12/21 - Fixed errors and phrasing.
11/2/22 - Fixed lines and phrasing.
4/3/22 - Went over a full chapter edit with some fixes, retwists, deletes and adjustments.
10/6/22 - Minor: Edited a few lines.
14/1/23 - Final fixes and changes, I hope