The Dead World Ch. 02

...Someone was touching her.

Someone was touching her!

Charlie jerked her mind out of its haze with a pained and disapproving groan, attempting to shove away and swat at the hands holding her head groggily. How long was she out? Not for very long, it would appear. She was tired, genuinely so... her day of pushing and pulling and hauling and sneaking had come to an abrupt end. She tried pushing herself up onto her elbows, only to be met with resistance—strong, wide palms trying to guide her back down. The petite, feisty woman struggled weakly and growled at whoever was trying to keep her still, finding her tongue lashing now. "No!—no no, h-hey... hey! What are you doing, get OFF me!"

"Sssssh! Cállate, pequeño—hush up, hush—hey! Nobody's on you, man! Sit the fuck still I'm tryna patch you up!" Enzo scowled as Charlie kept attempting to rise from the bed. He didn't want to hurt the kid, so he pressed a hand down on his shoulder, and waited for him to be still. She shut her eyes with a huff, and felt something cool slowly trickle against the open wound at her temple, hissing aloud as the sting of strong alcohol caught her off guard. It soon numbed away into a dull prang. "Ow... ouch.." She whimpered. Lorenzo rolled his eyes.

"Man up. Gotta clean it." He encouraged. Slash had hit him far harder than he needed to, no doubt the boy was probably both feet off the ground flying with the blow. He tried not to think about it, and dabbed with a cotton ball the space, gloved hands examining the skin.

"Clean cut. Stitch or two should take care of it. Do yourself a favor and stop squirming."

"Who are you?" Her eyes were a bit bloodshot, now, but wide open. She found herself looking up at a youthful looking man of clear Hispanic descent. The stress was obviously etched around his eyes and the semi-permanent brooding frown he wore. But weren't they all stressed, these days? Enzo didn't look down to her, just foraged through his bag for the supplies--a sterile surgical set, and sutures.

"El Diablo." The code-name rolled off his tongue in languid Spanish, and he glanced down for a few moments with warm brown eyes to examine Charlotte's reaction. Her eyebrows knit together a bit--and furrowed even deeper as she winced when he rubbed the dried blood out of the wound.

"...That's not your real name."

"Yeah? So what? What's your name then, punk?" She fell silent. Diablo scoffed, and began to set out supplies, "That's what I thought. Nobody likes to give their real name these days... feels like too much power, es mala suerte. Bad luck. Haven't come across anybody who uses their government name in years now."

"Are you evil?" Charlie questioned, trying to distract herself from Lorenzo lining the tools for securely closing the cut along her brow along the left side of her head. His brows lofted gently and he shook his head with a quiet chuckle. "El Diablo... means evil, or something, right?"

"Nah... just what I picked up along the way. 'Devil'. Same as the rest. Oz, Ruthless, Skully, Slash, Diablo, the Dog—you don't get to pick a nickname. It's just easier that way, though. Keeps people from getting too familiar."

"Ted and Patrick aren't.. hard to remember... or--ssss!--fucking... scary sounding..." She sucked air through her teeth as she spoke, the curved sterile needle dipped down into flesh and up again, sealing it closed, "Are you trying to scare people?"

"Ted and Patrick sound like guys who tend to die real quick, too. You're done. Stay awake. He knocked your ass out good, you probably have a concussion." He began to pack his things up quickly causing Charlie to sit up, and look toward him eagerly.

"Can I go back home?"

"I wouldn't, if I were you... the guy who put you down is on the bridge keeping an eye out for your buddies, with another guy, just as big and not as good with his English—"

"But I already told your leader, there's nobody here but me. I've been here alone for two...three years." Charlie's tone was laced with agitation as she interrupted Diablo, who fell quiet, and waited patiently for her to finish.

"Yeah, I heard that's what you told el jefe. Just because you said it, though... that don't make it true pequeño. Sit tight. Check the fridge and pantry, Oz doesn't usually leave anybody in here if he ain't trying to treat them to some hospitality, so... I don't fuckin' know, enjoy? He and Skully usually round up some pretty good shit." He shrugged with his last few words of encouragement and smiled dismissively, finally turning his back on the youngster, who had risen on shaky legs and followed him out into the spacious camper's kitchenette. Diablo disappeared down the steps and out the door, leaving Charlie alone, once again.

The door swung open, and Charlie stepped out into faded daylight. The sky above bore dark gray clouds today. Some of the garden soil had faded from her cheeks, that pretty heart shaped face and her wide eyes with thick dark lashes almost cherubic. She felt a little sick—she'd gotten into a bottle of aged scotch, and two shots and a few puffs of a cigar later, she found herself bitterly laying out the bones of her plan B evacuation on the back of a napkin while toying with the sharpen hair pin that fastened her hair. She braided and wrapped it atop her head, sliding the pin into place before pulling the big beanie back on and placing the goggles over her eyes.

She was going to steal the Humvee this time, and slash all of the tires of the remaining vehicles on her way out, as payback for the son of a bitch who had the nerve to pistol whip her in the dark the night before.

She was none too surprised to find the camp had already packed up when she finally came out. The vague shapes of tents she'd passed last night were gone, the fire extinguished and buried, and up ahead with the Humvee loaded stood Oz. He smiled at her and waved for her to join him, gesturing to the passenger seat.

"You're riding shotgun, kid. C'mon, Give us the grand tour."

It seemed like only seconds to make it back up to the resort. She was sure it was much easier since she moved that car and knocked the gate back. The hummer didn't even stutter as it mowed over the rotters on the ground, not even a speed bump to it, and they parked in the valet spot just at the front doors of the intimidating northern tower.

Charlie hopped out as she knew would be expected. At the very least she'd be able to shower and sleep comfortably for one more night with these people here... safe measure was to get away, because there was no way to tell if they would move along like they said they were going to. Oz seemed like a trustworthy man, she was sure that was what he liked to play at. He could be just as full of shit as anyone.

Oz dropped down from the driver's seat and walked around the vehicle slowly. From the back of the old military vehicle came the lanky young man she had snagged the knife from earlier with the long dark hair, and the blonde asshole from last night in all of his smug and refreshed glory, his rifle in hand. Oz gestured for her to lead the way, and she nodded, turning away from them and tugging down the goggles from her eyes to rest around her neck as she entered the northern tower.

"When it went down this is where everyone was... obviously. It didn't last. They got trapped inside by a group of psychopaths who called themselves "human hunters", the early nutcases taking advantage of the chaos... they killed a lot of the survivors for fun and left them in the building, and the remaining survivors were trapped inside of the ballroom." She explained as she navigated her way quickly through the Northern tower, with the group of men in pursuit, their handguns out. Oz meandered along at the rear with a hand languidly on the hilt of his blade, taking in every detail of what she said as they traveled.

"My... family and I came along, and tried to help them. We tried to get them out of there... but it was too difficult. It was rigged. The people who had trapped them there made sure there was no way out when the barricade holding back the dead came down, so we had to get out. Matt got me up and into the air ducts. He fought his way through the bodies once the barricade fell and they rushed inside, but the people inside were starving, injured and unarmed... so..."

She exited the emergency door and stepped out into the courtyard, trailing out as she recounted the horrifying first week when the world fell to chaos. The pool house lay ahead. She turned to the right and gestured to the greenhouse, the hens clucking away in the courtyard, eagerly crowding along after her.

"When it was over Matt barricaded them inside. After a few months, we lured them out into the space between the barricades... we grew food. We kept quiet. We went foraging the other hotels nearby, all the way up to the pier, and checked the yachts there. A lot of the boats that could move were taken, and eventually some jackass burned the entire marina down... year two, I think? Matt used what was left behind to make it look like the people who set the resort up had destroyed it."

"You helped out? How old were you?" Oz questioned her with command, and caused her to slow her pace and nearly stop, but she stiffened sharply and quite rudely ignored directly answering his questions.

"I was young... he didn't want me handling the dead. He didn't think it was right." She fell silent now and moved on into the southern tower. The front doors opened automatically, as Oz had noticed during their sweep of the resort.

"We lived here, this building was cleared when the hunters gathered all the survivors in the north tower ballroom. The power goes up to the fifth floor. Matt cut it there to conserve energy. He almost killed himself doing it--it was stupid, but... it worked. The generator runs on diesel drums. One drum can last up to a month if we were careful. We could run the air conditioner on very hot days, or the heat during a cold winter. We used propane to cook mostly, and did it outside. As I learned more, I foraged, but... as things got dangerous he told me to stay behind. And then, one day... he just... he never came back. Year three, almost four... It was winter."

"Where do you live in here?"

"...The fourth floor." She failed to mention that the elevator needed a key.

"Just one room?"

"A suite facing the ocean. There's three decent beds in it and a kitchen. Matt sometimes went to the other rooms but mostly, we liked to stay in the same place. Safer that way."

Oz didn't press any further, already having decided there was something that the boy still wasn't telling him... but what he had said had been mostly the truth. He knew better than to ask for a name. He was surprised to have the name of the brother. He glanced back to Colton, who had been silent the entire time with his skull-print bandana raised over his mouth and nose, his icy gaze piercing into his brother's darker blue eyes. Dog seemed preoccupied with observing how much nicer the lobby of this building was than the last, practically marveling at the place.

"We're splitting up then, alternating the floors... check the rooms. Skully, with me. Dog... keep an eye on him, will you?" Dog glanced toward the goggle-wearing youngster and smirked, tossing his head as if to say, 'What's up?'

Oz and Skully took to the stairs. Dog glanced at Charlie for a long few moments, waiting for the other youth to lead. Charlie moved toward the elevator, fished the key from the pocket of her jeans and inserted it before pressing the button for her floor after stepping inside. She glanced up to see Dog standing now beside her. His arms were crossed, and in one palm was the knife she had lifted. He held it out and waggled it, as if to scold her.

"I didn't take it to keep it... I just wanted to get free. I only borrowed it... without... asking—for all I knew you guys were going to murder me. Come on. I don't want anyone in my room."

He didn't question her pressing the button for the fourth floor. It wasn't terribly often the Dog fell into the swing of how things went... whether he understood or simply didn't care was always up for debate. Sometimes he'd disappear from the group entirely for weeks at a time, and reappear much later, at times in totally different cities. The men didn't question how he kept up and always seemed to know where they were. Danny seemed more comfortable sleeping out in the forest around the dead rather than in the camp with the others. He didn't like to do what he was told. He didn't really seem to give a damn what anyone said or did, honestly... he seemed to read people in a very, very unusual way.

Charlie felt her eyes tempted to him. Out of her peripheral vision she saw the slightly younger man staring at her—or at the goggles, at least. He seemed transfixed—fond of them. His messy dark hair played over inquisitive eyes. He was tall, like the brothers, but unlike them he was thin and wiry. He couldn't have been much younger than she truly was, and she realized she hadn't heard him say anything at all since she had met him.

His attention left her finally, to move over the view of the stormy ocean behind visible through the lift window. As the elevator came to a halt, Danny didn't wait for Charlie to exit the elevator, he swept off and down the plush hall, still seemingly awestruck and amused at how nice the place was. Compared to the first tower, this place almost looked convincing... almost as if the hotel was still running. He'd never seen anything like it, not since before the pandemic.

Charlotte waited until the Dog dipped into one of the ten rooms down this hall and the door closed behind him before rushing to her own suite, pulling her key card from inside her shirt to unlock the door, quickly shutting it behind her. She tucked her key away safely with the elevator key, reaching down into her shirt to place the items securely at the left breast of the inside of her bra just above her heart, and took a deep, nervous breath.

Her room was in disarray, but she realized very much how glad she was to be in here. And as she looked around at it—the sketches of Matthew, the paintings of the ocean, the well burnt candles and the few articles of clothing she left behind—she realized how dangerous her room had suddenly become. She ripped her gloves from her fingers and went to work like a mad woman trying to rid the space of any personal items that would betray her identity...

In an instant she raced to the closet, and grabbed the luggage, moving to desperately stuff whatever telling articles she could into it—hair brushes, lotion, candles, bras... anything, everything that possibly looked like it belonged to a woman! She rushed toward the bed, the curtains over the floor length windows overlooking the sea having been drawn just before she left. The light trickling through them caught something as she moved to grasp the sheets. She froze in her steps, and looked down to her left hand... to the glistening diamond still on her ring finger.

She snatched it off quickly, and clutched it to her chest, before moving to rummage through Matt's drawers. She hadn't done so in a long time. But certain enough she found what she was looking for—a long strip of black cord that he typically kept his own wedding ring on when working. He had been wearing it on his finger when he disappeared. She undid the cord and dropped the platinum diamond ring down the thick piece of material before tying it around her neck and tucking it securely under her shirt. It rested near her heart, out of sight and perhaps soon out of mind as she fell deeper into the persona of the teen boy she was portraying.

Right back at it she went. She strategically gathered her things and looked for a place to stash them and when nothing seemed good enough, she threw open the balcony door and tossed the luggage over it followed by her artwork and candles. It didn't matter if it didn't fall far enough to make it into the ocean, there was nothing to be gained on the shore for anyone to bother to look. As she gathered her things though, it only reminded her she needed to get to the Prius and get the hell out of there, before they went through the items within. Almost everything about her home was now threatening to reveal her. She needed to leave, as soon as possible.

Charlie checked and double checked everything before hearing a gentle rapping at the door, moving to open it quickly, not wanting to keep the youth outside waiting. It wasn't just the teen called Dog, though. Both Oz and Skully stood before her, the lanky Dog behind them, who shrugged and threw his hands up innocently behind their backs. Her eyes said it all, a narrow leer. You could have warned me they were up here already.

"You skipped a floor." Skully's tone was deadly, yet oh so calm and collected.

"I thought I left the stove on..." She snapped back with perhaps more attitude than she initially intended. She didn't like this man. She didn't like how he seemed to threaten and question everything she did. The men entered the room, pushing past her, and began to scan the area. It looked relatively clean, yet a little disheveled... nothing unusual for a young man living alone. No signs of any other life, so it appeared.

"See... this is the sort of stuff you're going to want to avoid doing if you want us to be friends, kid. Running off unexpectedly never looks good for anyone." Oz started with a frown.

"I wasn't alone, that guy was with me."

"He met us on the elevator. You two should have still been clearing the second floor." Oz didn't seem at all amused, scanning over the room only to find nothing out of the ordinary. Charlotte was glaring daggers at Dog, who simply gave her a cheeky grin, and didn't seem at all concerned with confirming that he had ever even been with Charlie or that they in fact had come up here because Charlie stated he didn't want anyone in his room.

She stepped aside as the men filed into the suite, only for Dog to topple into her roughly and throw them both off balance. He reached to grab her shirt to catch her from falling, then her jacket to straighten her up and help her regain her balance. He proceeded to pat her down quickly as if checking if she were okay from waist to chest—at that point Charlotte shoved his hands away impatiently, not wanting the youngster to touch her any more, snapping at him in a huff of breath, "I'm fine."

Dog grinned wide, and ruffled her beanie, causing her to scowl and quickly correct it, "God—would you stop?! What's your problem?"

As he moved into the room in order to nose through her things she heaved an irritated groan and exited the room to wait in the hall, her face alight in nervousness, arms crossed coyly over her chest

"This is my suite. There's nothing much in here. When I noticed you out by the gate, I decided to pack my things and leave... you said it yourself, it's not really smart to interact with people anymore. It's been a really long time since I've even seen another person, so I didn't want to take any chances. The hotel kitchen is still stocked with dry and canned food supplies. The green house has fresh produce and fruit... I've got a few laying hens but I'm not sure where the rooster has gone to, and a few goats but other than that—"

Oz and Skully exchanged glances as they exited the room after Charlie, trailed by Dog. The messy haired youngest closed it gently behind him, seemingly distracted now by something he was examining in the palm of his hand.

"You should be very careful what you say, kid. Nothing belongs to anyone anymore."

"I'm.. sorry... if I'm coming off as rude. I guess... I'm just not used to being around actual people anymore. There's not much else to show you, other than that. I'm the only one here."