The Dead World Ch. 04

It was to be expected that Ruthless reported what all had transpired promptly back to Oz, who was having his own gloriously difficult time with his brother. Once they left the generator room they moved on to the store room Charlie kept all the dry and jarred food items in, arguing the entire way—the inventory was accurate, though. He kept pickled items, jams and select dry cured meats stored full in a deep-freezer—the walk-in cooler and freezer in the kitchen store area had the power cut, he assumed to conserve energy.

He realized Charlie himself must have cured and prepared the fish, chicken, venison and pork—likely taught how by his brother before his disappearance. It was a valuable skill, one he knew would benefit his group, and eventually a community if they ever made it there. It was a wonderful stockpile for one person, and a decent one for a group the size of theirs. They could ration and eat for a few months without needing to go out often to hunt. It went without saying that what had once belonged to the youngster was now considered theirs.

Yet Colt still wanted to push on, to make for the Carolinas. Oz wanted to stay put, for a little while, to rest and recover from the insane trip they had undergone thus far. They must have traveled a wide circle through the entire country since the beginning. They had only existed in two communities for small periods of time; the first in Colorado deteriorated when mental stability of the authority figures eroded into nothing leading to a full on war and the second in southern California fell to a group of violent raiders. That was nearly a year ago, now.

They were all travel-worn and worse-for-the-wear in this condition—it was obvious more now than ever that they were starting to unravel. Another long trip all the way across the states with little promise was the very last thing they needed. It was the kind of thing that turned ally into enemy, friend to foe... they hadn't heard from the possible new settlement in a very, very long time.

A month might as well have been years of time as far as the end of days went. Communities rose and fell within' a month's time. With roving gangs of opportunists constantly on the roam--violent cannibalistic groups, and bands of sheer lunatics alike ravaging the remaining survivors of the free world, Raleigh could all but be a pipe-dream now. This was solid. This place was the first real foundation they'd come across in years, something they could build on, if they wanted to. And of course... if their host agreed with their occupation.

His men might quickly dismiss the youngster's opinion on their presence and take into consideration their own wellbeing, and at the end of the day, poor little Charlie was truly outnumbered. He could either fall in line, or be dispatched... but Oz was a far throw from that kind of thinking. He was a good man, a moral individual, but even he knew while his opinion was highly valued among the group it wasn't a dictatorship. Vicious men nevertheless still had no place in the world, as far as he was concerned. He'd allow the boy to live, to stay or leave if he so desired. It seemed he had honestly been on his way out when they came knocking on his front door.

It was another grave thing entirely to think that one of his own had mistreated the kid. His gunman seemed extremely infuriated and difficult to understand because of it, but from what he gathered Ruthless had been urged by the Dog to check up on their young host and they had walked in on some sort of... coercion... at the very least.

And so, he found himself not too long after Yuri relayed the information standing in the hallway of the youngster's suite, with a certain discomfort churning his stomach. He didn't know how to handle this. He wasn't equipped for this kind of encounter in the slightest... but he was the leader, and Charlie was not likely to trust anyone else who might come trying to extend an olive branch and draw peace.

Dog had perched precariously at the end of the hall, looking out over the sea through the small window there, glancing back to Oz absentmindedly as he arrived from the stairwell. The sun was setting, now, and night was upon them. He gave a gentle nod of acknowledgment, his haphazard locks obscuring his vision, the nifty pair of goggles attempting feebly to push the strands back and reveal an empty, albeit tentative expression.

"He in there?" Oz asked hopefully, watching as Dog nodded his head slowly, "...Is he okay?"

There wasn't a response, for a moment. Dog expelled a quiet sigh and turned away, seemingly discouraged, all the indication Oz needed to understand that their host had zero interest in interacting since he had come back with Slash this morning. Dog was positive Charlie didn't intend on coming out any time soon... he could hardly blame her.

He knew Slash, and though the man had never tried any such devious thing on him personally, he knew his tendencies; his harsh nature, rash temper and bizarre affinity for watching his enemies suffer that he seemed to share with only one other of their group. If you had to ask him... Colton was by far the more violent of the two. He just hid it better.

Ricky was a wild, aggressive, and unpredictable man. He was downright predatory by nature. Charlie, beneath her guise of a rough youngster, was soft, supple, and fragile. Dog didn't doubt Slash had frightened her half to death in that hallway before he'd come to her rescue, and part of him felt he was to blame to begin with for not making his presence known sooner. He had only wanted to watch her for a little while. Knowing now who she truly was made her every movement captivating, from the way she walked, to the lonely confidence she emitted. He had never been so drawn to anything before... never in his life.

He meant to stay close and keep her safe without disrupting her, and things had seemed harmless enough at first between her and Slash. The more he watched his comrade as they made their way back from the campsite—the way his eyes focused on Charlie and how he seemed to be in happier spirits by the moment—the more Dog realized the sinister path the situation had detoured on. Slash had never tried him like that... but Charlie? Charlie was alone, and weak... and above all, Charlie was not yet one of them.

Oz stood at the door for a few moments, frustration playing over his expression as he contemplated his next course of action. How did he even go about apologizing for what had happened? As he brought his hand up to rap gently on the door, there was a quiet shuffling from behind it, and a piece of paper slid from beneath before silence met his ears again. He bent down to retrieve it, eyes scanning over it briskly before frowning ever so slightly.

"Come on, Danny... let's give him some space. He doesn't want to be bothered." He folded the note and tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans, gesturing the youth to come along with him, glancing to the door with a frown. He supposed the youngster had answered his dilemma for him, with the contents of that note. He now had a very pressing decision to make.

They made their way to the lobby, where the rest of their group was gathered. Yuri and Ricky had decidedly chosen opposite ends of the room, with Lorenzo settled on an ottoman and Colton absently cleaning one of his firearms at the front desk.

"Well, boys... thanks to Slash, our host has no intention of interacting with us for the rest of the time we're here, and he requests we leave tonight, if possible. If that proves difficult, he's given us until noon tomorrow."

The reactions were mixed, but at the end of it, it became a matter of the real problem: divided opinions. Skully laughed uproariously at the declaration. Diablo shook his head disapprovingly as Ruthless glared rather poisonously at Slash, who only rolled his eyes in response with arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. The Dog was once again munching on an apple, quietly, standing behind Oz.

"Thanks to me?! The fuck? I ain't do shit 'cept bring the lil' prick back home, safe and sound... he's the one who was out 'round the cars bein' sneaky and shit. Hey!—I did what ya said to do, Boss—I gave him somethin' for clockin' him 'n tried to settle the shit between us."

"Does it seriously matter? We were only staying a night... if he says we need to go, then I agree." Colton mused, stifling his laughter as best he could, "Better to not rile him up! Who knows how dangerous he could be, hahahaha!"

"It ain't half bad here, though. The water's clean—we got hot food, showers, DVDs and flat screen TVs and shit, I mean fuck... we just got here..." Diablo lamented with a frown.

"Fucking faggot—" The Russian's heavy accent did little to remove the venom from the insult he threw at the group mechanic.

"I told yer stupid ass I ain't no faggot—ya best watch how the fuck ya talk to me, Ruthless!—I'm not fuckin' playin' with ya!" Ricky pulled away from the wall, snatching the hatchet from his belt and taking several steps toward the taller man, who drew the AR-15 on his shoulder up immediately and aimed squarely at his companion's chest.

"That's enough." Oz's voice was a dominating boom, demanding silence amongst them... except for idle munching from behind him, of course. The flaring tempers were temporarily extinguished, and Slash instinctively turned away, burying his hatchet into the wall instead of his companion's skull as he so desperately yearned to. "Take a walk Slash."

The wiry man ripped the hatchet free, glancing back to Oz with his wild green eyes before lurking off down the hall muttering in irritation beneath his breath.

"...Listen." Oz exhaled a heavy breath, bringing a hand up to massage his temples gently. "I know we've come a long way, and there's still a long way to go to reach the Carolinas—I know that. There's a lot that we must consider now. I want you all to bear with me. Weigh the options. We reach a unified solution, or we sit here until we do—you all know that. I value your opinions."

The men fell still. Slash lingered down the hallway, the thud of the hatchet burying itself into the wall radiating down the pleasantly lit hall, knowing well enough that he was likely to have to compensate for his offense... best to get it over with here and now than wait for him to call the boys together once again later in the day.

"Now I know... you're tired. I am, too, which is why I think we should just... rest here, for a little while. We haven't found anything this good in, what... months, maybe even longer than that—the hummer needs some work and we need a plan of action in case the community we're trying to reach isn't there anymore. No one's likely to bother us here. We can fill that trap back up with the dead, and if things get really serious, Ruthless, we can bring down that bridge and find our way around without it."

Contemplation played over the features of every man, except for Colton, who leered daggers his brother's way with his arms crossed haughtily over his chest. He leaned back in the desk chair with the polished pistol he'd been working on laying on the desk before him, simply observing as his brother once again took into zero consideration his own opinion of prolonging their stay.

"You all know the 'amenities'... at this point. The generator isn't in too bad shape, but it's going to need some maintenance if we want to have an extended stay. I'm only thinking a week or two, just so that we can all take a moment and breathe... maybe get to know little Charlie a bit. I'm certain he's weary of travelers if he's had any kind of experiences like we have in the last six years... and Slash didn't help in the slightest. I'll give you a few moments before we cast our votes."

He allowed them the time to think it over, turning and cutting down the hall to approach Slash who was now nestled quietly with his back to one of the hotel room doors, hatchet in hand. He turned his head to acknowledge Oz approaching and slowly rose to his feet, pushing his back against the wall shamelessly.

"So, what's the verdict Boss? I know ya been thinkin' on some things... ya never heard me out though, just what the others thought they saw." He scowled ever so slightly and glanced back out toward the lobby.

"Not like I can blame 'em, that would be the kinda shit ta get me heated too... but it isn't like that. I told ya I saw him headin' out early, I was just checkin' up on him, like ya said. I gave him somethin' and he might've just got paranoid and lost his shit, but on the way back down he started snappin' on me and pulled out that pistol. Lil' shit..." He chuckled with a smirk.

"So you... put him on his knees and tell him to drop his pants?"

"I was just fuckin' with him, man! Just gonna make him strip down and run back through the courtyard bare assed. My Pa used to do a lot more embarrassin' shit to me when I made an ass outta myself and disrespected him, sometimes it's good for ya... knock ya off yer high horse. He put himself on the ground, fightin' me over that fuckin' glock. Don't doubt he'd have put a bullet in my ass if he had gotten it before me."

Oz took a long few moments to observe their mechanic, who's relatively cool disposition did much to ease his mind and clear up a lot of the supposed incident. It wasn't a secret that Slash had come from an odd way of life, his story had never been a happy one, even before the world ended. Naturally someone like that would think public humiliation was the appropriate response to being insulted or disrespected by someone barely more than a boy.

Still, like the rest of them, Slash had also been personally affected by some disturbing individuals during the extinction protocol... and he had long since had a theory that something about the reanimation virus slowly ate away at the minds of still living survivors. If there wasn't someone trying to capture you, eat you, or terrorize you then you surely weren't living in the same post-apocalyptic wasteland that the rest of the world was... he had to be careful, and certain, and not respond too lightly to the accusation.

Oz detested the thought that their time traveling, avoiding and battling back living threats, and alternately avoiding massive migrating hordes of starving flesh devouring corpses had begun to affect the minds of his companions... but the reality of it was that it could be very true.

"Alright. I'll try and talk to Charlie about it, hear his take, maybe calm him down... it's a serious accusation, Slash. There's no place with us for men who prey on survivors. It's not a capital offense but it's not something I like—or will tolerate—out of any one of you. I'm putting you on the graveyard lookout shift this week... if you ever have issues with insubordination or feel you've been wronged you know to come to me—we do not humiliate or intimidate our host under any circumstance. It's bad enough you knocked his ass out the other night."

Slash knew better than to argue, even if he didn't agree with what Oz said. He simply nodded his head firmly and tucked his hatchet away, "Whatever you say, Boss."

"C'mon then, let's get this over with."

Both men turned back down the hall to the lobby where the rest of the group waited in solemn silence. Oz could feel his brother's eyes following him with a nearly red-hot intensity, clearing his throat and addressing them all.

"We're casting now. In favor of staying, raise your left. To leave, be still."

The gestures shifted. Diablo brought his left hand up briefly to cast his vote, and Oz followed suit. Skully's arms remained crossed snugly over his chest, while Slash moved to lean against the far wall, casually. Oz let his eyes sweep, realizing there were two yet who had not cast a vote. Ruthless very quickly brought his hand up, and now all eyes had settled upon the Dog who had sunken down into a dark navy-blue armchair with his long legs dangling over the cushiony armrest. Charlie's goggles pushed back his unruly mess of dark spiked locks. He brought a set of fingers on his left hand up into the air absently before dropping them down as he focused on the handheld gaming system he'd dug out of someone's luggage a few hours prior.

"Four to two then, right... we're here for two weeks... our host permitting."

"What if he isn't? Gonna lock him in his room, boss? Put him in time out?" Colt mused bitterly, taking the pistol from the desk and pushing his chair back with his legs as he stood.

"I'll talk to him." Oz muttered as Skully lurked off rather rudely mid-sentence with Slash trailing not far behind him. Ruthless broke away as well, heading quietly on toward the stairs to make his way to the second floor, to the suite he had personally claimed.

"Whatever... Boss." Colt spat back, his tone of voice practically dripping sarcasm, slamming his hands into the handle bar of the emergency exit and leaving Enzo, Oscar and Daniel to themselves in the lobby. He started on toward the front of the resort, wanting to take a walk—there were likely dead roaming the forests across the bridge.

He needed to kill something.

Everything from "before" seemed a distorted haze; memories almost not his own, when compared to the living Hell he had endured as mankind came to an alarming halt. Dog could faintly recall the opportunity to play a few video games as a boy, before the outbreak. So now, it was as if every game system he encountered was inconceivable, and that made it an indescribable treat to come across one still functional.

Battery operated was obviously his preference over anything that needed to be plugged in given how difficult it was to charge the device. With regular running electricity a thing of the past, a handheld game that ran on batteries was an endlessly fascinating find, but... today was a little different. He felt conflicted; an atypical emotion which seemed to be bogging down the usually very decisive, very sound mind Dog possessed. He looked down, almost through the game to the letter Charlie had pushed out into the hall, once again.

Navigating the little elf guy around the game screen with the interesting melody twinkling in the background seemed to just be a bit of white noise. It was all so far away from the churning gears of the young, dark-haired man's mind. He had spent what felt like an eternity in the lobby whilst feigning an interest in the old-school Gameboy Color as he took into consideration the new circumstances of the Oasis Palms.

Oz had gone off with Diablo, not too long after his brother had stormed off once they had come to a decision on the next course of action. With Ruthless down the hall in quite the sour mood and keeping to himself, and Skully and Slash unaccounted for yet likely far from the southern tower now after the tension and voting was done with, he welcomed the opportunity to collect his thoughts alone.

The folded note he had managed to snag from Oz now rested on his lap he drew in a slow, deep breath, and leaned his head back to look up toward the ceiling. Oz hadn't noticed the sly, sticky-fingered younger man lift it off him. He read it again, and again, trying to imagine the curious woman's soft voice drenched in the anger that was splayed through the letter demanding they leave the resort at once while proclaiming she wasn't going to come out until they were gone.

He felt... uncomfortable... because of it. So many unfamiliar emotions had been stirred by the words on the piece of white printer paper. It seemed he couldn't stop brooding, glancing restlessly to the elevator, anxiously waiting for her to come back down. She'd have to come down eventually... she would need to eat. What might have happened to Charlie, if he hadn't been keeping an eye on her?