Urban Dead: The Price of the Oath

[Josh]

Her easy, casual state was totally unfamiliar to him. He sputtered for a second, accepting the cigarette, practically goggling at her. "You've changed," he said, taking it and lighting it, sucking a deep drag of the smoke into his lungs and coughing almost immediately. "That's..." cough "fucking" cough "great."

[Caz]

"Three weeks of near-constent phenomenal sex will do that," she pointed out unabashedly, pointing to the collar around her neck.

She grinned. "They do take some getting used to," she said, lighting up and taking a deep drag. Even then, she too coughed a bit. And then she glanced over to him, pulling her hair behind her shoulders and gesturing to the door.

"Take a walk with me," she said, "let me show you what I'm fighting for. What we all are."

[Josh]

He blushed deeply. "Uh, yeah, okay."

[Caz]

As they left, Jared was sleeping on the bed, curled in a tight fetal position. She understood that position now more than ever: to make the body a fortress.

From outside the shop, she gestured across the whole first floor of the mall spread out below them.

"Look at them," she said, "tell me what you see."

[Josh]

The mall was bustling with activity. On the one hand, the noncombatants were being ushered into the improvised redoubt that led to the escape tunnel, while militia bustled about, readying themselves for the assault. Of to one side, a patrol group snoozed in improvised hammocks, getting a few winks of sleep before the imminent battle.

Despite the furious activity, there was a pattern and organization to things, everyone with Zimmerman-appointed duties that kept them too busy to worry about the imminent potential doom that was bearing down on them.

He leaned over the rail, watching as they moved industriously.

Honestly? He saw a lot of dead people in the near future, quite likely. He looked back at her and shrugged. "They're going to fight," he said. That much was certain.

[Caz]

"But what do you see?" she asked. "Because when I look down there, I don't see people and fountains and fake trees."

She rested against the railing, pointed to a particularly offset tent to which several pieces of paper had been tacked and taped.

"I see a tent with a boy in it who's too young to fight, but he still manages to do his part by drawing maps and keeping the little ones entertained."

She then pointed to the dozens of little shanties that lined the commons area.

"I see people who were happy with their way of life and got it pulled right out from under them." Clenching a fist as she accentuated the statement. "And they'd rather die than live like animals, holed up in squat houses for two, maybe three nights before being forced to run."

[Josh]

"You don't have to sell me, Melanie," he said, turning back toward her. "We're here, we're fighting too."

[Caz]

She looked to him. It was apparent on her face:

"I'm not trying to sell you," she said. She honestly believed each and every word of it.

"I don't know if I could ever tell this to someone who hasn't experienced it, but this feeling... Knowing you're fighting for more than your own skin for once in your goddamn life..."

She took a deep breath, as though she could smell it.

"It's the first time in my life that I've ever felt that God's right here. Like he's in here right beside us."

[Josh]

To a practiced cynic like Freddy, those were the words that generally signaled time to run for his life, or at least to check to make sure he still had his wallet.

But...

Booth had made something out of nothing when she'd pulled the Guard together.

It was people like her that made places like this work, when everyone else was content to sit on their ass and hide out where it was safe for the moment.

"Who's the guy? Is he here?" he asked, changing the subject abruptly.

[Caz]

She finished off the cigarette and snuffed it out in an ashtray beside the rubbish bins.

"Who? Zimmerman?"

[Josh]

He squashed out his cigarette as well. "Mr. Fantastic Sex," he said.

[Caz]

For the first time since he'd seen her, she showed worry.

"He's... Downtown," she said softly.

"He and some others are attempting to contact the outside."

[Josh]

"Jesus Christ," he said. The one place to be that was more dangerous than down at the mall. Nothing living moved through downtown these days. Nothing that stayed living for long. He bit off a comment about the man's sanity, realizing that she probably wouldn't appreciate it.

He looked down at the crowd once more.

"Dedicated lot," he said finally.

[Caz]

"We've got a Necrotech doctor who's going to arrange supply drops," she said. "We'll be getting fresh food, ammo, medical supplies..."

She looked to him.

"This is our only fucking shot if we don't want to freeze to death," she said.

[Josh]

He rapped his knuckles on the railing.

"I wasn't much of a soldier, y'know. I was just a cook," he admitted. First time he'd let anybody know that. If they were going to die, he wanted to come clean.

It was his declaration that he was fully committing to making a stand here.

[Caz]

She didn't move her eyes from his.

"You think that changes anything?" she asked with a shrug. "I didn't pick you because you were military, Fred," she said. "I picked you because of what's in here," she thunked the side of his head with a knuckle, "and what's in here." She did likewise with his sternum.

[Josh]

"Just wanted you to know," he said, shrugging and looking away. "Where do I find this Zimmerman fellow?"

[Caz]

"I know," she said, slinging an arm around his shoulder. "And you've got a brass pair for being able to admit it, you do."

She pointed to the stairs. "I'll show you to his office," she said, beginning the trek down. All around them there were the sounds of people preparing for war.

[Josh]

Zimmerman was wandering past the crates of supplies to be hauled to the roof. Along with ammo for the ballistas, there were crates of manufactured arrows for the bows and arrows, spare spears, and other assorted gear. He counted them off as he walked, then took a note.

He looked rather unruffled by all the haste of the situation, at home in his environment of numbers and cold mathematical logic.

[Caz]

She whistled and waved over to him, jogging up. "Oi, Zim!" she called. As Freddy joined them, she introduced them:

"Frank Zimmerman, Freddy Malarkey... Well... That's not his real last name but I don't actually know your real last name." All said in a single breath.

"Just brought in forty-six of my men."

[Josh]

"Good," Zimmerman said. "Analysis of the standard siege pattern indicates single wave, typically focused on one side of the mall, although if that wave is broken, it disperses to a surrounding wave. However, here, they're going to have to focus and pile up to climb inside. So, we'll need to be ready to move the ballistas and other defenses to hit their focus points. If we can down the lot of them, we're going to need people ready to go down, dismember and deposit into the trenches. It's going to be hard and dangerous. Are your people ready?" he concluded, in a manner that would be rude from anyone else.

Rude was precisely how Freddy took it. "Fuck right we'll be ready. While you were roosting here, we've been out working."

Zimmerman let that shot fly right past him. "Good then. I trust your people are being taken care of?" he looked at Melanie.

[Caz]

"Aye," she said, nonplussed even as they didn't seem to get along. Not her problem.

"Once his group has had a hot meal, I'll be briefing all of them on the plan. Forty are combat-worthy, the rest are medics," she said.

And although it wasn't normally her thing, she lit up a second cigarette. She needed one, god damn it. If only to stay awake.

[Josh]

"Silver will be back soon to see to their proper placement in the defenses. If he's delayed..."

To say nothing of killed.

"Decimus will handle dispositions."

Freddy looked at Melanie, one eye squinting down. Silver? Decimus? What sort of jolly pirate band was this?

"Okay..." he said.

[Caz]

She nodded. "Sounds god to me," she said, and then chanced the dreaded question:

"Any word from the First?"

[Josh]

"Not yet," Frank said. "By the timetable, they should be reaching the NT headquarters sometime around now. HEY!" he shouted. "That crate goes to the roof!" he pointed. "The roof! Not the tunnel! Can't you read?"

The militiamen abashedly reversed course with the crate.

He looked back at them. "He'll make it," he assured Melanie. "He always does. How much repairwork he'll need, on the other hand, is always up for question. At least you'll be dealing with him as a patient instead of me."