Death After Death (#2)

Chapter Twenty-Four

"You okay there, Rodders?" JJ asked.

"Yeah," Rodney wheezed. "I'm fine..just a little, you know...oh Jesus."

Rodney glanced back at the fallen beast of a clicker and retched profusely, his palms clutching the ground desperately as vomit poured from his mouth.

"EWW! That's disgusting!" George cried with morbid joy.

"Okay this makes more sense now, way to style it out big guy," Karl quipped, patting Rodney on the back as he hurled up the last of his food.

"He was so close," JJ added, planting his comforting hand on the opposite shoulder.

George was still giggling with pure boundless delight as Dawson bent down to Rodney's helpless level.

"Thank you, you... you saved my life Rodney. Don't listen to these clowns."

Rodney spat the taste of sick from his mouth before looking back up at her, "We'll call it 17-1."

"Deal," Dawson chuckled, helping him back to his feet.

Rodney wiped his hands on his trousers, threatening to smush them in George's face if he didn't stop laughing. Max smiled, the two of them had formed this strong but unlikely bond. It was tiny miracles like this that shone bright in the darkness of the current world.

"We got down here as soon as we saw you two arrive," Rodney explained to Max and JJ. "What the hell happened to you guys?"

Max sighed, but proceeded to fill Rodney in on his and JJ's near escape. Little George listened with amazement, eyes wide with adulation at the heroic story, ducking behind Rodney's leg at the really scary parts. Max was just nearing the end of the tale as a curse from Dawson silenced the group.

"Shit!" she snapped from behind the gate. No one had even noticed her skulk out.

"Max leapt over the bloody corpse next to his feet and ducked through the gap between the two gates, slowing his pace once he knew his comrade wasn't in immediate danger. "What's up?"

"The tracks," Dawson pointed out with a frustrated flick of the wrist.

"What about them?" Max asked, ignorantly observing the continued scrapes and footsteps etched into the dirt.

"Keep looking."

Max followed the trail until it reached the smooth tarmac of the road where the footsteps were replaced with thick, black skid marks.

"Shit!" he exclaimed.

"There's no way I can track them on that, I'm sorry. All we know is that they left in a hurry in that direction, but beyond that, who knows."

"Shit, shit shit, shit!" Max cursed, kicking and stamping at the marks beneath his feet.

"I'm sorry mate, I just don't think we'll be able to find him again," Dawson admitted sheepishly. She knew how badly Max wanted this, even needed this.

"What about the prisoners?" JJ queried.

Max glared at his young friend, "They're all long gone kid," he snapped.

"Clearly. But like Dawson said, I doubt they would have been allowed to leave through the front door."

"So, what are you saying?" Max asked.

"That the ones who did make a run for it either ended up on that pile in the cell, or..." JJ explained.

"Or what?"

"Or they escaped some other way, you dumbarse. Which means more tracks."

"Kids got a point," Dawson acknowledged.