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As soon as the Dozers were either distracted or plummeted by Quint's rooftop cannon (used to shoot out fireworks, now just shoots bombs; which are technically fireworks, but more deadly), Dirk and Jack rushed to the front gate, slamming it open as we expected a breezy way in.
It was, in fact, not a breeze.
It smelled more like spoiled potato stew masked with sewage water, and there's only one thing that has something similar to that stench; zombies. Crowded ALL around the yard. Like they were having their own little ‘end of the world’ barbecue, and we just crashed the party. Can zombies even have parties anymore?? What do they even do?
Scratch that. Not the time. The zombies noticed their presence, and their welcoming was far from friendly. Quint's door wasn't too far away, they can get there easily…hopefully.
“Maybe we can figure out some sort of shared strategy, where we can avoid the zombies and get to Baker's house without having to-” Dirk was starting again. He seems so hung on this “teamwork” thing that he feels like THIS is the right time to insert it, apparently.
Yeahhh. Jack had no time for this.
“Nope. Just shut it, and do what I do.” Jack says (heavily persistent on the shutting up part) as he brings out his weapon out of its sheath – the Louisville Slicer – it used to be called the Louisville Slugger, but let that bad boy go through some few battles and you've got a wicked weapon, splinters guaranteed! (Don't worry, Jack got gloves beforehand. He's not stupid.)
Before Dirk could even interject, Jack rushed off into the yard, swinging at whatever zombies dared to come in his way. Heads? Gone. Zombie guts? Splattered. Teeth? Barely had any to begin with, but they were flying too.
Dirk was doing the same thing…almost. He was apparently doing his own thing, using his (unnaturally) spectacular strength to just shove them away instead of.. I dunno, bashing their heads in. Lameeeee. For a guy who has serious muscles, he really puts them to waste sometimes.
As they got closer to the doors, it only felt like more and more zombies were targeting and seeking out something to sink their dirty little teeth into. I mean, Jack couldn't blame them too much. You could get hungry pretty quickly if your only taste was human flesh; but that didn't mean he felt sorry for them and was gonna give himself up like a sacrifice.
As Jack caught onto a tire swing, knocking away multiple zombies in a row, almost like dominoes, but less appealing – he could hear the audible “CRACK!” of a jaw being split away from its face. Looking back, he had seen that Dirk had finally put his strength to good use and practically tore away at a huge zombie's jaw. It was mega gross, and if Jack thought about it anymore, there was probably going to be something more than zombie guts on the grass, so we move on.
He could hear Dirk shout out a quick “Sorry!” before the two of them were now scrambling to the doors in near distance, which in perfect timing, slid open to the inside. Jack and Dirk threw themselves in, Dirk immediately closing the sliding door behind them and pushing a whole dining room table to block off the entrance – just in case zombies somehow knew how to open doors.
Hey, you can never be too careful!
“Dear God- can't believe I'm saying this, but.. maybe you don't sound too crazy with this whole ‘working together’ thing..” Jack admitted as he shook off the Louisville Slicer of any remaining zombie guts that inconveniently stuck onto his bat. Yuck. This was the worst thing about zombie bashing, unfortunately.
Dirk's eyes lit up, like he had just seen an otherworldly being appear in front of his eyes; in which figuratively, Jack would've been flattered, but that would just be weird..
“Ohhh so you do like to work together with me!!” Dirk exclaimed. Jack rolled his eyes to the highest degree. He could've sworn that this guy's pride was bigger than him himself.
“Don't push it weirdo.” Jack retorted, shooting a glare at Dirk. Great. Now he was gonna have that hanging over his head as an implication that he wants to be best buddies or something. The things you have to experience at the end of the world.
Before Dirk could say another word, a tennis ball came flying from down the hall, hitting Jack “SMACK!” dab in the face. Ouch!! Major ouch! Oh, that was WAY more unpleasant than any monster he's faced recently!
Dirk had the idea to assess any injuries that were caused by the sudden tennis ball attack, but stopped, as his eyes gazed forward to the figure walking down the hall, letting out a single “Woah..” – which Jack could only assume to be in awe, fear, or a weird mixture of both.
Looking up, what stood in front of them was someone that some people could describe as “Batman if he was like mad disrespectful” – and to a degree, they were right, somewhat. That someone they were facing was none other than Quint Baker – Jack's somewhat friend-but-not-really. He was the first person that Jack was able to semi-tolerate from the multiple schools he had to go through; y'know – transfer, stay low, get rumors, get picked on, pick fights, get in trouble, transfer, and repeat – it was a terrible cycle – and it didn't change too much when he got to Parker Middle School.
Quint was described as one of the scariest people at Parker Middle School, not because he bullied or terrorised people or anything – as a matter of fact, there were times that he even scared the bullies themselves – Quint was a…to put in better words, a unique type of person. He wore a lot of punked outfits and had a couple piercings on his ears at the ripe age of thirteen (how he got away with that?...no one really knows). In truth, he was a mysterious kind of guy, and people mainly identified him for the incidents he got into with other kids at school; whether accidental or intentional.
Jack didn't know how to put their relationship. At first, Quint couldn't be damn near bothered to let anyone near him around the halls. He could even reminisce on the few violent arguments they would have with one another (the ‘good ol’ days’), and were even reluctant with close contact. But you know that saying? – ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’ – something like that? Yeah, somehow they grew onto each other in a weird sort of way; don't know how that worked. Maybe hate brings people together too?
There was one key shift in their relationship however; on the night when he had run away from his wretched foster family – that, to be very honest, wasn't gonna stick with him very long. A few hours in the cold pouring rain was absolute hell, and he begrudgingly had to turn to the very person he almost punched the daylights out of one time for help.
A few minutes of back and forth in the pouring rain and Quint finally took him in after his parents bargained and lectured him about how ‘it's rude to leave homeless people out in the streets’ (rude, but he'll take what he can get). That night turned into a week, and that week turned into two..
They eventually went from ‘I absolutely hate you’to ‘okay mayyybeeee I can stand next to you..’ – it was a whole weird thing..
Right now? Well…Jack actually couldn't tell the look on Quint's face all too well (probably because he was still dazed from being hit by a flying tennis ball) but he could get a mixture of “Oh my GOD you're ALIVE!!” and “I am going to strangle you until your neck looks like a disjointed, unappealing slinky toy” – either way, he could tell Quint was surprised to see him.
To be honest, Jack felt the same way; he was honestly damn near giving up the night that walkie broke, but…with a couple of strings pulled (and Dirk's weird, annoying motivation tactics), they were able to find him – Quint Baker, alive.
“Quint!!- ow.. dude, you're alive!!” Jack exclaimed and had his arms open to what he HOPED was a shared hug between the two, as they hadn't seen each other for so long.
But unfortunately, Quint seemed to have different plans..
Immediately after Jack ushered his welcome greeting, he was immediately met with a punch to the stomach! OUCH!! Will the universe just stop using him like a punching bag today!? He was still a fragile sack of flesh and bones, y'know!
Jack then felt the collar of his shirt being pulled forward, in which he was now eye to eye with Quint, and man…those eyes could burn a gaping hole into his pupils if his hatred wasn't contained in a feeble human body.
“Owww!!- This is not the reception I imagined!-” Jack croaked out, trying to.. y'know– not lose oxygen to his lungs.
“What the HELL happened!?” Quint spat at him, only holding his collar tighter as he now had a clear face – it was an “I'm VERY VERY close to pummelling you to the ground!” face – and Jack couldn't understand a single reason why.
“Quint, there's been a series of “What the hell just happened!?” that just happened outside on that lawn, so you gotta be more specific-”
“You know what the fuck I meant! Why did you not call me!? Why did you wait until NOW to show up!? Why didn't you give me any implications that you were – y'know – ALIVE!?” Quint screamed at him, and that was something that Jack was not expecting to face after not seeing him for a month and a half..
“Hey hey, cut the guy some slack! He had a bit of um…issues going on with the walkie!” Dirk interjected, feeling like he needed to butt in before things got ugly.
Quint just looked at him, up and down, side to side, like he was some sort of bacteria infestation that crawled into his house uninvited and was now talking to him like they're equals – and now Dirk felt less than welcome..
“Oh-..errr.. forgot to introduce myself, name's Dirk Savage! Y’know, from school? Football team? Public speaker? Any of that…ring a bell?” Dirk trailed off sheepishly, as he tried to give Quint a big friendly smile. Yeesh, the guy's acting like he's starring for Disney Channel, and Quint was most definitely not catching on.
Quint took in a deep breath, his hands quite literally itching to take something and throw it on the floor. He then looks up at Dirk – who was much taller than he is – and says in the TV commercial brand voice ever “Heyyyy welcome.. Dirk Savage!! Glad to have you here!! Just give me a moment..”
Quint takes Jack by his already pulled collar, turning him around and taking a few steps away from Dirk, and his voice immediately changes to;
“Why the FUCK is he in my house!?” Quint hissed, shooting another glare at Jack. This was like the…third glare today.
“What- you don't like the guy??” Jack asks with an eyebrow raised. Quint's face went deadpan, as if Jack just asked him “is the sky blue??”
“Noooo Jack, obviously I've been waiting forever for him to enter my house unannounced! – DUMBASS what do you think!?” Quint hissed at Jack once again. God– could this guy not read the atmosphere to save his life??
“Uh… not to intrude or anything, but I can still hear you..-” Dirk piped up, standing awkwardly near the kitchen counter. Kinda made no sense to step away from him if they're just going to talk in their normal tone, at least that's what he thought.
“GOOD.” Quint shouted back towards Dirk before turning his attention back to Jack. “Did you seriously have to bring HIM of all people!?”
“Quint c'mon, it's the end of the world!! We can't be picky and choosy about the survivors we get, if any at all!” Jack exclaimed back. It seems that the both of them didn't care too much that Dirk was right in hearing range, hearing the entire conversation word for word.
“I'd rather take my chances with a five tonne angry horned bull, whilst dressed head to toe in red, than to communicate with HIM.” Quint spat, his arms folded as he accentuated the last word with disgust.
“Well too bad there's no bulls around – cause they're probably extinct – so you're gonna have to man up and put whatever hatred you have for him into your boots and get over it!” Jack says, copying the same pose as Quint – either to tick him off, or he was ticked himself; either way they were both ticked.
“I don't own boots. Wasn't able to get them before the world damn near ended.” Quint says, his tone now sounding a bit sour on the subject of BOOTS of all things – jesus christ.
“Shoes, sandals– WHATEVER! Just get off your high horse and stop being so moody! At least have a better attitude for our.. uh…month and a half reunion!” Jack exclaimed, trying to make SOMETHING work out, because right now talking to Quint was the equivalent of trying to teach a stubborn dog how to sit.
“Actually, it's been two months – two months I had to survive on my own, two months you didn't CALL me, TWO MONTHS that I had to live thinking with the fact that you were zombified, or worse off – DEAD. But sureeee, let's act like this is all just a GREAT, BIG family reunion!!! – and even better, why not bring Dirk fuckin’ Savage along – cause I'm sure you had the best of fun prancing princess around with him instead of calling ME back!” Quint's voice rose higher and higher into anger, as he looked like he was about to punch the daylights out of Jack (again).
The air had gone silent, the tension was heavier than lead, and you could swear that you could hear crackling sounds of uneasiness in the background – oh wait, never mind. That's just Dirk eating something from the pantry whilst watching the situation unfold from afar. God could he NOT read the room for the life of him??
“Okay okay okay rewind for a moment! First of all, I didn't go out and look for Dirk, he found ME outta nowhere. I came out after a month to know if it was safe to come out into the open and well…he was supposedly still alive. The only reason that he's here is because he won't leave me alone, and insists that we work together as a team – says there's “power in numbers” or something. Second of all, as Dirk said, the walkie broke! Some zombie grabbed onto my leg and it fell out onto the ground, the thing was close to shattered man! But um…Dirk helped fix it, and we got onto you, and we're here now!! So we can like- put that behind us for a moment to finally be happy that we're ALIVE, right?” Jack explained himself haphazardly, hoping Quint would have some change of heart about his situation.
But instead, Quint just squinted his eyes, his mouth forming nowhere near a smile as his eyebrows furrowed, as if he was trying to compute the story properly – or he thinks Jack's talking out of his ass.
“Wait wait wait wait wait, so…Dirk, you found Jack like…a month before, correct?” Quint starts off, now turning to Dirk for investigation. His face turned into a small frown as he realised Dirk was scheming through HIS pantry for food.
Dirk stopped in his tracks, wiping his mouth with his jacket sleeve as he pondered for a moment “Err yeah, around a month I think.”
Quint nodded his head, and then turned back to Jack “Okay…and you said the walkie broke.. when?”
“About two months ago! The exact day that we split up and said that we would call each other as soon as we could! The walkie got busted on my way back.. but Dirk helped me fix it and now we're here!” Jack explained once again, very confused where Quint was going with this.
Quint felt the cogs turning in his head, trying to piece the story together. It was then when he pinpointed onto one small little factor..
“Okay okay…why didn't you try to fix it then?” Quint questions, cocking an eyebrow.
“Huh?” Jack muttered, blinking his eyes as if Quint just asked him an algebra question.
“Why didn't you try to fix it before Dirk came with you? You keep mentioning that you and Dirk fixed it, but Dirk only came a month after the walkie broke, as you said – so the question begs; why didn't you try to fix the walkie earlier?” Quint questions again, making sure his pronunciation was crystal clear for Jack. Now Jack looked like he had accidentally swallowed a pool ball, as he choked up right on cue.
Jack scratched the nape of his neck, looking anywhere that wasn't Quint's dead end glare – he had a BAD feeling that Quint wasn't going to like the actual reason that Jack was going to give him – it wasn't really a good one anyway. He cleared his throat as he felt a bead of sweat accumulate on his forehead. God, was THIS the time to look like a bumbling idiot right now??
“Welll…that's really a funny story there actually..” Jack says, as he intentionally clears his throat AGAIN. His eyes are even staring towards the empty trash can, wishing he could just hide in it and never have to face the possible wrath that Quint would have.
Quint quickly caught on that Jack was stumbling around the question, and he was NOT having that. He quickly turned to Dirk for answers “Dirk, did Jack tell you anything about the walkie and how he was going to try to phone me ‘as soon as he got to safety'?” Quint asks, putting air quotes around the last few words as he glared at Jack for a moment before turning back to Dirk.
Dirk looked back and forth, firstly at Quint's piercing gaze, and then at Jack's pleading look, silently begging him NOT to tell him what had actually happened, but then Dirk looked back over to Quint, and his eyes were saying ‘If you don't tell me what happened I will twist your arm so hard it'll look like it got rolled over by a tractor’ – and frankly, he didn't want to experience anything CLOSE to that, so he spilled..
“Well uh…when I met Jack, he was kinda closed off, so he didn't really tell me much at the time. It was only after a few weeks when I found the broken walkie somewhere in the corner. I tried to convince Jack to fix it, but I had to do some serious budging.” Dirk confessed, tearing his eyes away from Jack as he silently cursed Dirk underneath his breath. Crud.
Quint had now turned his attention to Jack, and now he was nowhere near happy for there to ever be a possible ‘family reunion’ of any sorts..
“So…care to explain that, Jack Sullivan?” Quint says, and you could almost hear the anger through his gritted teeth. Jack knew he was in trouble, and the longer he was staring at Quint, the smaller he felt; and that was a feeling he hated..
After a few, gruesome, agonising few minutes of staring at each other in silence, Jack finally cracked.
“OKAY.. okay! I…didn't look to fix the walkie right away because..- I-I mean you have to understand the odds Quint, there was a possibility that I wasn't gonna get what I need without Dirk's help, and even if I did, there was a possible chance you could've been dead already and I would've done all that for nothing and-.. and so I-”
“So you gave up on me.” Quint finished his sentence, his voice filled with fury, laced with a tinge of hurt that made Jack want to bang his head against the wall.
“Now Quint don't put it like that-”
“No. NO. That's EXACTLY what you did! You were scared of some imaginary odds against all things, so you gave up on me. You gave up on the fact that I was possibly ALIVE. You gave up on our PROMISE.” Quint screamed at him, his fists clenching to its hardest degree. Jack swore if he clenched any harder, he would break his own knuckles.
“Yeesh.. yeah I can't blame him too much for that, that's not cool Jack..” Dirk interjected, in which he earned glares from both Jack AND Quint simultaneously.
“Will you be quiet!?” Jack snapped back. Yeah sure maybe Dirk was right, but it's not like he wanted to HEAR it!
“No no no, don't get mad at him for telling the truth! We made a promise together and you broke it. You BROKE that promise; the promise that I hoped would keep us in touch! But you just said ‘fuck me’ right!?” Quint spat again, his eyes were so filled with rage, that tears didn't even come close to it, but they were threatening.
“Quint, that's NOT what I was trying to do at all! I was worried about you, I was SCARED for you in fact!” Jack tried to speak back in the same tone as Quint; things were now escalating.
“Don't you think I was too!? I mean- imagine trying to wait TWO MONTHS for someone to call you, to make sure they weren't dead during the apocalypse, only to find out that they GAVE UP on you. Do you not realise how fucking terrified I was!? Sitting here in my own damn house, clinging onto whatever hope I had left that someone I CARE about wasn't going to DIE.” Quint's breathing was unstable, and Jack could see that, Dirk too. They were both in absolute shock as they witnessed Quint in a state that, to be quite honest – they've never seen before; distressed. Upset. Hurt.
“Quint, please just listen-”
“NO. No I have listened to you, and you know what I heard!? – ‘Jack Sullivan gave up on me, JUST like everyone else’ – do you even know what happened the day I got here Jack!?” Quint screamed. Both Jack and Dirk looked at each other for a moment, before turning to Quint and shaking their heads.
Quint sighed heavily, his breath uneasy as fought back tears as the words poured out from his chest.
“My parents. I had to witness my parents being EATEN ALIVE by a horde of zombies, and I couldn't do ANYTHING about it. I wanted to scream, cry, do anything and just.. give up right then and there, but I DIDN'T – because I knew YOU were on the other line somewhere, and I had hope to reach out to you because I cared about you…and here I thought that would've been reciprocated.” Quint felt like the more he spoke, the more he was shooting himself in the back, and it felt like he had done all of this for nothing.
Jack on the other hand felt…worse. If he had known, if only he had known that Quint was going through so much on the other line. If only he could go back in time and tell himself to get up off his ass and fix the walkie; but he couldn't even hold himself to his own standards, much less Quint's – the only person he really knew.
He felt an unsatisfying wrench in his gut, and he almost threw up in his mouth as he imagined the scenery of Quint's parents getting eaten alive by zombies. It was a horrible, disgusting thought.
Jack never really had parents – or proper parents anyway – all his life he just remembers getting shoved into new homes every year, and when the family was sick of him, they would send him off to another place for the same cycle. He's never had the feeling of actual parents, hell he could barely remember his own. But yet, the thought of going through that same situation that Quint did – it made him feel nauseous, and that only made him feel worse that he's now only taking this into account.
What kind of best friend was he?
Jack chewed on the inside of his cheek, wanting to do something to try and comfort Quint, but what could he even say that wouldn't end with him getting kicked in the ribs? He couldn't just stand there like a buffoon though..
“Quint, I'm…sorry. You're a hundred percent right on everything; I gave up on you and…that was a shitty thing to do. Especially after…all you've done for me, I would throw a tennis ball at myself too.” Jack says, scratching at his jacket sleeve. He wasn't sure if Quint wanted to even look at him in the face, but he wouldn't blame him if not.
Quint stayed silent for a moment, his eyes darting to somewhere else to not look at Jack in the face – as he was sure that if he did, he would make an…accident with both of his fists. Instead, he just strongly sighs..
“I did do a lot for you.. I hate to admit it – I really do – but back then, before the world went to shit, I was starting to see you as someone.. someone more than just some judgemental prick. I started to sort of.. grow onto you overtime, not enough to call you a ‘best friend’ or something like that, but you were.. something. I just..” Quint trailed off, feeling his heart twist further as took in his own words.
Dirk looked between the two of them, feeling quite stuck. He didn't know what to do, he wasn't licensed enough in therapy or psychology to even try to unpack whatever the hell just went on here. Now he just felt uncomfortable..
Jack looked down at the floor, he knew that he was the closest person that Quint has ever known, and them making promises to each other was almost like tying their blood vessels into a knot; so to break that promise was not only a slap in the face to Quint, but also a backhanded one to Jack – he knew how it felt to be left alone like that, waiting for something you weren’t sure was even going to come – he was a prime competitor of this phenomenon.
And yet, he couldn't even admit to himself that he would never do the same thing – that would just be a lie.
Jack felt uneasy, he knew in the back of his head that this wasn't going to go well from the start of this conversation, but he never expected this to come out of it. Jesus christ.. well, there was only one thing he could think of that could ease the troubles. Jack held out his hands, hanging his head down.
“Here, you can beat me up. I won't complain.” Jack says solemnly, closing his eyes as he awaits a kick to the rib.
Quint almost chuckles, almost like a..half laugh. No, a quarter laugh. Yeah, that would do it “I'm not doing that dumbass, then it wouldn't feel as good. Not saying you don't deserve it..”
The three boys were now just staring at each other in unsettling silence, not knowing what to say to each other at the moment. Jack never expected their journey to Quint's house to end up so…uncomfortable, and furthermore, he never expected Quint to pour his heart out like that – he hasn't done that in a while, if ever.
The tension was split apart as a loud “BUMP!” was heard against the glass door. The three boys looked around, grimacing as they were met with a zombie slammed against the glass window. Its breath heavy enough to tint the glass, as it tried to grab at the window, muffled groaning in return. Yikes..
“Think we should go.. this guy's giving me the creeps..” Dirk says, stepping back a bit just for good measure. For about the first time in their lives, Jack and Quint agreed with him.
The boys hurried away from the door, following Quint up the stairs. The walls had cracks and fissures gliding down the hallway, along with a strong mask of dust and whatever else that was inhabiting Quint's home without their knowledge.. and yet, there was a faint smell of peanut butter fudge filled brownies, along with too concentrated cologne – a home.
Jack didn't dwell on that for too long, neither did Quint. They all briskly walked down the hall until they arrived at a door. Jack and Dirk's first thoughts was that he was keeping some rabid wild beast behind those doors with how much chains and locks were surrounding the front alone. They even noticed a bit of barbed wire – where Quint even had the idea to locate that, they'll never know.
“Soo you wanna tell us why you dressed your bedroom door as the gate to Alcatraz?” Jack asked, subtly joking. Subtly.
Quint didn't appreciate it too much however, as he rolled his eyes and just made his way to unlocking the various locks on the door “Can't risk anything getting inside, and that includes you two…without my permission at least.” He states as he takes a large step into his room, trying to clear away any of the dusty mess that built itself on top.
“Oh also, watch out for the wire.” Quint added on quickly.
“The what??-” Dirk said as he had already committed to the step. The wire beneath him snapped, which caused a small catapult to fling a ball of plastic wrap, covered in barbed wire, aimed straight at Dirk. Dirk was flown back, crashing to the floor as he frantically ripped the deadly thrown weapon off of his face.
“OW– man!!- you coulda told us that you had a whole warfare system going on the moment we stepped in!!” Dirk exclaims, feeling around his face for any scratches or bleeding. Jack had to try his absolute best to hold back a snicker. What? It was funny!...Okay kinda funny..
“That's why I said – ‘watch out for the wire’.” Quint stated again, huffing as if what he said wasn't basic English or something.
“Yes, because that explains soooo much.” Dirk retorted sarcastically as he pushed the ball of barbed wire away from him, frowning at the damage it did to his face. The only thing that hurt him more than that was Quint's lazy try at a ‘warning’.
“Where'd you learn to build something like THIS dude??” Jack exclaimed as he did what Quint stated before – and avoided the wire that was now noted as a trap.
“A man only has so much free time until he gets sick of sticking gum to the ceiling with a slingshot..” Quint says as he points upwards, the other two looking up in response. Sure enough, there was quite a handful of gum stuck to the ceiling. They didn't know if they were supposed to be grossed out or impressed..
“Sooo I decided to use whatever materials I could scavenge and build myself a small defense system, along with some…other things.” Quint says as he spun around on his wheelie chair. Both Jack and Dirk gave him a look.
“That could mean a million different things dude, and frankly I don't want to mention half of them.” Dirk piped up, feeling a bit awkward.. I mean, who wouldn't with a vague sentence like that?
Quint groaned for a bit, getting up from the chair and going underneath the bed, pulling out a box “Fineee…was trying to be cool and mysterious, but since you asked..” Quint pulled off the fabric cover, revealing all sorts of explosives – hand grenades, miniature bombs, anything else that looked like it belonged in a military campus rather than a thirteen year old’s room.
Jack and Dirk looked into the box with awe, but also with hints of concern. As Jack dug deeper into the box, he found some other things that looked like they used to be fireworks, but were now painted into print that definitely meant danger of some kind, along with the rest of things in the box. Holy cow, Quint was armed to the teeth! He really wasn't messing around..
“Hey so uh…question – how were you able to get ahold of all of these…legally?” Dirk asked, his eyebrows heightened with concern. As much as Jack would want to say that Dirk was just being a worry wuss, he kind of wanted to know too..
Quint sat back onto his bed – a bed that was quite messier than it's normal messy state – as he leaned against the wall, taking hold of a nail filer as he went to work on his nails – that were surprisingly not too chipped up – guess someone's been taking care of themselves after all, even during the apocalypse.
“Well, when you originally lived with parents who worked in a field of possible hazards for a living, you kind of have a premise of there being countless explosives during your prime. Of course, my parents had locked them away in the garden shed as soon as I learned how to pick basic locks.. not saying it stopped me completely. I picked a few of them after about a week into the apocalypse, but at that point I got sick of it and just used a crowbar to bust it open.” Quint explained, still checking his nails every few minutes, blowing off some imaginary dust.
“And so, I took whatever was left in the garden shed, used a bit of my leftover awesome skill and smarts – along with safety precautions – and you've got yourself a bucket load of explosives right at your fingertips! Quint pat-and-pending, guaranteed zombie gut splatter.” Quint says, picking up one of the small explosives in hand and lightly throwing it over to Jack, who inspected it for a short moment.
“Hey, y'know I almost forgot you used to be into the whole science thing!” Jack exclaims, inspecting the small ball in comparison to his own gloved hand.. it was a pretty average size, yet it also looked like it could do some serious damage. Quint really put in the work these past few months! – it almost put Jack at ease. Almost.
“Wait– you're a science guy??” Dirk shot up, his eyes widening in prevalent shock. They had almost forgotten that Dirk didn't know Quint as much as he thought he did – no one really does.
As a matter of fact, the first time Dirk saw him, he was quite a bit intimidated…but slightly enamored at his attitude. Not that he would admit that now, though.
“Was. And the topic will stay that way for both of you if you want to keep your heads out of the dirt.” Quint's voice was now a bit on edge, as he shot glares at the both boys who were still handling his weapons (with care, hopefully).
Hey, just because he knows how to do things, doesn't mean he's gonna stick it onto his resume for everyone to see. Never making that mistake again.
“No problemo! My lips are sealed brother!” Dirk says, flashing a charming smile at Quint to hopefully get on his good side. Quint, however, was not impressed.
“Again, I ask – why is he here??” Quint bluntly stated, looking towards Jack with an unamused expression. Dirk just scratched the nape of his neck; he's not sure if they got the memo that it's not really cool to talk bad about someone – especially when they're right in front of you.
“Oh come on, cut him some slack! Didn't you see the way he and I decimated those zombies out on the lawn?? I mean– he broke a zombies’ jaw dude!!” Jack exclaimed.
“I said I was sorry!” Dirk exclaimed, trying to save face…butt…whatever the saying was.
Yeah sure, he knew that this world was now ‘survival of the fittest’, ‘kill or be killed’, other hard-core quotes like that – but in all honesty, he didn't see the need to just blow zombies’ heads off ALL the time. I mean– as long as they're not piling and clinging onto his body, a small shove is fine by him.
Quint hummed in thought as he listened to Jack's story. He hated to admit it, but he was a bit intrigued by Dirk's heavy structure – for research purposes of course. He got up and slowly began to circle around Dirk, checking out his arms with the help of measuring tape – for research purposes of course.
Dirk on the other hand felt a bit…awkward. I mean, sure he knew his body shape was a bit different from others, but never in his life did he think he was going to get inspected like some lab rat – from the Quint of all people..
“Hm. All I have to say is that you're really wasting your muscles dude.” Quint concluded.
“That's what I said!!” Jack tagged along, his voice a bit louder.
“Okaaayyy dudes, I think we can move past this subject…please.” Dirk says, a bit sheepishly. He'd prefer to get complimented in his own free time.. maybe.
Quint cleared his throat, stepping back a bit as he internally cursed at himself for what he was just doing. C'mon man…stay cool.. “Right. Well…make yourselves at home, I suppose. You only go out of this room if it's for an emergency – and no, using the bathroom is not one of them, there's a bucket in the corner for that.” Quint states, whilst heading over to a bulletin board, which was filled with a bunch of scribbled notes that were stacked one on top the other.
Dirk and Jack grimace in disgust, as they both shift away from the spot where the bucket was located.. they definitely didn't need to see what was inside that. Another definite thing was that they most likely weren't going to stay here. Three dudes being confined into one, average sized room, sitting alongside who knows what germinated inhabitants was just a recipe for disaster – and frankly, Jack wasn't here for that kind of meal.
“Listen…Quint, as much as we appreciate the offer to stay, we actually kind of already had a plan to just…come here and well…dip.” Jack started off, which caused Quint to meticulously glare at Jack, as if he was ASKING to get beaten up to a pulp “..w-WITH YOU of course!! We planned to come here to reunite and well…possibly bring you back to my place?” Jack finishes off, hoping to well…NOT receive a beat down now.
Quint just glared at Jack up and down, as if he had just asked him to go to Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory or something. He scoffed, closing a book he was currently writing notes into “And what makes you think that I should come along with you two??”
Jack and Dirk looked back and forth with each other, as they were now met with a strange wall they didn't expect “Uhm– whaddya mean man? We basically came over here to get you!”
“Yeah – two months later. Don't think I just forgot about the fact that you gave up on me Jack – you out of all people should know I don't forget.” Quint stands up, raising his hands up to issue around the room as he goes on..
“My life's work is in here– no scratch that, my entire LIFE is in this house! The same house in which I saw my parents die, Jack!! And now, after all that, you're asking me to just– what?? Leave!? Just like that? With you of all people? Yeah, so far your case has just been a lotta bullshit, and frankly I don't see any good reason as to why I should come live with you to…where do you guys even live??”
“We live in Jack's treehouse! I say it's pretty comfy, spacious, pretty stacked – you could totally do your work there!” Dirk exclaims, obviously trying to persuade Quint into coming with them. Jack groans in his throat at the quite obvious pandering.
“Jack's…treehouse??” Quint repeats, his tone confused as he cocks an eyebrow at Jack.
“Used to belong to my God awful foster brother, but well…he's not here anymore sooo I took it and essentially revamped the place. We got beds, food, and video games!! I got Mario Party and Space Invaders!!” Jack exclaimed, putting on a smile to try and invite Quint, but all he received was a groan.
“Great, so it's not even your house we're going to. Awesome. What an upgrade.” Quint says, his tone so monotone not even a cue card would be needed to show he was sarcastic. He turns back around in his chair, going back to his notebook.
“Look, c'mon Quint, can't you consider this for at least a second!? Listen, I know you hate me for leaving you behind; I understand that, you could hate me until you're rolling in your grave.. but you and I both know that we need to stick together with other people the best we can. You're not gonna survive out here by yourself, no matter how tough you may be.” Jack says. Silence wavers the room, and Quint doesn't say anything for a while.
He could just so easily kick the two of them out of his house right now, especially after THAT statement from Jack; I mean, seriously! Who the hell did this guy think he was!? So then.. why was he choking out? He NEVER choked. This was unnatural to him, and he didn't like it. If only he had more gum..
“Uh.. what he means to say in a nicer way is; we'd really appreciate you being a part of the team! I mean.. being stuck inside this room day in and day out with zombies surrounding your house – it doesn't sound like too much of a good living space for any of us.. dontcha think?” Dirk says, trying to at least get on Quint's good side…if it's even there anymore.
Quint bristles subtly, now unsure of even his own judgement – which is, again, something that NEVER happens. What in the world was wrong with him!? Why was the hardened shell he tried so hard to build breaking apart at the seams? It wasn't fair.
“..I'm sure your parents would want you to be somewhere safe too..” Dirk added on, which made Quint bristle again, a lot more noticeable this time.
Quint's eyes darted over to a picture frame, a now broken picture frame, but yet he could still see the figures of his loved ones; his mother, his father, his little sister – the ones he couldn't even say goodbye to properly. The ones who he'd have many regrets and ‘I wish I had's for as long as their faces remained. He would never admit this out loud – seriously, you would have to chain him down for him to even utter a word – but at the same time, any sort of denial that he was trying to tell himself was close to useless at this point.
Quint sighed exasperatedly, looking back at Dirk and Jack, narrowing his eyebrows. He toys with the pen in his hands whilst looking at them “Do I get my own room? No way in hell am I sharing a small room with you two.”
Jack groaned a bit. He had a feeling that there would be a bargain; it's not Quint without a bargain “Yeah yeah, I'll accommodate, but don't expect like.. 5 star room service or something.”
Quint hummed, his face scrunching up into a ‘thinking face’ as he thought about the offer being placed. He then looked over to the devices and weapons that were stuck in the cardboard underneath his bed. He goes over and pulls them out.
“If I'm coming along with you guys, you're gonna have to help carry my stuff; consider it as part of the payment.” Quint says, as he holds the box in his arms, dropping it into Jack's.
Jack stumbles backwards, as he didn't expect to get like– a box weighing a TON of equipment dropped onto him. He is thankfully caught into the arms of Dirk, who helps him back up eagerly. That didn't mean that the box was any easier to hold, quite the opposite actually.
“Wha– you don't actually expect us to WALK with this stuff all the way back to the treehouse, do you!?” Jack exclaimed, feeling like his knees were buckling down to the ground already. Was Quint going insane or something?! He wouldn't be surprised if he was…
“And who said we were walking?” Quint says with a smug smile, picking up a bunch of stuff and attaching it to what just looks like chains attached to his pants, as well as throwing on his leather jacket that he got a while back.
Dirk and Jack just look at each other, shrugging their shoulders as they shoot Quint a look of ‘can you stop speaking cryptic already??’. Quint just groans..
“Ugh.. every time I try to do this vague and mysterious thing you guys just don't get it and– oh whatever.. just follow me to the garage.” Quint says with a grumpy look, as he opens his door, stepping over the trap wire once again as he issues the other two to follow him.
Dirk picks up a bunch of boxes labelled with different necessities (which Jack was even surprised Quint was able to preserve so much), and him, alongside Jack, begin to follow Quint out of his room, carefully avoiding the traps and the barbed wire – don't want to have another Dirk incident happening, no matter how funny it would be.
“Whaddya think he's got planned for us?” Dirk asks, his face enthusiastic.
“Probably something his mother wouldn't approve of..” Jack mutters underneath his breath. The both boys begin to follow, like a mother duck leading her children.
The three of them go past the dusty ruined hallways, sped down the stairs and immediately made their way to the garage, walking past the zombies, who were just slamming their heads against the sliding door as if they were paparazzi.
Quint opened the door, leading the boys into the dark garage. Jack almost tripped AGAIN with the box of stuff, in which Dirk gratefully caught him.. again. Man, he really needed to stop doing that.
A moment later, the lights flickered on, sending a moment of flash between the three, before their eyes opened. Jack and Dirk's jaws almost drop to the floor simultaneously, as they were met with something they haven't seen since the beginning of the apocalypse.
The light illuminated onto a truck, but not just any truck, a fully decked out, spray painted, weapon built, COOL truck! There were all sorts of weapons and defenses; all from the hood to the tail lights. The big wheels were decked with all that spiky stuff that I can't remember the name for right now – but it looked cool nonetheless! There were all sorts of graffiti sprayed on the sides, cool looking lights and– wait.. was that a SKULL!? They were sort of hoping that's fake..
“Siiiickkkkk…” Jack and Dirk say in unison, their eyes as wide as saucers as they stared at the work of the vehicle.
Quint, with a big grin on his face, steps into the illuminated light like he's some sort of game show host “Gentlemen, I present to you – Голямата мама!”
Jack and Dirk have a confused look. Quint stop for a moment, before sighing in annoyance.
“It means ‘Big Mama’ in Bulgarian.” Quint explains, half heartedly.
“Oh.. why didn't you just say that??–”
“Cause it sounds cooler okay?? Not my fault I'm bilingual.” Quint snaps back, rolling his eyes as he takes a box of stuff, putting it into the back.
“Why’d you name it ‘Big Mama’?” Dirk asks, scratching his head.
“Take a guess.” Quint says, leaving it at that. Jack thinks for a moment, before his eyebrows shoot up, and he begins to snicker. Wow.. didn't know Quint could be THAT bold.
Dirk sees that Jack was snickering underneath his breath, and now he just feels a little left out.. “What? I don't get it.. c'mon I don't like being left out from jokes!”
“..I'll explain when we get back to Jack's place.” Quint says, as he gets into the driver's seat of the car. The other boys following suit, with Jack calling shotgun before Dirk could even utter the words. Dirk just shrugs and goes into the backseat; he liked the wider space anyway.
“Sooo, when went get back to the treehouse, you wanna hang out? Watch over some DVD’s? Chow down some food? We got loads!” Jack says, nudging Quint in the sides.
“Just because I'm coming along with you, doesn't mean we're all buddy buddy.” Quint says, shifting away from Jack's nudge, his eyes darting away to look forward. Crud, shouldn't have spoken too soon..
“Right.. uh, one more question – is that skull on the hood real?” Jack asks, pointing to the blaring skull at the edge of the hood.
“Depends. Would you run away if I said yes?” Quint says, being cryptic once again, which puts a scared shiver up the other boys’ spines. In reality, it was just a candle, but he thought it would be more fun to put them on edge.
“At this point, we don't have much options. C'mon, let's get moving!” Jack exclaims, clearly in a more upbeat mood now. Quint shrugs and uses the keys that were left in the ignition to start the engine, roaring it to life.
“Wait dudes!– none of us have driving licences, nor know how to drive!” Dirk pinpoints. Jack and Quint glare back at him with a ‘duh we know that’ look.
“Dirk, where we're going – we don't need licences.” Jack says, putting on his cool and laid back voice, whilst laying back against the seat with a ‘cool’ pose. He really wished there were sunglasses laying around here.
“Did you just rip that off from an action movie somewhere?” Quint questions, eyeing Jack. Jack stares back with a frown.
“Yeah but– the guy's dead, so who cares?” Jack retorts back.
“Well, either way, I don't trust either of you driving this thing.” Quint buts in.
“Oh, and we should trust you?” Jack retorts, folding his arms.
“It's my truck, I know the ins and outs of this thing – it's way better than your only history being shit at racing games.” Quint shot back at Jack, who only choked at the truth punch delivered to him.
“Still.. I dunno, maybe we should–” Dirk was about to say something else, but Quint had already stepped on the gas, driving straight through the closed garage door, destroying it almost to pieces before making a drift alongside the road. Jack and Dirk scream for a moment, clutching their hearts as they took shallow breaths in fear.
“See? You guys are still alive.” Quint says, turning towards the other two boys, who were (rightfully) scared out of their minds.
“Well– yeah, but did you HAVE to go through the garage door!?” Jack exclaimed, his heart still beating at the pace of a hummingbird.
Quint shrugs in return “Not like my parents would care too much..” He mutters before pressing on the gas and driving off…recklessly, but driving regardless.
It took a bit of time for the boys to adjust, moment after, the car was dead silent, not even the crickets had anything to say. It's not like the boys had many good things to talk about, so why bother? Especially when Quint wasn't too fond of Jack right now, it wouldn't be much use. That fact only tied a big ugly knot in Jack's stomach.
A minute or two later, they both hear Dirk humming and singing some corny pop song like “Uptown Funk”. As much as it was irritating, they didn't have anything else to accommodate for the tense silence wavering between them. A moment later, Quint and Jack could feel themselves singing along as well – despite their less than perfect singing voices.
Well, would you look at that; three dudes at the end of the world, all rugged and burdened, and they were ACTUALLY getting along. Isn't that a surprise..
But Jack shouldn't keep hold of this for too long, it was only temporary.. but that doesn't mean he couldn't enjoy it too.
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