About two hours later, they had dug two almost identical holes side by side. Frank's was slightly smaller, but then again Frank was slightly smaller and so was Ray, so everything worked out. Somberly, the two boys went inside to carry out their friends. Gerard had found bed sheets to wrap them in, and Frank carried out their helmets to place on the graves.
It wasn't a conventional funeral; neither Frank nor Gerard talked, but it wouldn't have been right. Frank didn't know either of the dead boys well, and Gerard couldn't bring himself to acknowledge the fact that his little brother was six feet deep.
Once they had finished filling in the graves, Frank gave Gerard a hug and then went inside, tuning the radio to Dr. Death-Defying's station. Gerard stood out by the graves until the sun went down, looking out at the Zones and humming a song Dr. D used to play that was Mikey's favorite. Inside, Frank listened closely to the radio; when Dr. D was out, a record of his choice played until he got back in. Finally, the familiar voice crackled through the speakers and Frank walked to the doorway, poking his head out.
"Hey Gerard?" he called softly, now only able to see the silhouette of his friend. "Dr. D is on." Gerard turned slowly, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking towards Frank.
"Thanks Frankie," he sighed, following the shorter boy in to the couch where they sat. Gerard perched on the edge, uncomfortable with resting his bones when his baby brother was resting his eternally. They sat side by side, listening to the radio report.
"Bad news from the Zones, tumbleweeds," Dr. Death began, and Gerard deflated. This was it.
"It looks like Jet Star and the Kobra Kid had a clap with the Exterminators that went all Costa Rica and uh, got themselves ghosted: dusted out on Route Guano. So it's time to hit the red line and up-thrust the volume out there. Keep your boots tight, keep your guns close, and die with your mask on if you've got to. Here is the traffic-"
Gerard switched off the radio, standing abruptly. He paced around the base for a minute, and then went to a drawer over by the weapons stash. From it he pulled out two old pairs of outdated headphones, a little gadget to split the headphone jack, and a little portable music player. He had been saving it for a special occasion, since the charger had been broken in a brotherly scuffle. The memory weighed heavily on Gerard, but he closed his fist around the player and walked over to Frank.
"Let's go on a ride."
A/N: *sigh*
YOU ARE READING
Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys
ספרות חובביםLook alive, Sunshine. In a dystopian world, the Fabulous Killjoys are one of the last groups fighting to keep freedom alive. Against all odds and a strange masked group called the Exterminators, they struggle to protect liberty and take down the lea...
