S1, E7 | Now Leaving

“You’re anxious” Beth says aloud, slouched in the passenger’s seat to avoid detection, her eyes resting upon the restless squirming Avon’s fingers do along the rubber rim of the steering wheel. “This trip doesn’t do much to inspire confidence, Beth” Avon replies, leaning closer toward the wheel, doing his best to navigate his vehicle through the dense fog. “Does this happen often?” Avon asks, the woman confused as to what the man is referring to.

“The fog… It was just like this when I was driving into Remedy” Avon responds, the high-beams in his lights doing little to help. “We’re near the Appalachians, it’s not rare” Beth explains, the following addition to her statement doing little to ease Avon’s nerves, “though… I’ve never seen any fog like this before.”

Letting out a sigh, Avon’s fingers steady, pulling the wheel firmly within their grip, his foot calm upon the gas pedal, eyes slowly fixating on one position, the nerves unable to greatly overcome his anticipation. His mind emptying of all thoughts, Avon keeps his focus on the road, every word spoken by the navigator being followed to completion until a sudden rush of light comes barreling in through the haze.

Foot removing itself from the gas, Avon puts the car in an immediate park, Beth slumping further into her seat before an eye can be placed upon her. Through the fog, a figure in a smiley face mask stands in front of his truck, the cutouts in front of his eyes allowing the intense stare from the man hidden beneath its cover to run over the man. A cold coming down the back of his spine, Avon whispers to Beth to remain hidden at all times, his hand placing itself upon the handle of his door.

Stepping out of his vehicle, Avon stares down the mysterious figure before him, posture remaining reserved, stood with his side facing the man responsible from bringing him out here. “You coming to finish the job?” Avon asks, feet firmly placed upon the ground, hands balled into a fist to keep themselves from shaking, the mysterious figure remaining stood without movement.

“Oh, come on… What you’re trying to accomplish is obvious” Avon exclaims, his eyes refusing to leave the figure for a moment, watching him remain stoic. “If you’re trying to get rid of me, do your thing… It will have taken you long enough, but I guess the third time’s the try!” Avon exclaims, growing restless at the anonymity, eager for answers. Turning toward the man, Avon can see the breath leaving his mouth, but fixates on the lack of emotion, its resemblance uncanny to that of a statue.

“I’m getting tired of hearing my own voice, dude” Avon exclaims, taking three steps forward before facing down his would-be killer, “let’s hear your side of the story.” Tilting his head to the side, the statue-like man lets a pop echo out from his neck, a naturally-occurring ring in the distance only helping keep this scene tense, as rigid as a week-old corpse.

“There’s no story to tell” the man beneath the mask replies, his declaration being cut there, leaving Avon to fill the air. “Is that all you’re going to give me?” Avon responds, his mind begging him to keep his distance while his heart races with anger, the answers he’s been after standing a mere few feet away from him. “I asked you a question” Avon continues, anger boiling over the edge of what he can take before his feet carry him forward, “I ASKED YOU A QUESTION!”

His voice lifting into an outright yell, Avon marches closer toward the statue, intending for the altercation to become physical until the man finally breaks his stance. Pulling out his coat, the man beneath the mask removes a gun from within, taking immediate aim at Avon, who stops in place with his arms raised in surrender. “I told you, there’s no story to tell” the man replies, watching Avon’s throat move with the gulp of air he takes in.

Moving his finger from the grip of the weapon to its trigger, the man prepares to take his ultimate shot at Avon until a blaring sound from afar captures his attention. In a miraculous turn of events, the fog over Remedy lifts the moment a flurry of sirens begin to blare, the flashing lights inching closer toward the pair prompting the mysterious man to take action.

With a deep breath, the man takes the gun from his side and places it against his head, eyelids closing as his finger hits the trigger, a bullet firing off into the depths of the woods. Tackled as he was pulling the trigger, the man is forced into defense, an anger-fueled Avon raining down one shot after another upon the cause of days worth of grief. “Give me the story!” Avon shouts, his fingers popping the plastic mask off the man’s head, allowing it to slide down the hill below.

Knelt there, Avon looks on in confusion, a face he’s unfamiliar with looking back at him with his eyes wide, a moment of uncertainty coming over both men. In a desperate attempt for his freedom, the man lays a hefty shot into the side of Avon’s head, his skull inside rattled at the brute force of the figure’s fist. Pushing himself to his feet, the man grabs his gun from off the ground before placing it beneath his chin, a lone shot firing into the distance to bring the confrontation to a close.

Taken back, the man falls backwards and drops over the guard rail, sliding down to the forest below as the gun from his hand falls to the ground. In shock, Avon looks away from the fallen gun, his eyes turning toward the now-parked cruisers as officers hurry from their vehicles, one cop still stood confidently within the crowd. The gun lowering to his side, Beau watches his fellow officers hurry ahead of him, the barrel of his weapon smoking.

“He’s alive!” one of the younger officers shouts, his gaze having glanced over the guard rail, a man desperately trying to drag himself away from custody rendered to being nothing other than a sitting duck. Relief coming over him, Beau hangs his head in joy, a nod coming over him as Jake pats him on the back, the younger officer glancing back toward Avon with a smile. Differences quickly being put aside, Avon swallows his pride and offers the man a nod, pleased at the outcome.

= Remedy Hills is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards =

“You made a big mistake!” the man responsible for Avon’s grief shouts toward him from across the station, guided toward the interrogation room as Beau and Avon look on in pleasure. “Do you know him?” Beau asks, Avon’s back leaning against the filing cabinets as he shakes his head. “I’ve never seen him in my life” Avon responds, continuing to keep his stare on the man until he vanishes beyond the doorway, at which point Avon’s eyes fall to the ground.

“Did you make any enemies before you came here? Anyone that would want to do this?” Beau inquires, Avon’s gaze finally turning toward the man, Beau’s hands lifting up in surrender. “I’m just looking for any strings to pull at other than the typical ones” Beau replies, “that guy doesn’t live in Remedy, so whatever connects you to him, I’m gonna try to find it.”

Nodding back to Beau in an understanding, Avon places the styrofoam rim of his cup to his lips, a call of his name from across the station captivating him the moment it’s uttered. “What the hell happened?” Penny calls out, wrapping her arms around her husband, who returns the embrace. “I’ll leave the two of you to it” Beau says aloud, walking off to the interrogation room as Avon assures his wife of his own safety.

“I’m fine, just what’ll end up being a black eye tomorrow morning” Avon explains, his wife still uncertain to the events that led to everything. “I found a note in the car when I went to pick up Beth from the hospital, it gave me a time and location… It’s all just a lot to explain” Avon proceeds, giving up halfway through as his wife pulls him into a seat.

“The officers took Beth back home, they’ve got the guy in questioning and they want me to recount my story as a part of the process” Avon explains, dwindling the events down to its conclusion, “at the end of the day, we’re all alright.” With a sigh, Penny nods, her husband taking a peck on the cheek before being pulled back into her arms, his stiff hands reaching around her back and holding her tight.

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“You’ve been quite the busy boy tonight” Beau explains, taking a seat beside Jake with a folder slammed against the top of the table, eyes falling over the lawyer-less man. “Steyson Garza, twenty-six, five charges in the past including murder” Beau calls out, reading the man’s history as if it were a shopping list, “one thing of interest is that you were held for your sentence at the same place as Rico Martinez… We’ve had a, let’s say ‘encounter’ with him.”

With a chuckle, Steyson refutes the man’s claims, the only response he takes amusement in giving being one that holds Beau to a lower light than he’d like. “You’ve had no such ‘encounters’ with Rico” Steyson explains, leaning forward, ensuring his head remains beneath the glow of the single light above, “you wouldn’t be breathing if you had some ‘encounter’.”

A smile sprouting across the man’s face, Steyson leans back into his seat with the cuffs still restraining him to the table, Jake taking over the dialogue on behalf of his annoyed partner. “You seem to know a lot about Rico’s history for someone that says he’s acting alone” Jake responds, “how’d you get such up-to-date information without being in his inner circle?”

“People have a price, and people pay a price all the same” Steyson replies, purposefully keeping his answers vague, “the question you have to ask yourself is ‘how much does this person cost’ if you really wanna get in the mindset of someone like me.” Squinting, Jake folds his hands upon the table, keeping his eyes cemented upon Steyson, playing into his game of twisted morality.

“How much does someone like me cost?” Jake responds, an amused Steyson looking on at the elder man, paying a cold shoulder to Beau, intentionally leaving him out of the conversation. “You’d go for very little… Too cultivated by a different age of law enforcement” Steyson replies, his eyes sliding to the corner of his eyelids the moment Beau’s voice returns, his own value being inquired over.

“You? You’d be damn-near priceless” Steyson responds, watching Beau’s expression shift, quietly gesturing for the reason Steyson holds for such value. “I can tell you wanna know why” Steyson says, breaking the odd silence as Jake listens in, watching Steyson’s chin press against his neckline, eyes remaining firmly upon Beau. “You come from a different breed of cop… Modern” Steyson explains, “you’re corruptible.”

Unable to keep his composure, Beau breaks out in laughter, Jake taking amusement in the words Steyson visually doubles down on, confidently leaning back in his seat. “You think I’m corruptible?” Beau asks, watching Steyson shrug his shoulders forward, Jake keeping himself in the background, allowing Beau to keep the conversation rolling. “Why do you think I’m corruptible?” Beau inquires, leaning back in his seat with his arms folded, interested in what Steyson has to say.

“You’re a hot head” Steyson responds, smirking at the officers and willing to be patient, “I’ll let you laugh it up now, but I’ll take that laughter right back when you prove me right someday.” Shaking his head, Beau tells Steyson that he has no idea what kind of man Beau is, a gesture which Steyson agrees with.

“I don’t need to know you in order to know what you’ll be one day” Steyson replies, “but don’t trick yourself into thinking you’re the only cop like you in this country… You’ve all got a price.” With a nod, Beau puts a smile on his face the moment he hears the interrogation door swing open, pushing himself out of his seat before the lawyer can utter a word. “We weren’t going to get anything out of him anyway” Beau exclaims, walking for the door without even needing to look at Steyson’s attorney.

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Hands tucked in his pockets, only his thumbs protruding to drape themselves over the lip of the denim cutout, Avon stares at Steyson as he is led away by police, bound for whatever prison they wish to hold him in. “Avon?” Beau whispers the man’s name, failing to earn a response before he glances at Steyson, waiting for the man to be led away completely before attempting to regain Avon’s attention.

“You’ve both messed up” Steyson calls out, lending the pair his departing words, pushed through the front doors, both Avon and Beau watching him disappear around the corner. “Avon” Beau calls back, Avon silently turning toward him with his eyebrow raised, still lost in translation, suddenly jerking out of his subconscious paralysis to verbally answer.

“He can’t fuck with you anymore, we’re making sure of that” Beau responds, the man at his desk shaking his head in exhaustion. “I wish I could say that’s true, but there’s still a town full of people that hate me” Avon replies, glancing back to Beau, watching the younger officer hang his head in disappointment. “I should have been more open minded” Beau says beneath his breath, still baring the weight of Avon’s cold welcome to town on his conscience.

“Yeah, you should have” Avon responds with a sigh, his head shaking immediately thereafter, “but you’re not the one that’s been keeping me up at night.” Despite it not being a forgiveness of guilt, Beau thanks Avon for his response, quickly returning the conversation to the story. “That’s pretty much all I’ve got” Avon replies, folding his arms as he looks back through his memories, eyes dashing from one side of his head to another as if he were reading pages of a book.

Feeling out of place, Beau places his pen back to his desk, spinning his chair toward Avon and keeping the conversation genuine. “I don’t wanna spend the next hour taking notes on you… Feed me whatever comes to mind” Beau explains, the sudden gesture surprising Avon. “Feed you whatever comes to mind?” Avon responds, offering an inquiry as to Beau’s meaning.

“I work best when I can draw lines between two things, I just feel more productive” Beau replies, crossing one leg over another and getting comfortable, “tell me everything that seems out of place to you.” Still uncertain of what the man is looking for, Avon gives in to the officer’s request and begins scavenging through his brain for something to offer, any recollection he can think of leaving his lips the moment it comes into his mind.

“The night he left the finger, I saw a big van parked on the sidewalk outside my door” Avon explains, words belonging to the same sentences being broken into parts, “there was a guy waiting for me to open the door before he sped off.” Immediately taking interest in the van, Beau raises a decent question, feeling like he has something to stumble onto. “Was the guy that waited for you driving?” Beau asks, Avon quickly realizing the opposite.

“No, the guy was still closing the door when the van started picking up speed” Avon responds, a vital piece of information now bouncing from one side of Beau’s brain to another. “Multiple culprits means there are probably more people to this that we haven’t found yet” Beau replies, fingers pressed against his chin, face aimed toward the depths of the building.

“Are you suggesting there are more people out there gunning for me?” Avon asks, Beau’s eyes casually drifting back onto him, his index finger moving away from his lips. “Yes, I am” Beau responds, glancing down at his notepad until Avon offers a second suspicion. “What are the chances this is the doing of the entire town?” Avon wonders aloud, a smile coming over Beau’s face, the officer wanting to brush the suggestion off as laughable, knowing it to be possible in his heart.

“I won’t rule it out, but I find it highly unlikely that the entire town could be in on this” Beau replies, amusingly turning back to his notepad until Avon corrects his suggestion. “I’m not saying all of Remedy is involved in this, but there’s room for a group to have gotten together” Avon responds, a possibility Beau takes more interest in. “This town hates writers coming in for more than a cup of coffee, why would they want one moving in?” Avon wonders aloud, Beau becoming interested.

Pressing his fingers to the paper-filled booklet, Beau slides the pad toward Avon, the pen rested atop. “Write down everyone you’ve encountered that didn’t greet you pleasantly” Beau replies, placing his fingers over the pen with a warning to accommodate him, “and list people other than me.”

With a smirk, Avon agrees to the stipulation before graciously taking the pen, scribbling down details of different people and making a passing comment that soon captivates Beau. “First they write me letters to scare me off, now I’m writing letters to put them away” Avon quips, Beau’s head darting back to Avon, repeating the one word that swept him off his feet. “Letters?” Beau says aloud, Avon’s eyes drifting back to the man with confusion, “they wrote you letters?”

With a nod, Avon approves Beau’s line of thought, a range of different questions now offered to the young officer. “Any chance you still have any of them?” Beau questions, a smile adorned with his mind running into speculation.

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Beckoned for by the eager tapping on a pair of knuckles at her door, Beth cautiously approaches the front step and glances through the window. Relieved, Beth tugs at the doorknob and greets Penny, who stands in her doorway with a puffy jacket draped over her shoulders. “I just wanted to check in on you” Penny explains, taking a seat when Beth gestures for her to do so, “I wanted to make sure you were settling in better than us.”

“I appreciate that” Beth responds, remaining upright, not wanting to get too comfortable in her own home, “it’s a lot more difficult than I thought it would be.” Silent, Penny inspects Beth, the posture of the woman coming off restrained, not wanting to let her guard down. “You seem really on edge” Penny explains, Beth shaking her head in refusal, admitting that she’s just coming down from the drugs wearing off.

“Yeah, okay” Penny replies, knowing the woman’s statement to be false, but unwilling to confront her in the moment. “I don’t mean to be all reserved or anything” Beth explains, a slight paranoia coming over her, every time her head moves away from Penny, it pulls toward the nearest window, all of which have been covered by couch pillows. “This is the first time anything like this has ever happened” Beth explains, eyes red and puffy from crying, hands trembling as she fails to stand still.

“You don’t need to explain if you don’t want to” Penny responds, Beth giving the woman a nod before her head hangs, Penny left sat awkwardly at her kitchen table. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” Penny asks, a further awkward silence being split by her words, the offer being made as an olive branch toward Beth, the young woman shaking her head, refusing the offer she takes appreciation in.

“I’m just rattled, nothing more” Beth replies, her arms folding over her chest as if she were cold, “it’s been a while since I’ve felt this way, so I’m getting used to it all over again.” Nodding, Penny tells Beth that she doesn’t have to be alone if she wishes not to be, Beth shaking her head in disagreement. “I should be alone tonight” Beth responds, her anxious gesture suggesting her refusal to be one of believed necessity rather than what she truly wishes for.

“The quicker I get back to normal, the quicker I’ll be myself again” Beth explains, her flawed logic leaving her no room for coping. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay over?” Penny clarifies, extending her offer once more, wishing for Beth to take it now that it has been given for a second time. Disappointment ensuing, Penny accepts Beth’s refusal the second time it is offered, noticing the woman’s hesitation to answer compared to the first time around.

“Would you like me to go?” Penny asks, Beth’s answer failing to come immediately, the woman considering the suggestion for a longer moment than before, ultimately answering as expected. “That would probably be for the best” Beth replies, watching Penny nod in acceptance, not wishing to be confrontational, giving into Beth’s requests when they’re made.

Standing from her seat, Penny walks up to the door and places her hand on the doorknob, stopping in a moment whilst still facing the outside, feeling Beth’s eyes press on her. Knowing Beth to be staring at her, Penny feels the tension in the woman as if it were fallen over her own shoulders, a third offer being made in hopes of a better result. “Would you like to stay with Avon and I?” Penny inquires, looking back toward the woman, who visibly struggles to respond.

“It doesn’t have to be any longer than just for the night” Penny clarifies, doing her best to accommodate the obvious weight on the woman’s heart, “look at it as us returning the favor for you taking us in.” Swallowing the build up of spit in her mouth, Beth graciously refuses the offer for a third and final time, watching the hopeful expression on Penny’s face die with the answer.

Accepting the woman’s wishes, Penny departs as promised, slowly pulling the door shut on her way onto the front step, leaving as much time for the woman to change her mind as she can offer. Finally, the sands in the hourglass fall completely to the bottom, the latch on the door closing into place, Penny depressingly turning her back to the entrance and returning to her car.

As seconds pass, Beth instinctively hurries to the door and locks the deadbolt shut, leaning her back against the door and slowly sliding to the floor, her head tilted toward the heavens as tears stream down her face. Unable to keep herself from crying, Beth curls herself up into a ball and allows her emotions to take control, sat at the door with her legs pulled into her chest, arms wrapped around both shins, holding them in place.

Having eventually made her way into bed, Beth stares at the ceiling with her head pressed against the pillow, every light in her home other than the one in her bedroom left on. Arms folded over her chest, Beth continues to lay awake in the middle of the night, eyes only blinking when they have to. Unable to turn her mind off, Beth’s restless mind continues racing around within the confines of her head, sleep having been something she’d given up a long time ago.

Throwing the covers from off of her, Beth steps onto the cold wooden floors without concern, her feet taking her out of the dark bedroom interior and into the well-lit hallway. Soft, cotton pajama pants dangling above her bare feet, Beth marches into the kitchen and powers on her coffee maker, the bright red button turning green in due time. Filling the machine with water, Beth presses the top down upon the machine and lets her finger hover over the button, tip pressing against the plastic.

Mouth agape, Beth loses herself in the coffee pot, looking into her reflection to see the face of a woman forever changed, an image that haunts her the moment she sees it. Closing her lips, which quiver the moment they press together, Beth begins to feel another tear falling from her eye, the image prompting her hand to lower itself from the machine, her still-stretched finger falling to her side.

“I’m broken” Beth whispers to herself, trying to look away from the reflective pot, each time failing to stop herself from looking back. With a huff, Beth pulls her hand up once more and unplugs the machine, the bright green light turning off completely as the cord rests in the palm of her hands, pressed against her smooth skin. Taking the entire machine into her arms, Beth dumps the contraption in the sink and leaves it where it lies, marching back into her main foyer with a purpose.

Her feet pushing into her shoes, Beth takes her keys and throws on a jacket, every light in the house being turned off as she shuts the door behind her, locking the metal entrance on her way out. Getting into her car, Beth turns the keys in the ignition and pulls out of her driveway, eventually parking beside her library storefront.

Unlocking the front door, Beth removes a tube of lipstick from her purse and removes the ‘open/close’ sign from the glass door, writing something of her own in its place. Returning to her vehicle, Beth continues to drive, wheels rolling over the asphalt of a small bridge just overlooking the meeting point between a river and the ocean as her car comes to a stop.

Exiting her car on the empty road, Beth approaches the edge and looks down, rushing waters crashing into the shore in the most symbolic display of chaotic bliss. A smile forming in the corner of her mouth, Beth continues to stare out at the sea, her hands placing themselves against the top of the banister dividing the passageway and the drop-off. With a nod, Beth looks away from the seas below and stares at the end of the road, a look of determination coming over her.

Returning to her vehicle, Beth drives past the starting point of the bridge, her vehicle continuing to drive without any intention of stopping, passing the “Welcome to Remedy Hills” sign on it’s way out.

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“It should be right around here somewhere” Avon explains, watching Beau eagerly stroll around his front yard, eyes on the flower bed beside the home until they peer open in amusement. “Fuck yes!” Beau shouts, reaching into the dirt and removing a small post-it note, holding it toward Avon for confirmation. “That’s the note” Avon responds as Beau’s phone buzzes off, the officer answering the individual on the other end.

“Beau, it’s Mansoor” Jake says on the other end, great disappointment in the words he first speaks to Beau. “We’ve got a body” Jake exclaims, Beau looking toward Avon with a look of concern, dread in his soul as he fears what he’s begun to expect. “I’ll be right down” Beau replies, hanging up the call without looking, hanging his head in frustration. “Can I punch this brick wall?” Beau asks Avon, the homeowner giving him a confused approval.

Turning to the red stones, Beau lays a direct shot into the side of the home, his fist scraped badly as blood begins to quickly rush from his knuckles. “Pray that you’ll never have to do this job someday, Avon” Beau says as he passes him, a pat on the back being offered to his once-enemy as he steps into his car, a headache coming on.

“Where is he?” Beau calls out, parking his car along the side of the flashing light-filled road, Jake calling out for the man from afar. Walking toward Jake, Beau’s feet move slower as he approaches the crime, looking down in disgust. “How did this happen?” Beau inquires, Jake explaining the outrageous events that led to the discovery. “On-duty patrolmen were duped by some local inmates, failed to notice a fleet of escapees” Jake responds, Beau’s head hung in shame.

Tapping his bloody fist against the door, Beau and Jake wait for an answer from within, watching the lights in the home they’ve approached gradually turn on as the inhabitant approaches to answer. “May I help you?” the elderly Victoria asks as she answers, halting herself as Jake takes over. “Ms Schultz, we have some unfortunate news to share with you” Jake explains, Beau’s head shaking as he stares off into the distance.

“Kerryon’s body was just found a few miles away from the prison he escaped from earlier this morning” Jake explains, the older woman stricken with grief, a sight Beau wishes not to see. Looking away, Beau’s eyes eventually discover something within the home that takes his attention for itself. “I’m sorry” Beau says aloud, walking past the older woman as Jake attempts to comfort her, trespassing his way toward the back of the home, where a framed photo of Kerryon resides.

Holding the post-it note to the frame, Beau compares the self-written note beside the younger man’s picture to the writing on the post-it. “What’s going on, Detective?” Jake inquires, still trying to calm the woman as Beau lets the note fall to his side, the revelation disappointing him. Shaking his head, Beau keeps his eyes placed upon the identical writing as he calls back, the sound of grave disapproval carried in his voice.

“We were too late” Beau calls back, returning to his partner.

== Remedy Hills ==