Through her front door, Jaime walks into a quiet home, her fellow survivors expected to be tucked into their beds as she wipes off her shoes. “Kennedy with you?” Alex asks, her voice making Jaime jump as the woman looks across the room, noticing her mother’s silhouette defined at the window, a glass of wine noticeable with it. “No, she went with Chevy, remember?” Jaime replies, placing her shoes on the rack and walking over to the woman, currently on her fifth glass.
“Should I be concerned?” Jaime asks, taking a seat beside the view of the city beside the woman. “No, I’m sure Chevy’s keeping her safe” Alex replies, her words holding a slight slur to them. “I see you’re coming around to him” the daughter replies, taking the glass from her mother’s hand and taking a sip of her own. “I’ve trusted him ever since he took on Eli for you” Alex replies, “I just didn’t want him to know it yet.”
Bobbing her head, Jaime looks out at the city, watching the dying fire spread ash into the sky, the smoke finally encompassing more of the view than the orange glow itself. “It’s all going to shit” Alex perks up to say, returning the glass to her hand, “we’re not gonna make it long until something else goes bad.” Her head shaking from one side to the next, Jaime tells the woman not to think in such a way.
“Everyone’s gonna stay in line and support each other until we get back to normal” Jaime replies, her mother immediately laughing it off. “Honey, you’re so smart but you’re so disillusioned” Alex replies, Jaime offended almost immediately, “we never cared about each other before this happened and we’re not going to now that we’re here.”
“This is the kind of thing that will change that” Jaime replies, Alex laughing it off once again, struggling to sip the drink with each laugh. “We’re Americans” Alex replies, “the only people we look out for is ourselves.” Watching her mother continue to drink, Jaime begins to doubt the state of the group, beginning to come to the belief that they’re lacking the optimism necessary to make this process work.
“Things can end well here” Jaime retorts, “refusing to believe that isn’t going to help anyone, it’s just writing something off for the sake of writing something off!” Turning to her daughter, Alex rests the glass on the windowsill and reminds her of what someone’s true nature is. “People like Chevy and Kayla are so rare that you notice what’s special about them immediately” Alex replies, “believing this is going to work isn’t optimism, it’s stupidity.”
“Why?” Jaime replies, “why is it so hard to believe that after what these people went through, they wouldn’t fight for a future worth believing in.” Leaning forward, Alex whispers to her daughter to lower her voice. “These kinds of people don’t fight” Alex replies, “they’re the ones that put their own lives ahead of someone else’s just because they can, and then they’ll find whatever excuse they can to justify their decision.”
“It’s all about saving face for these people” Alex concludes, Jaime assuring her mother that she’s wrong. “Why am I wrong?” Alex asks, “I’m giving you points that justify my stance, you’re just handing me some inspirational quotes you could’ve gotten off Facebook.”
Biting her tongue with a smile of annoyance, Jaime takes the glass and downs the remaining wine before opening one of the many windows and throwing it over the side of the mountain. “I’ve worked with plenty of people that worked their asses off and did as told by a woman much younger than they were without question” Jaime returns, “there’s many more people with a good head on their shoulders than you’d think.”
“Jaime, how many of those people do you think truly enjoyed taking orders from a girl half their age?” Alex replies, “secretly, I’m sure they’d much rather turn on you and take all the power for themselves.” Her look steadily focusing on the view of the city for a few seconds, Jaime turns around and tells her mother than no one in her own household batted an eyelash.
“Dad may have certainly hated it, but for you and Kennedy…” Jaime begins, her mother immediately possessing a look turning sour quickly, “...I’m the only reason you two even made it out of there alive.” The words coming from her mouth, Jaime stares at her mother, refusing to give up the eye contact until her face is thrown in the opposite direction by a firm slap from the woman in front of her.
“You should’ve left when you had the chance” Alex replies, standing from her seat and groggily stumbling towards her room. Her hand pressed against her cheek, Jaime rubs at the handprint and watches her mother hobble away. Her breathing turning heavy and long, Jaime keeps herself from losing control of her anger until she looks out into the midnight sky above Los Angeles, her anger being lost in translation when the adoration for the sight itself takes hold.
= Dire is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 Media from the start of Season 1 onwards =
His hands folded on his chest, Chevy aimlessly stares at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep as Kennedy and Amelia occupy the couches on either side of him. The floor beneath his body now warm, the man remains wide awake despite the belief of his two female counterparts to be exactly opposite. “Are you awake?” Kennedy whispers, watching Chevy’s eyes take their sights from the direction above to the girl beside him.
“No, I’m sleeping with my eyes open” Chevy replies, the young girl giggling, prompting Chevy to match the response. “Are you scared?” Kennedy asks, “of what’s gonna happen now, I mean.” His head shaking, Chevy declines, instead telling Kennedy that it takes some good faith to get them through it all. With a guilty smile, “you can tell me the truth” Kennedy replies, watching Chevy’s eyes lose their good nature.
“Yeah” the man replies, “yeah, I am.” Her head returning to her pillow, Kennedy keeps her eyes glued to Chevy as he tells her to keep her spirits high. “If we go into this thinking it’s all gonna end bad, it will” Chevy continues, “but if we hold out some hope, we’ll at least save ourselves from having to live in fear.” Tapping her shoulder, Chevy tells her to get some rest, knowing she has more questions to ask.
His eyes closing in an attempt to gain the slightest amount of rest, Chevy’s attention is caught by a jumbled slur of commands off in the near distance. “Do you hear that?” Amelia asks, waking up from her sleep and tossing the blankets off of herself whilst Chevy hurries to the window. “What is it?” Kennedy asks as she tip-toes beside him, staring out at the street, where they originally see nothing.
“Who’s that?” Kennedy asks just as Chevy gets prepared to return to bed, pointing out three men being led forward by a set of military workers. “I don’t know” Chevy replies, noticing how weird it is to see random men being led anywhere by the militia with the day-long ceasefire going on. “I’m gonna take a video and send it to Jaime” Chevy says, expecting to gift her a small bargaining chip in any future negotiations she may have.
In the focus of the camera, Chevy documents the soldiers pointing the men forward, telling them to hurry as the figures talk back to them, reminding them of the ordered ceasefire. Glancing to each other, two members of the tagging crew pull blades from their gear and plunge them into the men, startling the third, who immediately finds his throat slashed as the original two are taken care of the rest of the way.
Continuing to film, Chevy hands the camera to Amelia and leads Kennedy away from the sights, hiding her in a separate room and telling her not to move. Returning to Amelia, Chevy takes his phone back and immediately leads her away from the spot as the soldiers begin continuing their duty, kicking in doors to random houses in an attempt to clear out the south by force.
“In here” Chevy directs, leading Amelia into a pantry and covering the doors with a bookshelf. Whispering for Kennedy, Chevy leads her into a bathroom, where he directs her into a cabinet space beneath the sink. “Don’t move a muscle, don’t say a word unless I tell you to” Chevy says, closing the doors and jumping into the bathtub as the door to their home is kicked in.
Pressing his back up against the linoleum walls, Chevy keeps his hand draped over his gun, watching the moonlight bathe the bathroom in light well enough for him to see the outline of whatever rests behind the curtains. The boots stomping inside growing slow and methodical, Chevy begins assuming the process of searching for inhabitants in hiding places to be underway.
Within moments of the door being kicked in, the door to the bathroom slowly glides across the floor and comes to a stop, pressing against the curtain as a large man cautiously walks in. The outline standing a few inches taller than Chevy himself, it remains frozen before Chevy’s eyes, turning towards the sink. His hand wrapping around the stock of the firearm, Chevy watches the man approach the mirror and take a look at his reflection.
Before long, the sound of his mates giving off the ‘all-clear’ signals the man in front of the mirror to be the final soldier remaining in the house. Knowing this, Chevy retrieves his gun as the man turns away from the mirror and eyes the curtains themselves. His approach slow, the man leans up to the curtain, his nose pressing to the fabric itself as the man on the other side, armed with a regular handgun, holds the barrel with a steady hand directly at the soldier’s left eye.
Standing straight, the soldier nods and walks away, leaving the bathroom as his boots finally make contact with the wooden front porch, allowing Chevy to remove himself from hiding. “Are you alright?” Chevy asks, taking Kennedy by the hand and helping her up as she nods. Assisting Amelia out of her hiding place, Chevy takes his phone out and realizes his phone had been recording the entire ordeal.
Sending the video to Kennedy’s sister, Chevy leads the girls through the back of the house and around the side. Manually unlocking the car door, Chevy gently pulls it open and leads Kennedy into the passenger’s seat. Amelia entering next, Chevy finds himself alerted by the sound of a soldier calling out something unusual. Turning the key in the ignition, Chevy powers the vehicle on as the lone soldier prepares to open fire.
Unable to climb into the backseat, Chevy tells the woman to remain in the driver’s seat as he runs around the back. His hand extending for the handle, the sensation of his tendons tearing as his hand moves in an unnatural way catches his focus before the man tackling him against the door manages to. Bullets beginning to fly, Chevy goes to the ground at the hands of the soldier from the bathroom having caught him off guard.
“Drive!” Chevy shouts, holding his hand out to slam Amelia’s door shut a he struggles with the patrol. “Go!” Chevy follows, demanding Amelia do as told until she finally puts the vehicle into reverse and makes off for the hills. The soldier now bringing in backup, Chevy turns the man atop him towards his armed counterparts and allows his body to take the gunfire intended for him.
Disarming the corpse, Chevy fires a few warning shots in the direction of the armed enforcements and hurries away, taking cover behind whatever he can as Amelia and Kennedy make their escape.
// “It’s not gonna happen” Jaime replies, “I’ve already made up my mind, that isn’t going to change.” Opposite the stubborn business owner, Kate hangs her head, the disappointment noticed by Jaime, effective in its use as a method of making Jaime feel bad. “What?” Jaime asks, her guilt only rivaled by her exhaustion of being told the countless reasons to move on and leave her family in the abusive, drunken dust.
“He’s gonna do something eventually” Kate replies, “he’s not just going to let you walk over him like this, drunk or sober.” Assuring Kate that everything will be fine, the woman in a position of power refuses to take Jaime’s word as gospel. “He’s on a ventilator in the hospital, Kate” Jaime returns, “even if he wanted to do something, he can’t.”
“And what happens when he gets back on his feet?” Kate asks, her words becoming hostile and her patience being tested far enough. “Here’s the issue, Jaime… He wants to beat you so badly but he knows that he can’t” Kate begins, walking around the table and telling the girl sat before her to stand up. “The second that he does, that trigger in his brain will go off and he’s not gonna stop” Kate continues, “he’s gonna take out all that frustration at once and he’s gonna fucking kill you.”
The prediction feeling more like a case of deja vu, Jaime quiets down, her stance on the issue taking a backseat to the defense of truths kept away from Kate’s ears. “You don’t know that” Jaime replies, “he hasn’t beaten Kennedy, why do you think he’d beat me?” Her head tilting as she begins to show a crooked smile, Kate tells Jaime to get her head out of her ass and be real with herself for once.
“What’s the difference between you and Kennedy?” Kate asks, “one’s a middle school student, and the other’s a fucking mogul with enough money to buy him eight times over!” Informing Jaime that the concept of being untouchable is just an illusion, Kate asks Jaime to describe what happens when that illusion is shattered. “When there’s no going back and you’re already done for, there’s no reason to stop” Kate concludes, “and you’ll get caught in it if you don’t get out now.” //
Her name called three times, Jaime finally begins hearing her name beckoned for, and turns around to see Kayla walking towards her. “Sorry, you weren’t responding” Kayla replies, having begun approaching the woman until she finally responded. “What’s up?” Jaime asks, the woman asking if Chevy had come home with Kennedy and Amelia yet. “Not as far as I know” Jaime replies, the woman doing her best to brush off the slight worry by walking for the bar.
“They’ll be back” Jaime says, watching Kayla nod. Returning her stare towards the city below, Jaime’s mind begins turning away, latching onto a question she keeps finding herself wanting an answer to. “Does Chevy believe in me?” Jaime asks, directing the question to the woman behind her as she’s mid-pour. “Of course he does” Kayla replies, topping off her glass and walking up to her fellow survivor, “he just doesn’t believe in the people you’re leading.”
“That’s funny” Jaime replies, “my mother just said the same thing.” Handing Jaime the glass, Kayla admits that she holds no faith in the people she’s attempting to govern either, making it clear that belief in the people themselves is not the issue. “I don’t believe in those people either” Kayla admits, “but the question isn’t whether or not they can be trusted, it’s whether or not your influence is stronger than their response.”
Admitting that she’s already realized that, Jaime responds by confessing that she won’t let herself get anywhere with them if she doesn’t believe in them. “If they can’t be saved, I won’t try to save them” Jaime continues, “it’s easier to blindly believe in them than to go into it pretending and hoping for the best.” Returning to the bar, Kayla grabs the glass of vodka and takes her glass back from Jaime, replacing it with the remainder of the bottle itself.
“Good call” Jaime replies, drinking straight from the bottle and Kayla sips from the glass. “We’re gonna ge-” Jaime begins, stopped by the sound of sudden and immediate pounding at the front door. Each thunderous slam blasting through the home, Jaime reaches the handle and pulls the door open, Kennedy bursting through the doorway and running into Jaime’s arms as Amelia follows shortly thereafter.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” Jaime asks, watching Amelia struggle to speak. “Where’s Chevy?” Kayla asks, realizing both girls have returned with two-thirds of the departed party. “We were attacked” Amelia mutters, her words coming in intervals whilst Jordan and Alex stumble into the living room. “What’s going on?” Jordan asks, watching the jumbled scene play out with dictating its pace.
“What are you talking about, Amelia?” Jaime asks, Kennedy simply referencing a group of soldiers killing people in the streets. Her eyes locking onto Kayla, Jaime spots the same immediate concern present in the eyes of Kayla as they both begin to put these soldiers and city hall in the same group. “He sent you a video” Amelia replies, “they stabbed people and started breaking down doors!”
“Where’s Chevy right now?” Kayla asks, Amelia admitting that she has no idea. “He got tackled by one of them and told us to start driving once they started shooting!” Amelia returns, Kayla’s concern turning into dread. Throwing Jordan her phone and telling him to search for the video, Jaime asks Amelia where all of this went down, the specific location being enough for Jaime to direct Kayla into the car.
“This is fucking ridiculous” Jordan exclaims, Jaime unable to locate the film. “The cell tower’s down, of course you didn’t” Kayla replies, her shoes thudding against the ground with force as she climbs into the passenger’s seat. “Don’t leave this house” Jaime orders, pulling the vehicle out of her lot and leaving Jordan and the remainder of the group behind as the pair disappear beneath the hill.
His pant leg torn, the edges of the holes stained with blood from his road rash, Chevy hobbles through one backyard after another in search of any sign of trustworthy life. Drained and gasping for air, the man slams into the side of a rundown house and slowly slides down until his rear meets the grass. His breathing slowing as his energy slowly rebuilds, the wounded survivor listens carefully as the sounds of armed men conversing in his direction draws near.
Pulling himself up, Chevy continues valiantly fighting on before the tug of an pulls him onto a railing-less patio by the throat, a second hand pulling him back over the mouth. “Just be still” the voice whispers, a blade appearing to Chevy’s right side and slowly lifting further into view. His fight having gone long ago, Chevy finds himself unable to break from his restraints, opting to just look forward and accept his fate.
Seconds later, the blade raches over his face and buries itself in the throat of the oncoming guard, the blood spilling down the handle like liquid from a juicer. “Stay quiet” the voice whispers, releasing Chevy and reaching for the soldier’s gun before firing a single round into the eye of the second guard. Disappearing behind the corner, the man returns a minute later with the uniform of the soldier in his hands.
Having yet to see Chevy’s current physical state, the man tosses the uniform to him and hands him a bottle of water, rubbing alcohol and a few bandages. “It’s not much, but get yourself patched up and follow me if you wanna make it out of here alive” the man says, Chevy not wasting a moment further after taking a few seconds to consider his options. His teeth pressing against a bar of metal, Chevy runs the alcohol over his burns and bandages it up as best as he can.
Prying the bar from his mouth as if Chevy were a dog, the man tilts Chevy’s head up and runs water into his mouth, telling him to keep hydrated. “You got somewhere to be?” the man asks, Chevy muttering “my girl” and “up in the hills” through bated breaths. “You got a name?” the man proceeds to ask, Chevy’s eyes narrowing as he reaches for the uniform. “Do you?” Chevy asks, the man appreciating the desire for answers.
“Clayton” the knife-wielding savior replies, Chevy offering his name as well. “Well then, Mr. Chevy” Clayton begins, pulling the soldier’s gear over his shoulders, “let’s get you back to your girl in the hills.” Unsure about whether or not to blindly trust the man, Chevy acknowledges his life remaining intact, and agrees to follow Clayton as long as the end goal remains in his favor.
“We shouldn’t have left them back there” Kayla quips, “we’re walking up to a man telling his soldiers to kill everything that walks, completely unarmed.” Her hands tightly clutching the steering wheel, Jaime tells Kayla that they are doing almost exactly as she stated, but without being unarmed. “Do you trust me?” Jaime asks, her eyes locking on the woman in the seat next to her, watching a nod arise from the woman as the car quickly swings into a front lot.
Hurrying from her vehicle, Jaime slams her fists against the door of the militia leader and tells him to get his men ready for combat. Doing as instructed, the militia leader vanishes into the depths of the former fire station building and allows Jaime to return to her car. Continuing to drive with a purpose, Jaime finally appears at the front gates of city hall, her demand for the attention of mayor Wenton blaring through the megaphone in her hands.
Despite being within the dead of night, Django trots out confidently still dressed in a full suit with armed guards hurrying to the gates along his sides. “You’re early” Django replies, his care not remaining with her reasoning nor her tone, but rather with her presence as a whole. “Where are your guards?” Jaime asks, watching Django’s head tilt as he plays unaware. “I’d assume those not guarding the perimeter would be asleep, Jaime” the man replies, his voice condescending.
“What are their perimeters?” Jaime asks, further refusal to answer coming from Django’s lips. “Wherever they deem necessary, as per usual” the commander replies, brushing off Jaime’s notion that he doesn’t know where his men are. “I know where my men are, I know what their job is and I don’t see why you need to be here” Django replies, his tone falling from condescending to outright annoyed.
“Either tell me why you’re here, or get back in your car and leave” Django continues, Jaime’s eyelids beginning to slightly twitch as she takes note of his hidden grin starting to slip out. “May we talk in private?” Jaime asks, Django immediately crossing his arms and refusing. “I don’t see why we have to, I also don’t see why we’re here” Django replies, “so tell me why you’re here or get lost.”
“I’ll only ask one more time” Jaime returns, the twitch in her eye amusing Django, who fully understands what it represents, but pays it no care. “No, you will not. I will ask one more time” Django retorts, “tell me why we need to speak in private or there are going to be issues.” Her aggravation already boiling to the top, Jaime tells Django that there have already been issues, prompting him to shrug and turn away.
His steps returning him to the building, Django tells the remaining guards to take care of business. With their guns lifting, the soldiers take aim, watching Jaime and Kayla rush behind their vehicles as the militia hurl molotov cocktails at the gates, lighting Django’s men ablaze. Their weapons firing bullets astray with their hands instinctively holding down the trigger, the guards roll around on the ground as chains fly over the top of the gates.
Demanding the militia hurry, Jaime fires random shots towards the building’s doors as Django disappears within them. Kayla returning from the relocation of their getaway vehicle, the pair pull themselves as far away as they can as the trucks behind them begin bringing the gates down. The sound of metal twisting from their most-strained sources pulsating through the air as the supports buckle, allowing the massive tons of metal bars to collapse to the ground in a heap.
Ringing against the asphalt with a violent groan, the fence topples in every direction and exposes the main hull of the building to the will of the people. Dashing up the stairs, Jaime and Kayla are closely followed by the militia, clearing the path ahead for a clean attempt at Django. Heaving insults back, Django fires blank rounds at whatever remains below in an attempt to scare the group off, the effects being minimized to almost nothing.
As he reaches the top of the stairwell, Django unloads the rest of the clip at whatever he can spot below. Just behind Jaime, the militia leader topples over on the stairway, a bullet finding his neck, the blood within spilling out onto the stairs and dripping at whatever is below. Slamming the single exit behind him, Django climbs into a helicopter and soars away, watching from the air as Jaime and Kayla lead a leader-less militia to the perfect spot to witness his escape.
His middle finger raised, Django’s flight disappears into the night sky as bullets remain flying throughout the city. “What do we do now?” Kayla asks, her hand hoisted over her brow as the wind from the propellers remains whipping towards the face of herself and Jaime. Her eyes travelling to the woman in question, Kayla watches Jaime step forward towards the helicopter without word, the only response coming moments later when she admits to having no idea.
“We deal with whatever happens next” Jaime adds, looking back to Kayla and whichever militia members didn’t stay back to help their leader. “We look after each other” Jaime continues, looking towards Kayla, who nods in distress, still unknowing of whether or not Chevy or the remainder of the group are alright.