S2, E5 | Crossing the Line

> 9th May, 2031 <

“You’re not answering my question” Andrew interjects, cutting off the voice that emanates through his watch as he stands at the window near the front of his home, “where did you get it?” Occupying the other end of the line, Dennis sighs as he rubs his forehead, rolling out of bed before replying. “I’ve already given you an overview of my background” the older man recalls, wiping his palm against his soft, grey shirt as he marches toward the bathroom, “I called in a few favours.”

“This isn’t just a few security cams and some yellow tape, don’t tell me you ‘called in some favours’!” Andrew quickly refutes, returning to the open laptop on his kitchen counter, “hell, you’ve got stuff from the doc in here! How the fuck did you do that!?” Pulling his trousers down, Dennis holds the watch close to his mouth, speaking as he empties his bladder in his bedroom’s coldly-lit, adjacent bathroom.

“You’re not focusing on the important part here- nevermind how I got some footage” the investigator remarks, tilting his chin toward the sky as he stands over the toilet, “your girl’s story doesn’t add up. The police can spin whatever web they want, but it doesn’t change the truth.” Defensive, Andrew stares at the open screen, his face flooded with its blue light as he locks eyes with his daughter’s past, her back pressing against the seat in her interrogation room.

“She went through hell for eight months, I wouldn’t expect her to recite every little detail” Andrew replies, stepping away from the screen once more, turning away as he paces throughout his home. “Saying the woman never had a T.V when she very clearly did is a pretty big slip up, Mr. Carrion” Dennis replies, doing a little shake with his body before flushing, “add that she had no signs of a defensive struggle and the examiner didn’t believe her ‘trauma’ was genuine- it makes you think.”

Shaking his head, Andrew returns to the window he’d just walked away from, watching a car slowly drive past his home, coming to a stop just outside of the Nurse’s home next door. “What exactly does it make you think, detective?” the father asks aloud, his question catching its intended recipients ear the moment it’s raised, bringing a smile to the investigator’s face.

“You’re clearly trying to get me to see something that isn’t there” Andrew doubles down, listening to a creaking sound respond from the other end of the line. “It is there, Mr. Carrion- you just don’t want to see it” Dennis replies, settling into his old, wooden chair as he switches on the nearest light, bathing an already dark office with a splash of life, “her story has holes, her version of events don’t make sense, and she didn’t seem like someone that’d been held captive for eight months.”

“People have different ways of coping. You don’t know what she was or wasn’t suffering through and how she was dealing with it” Andrew retorts, watching his neighbour’s only child emerge from the vehicle’s driver seat outside. “No, no- you’re right” Dennis confesses, taking a handheld phone off the nearby hook before holding it to his ear, his watch’s speaker going silent, “but this isn’t coping. This is a doctor- with a degree- saying your girl was not a shut-away for months on end.”

Retrieving a bag, Caden closes his trunk and turns for home, taking a look in the direction of the nearby house to see a familiar face staring back at him through the window. Holding no emotion, the young man acknowledges Andrew’s oversight and nods, leaving their interaction at just that as he resumes his return home.

“Alright, fine. Let’s pretend that everything my daughter said was a lie. What change does that make?” Andrew proposes, allowing himself to play along with the private eye’s theory in search of the point. “Well, if she were lying about anything that I just mentioned, there’d have to be a reason for it” Dennis responds, more than pleased to have opened the man’s mind as far as he has, “either she’s a compulsive liar, or trying to hide something. Either way, there’s something she’s not saying.”

Hanging his head, Andrew again moves away from the window, a free hand pressing against the sides of his face. “If she’s the first one, I’d be interested in hearing what she was hiding and then look into getting her some professional help” Dennis explains, his clear and precise tone making room for a slight amount of sympathy, “if it’s the latter, then I wouldn’t just want to know what she was hiding, and more specifically- why she’s hiding it.”

“And what if she is hiding something?” Andrew quickly asks, listening to a momentary silence take over the other end of the phone call, the slow creak of the investigator’s chair rumbling through the line as the older man leans back. “If she’s hiding something, the reasons for it could be endless” Dennis admits, leaning back in his rickety chair as he watches the slightest shade of blue enter the sky, breaking dawn, “but nonetheless, everything would be called into question.”

“Everything?” Andrew immediately repeats, his spirits lowering as a slight fear enters his core, raising the hairs on his arms as a second vehicle rolls to a stop outside, this time into his drive, “what does ‘everything’ mean here?” Lowering his eyes, Dennis conceals an obvious disappointment, his eagerness to uncover the truth not leaving him incapable of holding sympathy for those his subjects pull in the way like cannon-fodder.

“Anything” Dennis soon answers, his gravelly tone reclaimed as his voice drops to a low enough pitch for the unsteadiness to present itself, “self-defence ruling included.” With the swing of a door, the investigator listens to the other end of the call, a familiar voice interrupting the discussion that had awoken him. “What’re you doing?” a third-party asks, the question coming just before the line goes dead, prompting the P.I to return his phone to the receiver.

“I could ask you the same question” Andrew replies, standing halfway between his kitchen and dining room as Sophie shuts the front door, her father’s presence surprising her. Amidst silence, the family’s patriarch takes a quick look at his awestruck daughter, her hand stained at the palm whilst the rest of her body stands in his front foyer, soaked just as her clothes are as if she’d just been pulled out of the ocean.

“Why are you soaking wet?” Andrew inquires, watching his daughter’s lips make a few different shapes, adjusting to the response she conjures in that moment. “I went to the lake to clear my head” Sophie replies, her red hair having naturally begun to fade into a brighter shade of orange as the months have gone on, “decided to take a dip and didn’t feel like going naked.”

With a nod, her father looks her up and down once more, his expression trying to shape itself into one of disappointment rather than worry. “It’s-” Andrew begins to speak, pausing momentarily to check his watch, its bright display splashing his features with unnatural shine, “-four o’clock in the morning. Why are you home so late?”

Pushing back the knot in her stomach, Sophie presses her lips into a smile, trying to dissuade any further questioning as best she can. “It took a while to get my head straight” the young woman replies, concealing the small, barely noticeable patch of red still stained upon her palm by hiding her hands in each pocket, “can I go to bed now?”

Unsure of what to think or say, Andrew gives his eldest daughter a second nod before watching her walk off, the moment of her disappearance allowing him to hurry back to the kitchen and close his laptop. With a short thud, the computer’s screen closes, granting its owner the chance to hang his head and gather his thoughts, a distinct anxiety running through him as Sophie’s footsteps trail from the staircase to her room just one level above.

= Generation Alpha 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 =

> 9th May, 2031 <

His left arm propped behind his head whilst his right sits against his chest, Caden listens to the buzzing that comes off his wrist as he lays in bed, looking toward the ceiling as he waits for a reply. “Hey, it’s Izzy. Just text me” the device chirps, allowing a few seconds to pass before presenting its owner with a brief beep.

“I’m trying to text you, but you’re not responding” Caden proclaims, speaking through sighs as his right foot taps on the left foot it sits upon, “call me back, or text me. Hell, just- respond, please?” Shaking his wrist, the young man ends the phone call before looking to his wrist, the point of mid-noon having already passed long ago as the clock nears closer to two in the afternoon.

Rolling his head to crack his stiffened neck, Caden climbs off his bed and makes off for the rest of his home, his stomach’s growling proving too much to ignore. From the room, through the hallway and down the stairs, the only son of his currently-absent parents travels to the kitchen, an entire home lined with family pictures and decorative pieces left for him to occupy alone.

Stepping into the sunlight of an afternoon day that splashes through the window over his counter, Caden twists the knob to his faucett and sets his attention on the pantry, letting the water run as he reaches into the cupboard. “Call Izzy” he murmurs again, taking a box of pasta into his possession as his watch begins to buzz.

“Do I make a full box or should I just hope she’s stuck in traffic- in a tunnel- for two or three hours or so?” the young man asks himself, trying to fend off his increasing disgruntlement with playful humour. Shrugging, Caden turns back toward the counter with his dry food in tow, just barely missing the top of a black hat that ducks beneath his window, the only thing for the young man to find being the steam that lifts off the increasingly hot water.

Placing his unprepared lunch atop the counter, Caden lowers himself toward the cabinets closest to his feet, incapable of catching the figure that strolls out from his backyard, turning the corner to approach the front lawn. Removing a metal pot and strainer from beneath the counter, the increasingly impatient high school junior listens to his call reach the line it had intended, a similar greeting to one he’d already heard plenty of meeting him once more.

“Hey, it’s Izzy. Just text me” the voicemail greets, pausing for a moment before again opening the floor for the girl’s disgruntled boyfriend to speak. “I don’t know where you are or what kind of traffic you’ve got yourself in, but it’s two hours past noon and I’m hungry” Caden speaks, setting the pot beneath the running water and turning the dial on his stovetop, “I’m putting a pot of bowties on right now, so if you get here in the next twenty minutes- be ready to wait.”

Shaking his arm, Caden ends the call, patiently waiting for the metal container to fill, the water’s surface rising at an incredibly slow rate. Blowing a gust of air into the sky, Caden presses his hands against the sink’s ledge before hearing a tap against his front door, a single knock just loud enough to capture the young man’s attention.

Confused, Caden turns off the spout and carefully carries the large pot onto his closest burner, splitting off from his current objective to tend for the door. Without a sound or an interest in calling out for the noise’s cause, the home’s youngest resident approaches the entrance with his hand extended, reaching for the knob as the muffled sound of an engine firing up emanates from the road below.

As if he were greeting the postman, Caden steps onto his front porch just as a black town car pulls out of its spot along the curb and fires down the street, vacating the area as swiftly as it had seemingly driven in. Confused, the home’s only currently-residing resident looks around his front lawn before setting his sights on the door, where a small white card waits for him to take it, dawning an unfamiliar name in light blue letters at its centre.

|

> 9th May, 2031 <

Running off for her room, Olivia leaves her caretaker and father to each other’s company, abandoning the living room in favour of the colourful, lively room she ends each night in. “I don’t know if I’m getting older or if she’s getting younger-” Elaine remarks, looking to her increasingly-close friend with a smile through her familiarly ruby red lips, “-but it seems like she just keeps getting faster by the minute!”

With a chuckle, Andrew leads the woman back toward the setting their warm greetings usually occupy, his hand pulling out the nearest stool to the kitchen’s island. “Sometimes it feels like they only get faster by draining that much more energy out of us” the man remarks, waiting for Elaine to be seated before making his way to the counter, “at this rate, I should probably start working overtime. I’m gonna need the money for that knee replacement I’ll need in- oh, let’s say two years?”

“That’s- haha- that’s a generous timeframe” the welcoming and endearing woman jokingly replies, her eyes following the man as he rounds the room’s central obstruction, “I was thinking more along the lines of a year and a half?” Feigning an offended visage, Andrew opens the fridge as his face twists toward his visitor, “I played football for a few years- I think I can ‘play hurt’ for a couple extra months!” he quips back, letting the comical line of discussion come to a natural conclusion.

“You’re not going out to dinner tonight, right?” Andrew looks back to ask aloud, “no dinner date or thawed plate of salmon to run home to?” With a brief laugh, Elaine shakes her head before speaking the same refusal. “I do have a casserole I’d like to get done by the end of next week, but I don’t think I’m in a hurry” the woman replies, watching the pleased look sprout across the man’s face as he retrieves a tray of fish from the middle-most shelf.

“Good, we’re having salmon and pasta for dinner” Andrew proclaims with some pep, placing the platter of raw fish on the counter before turning to look his guest in the eyes, “care to join us?” Appreciative, Elaine quickly sets aside room in her gratitude for a healthy amount of polite declination.

“Oh, it’s fine- I don’t want to overstay my welcome” she graciously responds, gently waving off the man’s gesture with a half-smile, “there are, like, five different pizza shops on my block alone. I’m all set.” Shaking his head, Andrew returns to the island, remaining on the opposite side to the one his well-liked guest occupies. “Nonsense!” he proclaims, wearing a disarming smile with an approachable charm, “there’s no need to order a pie when you’ve got a home cooked meal on the table!”

Leaning back, Elaine laughs as the air grows quiet for a moment, her eyes falling into those of the entrepreneurial family man’s, his amusing tone lowering into a more hopeful and genuine one. “Besides, I want you to” Andrew admits, the witty and warm banter gradually becoming more hearty and wholesome, his head shaking subtly as his voice lowers further, “you won’t overstay your welcome- you’re always welcome here.”

In silence, Elaine stares back at Andrew for a few seconds as the offer remains unanswered, though it’s seemingly begun to take a backseat to a more personal, less-obvious shared feeling. “Uh, o- okay. Yes, I’d- I’d love to stay for dinner” she soon responds, effectively pulling both herself and her acquaintance out of the curious fixation they’d apparently become embroiled with.

“G- good!” Andrew belts out, shaking his head as if it hadn’t been sitting on his shoulders properly, a quick retreat to his initial chucklesome manner proceeding. “Yeah, um- yeah” he stutters, sharing the same loss for words as the gentle soul he shares the room with, “I’ll get to work on it then.”

Holding her hand over her mouth to hide her smile, Elaine remains quiet for a moment as Andrew returns to the counter, reaching into cabinets to retrieve pots and pans, laying the foundation for the dinner preparation that lies ahead. “So, how’ve the kids been?” the visitor inquires, the ability to produce non-family related small talk evading her.

“They’ve been- well, they’ve been good” Andrew replies, pre-heating the oven whilst preparing a pot of boiling water for the stove. Her facial muscles returning to a more-relaxed state, Elaine’s mind latches onto the unpersuasive tone in the man’s voice, noticing it in spite of his best attempt at concealing it.

“You don’t sound very sure of that” she remarks, listening to the muffled laugh come off her friend whilst watching his head nod in agreement. “Well, I’m only half-confident in it. I know Olivia’s doing well- super well, in fact- but Sophie’s-” Andrew begins, struggling to find the word he sets his mind upon, not sure if any word truly encapsulates what he wishes to say, “-I’m not too sure about Sophie.”

The new line of discussion having set aside what remaining unsureness the pair had shared minutes prior, Elaine leans further, watching the man intermittently turn back toward her as the conversation progresses. “Is something wrong with her?” she asks aloud, not certain what her friend is getting at with how little she has to work off of.

“No, I don’t- Well, I don’t think so” Andrew unconfidently replies, wearing the look of a man without conviction in anything relative to the topical subject. “I don’t know, honestly. I mean, she came home at four in the morning, she was soaked and said she went out for a dip. Just a bunch of weird stuff. Like, she’s distant and uneasy” he confesses, not certain on how to broach the issue, “I don’t understand it. She’s been holding it together really well for the last few months.”

“Is she still seeing that therapist?” Elaine queries, continuing to present questions the more Andrew shakes his head at each suggestion, “is she jittery? Is she in danger? Is she gonna hurt herself?”

“No, none of that. I don’t even really know if I can put my finger on it” Andrew retorts, pulling the tab to a box of spaghetti open before fully turning back toward his close companion, “there’s just something different about her.” Squinting her eyes, Elaine stares into the distance for a moment to process what’s being said, unsure of what the apparent issue even seems like.

“Does this have to do with that flash stick by any chance?” the woman wonders aloud, the sudden thought having popped into her head the longer any reasonable cause eludes her. With a sudden swiftness, Andrew’s eyes take toward those of his confidant, answering her question without needing to utter a word.

“Did you look at it?” Elaine proceeds to ask, seemingly focusing her sights on the issue at play, the source of the man’s conflicted thoughts assumedly discovered. Hanging his eyes, Andrew nods his head, again leaving the woman without a verbal confirmation, though one is unnecessary as far as she’s concerned.

“I don’t want to make any assumptions- I really don’t” Andrew clarifies, folding his hands as he leans further into the island, his face drawing closer to his guest’s as his voice lowers, “but- without going into detail- I think there’s a problem.”

Almost able to sense the weight that she can tell presses against Andrew’s chest, Elaine unfurls her hands, placing them atop her friends’ own to provide something closely resembling comfort. “You’re an incredible father” she softly speaks, offering her opinion before purveying the best advice she can muster, “whatever was on it, I’m sure you’ll find the best way to keep your daughter safe from the world.”

Before her remark can finish, Elaine listens to the sigh that leaves Andrew’s lungs as his head bows further, the man’s forehead pressing into the glossy island as she sits confused. “What?” she asks, watching her question slowly prompt the man’s head up, his soul disheartened to consider the thoughts that ravage his mind, “what’s wrong?”

Pressing his bottom lip between his teeth, Andrew looks off to the side, unable to look his dear companion in the eyes as he begins to respond. “What if-” his voice murmurs, halting the moment his mind interjects, attempting to keep his voice from speaking the same fixture of self-wonder into existence. “What if- what?” Elaine replies, moving her head in front of the man’s face to resume their eye contact, her voice’s soothing embrace drawing out the words that sit on the tip of his tongue.

Through a sigh, Andrew’s shoulders fall as his head gracefully shakes, his face taken over by the look of defeat, “what if it’s the world I need to keep safe from my daughter?” Taken by surprise, Elaine’s eyes open a slight amount wider as her lips slightly part, the woman’s expectations not only falling short of the discourse’s result, but kept from being explored the moment a quick succession of knocks beckons for an answer from the front door.

Not having expected company, Andrew shoots out of his wavering stupor and hurries to the front door, recognising the distressing tapping as anything but ordinary. Following closely behind her friend, Elaine watches the family’s lone parental figure pull open the door with great haste, immediately looking into the eyes of an increasingly less-composed George, who stands at his doorstep with his wife’s distant sniffling easily heard next door.

Looking past the man, Andrew stares at the Nurse’s residence to find Rebecca in tears at their doorstep, the street just beyond their doorstep littered with an assortment of officers and their accompanying cars, which surround Caden as he stands in the middle of the road, staring blankly at the second level of his residence.

|

> 9th May, 2031 <

“Make call” Caden commands, waiting for his watch to dial the number he’d read off the small, white card as he leans back in his seat, looking through the window that sits just over his desk. Waiting for an answer from the other end, the young man glances at a clock near the back of his room, its digital display reading a time of forty minutes past seven o’clock.

“You’ve reached Dennis, this is him speaking- may I ask who is calling?” the tired recipient replies, placing his keys in a bowl atop an end table to the side of his front door. “Caden Nurse” the caller responds, hearing the sudden invigoration shine through the investigator’s voice, the background noise ample as the answering gentleman’s front door shuts and jacket falls from his shoulders.

“It’s good to see that- no matter how advanced society may be- leaving a card behind without giving anyone a reason to call continues to intrigue a nation long after landlines died off” Dennis responds, stepping through his dimly-lit apartment on the way toward his office. “I don’t really care why you left the card, I care about why you wanted me to call you” Caden corrects, discarding the contact slip with the flick of his wrist, “I don’t know why I’d be tailed, but go ahead and tell me.”

“It’s not you I’m interested in, it’s your friend” Dennis quickly corrects, pulling the cord to his lantern as he takes a seat at the table, “there’s a little bit more to the story and it seems like I’m finding new threads to this case the more I dig into it.” Confused, Caden indicates his loss for thought with a simple reply, “who’s this friend you’re talking about?” he wonders.

“Sophie, of course” Dennis replies, unable to see the visible shiver that runs down his caller’s spine at the mere mention of her name, “she’s only the dearest little darling of America at this moment, that should have been obvious.” His intrigue immediately lessening, Caden’s reluctance takes control of him, the dismissal of hearing anything further only more influenced at the hurried cry of his name from his distant mother’s lips.

“She’s not my friend and I want nothing to do with her” Caden abruptly interrupts, leaving his seat as he speaks directly into his wrist accessory, “I know nothing and I don’t want you to come near me or talk to me again. Goodbye.” Punching the air, the young man ends the call without a warning and sneaks through his door, making for the stairs with the expectation of his overdue girlfriend to be awaiting him.

“You were supposed to be here at noon, what kind of hassle did you get-?” Caden descends the stairs calling out, the greeting he’d anticipated flipped entirely on his head as he turns to face the front door. Freezing the moment he turns the bannister, the knapsack-carrying young man looks ahead to his mother’s distraught face and his father’s shocked expression, the space between them occupied by a small group of officers with an apologetic visage.

As if overloaded, Caden’s senses drown out the sounds that surround him, his mother’s open arms brushed aside as they approach him, avoided as his bag falls from the grasp he’d cradled it in. The emotion falling from his face, Caden looks to the officers as his father approaches, holding his hands out to keep his awestruck son from stepping past.

Having already side-stepped his mother, the young man’s head ducks beneath his father’s obstruction before steering through the group of cops, not allowing anyone to prevent him from leaving the home. “Caden, please!” his mother pleads through tears, stepping into her husband’s arms as he settles for restraining her, the news not necessary to be broken as their son had already correctly assumed what the fuss was about.

Still walking with an empty mind, Caden descends his steps and walks through the space between his car’s bumper and the front of a squad car, entering the closed-off street without uttering a word. Of no apparent danger, the public units allow the teen to evade their presence, remaining frozen stiff at the centre of the two-way road.

In utter silence, Caden’s posture remains unchanged as minutes pass, his father’s efforts already having allowed his son to grieve as he approaches their closest neighbour to break the news. As his face sits empty, the horrowed young man soon regains his hearing, the various miscellany of voices return to the centre stage as his mind comes around, recalling the world that exists before what remains of the unsolved pieces soon takes control of his body.

With the briefest furrowing of his eyebrows, Caden turns toward the home beside his own, his eyes lifting from the paved asphalt to the building’s second story as its owner joins his father on the patio. Through the window halfway opened and bathed in the light of a nearby lamp, Sophie watches the events below unfold before noticing the redirected glare of her once-friend, able to see the muscles on his face contract as his blank stare turns into one of blinding rage.

Putting one foot in front of the other, Caden steps a short distance closer to the home, not paying any mind to the litany of cops that surround him as he fixates on the woman he’s accurately directed his vigour at. 

“Take a good. long. look!” Caden shouts, drawing the attention of every soul within screaming distance, his own parents, Andrew and Elaine, and each cop refocusing their attention on him. “You’ve done it! You’ve done it now, Sophie!” he continues to belt, watching the worry begin to sprout among the girl’s face. “I told you to leave me alone, and now you’ve done it!” he furiously declares, huffing for every breath in between declarations, “I know it was you then, and I know it was you now!”

“Caden, stop!” George commands, hurrying down the steps on the Carrion residence as Andrew and Elaine follow closely behind, the sixteen year old figure of public interest shaking her head from afar as she watches on. “No, I’m done with the bullshit and the cover up!” his son proclaims, staring at Sophie as the girl’s father draws near, a deranged smile beginning to form along his face.

“You can get even with me however you want. Get back at me in whatever way you want, because as far as I’m concerned- it doesn’t matter” Caden declares, his face tightening as his voice breaks through its usual boundaries, firing off a statement of defiance as his target looks on, taking in every word as if it were a declaration of war, “YOU! ARE! ALREADY! DEAD!”

== Generation Alpha ==