S2, E1 | Code Black

Season 2 Premiere

“Attention. All units needed at Remedy Medical Center. I repeat, all units needed at Remedy Medical Center” a woman’s frantic voice calls out, her proclamation carried through the radios of every cruiser the precinct has on the streets. “We have reports of an explosion at Remedy Medical Center. Mass casualties are expected. Code green is now code black.” the woman continues to speak, urging those on the road to head toward the devastating scene.

Flooding with sirens, the streets of the quiet town are forced to host a flurry of sirens and screeching tires in all directions, stripped of its ability to sit in silence by the raging inferno that wages on in the centre of town. Gathering together in groups along quiet, residential streets, the people who call Remedy home watch on from the safety that their distance brings, the community as a whole made to bear witness to the violent display.

Whilst the elderly emerge from within their homes and occupy their front patios to look on from afar, the town’s youth step out from their places of business or the various holes in the walls they’d been partaking in the recreational activities of. Regardless of generation, the people of the grief-stricken Remedy Hills centre their attention on the same, intense locale.

Kept at what had been deemed a safe distance from the law-abiding civilians, the inmates of the county prison calmly reside within their cells with the lights out. Whilst some lay upon the pitifully-thin mattresses with their hands folded atop their stomachs, other prisoners defy what had been demanded of them by the guards, their arms hanging through the metal bars of their cell doors as they stand in attention, staring out into the larger room beyond their confinement- yearning for freedom.

On his lonesome, a single prison guard occupies a desk near the centre of the room, the baton that had initially been attached to his belt having been left atop his desk. Though he’s meant to watch over those trapped within the prison’s cramped corridors, the patrol officer proves to be anything other than on active duty. With his navy blue baseball cap sitting over his face and feet kicked atop the table he occupies, the serviceman catches up on the easiest night of sleep he’s had in a while.

Whilst some inmates watch on from their places along the prison’s doors with a variety of displeased expressions worn, others carry a stoic, unbothered visage that would normally seem out of place on nights unlike this one. Nearest one end of the row of cells, however, a single look of determination is carried upon a prisoner who fails to feel even the slightest sense of restraint, his desire for freedom not as starved as his peers- because he already has it.

Being met with an opportunity the moment he hears the first snore come from the on-duty patrolman, the silent aggressor at the end of the cell block gently takes the metal bars into his palm and slides it open. Not making a peep, the inmate steps out from his confinement and quietly approaches the sleeping guard, eyes falling upon the man with malicious intent whilst his peers refuse to offer even the slightest peep, instead being far too interested in watching the events play out.

From a cup near the end of the central workstation, the inmate quietly snatches a pen that he uses to violently stab at the no-longer-slumbering guard’s neck, repeatedly puncturing the jugular vein until satisfied with his work. As he lifelessly falls from the chair and slumps onto the floor, the corrections officer’s mouth is allowed to slip from the coverage of his assailant’s palm, any scream he’d attempted to offer in the name of help being refused at once.

Playing the role of hero perfectly, the violent aggressor snatches the cell block’s keys off the serviceman and hurries toward one cell in particular. “Well done, boy” a hispanic man remarks, his hands draped through the metal bars that he leans against, waiting to be the first that’s freed from his confines. “Thank you, si-” the reserved prisoner who’d initiated the event begins to reply, only for his mouth to be covered before he can have the chance to finish his thought.

Carved out of the end of a toothbrush, the newly-freed inmate silences his hushed guardian angel and repeatedly stabs the man in the stomach, waiting until the body across from him goes limp. Just as lifeless as the guard that he’d slaughtered, the key-wielding convict plummets to the ground and bleeds out, his wounds just as great as those worn by the cellmate the hispanic yardbird leaves behind as a second victim.

Uttering not one peep, the inmates whose opportunity to be freed had been snuffed out amidst the lone wanderer’s actions watch on as their peer tosses his bloody shiv across the room. Stripping the dead guard naked, Rico dresses the serviceman in his own, orange jumpsuit and drags his body into the cell he prepares to leave behind. Laying the scene out in whatever way he wishes, the violent convict uses the clearance obtained by his victims to exit the block.

Keeping his head down the entire way, the criminal manages to reach the prison’s exit without any issue, the faintest redirection of his face and extension of the keycard at each member of security’s line of sight affording him clear passage. Through the front doors and to the audible sound of police cruisers hurrying to the same, central scene, Rico takes his eyes to the fire that rages on in the distance before taking ownership of the deceased guard’s vehicle.

Using the cover of chaos to flee the scene, the newly-freed inmate drives in the opposite direction of the raging inferno, discarding his victim’s keycard into the treeline that runs along the side of the freeway he now becomes the only occupant of.

= 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 =

“Stay here, sir!” a firefighter proclaims, speaking over the flurry of sirens that only grow in volume as more of Remedy’s emergency services arrive. “My partner- he’s still in there!” Beau responds, struggling to catch his breath through each cough, his face covered in a dark, black soot from the fire he’d just been pulled out of. “Sir, you need to stay here!” the protection-draped professional replies, only for his warning to be disregarded.

“Get out of my way!” Beau fights, shoving the heavily-clad serviceman out of the way as he attempts to hurry back toward the building, only for the corner of his eye to catch the glimpse of a man all too familiar to ignore. “Mansoor!” the younger officer proclaims, covering his mouth as he breaks out into a coughing fit, watching as his partner is helped away from the scene of devastation just as he was.

Politely gesturing for the firefighter to return to the aid of others, Jake lowers himself to the ground as his fellow officer hurries up to his side, leaning his hand on the older cop’s shoulder. “I’m alright, kid. I’m alright” the experienced policeman reassures, patting his peer on the side of the face as he’s joined in taking a seat along the ground. For a few seconds, the two detectives gather their bearings in silence, unable to take their eyes away from the roaring flames ahead.

Finally catching their breaths, the two officers grimace together at the unfolding scene of devastation, watching as their peers race into the flames with hopes of saving whichever lives are trapped within. In every direction, doctors and nurses still dressed in their professional attire hurry around the frantic parking lot in an attempt to administer assistance to whomever may need it, treating burn victims and blood-soaked faces just as they attend to the sick and in-need.

“They keep beating us to the fucking punch” Beau concedes, shaking his head in disbelief and self-aggravation as he leans back, losing his upper body’s balance as he lays out along the asphalt. “We were this fucking close! And now- fuck!” the younger cop proclaims, his own safety and that of his partner guaranteed, allowing his own irritation at the events that have transpired to take centre stage once more.

Slamming his palms against the ground, Beau stares toward the star-filled night sky that he can just barely make out through the thick clouds of smoke that billow from the only medical centre for miles. “I know, kid. I know” Jake disheartedly responds, hanging his head as he remains seated upright, staring out at the hellacious terror that unfolds ahead.

|

“Oh, fuck- what the-!?” Beth scowls, thrashing her head back and away from the putrid scent that fills her with such a vehemently awful and temporary headache. “It’s alright, you’re alright! Don’t worry!” Harlington urges, quickly pulling away from the woman and holding his hands out toward her, offering the faintest gesture of reassurance as she comes to, awakening from the unconsciousness that had consumed her, “smelling salts. That’s all this is- it’s just smelling salts.”

“Where the fuck am I!?” the woman quickly rebukes, instantly taking notice of the twine that holds her hands around her back, restraining her at the wrists and to the chair that she sits upon. Before long, the cramped confines that she finds herself held within are taken notice of, the concrete-encased basement that is illuminated only by a pair of lightbulbs hanging by a cord along the ceiling being all that she can find aside from a flight of stairs leading upward.

“You’re safe- don’t worry” Harlington replies, quickly tossing the torn-open packet of smelling salts into the corner of the room, wiping his palms of the stench that still lingers upon his flesh. “You’re in a house just a little less than half a mile inside Remedy” the man clarifies, his comment prompting the tied-up captive to widen her eyes, “No one’s gonna hurt you. The only reason I have you in restrained is so you don’t running off and getting yourself in trouble.”

“You kidnapped me!?” Beth shouts back, her immediate conclusion prompting the man who’d saved her from the wreckage of her mangled vehicle to hang his head. “Well, in loose terms- yeah, I did” Harlington replies, quickly defending his course of action before the woman’s rebuttal can have a chance at being offered, “but what did you expect me to do!? You tried to kill yourself!”

“And you think being kept in your fucking basement is a better alternative!?” the imprisoned young woman questions aloud, the answer that she’s given doing little to satisfy her. “Then letting you go off and keep trying to get yourself killed? Yeah, I do!” Harlington retorts, nodding along with the conclusion that sets his captive on a direct-course with a panic attack, “you can’t get yourself killed, Beth! You need to be alive in order for any of this to get better!”

Looking into the distance without the ability to breathe freely, the runaway librarian sucks up every small gulp of air she can take in before her captor leaves his seat, dropping to a knee beside her. Violently throwing herself back in an attempt at getting as far away from her kidnapper as she can manage, Beth shakes her head without the ability to refuse her imprisoner’s help, his nonacceptance to leaving her to fend for herself leaving little alternative choice.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I promise!” Harlington calmly reassures the woman, gently placing the palm of his hand against the back of the frantic young lady’s own, his other hand resting on her left knee, “you’re safe and no one’s going to hurt you. The air is fine, you are fine, and everything that seems wrong about any of this will be fixed before you know it!”

Her lungs expended to such great lengths that the veins in her neck appear more defined through her soft skin, Beth’s fight against the man’s calming tone is forced to vanish in the name of self-preservation, her lungs finally freeing one breath of air to come in after another. Gradually lowering her down from the anxious, terror-filled horror that had enraptured the woman, Harlington watches her eyes become more at peace as she finally comes into a more manageable state of mind.

“I’m going to try and explain as much as I can right down, but I’m gonna promise you this...” the unrestrained man explains, trying his best to speak to the woman as calmly and collected as he can manage, “...you’re not going to believe all of it just yet.” Gently removing his touch from the woman’s skin, Harlington steps back to the chair across from him, trying to remain as approachable as he can manage to keep from the situation escalating beyond control once more.

“I lied to you the other day when I insinuated that someone was paying me to stalk you” the man confesses, appearing strangely more trustworthy and less-deranged than he has any right to be, though the woman across from him refuses to buy into such an act being an accurate representation. Staying as alert as she can manage despite the situation she finds herself in, Beth’s reservations are kept unspoken, her eyes simply remaining on the man with the faintest hope all can be well.

“I was stalking you, but I wasn’t doing it because someone was feeding me cash. I was stalking you because- as long as you weren’t in Remedy- it was the only way to keep an eye on you” the man confesses. “You’re not making yourself sound any less insane right now” Beth reassures, breaking through the silence to add one quip with hopes that the man’s tune can change.

“Correct, and I’m fully aware that there will be portions of what I’m about to say that will make me seen even more crazy” Harlington replies, coupling his hands together to present his hostage with a gesture of hops, “just remember that I’m already aware of how little you’ll believe me.”

“I don’t have any other choice, do I?” Beth questions back, watching the man’s eyes steady upon her as he remains quiet, wanting to allow her a further chance to speak. Looking toward the distance before glancing over her shoulder, the woman takes notice of the two pillows that had been duct taped over the windows in either corner, keeping her from seeing anything even as small as daylight.

“You’ve got me tied to a chair, locked in a basement, and you’ve put pillows in the windows to keep me from screaming” Beth continues, shaking her head as tears and sweat bead down from her face, messing up the small amount of mascara she’d applied to her face. “I’ve got no way out of this shit hole and the only thing that I can hold onto would be that you’d- out of the goodness of your own heart- let me go” she concludes, “and here you are- pretty much promising to sound insane.”

“I’m only going to sound insane because the truth of the matter is insane” Harlington corrects, shaking his head out of his own dissatisfaction, not wanting to see the woman in the state which she resides, “I’m just the one unfortunate enough to have to say the crazy-sounding shit out loud.”

“Then say it” Beth interjects, her terror being put on the shelf as anger takes over, consuming her immediate functions and the willingness she has at hearing the man across from her out. “Alright fine, I was following you to make sure there was always an eye keeping out for you” Harlington replies, wasting little time in following through on what he’d wanted to confess to her, “you being in Remedy allows us to keep an eye out for you from afar. That’s not guaranteed when you’re away.”

“Keep an eye out for me from what?” Beth questions back, entertaining the man’s claims whilst they remain still somewhat rooted in reality- the claims still sounding plausible for the time being. “I don’t know what I can and can’t get away with telling you yet, but what I’m sure I can tell you is that there’s something out there worth keeping you safe from” Harlington answers, assuring the woman of her importance, “your safety is so incredibly important that I can’t even do it justice.”

“What does that even mean?” Beth queries, shaking her head at a loss for words, the information that she goes without being afforded making anything else that she’s told seem impossible to buy into. “It means that there’s a reason behind why some really strange things happen in Remedy. And at that- why some really strange things happen to people that call Remedy home” Harlington replies, nodding as he leans back in his seat, hoping more distance will give the woman some peace.

“Almost anyone else gets into the crash that you were involved in and they end up dead” Harlington replies, holding the palms of his hands toward the woman across from him, “and yet here you are with only a few scratches.”

“I got unlucky, so what?” Beth quickly retorts, only for the man across from him to redirect the conversation. “You’ve been having some fucked up dreams for the last few nights, right?” Harlington questions, watching the woman’s right eyebrow lift higher than the left, “you’ve been seeing things, having a hard time sleeping, you’ve been a little erratic at times- kinda like just a couple minutes ago with the panic attacks?”

“I’ve lived a little bit of a fucked up life, what can I say?” Beth responds, writing the man’s oddly-accurate and wildly-specific assessments off as just ramblings not worth paying too much attention to. “No, you’ve been drinking the coffee” Harlington rebuttals, watching the eyebrow his forcedly-captive audience had recently lifted descend back to a more natural resting state, “and for some reason- unlike the others in Remedy Hills- you decided to stop.”

“It’s not always a bad thing to kick a caffeine bug” Beth responds, still trying to remain steady in the face of the man’s claims, not wanting to allow her kidnapper to feel as though he’s managed to break through some of her boundaries. Nodding along, Harlington leans further back in his seat as his hands fall limply into his lap, the palm of one resting against the rear side of the other as he stares off into a distant corner.

“I wonder why the rest of the town wouldn’t do the same thing if it were as easy as you seem to make it out to be” Harlington responds, soon redirecting his eyes back upon the woman across from him, “at that rate, I wonder why more people don’t just kick the habit when they realise their eyes never close for more than a few minutes at night.”

“What are you saying? Is the coffee poisoned? Is the water poisoned? Is the- what are you saying?” Beth interjects once more, stumbling over her suggestions before finally coming along to the inquiry for clarity that sits at the front of her mind. “I’m not saying anything that I’m supposed to” Harlington responds, looking the woman in the eyes as he makes his proclamations calmly, “I’m not even following you for the reason that I’m supposed to.”

“Can you please just stop talking in riddles and tell me the part that I’m supposed to think is too fucked up to believe?” Beth queries, growing tired of the directionless line of questions that she’s afforded. “You didn’t die in that crash because Remedy Hills will not allow you to die without its name being cleared” Harlington responds, swallowing the wad of saliva that’d formed in his mouth, “it wants peace that it’s not being afforded and it needs people to fight for it.”

“I’m not getting anywhere with you, am I?” Beth concedes, bringing herself to accepting defeat as the hair on her head falls over her face, growing tired at the dialogue she assumes are just more riddles. “When I told you that the town was alive the other day, I meant it literally” Harlington doubles down, watching the woman’s face lift back toward him as his declaration was made, buying into it just as much as she’d bought into everything else- almost not at all.”

“The fog, the coffee, the people- all of it. It’s all part of the town’s doing and that’s the part that’ll make me sound crazy” Harlington explains, watching the woman’s eyes centre upon him as he leans forward. Draping both hands over his knees, the man steadies his focus upon Beth as she keeps her lips pressed together, waiting for the man to finish his thought.

“Remedy Hills is alive.”

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“Penny!?” Avon exclaims, his car having been parked and left running at the very end of a row of countless others, side-stepping any law enforcement agencies that attempt to prevent his passage toward the scene of chaos. “Penny!? Penny!?” the man continues to blurt out, looking around frantically for the wardrobe he knows his wife would be wearing, finally just managing to catch the glimpse of an out-of-place green shirt within a sea of others.

“Penny!” Avon proclaims again, bolting past a nearby firefighter who attempts to obstruct his passage just as all others do, only to fail much like the rest as the author nears closer to his wife. “I got an alert on my phone a couple of minutes ago! I had no idea the explosion happened here!” the man proclaims as he holds his lover close, her arms wrapping around him to reciprocate his embrace, though she makes an easily-recognisable effort to pull away rather quickly.

“Avon, listen- I’ve got to get to work here!” Penny pleads, looking up into her husband’s eyes as he takes her face into his hands, tears having formed in his eyes out of the fear that his wife could’ve been amongst those lost in the attacks. “Work? Didn’t you just come from a bar!?” Avon retorts, releasing his hold of each side of the woman’s face as his hands take toward her own, fingers wrapping around her palms as she again tries to make an attempt at returning to duty.

“I had one drink. I’m performing surgery, I’m disinfecting wounds and bandaging people up- there’s clearly not a ton of reason to sideline me completely with what’s going on” Penny answers, again pulling away as she dismisses her husband’s concerns, “honey, I really have to get back to work.”

Forced to give her husband the cold shoulder, the medical professional returns her attention to the wounded that are scattered amongst the inferno that Remedy’s first department desperately tries to get under control. Left behind, Avon tries to console himself with the guarantee that his wife was at least unharmed, the jarring sight of chaos that rages well into the night being the only other certainty he’s afforded.

Aware that his wife’s service is needed by people other than himself, Avon tries to bring himself away from the horrified mindset that had prompted him to speed through traffic at rates that would otherwise have seen him pulled over and ticketed heavily for. “Avon, get back home!” Beau proclaims, catching the faintest glimpse of the man from the corner of his eye before pointing at his person, “lock your doors and don’t answer unless it’s your wife or one of us!”

“Why!?” the author questions back, watching the younger officer hang his head and pull away from the more experienced partner that continues for their cruiser’s driver’s seat. Meeting the policeman halfway, Avon waits to hear the other man’s reasoning until they’re no more than a few feet apart, watching as Beau’s hands take toward his hips with immense dissatisfaction.

“Rico Martinez escaped from the correctional facility a few miles down the road earlier tonight” the hotshot cop confesses, watching the author’s eyes immediately take the information as a reason to prop further open. “I know most people around these parts don’t like you, but I’m gonna warn you anyway- don’t tell anyone this...” Beau proceeds, keeping his voice lower as he takes another two steps toward the town’s newest resident, “I’ve got every reason to believe this was his doing.”

“What? The fire?” Avon questions back, the proclamation that the cop offers him being accompanied by a gesture to the decimated medical building. “Jake and I were in the emergency room right before it went off- it was a bomb” Beau corrects, refusing to mince words with the closest thing to a non-uniformed friend he has, “there was a patient. Some guy- just like the attorney from the precinct a few days ago- came in to finish the patient off.”

“So one of the dudes in the Smiley face group?” Avon questions aloud, only for Beau to shrug his shoulders and nod at, appearing as if he weren’t sure, but making it clear that he’s drawn his own conclusion. “The patient he finished off had a bomb ticking down inside of him. Jake and I just barely managed to get a few corners away before it went off” the younger officer proceeds, “the fact that the entire precinct was ordered here on the same night that Rico escapes can’t be a coincidence.”

“To be quite honest with you- it doesn’t sound like it is” Avon replies, passing the man the faintest hint of sarcasm, one that Beau takes like a playful jab on the chin. “Listen, just get back to your house and lock your doors. Penny’s gonna be safe here for as long as the place is swarmed with cops” the younger policeman proclaims, pulling away from the discourse to return to his vehicle in the search for answers, “just lock yourself down and I’ll send your wife home with an escort.”

Triggering his sirens, Jake floods Remedy’s normally-quiet streets with the flashing blue and red lights that it has come to find frequently on this night. Whilst the author watches on, the pair of officers retreat from the scene that their presence as victims is no longer asked for, hurrying in the opposite direction as the crowd that gathers together in the name of getting a front row seat to the chaos.

== Remedy Hills ==