“And this is what you’re sold on?” a woman asks, looking away from the rambling-filled whiteboard to offer Chevy her attention, “not to sound condescending, but if this is a joke- I need to know.” Arms folded and head shaking, Chevy admits that he’s become convinced that remnants of the government remain, specifically intending to remain unseen and unheard, the reasons why being unclear.
“Listen, Eugene… I get that it might sound like the product of a loon, but it makes sense with what we’ve found” Chevy explains, the information offered lending his argument credence. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen something as outlandish as this make sense” Eugene retorts, his eyes glancing back and forth at each separate subject lined-through and circled, “if I’m being completely honest- I don’t really know how to react.”
“You see crazy shit often?” Chevy asks, he and Eugene the only people in the room, the question offering him insight into his replacement’s backstory. “I was in the military for a number of years before becoming a geologist” Eugene recalls, the individuals he was stationed with always having their heads filled with curious, often irrational, suspicions, “very rarely would someone sound so crazy, yet still have enough reasonable sense to appear credible.”
Giving the notes a nod, Eugene turns back to the newly-engaged man, a smile on his face, “you and your convoy appear to be very credible, Chevy.” Appreciative of the compliment, the departing leader approaches Eugene and shakes his hand, welcoming him to the complex. “I look forward to working with your men” his replacement replies, admittedly taking a liking to the man’s way of conducting himself, “if they were trained by you, I trust that I’ll be in good company.”
Telling Chevy to return to his pregnant fiance, Eugene takes his attention to the evidence, a pile of a few loose notes beside the whiteboard left to be filled in as time is moved along. With a deep breath, Eugene takes the various documents and begins placing them in the vacant spots, answering questions yet to be answered. Setting aside a roll of tape, Eugene paints his evidence board in a complete set piece, one of his many guards entering the room a few minutes after Chevy leaves.
“Are we almost ready?” the man calls out, the rifle draped over his back within inches reach from his arm, Eugene quick to tell him to hold off. “We don’t want to make any snap judgments” Eugene responds, telling the man to fetch him once Chevy and Kayla have officially left the compound. In agreement, the guard returns to the interior of the base, a completed Eugene staring out at an equally-completed puzzle, the dots connecting where they were meant to.
Stopping at the sounds of their voice, Chevy and Kayla drop their bags to the ground as they approach their vehicle, Carly and Ben racing up to their sides. “Bidding us adieu?” Chevy jokes, their subordinates both pulling the couple in for a hug, wishing them luck on the impending wedding and eventual childbirth. “Thank you, I’m sure I’ll really need it in the delivery room” Chevy replies, receiving a joking smack to the back of his head by his better half, “see!? That’s why!”
Amused, Chevy and Kayla load their bags into the car before Ben and Carly offer the pair the velcro-emblazoned flag of Los Angeles from their convoy gear, an offering of respect from the young duo. “Where’d you get these?” Chevy asks, he and his wife dressed in regular gear, the curious looks on Ben and Carly questioning what he means by the question.
“They come with our suit, remember?” Ben responds, the response something that confuses Chevy, his eyes quickly venturing out to the fleet of newly-arrived guards, all without the same emblem. Not having noticed this fact, Ben and Carly look around the exit tunnel and find themselves equally lost, finding the basic camouflage dressed on the new convoy mates lacking the personality their own uniforms came with.
Looking into his bag, Chevy pulls the closest shirt from the top of the pile, checking the sleeve to find the flag of Los Angeles left for his eye to uncover, the same truth found of Kayla’s clothing as well. “That’s weird” Carly quips, her statement only serving to add to Chevy’s suspicion, his eyes wandering back to the stationed guards having just arrived, not recognizing a single one of their names.
“Kay, Carly, Ben- No matter what you do, don’t ask questions and just play along” Chevy replies, his suspicions having turned into worries, a change in his attitude present immediately. “Oh shit!” Chevy animatedly calls out, feigning a self-disappointment, Kayla immediately asking him what the problem is, “I forgot to let L.A. know we’re moving out!” Directing Carly, Ben and Kayla to different parts of the bunker, Chevy apologizes to the guards, promising to only take a moment.
Dashing back into the reinforced station, Chevy tells the foursome to follow him closely, questions still being asked. “I’ve never met a single one of these people in my life” Chevy responds, the statement not something that should be heard from the man who’d been introduced to every member of the convoy Los Angeles had to offer. “They don’t have the emblem, that Eugene guy didn’t originally know my name, and this is a shitload of people” Chevy explains, “these aren’t our replacements.”
Dashing into the communications department, Chevy apologizes to all involved, promising to only take a moment of their time. “We’re supposed to clear our departure with Los Angeles and I’m a fucking moron” Chevy explains, every guard having taken their place now looking toward him in confusion, “I promise, I’ll be out of your hair as soon as she gets back to us- which shouldn’t take long.”
Waiting for the room to empty, Chevy closes the door and locks it tightly behind himself, hurrying toward the long-range radio and directing Ben to tap him back to Jaime. “Jaime, Los Angeles, anyone in the city, do you hear me? It’s Chevy Harrison” the man greets, pausing for a moment to allow for the signal to carry, a single voice returned before long. “This is Jaime, why aren’t you on the road?” the woman replies, the door left open for Chevy to answer.
“Our replacements just arrived an hour ago. There’s a shitload of them, and they don’t have the L.A flag on their sleeves” Chevy explains, quickly addressing the gravity of the situation, “do you hear me?” Another brief moment passing, Chevy waits for the voice to call back, his worries confirmed the moment Jaime returns through the airwaves.
“I sent twelve people to the bunker, Chevy” Jaime responds, the hearts of all four people in the room immediately sinking, “if there’s any more than that, we’ve got problems.” His head shaking, Chevy tells Jaime that a crew of roughly sixty people showed up at the front gates the moment the sun began to rise, another brief few seconds of silence filling the airways. “Chevy, just shut up and do what I say” Jaime explains, only demanding one thing in a stern voice, “run.”
= 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 =
“Are you sure about this!?” Ben wonders, his nerves beginning to set in, Chevy giving Kayla a nod before turning off the lights, a single punch to the glass lightbulb cutting her knuckle open, yet revealing the inner workings of the bulb. With the flip of a switch, the bulb turns on, its inner coil beginning to heat up, sparking a small electric fire.
Shorting the electricity in the entire building, Chevy lifts a hard-cover book to the burning flame and tosses the collection of papers into the middle of the room. “Last I checked, that door is open- and now it stays open” Chevy explains, ensuring their way out remains for the world to use, his hopes of regaining control of the building away from the eyes of whichever group their replacements belong to at an all time low.
“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re all wearing non-slip shoes” Chevy explains, the one part of their gear other than their embroidered patch that their replacements can’t share. The sound of footsteps hurrying throughout the halls, Chevy and Kayla push their subordinates back against a wall, laying in wait for their opposition to arrive. Pushing open the entry, two replacement guards race into the room and look around for an extinguisher, each eating one bullet courtesy of the engaged couple.
Tossing Ben and Carly the talkies kept on the guard’s bodies, Chevy and Kayla upgrade their weapons, leading the younger pair through the halls. Within seconds, the flames in the communications department set the carpeting on fire, a massive buildup of smoke prompting the sprinkler system to engage in combating the claims, the entire bunker soaked in water from above to create a chaotic environment.
“Shoot anything without a flag on their arms!” Chevy and Kayla shout, watching their fellow convoy mates emerge from their rooms. As enemies emerge a few hallways away, Chevy and Kayla engage in a gunfight, Ben and Carly quick to offer cover fire. “I really wish Jaime trained us for this kind of shit!” Chevy shouts, Kayla quickly turning the group’s fortunes upside down.
Reaching into her pocket, Kayla removes a smoke grenade she’d recovered from the prior guards’ bodies and tosses it in the direction of their foes, a massive cloud of smoke stopping the oncoming bullets from being fired. With a few blank shots into the distance, Chevy hears a single groan from beyond the rising debris, his wife quick to emerge from cover and aim her weapon.
Pulling the trigger once, Kayla listens to a thud connect with the ground, giving her confidence in the shot itself. Dissipating, the clouds reveal the outline of the second guard beginning to hurry away from cover, a single bullet from Chevy finding the back of his neck and putting him down. Their fellow convoy mates engaging in gunfire behind, Chevy and Kayla begin to realize that their position does nothing but corner them, the enemies able to flank from both directions.
“Ben, you get Kayla back to safety!” Chevy orders, intending to lead Carly further into the gunfight before his fiance argues against such a move. “My pregnancy doesn’t keep me from defending myself, Chevy… I’m not a damsel in distress!” Kayla calls back, looking into the concern in her fiance's eyes, his fear of what may lie ahead spoken through his expression alone, “I’ll be fine, just stay by me and we’ll take care of this.”
Hesitant, Chevy finds himself unable to deny the woman her requests, the time to make decisions on her behalf never having appeared before, and still not doing so now. “Carly, Ben… Go lend support to the frontline” Chevy directs, telling them to return in Chevy’s direction when the entrance has been cleared, eyes falling back onto his wife as he approves of their advancement.
“You and I until the end” Kayla says with a pep in her step, ready to defend the turf they’d worked so hard to make it to, a nod from Chevy leading the way forward.
“Get down!” Carly shouts, ordering their fellow mates to find the nearest cover, Ben quickly charging through the halls with a grenade in his hand, the explosive hurling through the air before tearing the oppositional forces apart. In a ground-rattling display, the young militants engage in return fire, dragging wounded men and women behind cover before returning shots at their aggressors.
Rushing out of cover, one of the enemy components hurries from one barrier to another, a single shot splattering his brains against the ground, her first of three clips emptied. Offering the woman a thumbs up, Ben keeps his head ducked to avooid oncoming fire, the woman emerging with a strategy. Holding up one finger, Carly lowers one and raises the other, a silent line of communication presenting a risky approach.
With a deep breath, Ben gives the woman a nod, emerging from cover briefly to take aim with his weapon, Carly quickly standing away from cover in an attempt to make herself visible. Goading one guard out of cover, Carly lets Ben’s shot rip through the air, tearing through the enemy’s throat and dropping him where he once stood. With a second shot, Ben does the same to another, the bullet ripping into the man’s chest cavity and refusing to exit through the other side.
Kneeling down, Carly and Ben look back at the remnants of their fleet, the display offering the inexperienced, yet combat-ready convoy a strategy to depend on. From behind, the line continues, a worsening line of sight proving difficult to navigate, the decoys goading out the opposition despite the gunners consistently failing to connect with their shots.
Shaking their heads, Ben and Carly look back to each other, another shrug offered as Ben emerges from cover, allowing Carly to quickly pick off a few of the intruders before returning to cover once more. “Aim lower than you think!” Carly calls back, the point being to disarm them first and foremost.
“We’ll get it done!” Ben exclaims, a display of comfort offered to the woman he shares the front-most line of defense with. Flashing the man a smile, Carly nods her head, agreeing with Ben’s conclusion whilst their attention is set on continuing to stand ground.
Continuing to advance forward, Chevy and Kayla find themselves wandering a narrow corridor, a fleet of footsteps just ahead. Backing up, the couple occupy two sides of the hallway, resting against two columns on either side of the halls as the footsteps grow louder. With one nod to each other, Chevy and Kayla steady their breaths and hold their aim, allowing a line of enemies to dash past them, unaware of their presence.
With ease, Kayla and Chevy pick off the line of backup seemingly directed toward the front, one body after another collapsing to the ground, weapons scattered and blood splattered against anything in the immediate walkway. “Do you two think you’re clever!?” a voice calls out from a few feet away, the person it belongs to hidden behind a column just as Chevy and Kayla are, his taunts intended to draw the pair out.
“I guess that would depend, wouldn’t it?” Chevy replies, shaking his head as he emerges from cover, weapon drawn forward, awaiting the figure’s next move. “Depend on what?” the voice calls back, revealing the specific column he hides behind, Chevy’s lack of an answer prompting his curiosity to take over.
Peering just around the edge of the wall, the figure notices Chevy’s progression toward him, the action he takes already too late as Chevy’s weapon fires a bullet through his skull before he can ever ready his aim. “You’d think people would be better at realizing how a two-on-one standoff works, but apparently not” Kayla jokes, the count Chevy’s done suggesting they only have a few members of the opposing force left to dispose of.
Their strategic position forced out of their arsenal, Chevy and Kayla come across a four hallway intersection, three different paths to advance upon. “Oh shit, this is going to make me sound like the whitest person alive” Kayla admits, the statement immediately garnering Chevy’s undivided attention, “we should split up.”
Adamant at first, Chevy is reminded by the woman that she can more than handle herself, appreciating his willingness to keep her safe, but refusing the need to be chaperoned. “We can be strong together, but we’ll still tear the world apart on our own” Kayla explains, the remaining forces presenting nothing they haven’t already overcome before, “divide and conquer, meet back where the routes reconnect, and continue from there.”
Struggling to convince himself to agree, Chevy begins to shake his head before a wet-haired Kayla pulls him in for a kiss, an alternative to kissing in the rain proving less than stellar, though a fair alternative nonetheless. “We’ll reconvene where the paths cross, I promise” Kayla vows, a second kiss from Chevy giving her his approval, their feet carrying them in opposite directions, Kayla’s to the right, whilst Chevy’s take to the left.
Continuing to goade the frontline out into the open, Ben and Carly allow one militant to slip through the cracks, the guard diving into the car stationed just beyond the tunnel entry and powering the engine on. Putting the vehicle in reverse, the slippery aggressor begins to set his warpath upon Ben and Carly, a last minute miracle called out by one of the convoy mates at the very back of the pack.
“Grenade!” one of the allies shouts, prompting Ben to emerge from cover to find an explosive shell hurling through the air, a moment of utter improvisation solidifying Ben’s place in the convoy. Lifting his barrel toward the grenade, Ben waits a few short beats as he allows the explosive to draw nearer, its trajectory beginning to line up with the reversing vehicle perfectly.
“Get back!” Ben shouts, the razor-sharp instincts of the men and woman behind him allowing his orders to be followed at the drop of a hat. With one tug of the trigger, Ben lets a bullet whip through the air and pierce the flying explosive, a sudden blast violently throwing him across the room as the vehicle bursts into flames amidst the blast.
Shouting for the man’s name, Carly drags Ben away from the scene, the explosion having rocked the immediate surroundings, rupturing the eardrums of those stationed within the tunnel. “Advance!” Carly shouts back to the remnants of her fleet, the wounded opposition disarmed and in violent pain, sitting ducks for those having claimed the base first, bullets whipping through the entrance in defense of Los Angeles.
Lugging the man’s prone body into the nearest shelter, Carly notices the man’s lack of consciousness, his unresponsive presence to the calling of his own name giving her the worst feeling. Lowering her heart to the man’s chest, Carly fails to hear for a heartbeat as a breath fails to leave his flesh-burned face. Refusing to let this be the man’s swan song, Carly does all that she can to revive her young brother in arms, dropping him from her lap and beginning to issue CPR.
“Come on you son of a bitch, don’t give up on me now!” Carly exclaims, slapping the man on the side of the face in hopes of it delivering what her attempts fail to offer. “Fuck, come on Ben! Wake the fuck up, man!” Carly shouts, continuing to put her heart into bringing the man back from the dead. Wailing down on the man’s chest, Carly resorts to beating Ben’s heart into functionality, the failure of this display proving the final nail in the metaphorical and literal coffin.
Her final punch falling short of her mark, Carly looks into the whites of Ben’s eyes and feels her soul leave, the man’s actions having saved his people in return for the sacrifice of his own life. “I’m so sorry, Ben” Carly whimpers, placing her head against the man’s chest and closing his eyelids, wishing for him not to see any more cruelty in the world than what he already has.
Looking up toward the heavens, Carly stares out in defeat as her convoy returns, quickly taking note of Ben’s body lying lifeless beside her. “Take him out of here. Get him somewhere safe” Carly orders, patting the man’s body on the shoulder as two convoy mates reach down to carry him away. “The rest of you- with me” Carly exclaims, pushing herself up, the responsibility of the group’s survival lying on her shoulders, “we’re not done here. Not yet.”
The power beginning to shorten throughout the entire bunker, Kayla and her wet strands of hair strut confidently through the corridors, a rifle in her hands and her eyes peeled for movement. Stepping within a pool of water gathering throughout the bunker, Kayla takes aim at the sight of a guard emerging from the other end of the hall, a single shot sent ripping through his skull, corpse dropping dead, face buried in the ankle-deep accumulation of water.
“You picked the wrong motherfuckers today!” Kayla exclaims, the hallway periodically being entrenched in darkness, the fuse shorting out, threatening to submerge the bunker in a permanent darkness. Taking aim, Kayla sends another shot at the depths of the hallway, the sight of a flashlight in the distance noting the presence of another militant. With another bullet, Kayla puts down a second guard, promising a never-ending supply of death for anyone who dares to challenge her.
Finally giving out, the final ounce of power the building has disappears, entrenching the woman in nothingness, her pace never giving up. Reaching beneath the surface, Kayla retrieves a flashlight from the ground and places it between her teeth, shining a light she refuses to let die. With another pull of the trigger, Kayla rounds a corner and puts a militant down on the spot, a second shot resulting in the same outcome.
Emptying her clip, Kayla reaches into the waves and feels around a corpse for a second magazine, her weapon ready to fire once more with no end in sight. The water level now rising to her calves, Kayla continues to push forward, one shot after another creating a massacre that she alone is responsible for, one body falling after another, the fatal shots never once ceasing.
In the heat of the moment, Kayla continues to fire off, one shot after another littering the flooded floors with bodies as the water quickly rises to an unsalvageable degree. Continuing to advance forward, Kayla turns one corner and takes aim at another flashlight-wielding figure, her hesitancy to pull the trigger proving to reward her. “Good to see you again, honey” Chevy exclaims, the woman removing the flashlight from her mouth and holding it by her hip.
“Is it bad that I enjoyed that?” Kayla asks, the tilting of Chevy’s head not offering much of an answer, his glance back at the corpse he leads by a chain suggesting worse things could be possible. “I’m not really in the position to fault you for that” Chevy responds, the pair stood directly beneath one of the sprinklers, the water having reached such a level that the corpse Chevy drags behind him is nearly submerged.
“I think we have one stop left to make” Kayla replies, a fistbump with her life partner preceding their advancement down the final corridor, their sights set on holding those guilty of this chaos accountable for their actions. Turning into the final room left unaccounted for, Chevy and Kayla find Eugene standing behind his desk, the surprise on his face of seeing the man he’d wished well on his way out prompting him to reach for his gun.
Refusing to afford the man a chance, Kayla lets a single bullet pierce through the man’s chest, the weapon falling from his hand as he stumbles into the whiteboard, sliding to the ground, a trail of blood left behind. Weapons still drawn, Chevy and Kayla approach the mysterious man, the woman’s gun kept aimed toward his head as Chevy points to the documents taped to the board, realizing the puzzle to have been completed by the one he left in charge.
Connecting the dots and drawing the lines, Chevy quickly comes to realize exactly who Eugene is, the mortally-wounded former geologist groaning in pain on the ground. “You did all of this” Chevy exclaims, looking down at the man, who continues to look forward, his eyes resting upon the pitch black depths of the room, short of breath as his punctured lung leaves him unable to breath to his fullest extent.
“I was a cog in the machine” Eugene responds, his words coming out with a whimper, the life slowly leaving his body as he owns up to his wrongdoings. “I was told to direct the president to this bunker, and I knew exactly what would happen- but I did it anyway” Eugene explains, Chevy looking back to the connections made, one chat log stained with his victim’s own blood, the command given to authorize total annihilation of government officials.
“We’d all be tried for crimes against humanity if we were ever found out” Eugene explains, cracking a smile, his blood-covered white teeth presented to the engaged couple, “the command took care of any stragglers we hadn’t gotten to before.” Turning toward his fiance, Chevy mutters Django Wenton’s name, the woman realizing there have been many more to suffer a fate just like him.
“Who are the people in Hawaii?” Chevy asks, his eyes returning to the refugee camp left largely unchanged by Eugene, “what do they want from us?” With a chuckle, Eugene looks up to Chevy, the imposing figure’s face illuminated by his fiance’s flashlight. “They wanted this” Eugene replies, the bunker being the main pull of this operation since the minute it went into effect, “everything about this place contained power, and you stole it.”
Shaking his head, Chevy leans down and digs his thumb into Eugene’s bullet wound, repeating his first question once more, expecting an answer. Grimacing, the wounded turns away from Chevy until his face is pulled back, the man making sure the older conspirator looks him in the eyes. “Who are the people in Hawaii?” Chevy asks again, watching Eugene lean in close, “WE ARE the people from Hawaii” he responds, the answer doing enough to surprise the couple, who are left with little to say.
“We came back to pick up the society people like you let fall into chaos” Eugene explains, his position having become the highest-rank following the death of his supervisor, “and you pieces or garbage just killed the nation.” With a scowl, Chevy recognizes the man he finds sat in a consistently-rising pool of water to be the final official of a dead nation left standing, a call to action being declared in his mind.
“No, we didn’t” Chevy replies, looking up to his fiance with a proud smile before his eyes fall back onto Eugene, “-we made a new one.” Shaking his head, Eugene refuses to acknowledge Chevy as anything other than a traitor to lady liberty, the ire that radiates from the face of the father-to-be speaking volumes. “I’m sorry to do this, Eugene” Chevy explains, the statement bringing a sudden fear over the wounded man’s eyes as he leans in close to whisper his good-byes.
“God bless the Angelino Republic” Chevy mutters, reaching his hand around the back of Eugene’s head, the wide eyes of the older man staring directly into Chevy’s own, “-and may the sun shine over its new beginning” In an act of defiance, Chevy shoves Eugene’s face beneath the surface of the water, a brief struggle ensuing as the domestic terrorist struggles for air beneath the merciless waves of death.
“May lady liberty and her corrupt self die with you” Chevy exclaims, the struggle quickly fading, “-and may her death be as cold as the freedom she rendered a broken vow.” Within seconds, Eugene stops fighting, his arms going limp as his fight drowns with him. Removing his hands from the surface, Chevy leaves Eugene to rest within his watery grave, Carly quickly leading the remnants of her convoy toward the couple.
Catching his breath, Chevy stands and turns back toward Carly, looking the woman in the eyes as the water continues to pool into the bunker. “Is it over?” Carly asks, an eerie silence falling over what remains of Chevy’s group, a quick glance toward Eugene’s floating corpse giving him the certainty he needs to offer a definitive answer.
“Yeah” Chevy responds, looking to his fiance and wrapping his arm around her, pulling her close and holding her tightly, hopeful eyes returned to his remaining fleet, “it is”
== Dire ==