“Don’t jump” Emilio calmly, almost mockingly calls out to John, finding the man he’s shared every minute of the apocalypse beside leant over a railing, staring out at the choppy waters ahead. “It feels like I already did metaphorically” John replies, sharing the space with Emilio as the man takes the spot beside him, “my family is falling apart, I can’t feed my group, and this situation looks worse by the day.”
With a nod, Emilio agrees with John’s every statement, disgusted at himself internally, but proud that he has grown to be able to accept the harsh truths. “Every day, it feels more and more like the only way to plan for the future is to not plan for the future” Emilio accepts aloud, “everywhere we go, the result always ends the same… We lose everything we worked for.” Spitting a wad of saliva into the sea before him, John informs Emilio of both Jack and Alicia’s return, having come up empty handed. “They seem off, I’m pretty sure empty hands aren’t the only things they came back with” Emilio says, nonchalantly implying the pair to not be sharing everything they know, “but it doesn’t really matter at this point now, does it?” With a shrug, John inquires about the polls Sun City has undertaken. With a chuckle, Emilio tells John that they’ve already lost in every way other than the actual election. “The people aren’t buying anything I’m selling, and quite frankly, neither am I” Emilio explains, “there’s no coming back for us there.” With a deep breath, John nods to himself, a grimace gradually appearing over his face until he slams the palm of his hand against the slick metal supports beneath him. “We can’t win” John proclaims, Emilio’s head hanging as he accepts the same conclusion, John left to stare out aimlessly at the seas. In silence, both men stare out at the foggy air, the cold growing worse by the day, their paramotorist friend no longer deeming the air quality safe enough to travel through. With a sigh, Emilio confesses details of his capture to John, explaining that the woman responsible for holding him captive tried to convince him of something she thought to be important. “She wanted me to realize that there was no such thing as democracy anymore” Emilio explains, “that the strength of any group depends on the strength of their leader… And only their leader.” “And what did you take away from that?” John asks, his eyes not once having turned towards Emilio, simply speaking to him in passing. “That she was right” Emilio replies, finally gaining the sight of John, a smirk coming over the man’s face, chuckling to himself. “The true politician finally shows his true colors” John jokes, playfully shoving Emilio, who smiles at the irony behind the confession. “I don’t see any reason to believe she’s wrong, if I’m being honest” Emilio replies, the humor dying down, “after all, we told ourselves to take no chances to make sure the group stayed safe.” His head hung, John nods to himself, staring at the horrible waters below in the moment it takes for him to shake his head. “We did too many horrible things because of that in the name of a future we clearly didn’t do well with” John explains, pointing to the landmarks of the island. “I won’t argue about what having to kill innocent people did to my head because I was already pretty fucked up to start with” John admits, “but it was all for nothing.” His lips puckered and head shaking, Emilio disagrees with the man, John surprised at the ease in which Emilio’s able to accept such alternative approaches. “It kept us all alive for damn near a year” Emilio explains, “and the only time we lost people, Meghan… Troy… Cameron… was when we took chances again.” “You’re saying the way to survive is to kill everyone we ever come across from here on out?” John wonders, “just be the guys every television show would portray as the villains?” With a shrug, Emilio reminds John that they’re the villains to someone else at all times. “What it did was keep us alive, and we only lost people when we stopped” Emilio explains, “if being the bad guy is what will keep us alive, I’m willing to be the bad guy.” His mouth slightly agape, John stares out at the distance, the blackened remains of the island across the waterfront in his sights. “We can’t save everyone, John” Emilio explains, “I’m on your side, but I also feel like we can be honest with each other.” Tapping the man beside him on the shoulder, Emilio signals for John’s attention, the man responsible for having gotten the group this far now giving Emilio his undivided attention. “If you’re gonna be the leader, be the leader that can make the tough decisions, even if you don’t like them” Emilio explains, “but if you can’t do what’s needed to keep us alive, don’t be the leader.” With a pat on the man’s shoulder, Emilio walks off, leaving his friend to his inner thoughts, allowing John to take in the view as a backdrop for the flooding thoughts fighting for attention inside his own head. = Rise 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 3 onwards = “I’m not leaving Sun City behind” Dawson shouts, throwing a knife at a beer can placed upon a tree stump, slicing through the thin metal with precision. “If you all want to leave, go ahead… I’m not abandoning the ship I worked to build” Dawson continues, both Heather and Ameil doing what they can to convince the man otherwise. “It’s no one’s fault at this point, Dawson” Ameil explains, “Emilio’s not going to win the election, and the power’s going to be in Seth’s hands.” “That scrawny bastard can scare me off when I’m dead” Dawson exclaims, throwing another knife, this time the blade bouncing aimlessly off a tree and disappearing into the disintegrated remains. “If you stay here, Dawson holds the power over the military… He’ll have you killed if he truly wants to” Ameil explains, a still-defiant Dawson still refusing to leave his work for dead. “If he wants to kill me, I’ll go down as a martyr for the Sun City I built” Dawson replies, an increasingly angry Ameil replying otherwise. “No, you’ll go down as a failed leader and a man too stubborn to accept when something’s been lost” Ameil shouts, a statement immediately prompting Dawson to hurry up to Ameil’s face and admit the same. “I probably am too stubborn to accept when something’s gone” Dawson explains, “you’re so easy to turn and run, yet I’m not calling you a traitor yet.” “He’s didn’t turn his back on anything, he’s just accepting reality” Heather replies, a statement shot down by Dawson as quickly as it leaves her lips. “You shouldn’t have a say in any of this matter seeing that it was your group that caused all of this in the first place” Dawson replies, only growing angrier when Ameil tries to fan the flames. “Let’s not bring people that don’t need to be in this conversation where they don’t belong” Ameil replies, being spat at by Dawson in refusal. “Listen here, you dickless cunt” Dawson calls out, “her group walked in, pitied us into letting them fight a losing battle, cost us everything and now wants to ditch us in the middle of the night!” “We came here to offer you a chance to come with us, no one’s leaving anyone behind” Ameil explains, a tired Dawson shaking his head with a sigh. “You and I, the real you and I, they died with the Sun City her people stole from us” Dawson explains, “any part of us that shares a spot on their cowardly boat is just a shell of what died with the city.” Wielding another knife, Dawson spits upon the ground and hurls the blade towards the tree, digging the sharp edge into the burnt remnants. Walking up to Dawson, Ameil places his hand upon the man’s shoulder, trying to afford comfort to the man he’s known his entire life. “We both know how much this hurts, but we can’t let ourselves die for something that doesn’t exist anymore” Ameil explains, “I might not agree with everything her group stands for, but they’re telling the truth when they say the only thing worth dying for is the future.” Glancing towards the ground, Dawson directs his eyes where Ameil tells him to, looking at the island he’s been forced into exile upon, assuring him that there’s something more to be made out in the world. “It may be stripped baron, we’ll probably have to suffer a bit to make it somewhere… But there’s going to be somewhere to go” Ameil explains, “but you can’t see any of that from this hunk of burnt shit.” His jaw lowering, Dawson attempts to produce a rebuttal, only for his thoughts to fade, eyes only turning towards Ameil with a lack of confidence. Silent, Dawson just stares at his longtime friend, Ameil stood there waiting for a response that doesn’t come, Heather standing patiently behind, hoping for the best outcome. | “Why do we have to leave?” Amy calls out, Jess unwilling to spare any of the harsher truths with her daughter, simply explaining that the weather is going to get bad. While the woman packs her daughter’s clothes into a suitcase, the closed wooden door is knocked upon from the other end, Amy quickly racing to greet those on the other side. “Daddy!” Amy shouts, wrapping her arms around the man’s leg before he picks her up, Jess trying to hide a smile as the man makes his way inside. “Can I talk to you for a second?” John asks aloud, Jess nodding without a word as John places his daughter back to the floor, telling her to play with toys while the pair step into the hallway. Closing the door behind them until the only sight into the room is a crack in the doorway, John turns back towards Jess, the woman immediately inquiring the reason behind this greeting. “Is there something you ne-” Jess begins, silenced immediately when John pulls her into a kiss, his hands caressing the woman’s jawline as their lips pull on each other’s. Once the kiss is broken, John takes Jess’ hands into hers and apologizes for having failed at his job, both on the fronts of being a father and a husband. “I’m gonna have to do things that make me feel less than human when we’re back out there” John explains, “it makes me realize how off I’ve been.” With a sigh, John shakes his head, struggling to find the words to say as he holds his wife’s hands to his chest. “This world is too dangerous for me to just be the parent I was trying to be when all of this started” John explains, “but I have to learn how to make my duty to keeping this group alive fit in with my duty to be your husband and Amy’s father.” With a deep breath, John watches Jess’ face slowly light up, her eyes warming with hope when John finally admits that he’s ready to start learning. “I’ve never been all there mentally, it never mattered where I was, I just never was” John explains, “it’s time for me to grow up… Actually take on the responsibilities I signed up for… On all fronts.” Before being able to apologize, John is pulled into another kiss, his wife refusing to hold onto despair of the past, only wanting to appreciate the moment while they have it. Unable to speak, Jess smiles to her husband and holds her forehead to his lips, unable to cover the pearly-white shine of her teeth behind her parted lips. “You love birds ready or what?” Jack exclaims as he and Lauren leave their room, the little baggage they need toted behind them. With Jess in his arms, John turns with a smile, “I think we’re as ready as we’ve ever been.” With a nod, Jack pats John on the shoulder as Jess returns to Amy, Jack keeping behind Lauren for a moment to speak to John. “It’s nice to see you smiling again, man” Jack whispers to John, patting him on the shoulder again as he follows Lauren down the stairs. “We ready?” John calls out, Emilio stood beside the dock, watching Jack and Lauren lead the Callis family down the steps of the home. “Almost, Heather and Ameil are on their way back right now” Emilio exclaims as Nessie and Clint climb aboard. Getting Amy situated aboard, John disembarks the vessel for a moment, returning to the yard above as Heather’s boat comes into view. Wrapping the jacket over his shoulder, John takes a moment while he has it to stand before the line of graves dug in memory of those they’ve lost. With a deep breath, John gets to his knee at the graves and reads aloud each name to himself, hanging his head in a moment of silence upon finishing. “I’m sorry what you died for us to see is being left like this” John addresses the dead, “I prefer to think you died so we could live, even if I sort of have to now to make peace with it all.” Looking over the horizon, John finally catches a glimpse of those within Heather’s vessel, three figures only proof that the efforts of Heather and Ameil proved fruitful. “It seems like our time together is running out” John explains, leaving a white flower atop the spot between every grave. “I choose to believe that whatever comes next is better than all of this, too” John concludes, “and when we’re done being scared of what we know nothing about, we’ll join you there.” With his final goodbyes uttered, John stands from his knee and descends the staircase as Heather, Ameil and Dawson dock. “Just in time, we were getting worried” Emilio explains, cracking a smile towards the trio, who all respond in varying ways. With a half-hearted smile returned by Heather, a nod of appreciation from Ameil and an unwelcoming frown from Dawson, Emilio stares at the last remaining survivor, John having his hands tucked in his pockets with a smile. “This is it” John exclaims, a shrug from Emilio preceding a fist bump as the final pair board the ship. “And we’re good to go, folks” Emilio exclaims, turning the key in the ignition and forcing the ship forward, the Connecticut coastline barely visible over the Long Island sound. | / Three Days Later / “Welcome to Rhode Island!” Emilio exclaims, arms stretched out as the group continues over the long-abandoned highway, the only things breathing for what seems like miles being the group themselves. “Check every car you pass, take what’s valuable, leave what’s not” Jess proclaims, Amy walking ahead of her, continuing forward by the side of Heather and Ameil. The cold coming over the group still wandering for direction only made worse with the lack of wind, everything remains quiet, an eery silence befalling the group as they march onwards. Peering into the windows of every vehicle she passes by, Nessie does a quick double take upon spotting something she likes the look of. Removing a road spike and a hammer from her bag, a light tap against the flat end of the jagged object causes the glass to shatter with relative quiet. All looking back towards the woman, the group watches Nessie remove map from the car’s passenger side door. “I think I found something special” Nessie exclaims, holding her finding in the air as the group finds a sense of comfort in direction. A small fire contained in the center of the truck stop parking lot, the group runs over the map, their fingers taking them down different networks of roads, all leading to various possibilities differing upon who you ask. Seated beside his family, John stays away from the frenzy of picking out a new destination of interest, a folded piece of paper in his hands providing more comfort to him. “Any chance we can take ninety-five into Canada?” John calls out, the eyes of those sat across the lot from him immediately falling upon him. Looking down, Nessie follows her own finger along the designated route before responding, “it can take us into New Brunswick.” Specifying his destination further, John inquires once more. “Can we follow the road into Nova Scotia?” John asks aloud, his new inquiry prompting another search on Nessie’s part. “There are a few roads we can take if we’ve got a few weeks on our hands, why?” Nessie replies, John folding the paper into a neat pocket square once more before tossing it towards the crew across from him. Unravelling the note, Nessie reads it aloud to the group before all eyes return to John again. “They’d been dropping these bricks over the last few weeks” John explains, his reference belonging to the paramotorist friend they had grown too comfortable with having around, “I was told not to share this until after we chose to leave.” “This is why we left?” Salem asks aloud, John refusing such a claim. “Leaving the island was a last resort, and one that I didn’t want to take” John clarifies, “but now that we have, I’ve got no reason to keep this back anymore.” The note, when read aloud, informs those that once inhabited the island to move north as quickly as they could, some form of organized government still established in Nova Scotia. “I know the goal is to take no chances, but this isn’t a stranger we’ve never met” John explains, “this is someone that clearly has enough supplies, and had already been looking out for us before we even knew better.” Interjecting, Amy voices her need to use the restroom, Heather immediately offering to take the young girl to the back, ensuring John and Jess’ focus remains unimpeded. “I’ll keep watch” Ameil calls out, feeling the need to keep a third party armed in the event the unknown environment makes an attempt at spooking them. Having spent the majority of the night sheepishly sat in the corner staring out through the window, Dawson’s mood immediately shifts when Ameil leaves, the three figures most responsible for bringing him along now being left on their lonesome. “I’ve gotta use the bathroom too, anyone else?” Dawson calls out, mostly ignored apart from sparse dismissals from the rest of the group, either out of annoyance or an outright disapproval. Shrugging his shoulders, Dawson groggily walks through the backdoor before his posture changes, the moody stance he once taken now turning into a motivated, hurried rush to catch up with the departing trio. “Using the bathroom?” Ameil asks aloud, Dawson immediately shaking his head, approaching Ameil as if he were on drugs, face widened and expression panicked. “What’s going on with you, man?” Ameil questions, Dawson placing his hand on the man’s shoulder as Ameil takes notice of his strange mannerisms. “You guys need to get the fuck out of here” Dawson exclaims, “both of you! Take the girl, go north, don’t come back!” “Are you alright, man?” Ameil asks, not taking Dawson seriously until the moment his friend removes a gun from his side, holding it at Ameil’s head. “Do what I’m telling you!” Dawson exclaims, Heather covering Amy’s mouth before the girl can let out a scream, Ameil’s eyes widened in shock as he watches the man he’s known his entire life turn on him in an instant. “This isn’t what you think it is” Dawson explains, “I told you I couldn’t leave Sun City, so I didn’t… I bought my ticket back in.” Head shaking as horror overcomes him, Ameil asks Dawson to explain what he’s done, only for the gun-wielding man to brush off the request, explaining that there’s no time to sit around and wait. “You saved my life by convincing me to come along” Dawson explains, “I’ll do what I can to save them, but I need you to let me save your lives now, too.” Having packed a small bag of supplies, Dawson tosses the pack to Heather, a small pocket map of the northeast and southern Canadian islands protruding from the front pocket. “If you guys go back inside, or if you tell them anything, we’ll all be killed… The girl, too” Dawson explains, “don’t let that happen.” Stepping away from Ameil, Dawson pulls the hammer down on his gun, prepared to shoot if it comes to it, the fear on Ameil’s face turning into sadness. “Why’d you do this, Dawson?” Ameil asks aloud, Dawson apologizing again before warning Ameil that time has run out. “Turn around and walk away right now, or I’ll shoot you dead right here” Dawson explains, his hand steadying as the barrel of the gun lines up directly with Ameil’s head. “Take your pick, brother” Dawson allows, watching Ameil turn to look back at Heather, the woman quickly nodding upon a second-long glance at Amy. “We can’t let anything happen to her” Heather quips, Ameil swallowing his pride and nodding back to Dawson, turning back to join with Heather and Amy, walking off with the gun still aimed at them. It isn’t until the moment the trio disappear from sight that Dawson lowers his weapon, the final sight of the three being a scared Amy looking back at him. With a sigh of relief, Dawson lowers his gun to his side, his walkie talkie blurting out the voice of a man on the other end. “You cut out there, please copy” Dawson responds, the unintelligible voice clearing upon the second attempt, Dawson taking a breath of relief upon it’s conclusion. | “If we make it to Nova Scotia, whatever happens up there is on you” Emilio jokes, his finger raised towards John, the man’s arm wrapped around his wife as Dawson walks back in, camouflaging with the back. “I take full responsibility, Mr. Captain” John replies, a salute offered to Emilio with a water-filled disposable cup. Laughter dying down, the group takes interest at Dawson, the man hunched over with his hand grasping at his own chest, struggling to breath. “What’s wrong?” John asks, the first to step up and offer assistance to the man, Emilio following in John’s lead as Dawson struggles onward. “What’s going on? Are you hurt?” John asks aloud, Dawson brushing off help, refusing assistance until he stumbles back, falling against the doors at the front of the store and collapsing onto the ground just outside. Hurrying to the man’s side on instinct, John rushes through the doors, Emilio following quickly thereafter as they kneel beside the man. “Em, go get Amy and the rest in the back” John directs, Emilio nodding to the man as the rest of the group slips onto the front lot one after another. “Dawson, I need you to talk to me, man” John explains, opening the man’s shirt and checking at his chest. “What’s going on?” Jess asks, John admitting that he has zero clue. “I have no clue what to look at, Dawson” John explains, “I need you try to tell me what hurts.” Unfurling his fingers, Dawson points to his lower body, his finger pressing against the skin just above the right of his pelvis. “Anyone have an idea of what’s over there?” John calls out, Katie the first to mention the appendix. “Anyone know how to perform an appendectomy?” John proceeds on, the lack of knowledge shared amongst the group leaving little hope. Hurrying around the side of the building, Emilio calls out for John, catching his breath as his face becomes overwhelmed with worry. “They’re not back there!” Emilio calls out, watching confusion come across John’s body. “What!?” John calls back, Emilio repeating the same statement as before. Immediately realizing what this means for his family, John halts the efforts to assist Dawson by reaching for his own gun and holding it to the sick man’s head. “What did you do to them?” John calls out, demanding to know why his daughter isn’t where she was supposed to be. Gasping for air, Dawson’s eyes jolt from one side to another, explaining to John with his hands that he wasn’t responsible. “Put your weapons down!” a voice calls out from afar, immediately prompting those within John’s group to take aim with the weapons they have upon their person. Still knelt over Dawson, John’s gun is aimed directly at the figure in the forefront of the incoming group, the man power behind them vastly outnumbering that of John’s own group. “You’re outnumbered and stand no chance” Seth exclaims, his own rifle aimed at John, “drop your weapons and we’ll do this in a way that lets you all get out of this alive.” Pushing himself to his feet, John keeps aim at Seth, the rest of his group, now stood in a line beside him, directed by their shot caller to lower their aim. “Smart man, you could be of use” Seth exclaims, his expression changing with the understanding of John’s worth. Though the man directed his group to lower their weapons, John remains steady in his own aim, refusing Seth’s suggestion to follow his own lead. “I don’t want you wiping us all out before I get the chance to put you down in return” John replies, the army behind Seth now revealing their numbers by surrounding the camp, guns still drawn. “You can shoot me, I can shoot you” Seth exclaims, his own rifle drawn at the same height as John’s, “make your decision.” His finger moving from the grip to the trigger, John’s hand grows steady, eyes narrowing upon the sight of Seth, prepared to shoot in a moment’s notice. “I’ll give you to the count of three to tell me why you followed us here” John explains, Seth smirking as his own hands steady upon his rifle. “One…” John calls aloud, watching the eyes of Seth straighten, the army leader’s refusal to respond acting as a means to call John’s bluff. After another ten seconds, John counts up to the next number, “two…” he says aloud, the flat of his thumb resting against the gun’s rear sight, Seth continuing to remain silent. A final ten seconds pass again, the final digit to be called aloud, only silence coming over the surrounded core of survivors. Noting John’s failure to stay on key, Emilio looks back to the man, “you didn’t say three” he explains, eyes widened and mouth agape as he looks on at John. Now realizing the silence, the rest of the group looks back to John as well, the man’s gun squeezed in his hand, now aimed at the ground by his side. With force, Dawson pulls away from John and takes a few steps back, allowing the defiant leader to stumble forward, blood pouring from a stab wound in his back. “Joh-” Jess starts, unable to finish the call for her husband as John limps around, blood beginning to run from his mouth, eyes widened at the sight of the cause. Stood with a menacing look, Dawson holds a bloody dagger in his hand, his feigned illness having faded in an instant, watching John stumble backwards. Stepping forward to reach out for the man, Emilio hears the army of readied weapons flood through the air just ahead, Seth’s militia refusing to allow Emilio any step out of place. Gasping for air, John looks away from Dawson, eyes widened as his head slowly turns towards his wife, frozen in shock at the sight. Choking on the blood, John staggers back again, quickly losing the strength to keep himself upright. “J-” John begins, unable to get the words out as his body grows increasingly limp, the only motion his wife makes being to let her jaw hang further open. “Jessica” John calls out in a faint breath, the gun in his right hand falling to the ground as his left holds itself up, reaching out for his wife as he collapses backwards, crashing into the ground whilst his group helplessly watches on. Stepping away from his militia, Seth approaches John as the man struggles to breath in between blood-filled gasps. Kicking the firearm away from John’s side and over to Dawson’s, Seth stares down at the fallen father, a smile coming over his face at the sight. “You don’t make it out this time, John” Seth mutters, standing over John, taking pleasure at his struggles. “You’ll pay just as they will” Seth concludes, John closing his eyes upon this reminder as the air becomes harder to come by. == Rise ==
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From above, the waters appear a deep blue, the waves crashing into the shoreline appearing calm from above, the spray they mist the surviving island in appearing cool and welcoming. “I’m in bound, halfway to Martha’s Vineyard” a woman’s voice proclaims, the walkie clipped onto her sleeve responding with nothing but static for the moment. “Heard and understood” the voice on the other end replies, “let us know when you touch down and return to the air.”
Turning the walkie off, the woman adjusts course with the wind, following the push of nature’s barrier towards Rhode Island for the moment. Removing a brick from the bag, the woman ties a paper against the stone with an elastic band, holding the building block out by her side until the sight of something other than the shattering waves capture her intrigue. “Hello” the woman responds to the boat beneath her beginning to thrust forward, fighting the sea to stay level with her. “You shouldn’t be wasting your gas trying to find me, guys” the woman mutters to herself, tossing the brick to the ground, this time further in from the coastline than before. “I really hope you don’t find yourselves on the wrong end of these” the woman comforts herself in saying, untying the zipper of the bag on her back to remove an assortment of bulbous objects. “Jack, we’re gonna need to steady our push” Alicia exclaims, her face constantly being sprayed by the warm sea water as the boat collides with each passing wave. “We may be able to go faster than her, but if we keep hitting these waves, we’ll never keep up” Alicia explains again, the man assuring her of his efforts, however leaving little to show for them. Suddenly, the waters burst from beneath the surface a few yards behind the boat, one explosion followed immediately by another closer. After another few seconds, another pair of explosions emerge, threatening the ship’s inhabitants as each eruption only draws nearer. Within the next few seconds, a third pair of explosions unfold, Alicia noticing the spray of the water from the most recent explosion to find its way inside the boat. Looking up towards the sky, Alicia holds her hand over her face to block out the tremendous sunlight, disappointingly directing an order towards Jack she kicks herself for giving. “Stop! Slow it down and stop!” Alicia exclaims, the man looking up at the woman for a split second before following through with her command, pulling the boat to a complete stop within moments, the crushing waves they once rode into assisting in halting them further. “Were those grenades?” Jack calls out, Alicia guaranteeing them to be something at least closely resembling the weapons. Looking back into the heavens, Alicia notices something gently falling from the skies, fluttering through the air from their paramotoring friend above. “Glide a few yards out” Alicia proceeds, Jack starting the motor up once more and lightly pushing down on the gas. Preparing themselves beneath the falling debris, Alicia reaches out over the edge of the boat, catching the falling paper from the air, its contents laminated on the outside. “What’s it say?” Jack inquires, the woman’s head dropping into her arms as she extends the sheet of plastic-covered writing towards the man. Intrigued, the man takes the paper from the woman’s hands, its near-perfectly smooth surface gliding between his fingers. “You can’t follow me, that’s not allowed” the paper says, its message brief, yet clear. “This was a complete waste then…” Jack exclaims, flipping the note into the ocean and allowing it to float away. Jack asking what their remaining options dwindle down to, Alicia stares up at the figure sailing into the midday sun, a grimace on her face. “We’re not giving up that easily” Alicia exclaims, waving Jack away from the driver’s seat and taking over in his absence. “Where are we going?” the man asks, taking the seat Alicia left behind as the woman places her foot to the pedal, forcing the boat forward and continuing the chase. “Not doing what we’re told” Alicia replies, her free hand held over her eyes to block out the sun, the only figure in the sky she aims to focus on being the one desperately intent on covering her tracks. = Rise 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 3 onwards = “You’re gonna want to aim lower than you think you do” Ameil explains, the glass whiskey bottle Dawson fetched from the woods sat upon a charred tree trunk, Amy holding the gun by her nose with Ameil’s hands over her ears. “Fire!” Ameil exclaims, Amy pulling the trigger to send a bullet nowhere near the bottle, the soot from a tree a number of feet away being knocked away as the bullet imbeds the remnants of the wood. “Fear not, kid… You’ll get it at some point” Dawson explains, his face covered with a wet towel, water dripping from his nose as he scowls in pain. “Long night?” Heather inquires, sat at the opposite side of the table to that of Dawson, the man describing it as his first night sober since the island burned to a crisp. “You’ve been drunk every night for the last month?” Heather follows, the man chuckling until it hurts, confirming her suspicions. “Any chance you guys could fire a gun quietly?” Dawson asks, Ameil turning towards him as if to consider it, only to flat out refuse as he returns to adjusting the young girl’s aim. Getting on his knees, Ameil fixes himself up to be Amy’s height, staring down the side of the gun as the eye over it were his own, both hands directing those of Amy’s to a precise height, his voice calming enough to convince Amy to take in a deep breath before pulling the trigger. “Fire!” Ameil exclaims, the girl firing another shot into the depths of the forest, the bullet contacting audibly coming into contact with a tree stump somewhere out of sight. “You’re getting closer, which is progress whether you believe it or not” Ameil explains, returning to his knees and resting by the girl’s side, relieving the stress in her elbows and bending them outwards just slightly. His finger gliding the girl’s hair over her ear and her cheek away from the rear sight, Ameil pulls the girl’s arms back towards her body until the pose appears as that of a trained shooter. “What are the bets she makes it this time around?” Ameil calls out, the machete on his waistband being pressed between his fingers, pulling the piece away from his person to mimic the sliding of a credit card. “I’ll bet him whatever the first bottle of rum he pulls out of his bag is!” Heather proclaims, her faith being put into Amy, the girl smiling with pride upon the wager. “I’ll be the mean old grump that puts three bottles where my mouth suggests she misses” Dawson replies, Ameil gently patting the girl on the shoulders as if to turn the reigns over to her. A deep breath as taught before, Amy pulls the trigger once more, the bullet from her gun shattering the bottle before her to mixed reactions. “I’ll take those bottles now!” Heather exclaims joyfully, Dawson throwing his hand towards his tent, granting the woman permission to help herself. “You taking a celebration drink in defeat?” Ameil asks towards Dawson, the man prophetically refusing any such thing. “I’m already staring down the barrel of an angry mob’s wrath, I’ve gotta kick the drinking” Dawson replies, Ameil shrugging as he joins the man at the table. “Can I keep shooting?” Amy proceeds to ask, Ameil only reminding her the proper gun safety routine. “Finger off the trigger, gun facing down, only aim at the bottles!” the girl repeats in an effort to beat the man to the punch, Ameil giving the girl a thumbs up in surprise at her efforts. “What does her mother think of the shooting?” Dawson calls out, Heather returning with a collection of the same three brands of rum, “I know a few parents in the city that don’t like it.” Swallowing her pride, the woman unwraps the top to the first bottle and pours two cups, admitting that this is one of the lessons she doesn’t need Jess’ input in. “With everyone we’ve lost and what we’ve had to fight into, she’s right to wanna learn” Heather replies, clinking her glass against Ameil’s, “it’ll be unequivocally worth it if it happens to save her life someday.” Nodding in agreement, Dawson commends the woman for doing what’s right despite the mother’s best interests. “It’s not one of those things you’re okay with when it’s first brought up, that I know” Dawson confesses, “but once she learns how to do it properly, it’ll be a non-issue.” Leaning back in her seat, Heather looks back towards Amy, watching her steady her aim before placing her finger on the trigger, a single bullet shattering the new glass bottle on the first attempt. “Good” Heather calls out to the girl, Amy lowering her gun to her hip and removing her finger from the trigger. Looking back towards Dawson, Heather responds to his prior statement. “I don’t care when it does or doesn’t become a non-issue, I just care that it does” the woman explains, her eyes wandering back towards the girl as she sets another bottle up, “just as long as it keeps her alive.” | Stationed behind his desk, John reads over a piece of paper before the sound of footsteps in the hall just beyond his door begin appearing closer. Taking note of them, John pulls the drawer beside him out, tucking the paper beneath a set of books and closing it just as the door is pushed in. “Can we talk?” Jess asks, her hands pressed against the edges of the door while the man holds his hand towards one of the chairs. Locking the office entry behind her, Jess takes a seat before the man, John watching her enter the room and tuck her hair behind her ears. “It’s been a few days” Jess says in passing, John’s lips pressing together as he agrees. “It’s been five days, more specifically” John replies, “plenty of time for some journalist to start plotting how to rip apart Sun City from the inside, isn’t it?” Responding in kind, Jess attempts to change the conversation, her introductory banter being replaced by an apologetic front, the man holding onto every word that comes from her mouth. Wishing she had done things differently, Jess admits to not being able to make up for what she did wrong, her decisions having put everyone in a danger she hadn’t considered at the time. “We’ve failed our daughter, we’ve failed our marriage, we’ve failed each other” Jess explains, the man’s eyebrows lifting, his visual cue that they find common ground to agree upon. “But there’s always been family troubles” Jess assures, John’s eyes drifting away from the desk, firmly resting upon Jess’ own. “Everyone here is hurting, but that doesn’t mean everything that we’ve done right needs to disappear” Jess explains, “we can come back from this.” Taking in a deep breath, John allows it to release from his lungs in flutters, keeping tears held back as his fingers glide around the smooth circumference of his wedding ring. “I’ve never been a complete man, Jess” John explains, admitting to the woman he’s always existed as various different people all put together into one fusion. “I’ve been a father, a husband, a marine, a boss, an employee, everything” John explains, “I don’t know mentally if I’ve ever truly put it together.” Pushing himself from his seat, John struts away from his desk, walking around the sides and towards the front, leaning against the surface once he stands before Jess. “I stayed as a stay-at-home dad and husband because I thought that was how I was supposed to act” John explains, “and I’ve honestly never figured out how to be either the right way.” Sniffling, John brushes a tear away from his eye, admitting that he’s always known something wasn’t right in his head. “Anyone that wasn’t me got whomever I thought they were supposed to get” John explains, “I acted how I thought a friend should act, how a father should act, how a husband should act… But I was never truly any of those things.” Her fingers digging into his waistband, Jess pulls herself from the chair and up to face-level with John, the man explaining that he’s never truly been her husband, nor has he been Amy’s father. “I never knew how, I never figured it out, and I’d be lying if I said I ever will” John continues, his fingers pressing against the ring and slowly removing it from his finger, Jess watching on, keeping the tears from falling down her face as the golden symbol of their union glides off his fingertip. “And if I stood here and told you to be patient with me, I’d be having you wait until the day either of us took our last breath” John conveys, “I’d be doing you and our daughter a disservice.” Holding his wife’s hand out, John places his ring into her hand and tucks it within her palm, telling her to go to their daughter and do what he never could, nor what he would have ever been able to. Lip quivering, Jess tells John that there is a way forward for the three as a family, a statement John denies with as much displeasure as one could have. “I can’t hold you two back anymore, making you stay awake at night wondering if I’ll come back home” John explains, “I criticized you the other day for something that was no worse than everything I did disappearing on you every other night.” Her hands pressed against the man’s cheek, Jess pleads with John to realize what he’s saying before he goes to a place he can never recover from. Swallowing his emotions, John takes his wife’s hands and returns them to her lap, his hands now upon her face. “I’m not going to hold either of you back anymore” John explains, kissing his wife and telling her to go find Amy, “if there’s anything I can be sure a father or husband would do, it’s not make his family suffer any longer than they have to.” Pressing his head against his wife’s, John tells the woman to go find Amy and take her somewhere they won’t be forced to wait up for him any more. Only able to muster a whimpered “please” from her lips, Jess watches the man shake his head in refusal, telling the woman that he can’t live life knowing the effect it has on those he loves. | Crashing into the shore, Alicia quickly disembarks the vessel, dragging it along the sandy shores as Jack stumbles out himself, tripping over the creased side. “We should take the coastline now that we’re in Rhode Island” Jack suggests, “stay close to the sea if we get stuck out here when it gets cold, get the warmer air from the sea.” “Coast is too dangerous, it’ll be used to corner us if we attract attention from further up north” Alicia replies, stepping over loose firewood with her finger aimed towards the northeast. “We take the 138 through Jonestown and into Newport, head for Martha’s Vineyard from there” Alicia explains, Jack questioning the specific reasonings behind Martha’s Vineyard being the must-go. “I may not know much about paramotoring, but I know the best way north through the skies thanks to Salem” Alicia explains, “seeing their flight trajectory, I’d trust that they’re heading for Nova Scotia.” Putting his faith in the woman, Jack goes where he’s told to, following after the woman with caution, her lead taking them to the Rhode Island backroads, eyes set on uncovering the true endpoint of the paramotorist’s flightpath. Sunlight of the mid-morning day turning into the dusk of near night, the lack of a paramotoring presence is personified by the silent sky above, the cool bay waters beneath the Jamestown Bridge the only things singing into the pair’s ears. Each few feet capturing the attention of another undead, Alicia and Jack split responsibilities as if they were trimming hedges, an easy swipe allowing for them to ditch the bodies in the still waters below. “It really isn’t safe out here to walk the next two weeks on foot” Jack explains, readying his blade as another undead approaches. “Unfortunately, it’s even worse to do so over the next month” Alicia replies, “but when we get to the coast, we’ll see which direction they move and know where we’re heading.” Swinging his hatchet through the skull of the undead, Jack tells the woman that he’s more than aware of the plan, citing his concern being with the journey, and not the point. “We’ve lived to bring down three communities and lasted four years in the apocalypse” Jack explains, wiping the blood from the edge of his blade on his pant leg, “with how long it’s been, there’s no telling how dangerous the people fending for themselves out here will be.” Pushing forward regardless, Jack returns the jagged point of his weapon into another skull of the undead, the bridge beneath them feeling unsteady despite not being so. “I get sea legs around this kind of shit these days” Alicia exclaims, strolling behind Jack while he leads, her eyes glancing over the edge of the pre-outbreak structure to find the water just as far below as it always has been. After a few seconds, Alicia bumps into Jack, the man having stopped in his tracks, eyes looking around the sea of abandoned and rusting motor vehicles as if he’d discovered something. “No, we can’t drive these things if that was what you were gonna ask” Alicia states, the man shaking his head as he walks further into the middle of the pile. “All of these things are separated awkwardly” Jack points out, each vehicle spaced apart just enough to comfortably walk by. “Okay, people must have shoved the things apart to get through with a bike or something along those lines” Alicia replies, failing to see the trouble Jack seemingly takes intrigue in. “There’s just something about it, Alicia” Jack explains, fingers running over the chipped paint of the doors at thigh level, “something doesn’t seem human to me.” “Since I’d believe aliens did this before the weak, frail undead did…” Alicia begins, Jack looking back at her as she concludes, “I’m gonna go ahead and tell you to stop trusting your inclinations.” Continuing forward, Alicia bypasses the danger the man seems to be too far caught up on for his own good, calling for the man to follow along. Hesitant, Jack takes the woman up on her request, understanding there to be no point in figuring this mystery out on his own. | “We’ve got no leverage in the journal” Emilio exclaims, Ameil sat at the table beside the man and his running mate, a copy of the day’s journal being tossed from the candidate’s hand in anger. “What did you expect? The guy that runs the journal is your opponent, we were never gonna have fair representation!” Ameil exclaims, a headache beginning to take effect, “the best we’re going to get is time campaigning in the square and the debates. I’m sorry.” Returning to the window, Emilio glares out at the empty streets below, the image of his opponent taunting him from his own front yard stuck in his mind. “Look, I know you were Democrats, so you weren’t exactly used to going up against the odds” Ameil explains, Emilio still forcing himself to imagine Seth stood upon the car before him, giving him the petulant wink of a man understanding of the damage he stands to create. “But you need to look at this as ‘take advantage of the few chances you’re going to get’” Ameil explains, Emilio finally pulling himself away from the blinds, watching the man coach him into understanding that every little line matters. “Everyone here is on high alert, so they’ll be latching onto every single thing you say” Ameil explains, standing from his seat, fixing his shirt and adjusting his tie, “all you really have to convince them of is that you’re not Dawson or I.” “So where do we start first?” Franklin asks, Ameil walking across the room as the pair behind him begin looking towards the first steps. “There’s going to be a hall tomorrow night for the candidates that wish to run” Ameil replies, the bag of tea in his cup being dunked beneath the surface as he explains the dynamic of the venue. “You’re gonna have multiple candidates, so you’ll need to stand out” Ameil explains, “you need to assure the people you’re the opposition candidate.” “How do these things work then?” Emilio asks aloud, “if there’s gonna be a ‘stand out from the rest’ goal, that should mean that we’re gonna have competition… Who’s the competition?” With a sigh, Ameil explains that anyone running is going to be competition, making it a multiple-sided race. “The whole point is to stand out and make your name known to as many people as you can” Ameil replies, “standing on the car and calling out the current leadership was how Seth did that.” “So it wasn’t just a personal attack for the sake of it?” Franklin replies, an amused Ameil answering with the shake of his head. “While he may have some honesty in those words, the point was to garner as much traction as he could” Ameil explains, “voicing an opinion the voters you look to secure believe in is a way of digging your feet into the dirt.” The obvious question now voiced by the leading figure-candidate, Emilio ponders what the voter base they look to target stands for. “It’s really convoluted when you raise that question” Ameil replies, “there isn’t much of a typical voter base in the city.. Seth just got lucky that a big enough one appeared for him to look towards.” “So we’re going into an election for a city we’re still pretty blind to and we don’t even know what platform we’ll run on?” Franklin questions, Ameil looking to the man with apologetic eyes. “That’s just the way it works in Sun City, there’s nothing I’m able to do about it” Ameil responds, Emilio taking a breath towards the heavens, his mind immediately looking through its memories to throw out suggestions, his natural instinct as a politician to lump votes into groups by nature. “Anti-pirates, whatever you call them” Emilio exclaims, pointing out the group of people that were against sharing waters with the former Fisher’s Island residents. “What’s the makeup of those that wanted the threat of the pirates extinguished?” Emilio specifies, Ameil shrugging his shoulders at the unextraordinary suggestion. “No one liked them, it was just a matter of who wanted what out of them” Ameil replies, Emilio’s finger raised towards the man. “The people that wanted us to take them out all turned on Dawson when the point of the war was made out to be a full on failure” Ameil furthers, “those people are backing Seth at the moment.” Throwing his arms out, Emilio employs the oldest tactic in his political playbook, suggesting they get enough traction from Seth’s voters by proclaiming to be the ones responsible for ridding them of the waters. “It’s one thing for Seth to run on ‘we failed at war’” Emilio points out, “but it’s another to be the people that brought the pirates to justice… We’re those people!” Wincing, Ameil shakes his head nonchalantly, stepping away from the pair as Emilio notices something to be off. “What’s wrong with that plan?” Emilio inquires, Ameil looking back towards him, the look on his face suggesting a small wrench to be caught in the center of such plan. “The deepest, almost truest reason for why the war was a failure was because we brought nothing back” Ameil explains, “but we also didn’t alleviate every threat of outsiders.” Shaking his head, Emilio questions what the matter of that happens to be, the look on Ameil’s face turning before the man’s eyes, making it clear that there’s something Ameil knows that neither Emilio, nor Franklin, do. “There’s something you’re not telling us” Emilio continues, Ameil’s head tilted towards the floor despite his eyes staring towards Emilio, the man opposite him challenging him to admit the truth to them. “The pirates were a threat to us, yes, but the waters don’t solely belong to us now” Ameil replies, “while they may not be outright threats, they still share the waters with us… We just have a little more than they do.” With a sigh, Ameil places his tea on the counter beside him, Emilio and Franklin beginning to realize what the man is getting at. “We’re still not the only community along the coast” Ameil explains, Emilio’s head dropping, Franklin immediately demanding to be informed of the other. “There’s two more, other than us, in the Long Island Sound” Ameil replies, allowing Franklin’s temper to flare as the one-armed man demands to know why that would be withheld from them. “Because we found you first, we helped you first, and we didn’t wanna risk losing you to one of the other places!” Ameil exclaims, “you’re valuable to us, neither Dawson or myself wanted to risk letting you slip away… That’s why he made the deal with you that he did.” Side of his hand firmly placed against the table, Emilio tells the man that honesty would have been good enough for the group to commit to Sun City with on its own. “All you had to do was be upfront about this from the start, and it would have gone a hell of a lot further than lying to us!” Franklin shouts, his temper flaring as Emilio holds himself back, keeping his composure in check while his running mate goes off. “Enough!” Emilio shouts, the hand he held against the surface of the table now being stretched out, his palm pressed against Franklin’s peck, his assurance given to Franklin that things need to calm down before they can be righted. Cooling himself off, Franklin looks away from Ameil, glancing back to Emilio before turning away from both, walking to the opposite side of the room as Emilio looks back at his host. “We’ll square away one thing right now while we have the chance” Emilio explains, “we’ll run for your leadership despite your lies as long as you tell us every single thing that you, or your friend, have been keeping form us.” Ameil’s head hanging in shame, admitting that Emilio is completely justified in his request. “We should have trusted you, and I apologize on our behalf” Ameil explains, he and Emilio finally seeing eye-to-eye, “tell me what you want to know.” With a nod, Emilio continues to fight for his composure to remain intact, his hands pressing against the back of the chair he slides from beneath the table, returning to it as he once occupied minutes prior again. “We don’t need to get specific, just start from the top” Emilio replies, hand extended towards Ameil’s seat, prompting the man to take is as requested. Turning towards Franklin, Emilio locks eyes with the man, the steady stare getting the message across to a more mannered Franklin, who returns to the table and concludes the efforts by taking his seat back. With confidence, Emilio looks back to a prepared Ameil, a deep breath prior to his statement, “tell us what we need to know.” == Rise == His boot planted into the wet, rich soil, John removes his equipment from the boat and takes his first steps back onto the island, Katie following him soon after, two rifles in her possession, one over each shoulder. Climbing the steps to the higher ground, John welcomes in the night by running into Jess, the woman left standing there, waiting for his arrival after seeing his boat coming near.
“I have nothing to say to you” John says, his words the first to be aired, Katie quickly walking off from the pair, allowing the couple to hash things out amongst themselves. “John, I fucked up and that’s all that needs to be said” Jess explains, her efforts to explain herself being cut short by John, who laughs away her confessions and denies the woman’s last statement. “There is much more… so much more that needs to be said!” John replies, “you make a deal that can fail a man in such a way that he turns against us while your daughter is still living in his city!” Before she can choose to respond, the woman looks the man in the eyes as he turns his head over his shoulder, needing to correct the man first. “Our daughter” the woman replies, John swallowing his pride and shaking his head in refusal. “I was her father before all of this started, I’ve failed her since it did” John replies, his head hung as he returns to the cabin on the other side of the island, “I can’t claim to be her father when I haven’t been.” Continuing to walk in silence, the man eventually comes to a stop and turns around again, a fleeting thought entering his mind he feels the need to share with the woman. “But you haven’t been her mother since all of this started, either” John explains, resuming eye contact, “you’ve just been watching her, and now I hear she thinks so highly of Heather she’s going to her for help, and not you.” Walking away, John fails to remove himself from Jess that easily, the woman chasing after him, refusing to give into the notion that they have failed. “Neither of us has done what we should have for Amy, not you, not me!” Jess exclaims, “but parenting is a lot different in this world than it was back then… We’re doing what we can!” Angered, the man stops again, tossing his bags into the metal shed and slamming the door shut, confronting his wife once more. “It is different… It is… And we’ve both still failed in that regard!” John replies, “we have to teach Amy how to defend herself now, and we can’t even do that!” His teeth pushed together, John looks out at the water, the general direction of Sun City in his vision until his wife’s eyes take the distinction. “We’ve failed as parents, and now we’re failing as spouses” John explains, holding back the explosion of emotions he wishes to let out, his hands eagerly stoic by each side. “Heather is currently parenting our daughter better than we ever could, Jess” John explains, taking the woman by the shoulder, “we failed hard.” Walking around the woman, John makes for the house, the woman turning around in confusion, wanting to break down at the simple possibility such a meaningful conversation could end in such a pointless way. “So you’re just gonna give up?” the woman asks, the man hanging his head as he stops yet again, “you’re just gonna admit to failing and move on with your life as if it never even happened?” Turning his body, John looks at Jess, the woman reminding him that the point of admitting to failure is to redeem yourself from such failures, a reminder which prompts John to smile. “You know better than anyone else who I am” John explains, arms held out as the woman holds her face towards the ground, “there’s what I am at home, and there’s what I am in battle.” With a sigh, the man looks around the island, his eyes finding water in every direction he looks, the woman interrupting the man’s reminder with one of her own. “This doesn’t have to be a battlefield anymore, John” Jess explains, pointing to the safety the water locked landmass brings them, “this can be home again.” His lip bit, John shakes his head, “no, it can’t be” the man replies, taking the bitter pill as is needed, “this is, and will always be, a battlefield.” Turning away, John returns to the home, hands anxiously pressing against the latch to open the door between him and the sanctuary of what lies behind, leaving Jess stricken beneath the night. = Rise 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 3 onwards = Greeted by the burning flame of a line of tiki torches, Emilio and Franklin take the long walk through the scorched remnants of Fisher’s Island, burnt trees welcome them from each side as each step forces their boots to kick up ash. “I think we’re making the wrong decision” Emilio whispers, Franklin keeping his stare at the open field a few yards ahead. “We’re making the choice we need to” Franklin replies, a hammered Dawson awaiting them at a table ahead. “Gentlemen!” Dawson exclaims, a bottle of aging whiskey grasped tightly in his hand, waving through the air as the pair finally enter his makeshift den. “I see Jessica has wiped her dirty fingerprints all over someone else” Dawson exclaims, “I apologize greatly on her behalf.” Taking a seat at the table, Franklin initiates conversation, reminding the man that they aren’t seated across from each other to hold a playful chit chat. “You needed us for something, explain what we’re getting into” Franklin explains, an animated Dawson pouring Franklin a glass of whiskey and sliding it into the palm of his hands. “Thanks” Franklin exclaims as he empties the crafted cup into the soil, placing the empty remains back upon the carefully-constructed table and sliding it back towards his host. “He must be the one running for likeability” Dawson exclaims, his unsteady finger lifted towards Emilio, a smirk on his face as Franklin doubles down. “We didn’t come here to be friends, we’re giving you one chance here” Franklin explains, his arms crossing atop the table, “tell us what we’re doing or the deal is off completely. The ball is in your court.” Rolling his eyes, Dawson gives into the request to do business, tossing the bottle of liquor into the hands of one of his militia leaders and leaning forward. “I need you two to be a puppet” Dawson explains, watching Emilio’s head drop as Franklin’s face begins to sour, the man opposite them throwing his hands out. “You’ve completely fucked up my leadership!” Dawson exclaims, “you tarnished my name for a deal you couldn’t hold up your end of!” Aggravated, Emilio charges at the table, finger held out towards Dawson and presence felt, reminding the man of the equal effort put in. “You may have lost resources, but if you were competent at your job, you would have fixed this problem long before it happened!” Emilio exclaims, “if anything, changing our strategy like we did made us your soldiers as much as they are! So just as you can blame us for your failure, I can blame you for nearly getting me killed!” Meeting Emilio’s demeanor with a mirrored stance, Dawson stammers to his feet, finger pointed in Emilio’s face, telling the man that it was his choice to play hero. “You didn’t have to give yourself up!” Dawson argues, Emilio unable to hold back a smile, amused by the leaders’ delusions, “you played hero so your friends could live!” Swatting the man’s hand from his face, Emilio establishes superiority, the guards with guns taking aim at Emilio, the man uncaring of the tensions he’s raised, instead slapping Dawson with a dose of truth. “I gave myself up so your mission could go on!” Emilio exclaims, Dawson shaking his head in denial, “so as far as I am concerned, you owe me!” The pair staring each other down intensely, Dawson’s attempt at speaking is thwarted by the third person at the table. “We’ll do it” Franklin proclaims, Dawson looking down at the man in surprise while Emilio looks down in betrayal. “We’ll do it, but we’re gonna earn it fairly” Franklin explains, finally concluding the triage by taking a stance of his own, “drop your hat out of the race and let us do what we were gonna do before everything went to hell.” “You’ve got no guarantee that you’ll win” Dawson replies, Franklin refusing to put his belief in the hat of a corrupt system. “Choosing one candidate over another because they’re the lesser of two evils isn’t democracy, it’s illusion” Franklin replies, walking over to the guard with the bottle in his hand and unscrewing the cap. “If you turn democracy into illusion, we’ll confess that on our first day in power” Franklin explains, downing a swig from the bottle, “we won’t have that.” Uttering the man’s name, Emilio watches Franklin brush him aside, approaching Dawson and shoving the bottle back into his waiting arms. “He’s gonna run as the lead, I’ll run as the second in command... Like it would have been” Franklin suggests, Dawson looking at Emilio as Franklin continues, “but when we win, don’t, even for a moment, think you’ll own us.” With a deep breath, Franklin watches Dawson’s eyes drift back towards his, the Sun City shot-caller having to look up at the man in order to look him in the eyes. “Em’s right about you owing him, and this is how you’ll do it” Franklin explains, “you’ll have input, but you will not be the final say… We both get what we’re owed, and we both face the consequences of our decisions.” His hand held out, Franklin awaits for Dawson’s handshake, the pathetic example of a commander in chief reciprocating the gesture, understanding it to be more than he’ll get elsewhere. Beginning to walk off, Franklin takes a step back and removes the bottle from the man’s hand, tossing it into the depths of the burnt forest and suggesting he start sobering up. Walking after the man he arrived with, Emilio becomes anxious for answers, Franklin looking the man in the eyes and explaining that this outcome was the best they were going to get. “He’s a fucking mess and that city is on the verge of a war” Franklin explains, “if we can take control of the place, the most dangerous threat to it will no longer have any power over the one militia it can rely on to protect it.” Not settled with such an explanation, Emilio takes Franklin by the shoulder and pulls him around, asking him if he’s taken more than an impulsive second to consider what he just agreed to. “You just told a man that is delusional enough to think we ruined his reputation that we’ll take over, but let him play ball with us” Emilio explains, “do you really think he’s just gonna be fine with that?” “Of course I don’t, but that’s not the point” Franklin explains, “he needs us to get elected anyway, and once we do, he’s got nothing against us.” Putting his arm on the man’s shoulder, Franklin tells Emilio to dig deep into the life they lived before the outbreak began. “We were the most strategical Democrats in the entire election cycle for a reason!” Franklin recalls, Emilio shaking his head as if to suggest that to no longer matter, “stop playing checkers, and start conquering chess.” Having explained himself enough to be satisfied, Franklin continues on, Emilio left where he stands for a moment, considering the new options he’s been afforded. | “Chasing after John again?” Salem explains, cleaning the barrel of her rifle out as Katie enters the room, the bag of her gear being tossed onto a bed. “When am I not?” Katie humors, Salem watching the woman get situated as her hands work on autopilot, her attention being taken elsewhere. “Don’t you think that’s a little repetitive?” Salem proceeds to inquire, Katie rummaging through her bag, returning everything to where it belongs and refusing. “He’s going through a rough patch” Katie replies, her rifle being tossed aside the one she picked up from the mainland, “if anything, he needs anyone looking after him he can get.” Biting her lip, Salem nods to herself and returns her sight to the rifle in her lap, words resonating from her mouth still aimed at Katie. “Don’t you want something more than being John’s babysitter?” Salem wonders aloud, Katie looking back in confusion, Salem shrugging her shoulders at the response. “I’m just asking, you know what I do” Salem explains, Katie taking a seat on her bed, eyes pressed to the woman suggesting she find something more. “I don’t have anything against John, and I don’t want to push you into a decision you don’t need to make” Salem clarifies, “but the guy’s a mess every other month at this point, and I’m just worried he’s gonna get someone killed.” Katie turning her head away, Salem notices the response out of the corner of her eye, glancing down at the equipment laid out upon the bed, finally noticing the new firearm. “Where’d you get the new piece?” Salem asks, watching Katie’s head hang before answering her own question. “He’s not going to get me killed” Katie assures, the words she utters directed at Salem as much as they are at herself, Salem less convinced by the statement than Katie is. Continuing about her business in silence, Salem allows Katie to get unloaded in peace, John’s eyes and ears glancing down at the new rifle and nodding to herself. “He gave me a purpose” Katie asserts, Salem looking up at the woman as she addresses her once more, “he gave me something, a role of my own, when no one else had ever done that before.” Lifting her rifle from her lap and placing it beside her, Salem folds her hands on the space between her legs and levels with the woman. “I understand you have loyalties to him, Katie… But those loyalties shouldn’t get you killed” Salem explains, “if that gun came from where I think it did, I’m gonna be left worried for you at night.” Her mentor voicing the concerns she has, Katie is left hearing Salem out, the woman that taught her how to fire from long range now explaining that she did so because of the potential Katie has. “If Troy were still alive, I’d probably be trying to teach him this too” Salem explains, “but since he’s not, you’re the only person left here that I see nothing but potential in.” Propelling herself from her seat, Salem walks up to Katie, her protege left staring at the rifles on her bed. “I get not having anything of your own to be something you’re used to, Katie” Salem explains, moving the woman’s face towards hers, “don’t let your potential go to waste saving someone that can’t be saved.” With a pain-filled nod, Katie caves to the request, removing herself from the woman and taking a seat on her bed, asking for the barrel cleaner. With a frown, Salem casually walks towards her bed and hands Katie the cloth-covered wire, leaving the room to give Katie some space of her own. | Awoken by the sunlight peering through her blinds, Alicia groggily flips onto her back to find Franklin’s spot empty, the early bird likely already having started his day. Changing into a fresh pair of clothes, Alicia exits her room and glides down the staircase, her eyes attaching onto a door at the end of the home immediately. With a few eager steps, Alicia reaches the room’s entry and turns the knob, finding Jack and John awaiting for her within. “Why am I here?” John asks, sat upon a desk with his hands pressed against the wooden edge, Alicia taking a seat in the chair before him. “We think we have an answer for our impending troubles that doesn’t involve Sun City” Alicia explains, the man glancing towards Jack off to the side, eyes lifted once Jack nods, immediately pulling him in. Taking the man’s shift in demeanor as a sign of interest, Alicia persists, making quick mention of the paramotorist. “Wherever they’re going, they’re jumping from one side of the mainland to the other” Alicia explains, “so not only is there a reason for them to need travel quicker than some main road, but they’re in need of a refuel almost immediately after they reach the opposite coast.” “So you’re suggesting they just have a lot of gas to spare?” John proceeds, a gleeful Alicia responding otherwise. “I think they have a place with enough viable gasoline to travel from one point to another without worry” Alicia explains, “and the fact that they keep taking the same course over us suggests they’re going to and from two specific places.” Arms folded, John admits to thee line of reasoning, immediately looking to Jack for an opposing opinion. “There’s little to argue against the logic in Alicia’s statement” Jack admits, “all the gas refined before the outbreak is bad, so they’ve got some that was refined later… much later.” With a deep breath, John looks to Alicia to continue, the woman making it as simple to follow as anything. “The only way to operate and protect a refinery, let alone make trades for the product they make, is if there’s enough people to guard and work it” Alicia explains, “at the very least, they’ve got enough people to look after it safely.” Walking to the office door, John takes a peak outside before closing and locking it once more, returning to the pair and asking what they expect to get from this conversation. “We want you to greenlight an excursion that would let us go after them” Jack explains, “spare enough gas for us to follow them over water the next time they fly over.” Clarifying the need to find a trading partner, John inquires of the plan the group has to get back. “When we figure out where their final destination is, we’ll know where they keep stopping for gas” Alicia explains, “after that, we’ll set up a meeting and come back to you with a time and place.” Taking a seat behind the desk, John bathes in the sunlight peering through the window with his hands pressed against his lips, looking back to the pair on how many people they’ll be taking with them. “Lauren and Franklin, that’s it” Alicia replies, John’s head immediately shaking in refusal. “Franklin just went over to Dawson last night to join Emilio’s campaign in Sun City, he needs to be here” John replies, Alicia staring at Jack, the man with little to argue against. “We’ll go on our own then” Alicia replies, Jack glaring at Alicia in disappointment at first, only to quickly come around to the statement, John giving the greenlight. “We don’t have any talkies to give you, so the moment you’re gone, you’re as good as dead until you come back” John explains, his hands pressed against the surface of the desk, “if you don’t come back by the end of winter, we’ll consider you lost for good.” With a nod, Alicia and Jack agree to the terms, backing away from the room and leaving John alone within it, the man returning to his seat as the door shuts. Concerned over the risk he’s just given the go ahead for, the man turns his chair towards the window, the bright sunlight bathing the room in a warm glow, the rocky seas ahead visible in full from the view. | “Something still wrong with the carrots?” Nessie asks, walking onto the docks Emilio sits at the edge of, the man turning back to retort. “They’re still not growing” Emilio replies, the woman taking a seat beside him, waters continuing to crash into the shores as the forecast of the seas prepares for a choppy day. “Not much for the blue-collar jobs, huh?” Nessie mocks, the man sporting a disappointment-covering smile. “I was a Democrat before everything went to shit…” Emilio replies, Nessie’s head shaking as the man continues, “... Farming was never my biggest strength or voter base.” With a nod, the woman tucks her hands into her pockets as the first chilly day of the year sports its temperature in frost-bitten winds. Taking in the sights amidst a chorus of the winds brushing their hair over their face, Nessie cuts back into the conversation, the first to explain to Emilio that he’s terrible at hiding disappointment. “Something’s got you down, and I don’t think it’s the carrots” Nessie explains, her elbow brushing up against Emilio’s arm, “spill it.” Shaking his head, Emilio refuses to just use Nessie as a figure to vent frustration to, believing himself to need a manner in which he can supply that venting himself. “Well, I would trust you with something like that if my house wasn’t dented” Nessie humorously replies, Emilio meeting the humor with a response filled with his own, clarifying that he’s apologized multiple times. “I also don’t mind being the person you can go to for venting” Nessie adds, swallowing the cold-exterior she often gives off to confess wanting social interaction, “I like talking to you and think you’re cool.” With a smirk, Emilio nods to the woman, asking her if that’s how she truly feels. “I do, I think you’re a cool dude” Nessie reassures the man, her laughter paving way for more serious dialogue, “but I think you’re cool dude with a lot to get off his chest.” Staring at the man, Nessie watches Emilio sink his head in consideration, truly fighting with himself on the inside over whether it would be best to keep in, or unleash his inner conflictions. In an effort to bring light, Nessie removes an old lighter from her pockets and burns the edge of the wooden peer until it turns black. “Forest fires haven’t been our friends, Nessie” Emilio explains, the woman finishing her efforts the moment a burnt, black spot rests between them. “Whenever we’re both here, we can vent to each other about anything without fear” Nessie exclaims, “only here, nowhere other than right here.” In appreciation, the man thanks the woman for her efforts, insisting not to hold the woman down with a marriage of his worries. As his hand places itself against the dock, Emilio feels the woman hold him back from leaving, reminding him of who she came to the island with. “Since day one, I’ve been carrying a guy who refuses to kill any living thing” Nessie explains, “you confessing your greatest worries is going to add absolutely nothing to my full plate.” Once again patting the burnt spot between them, Nessie welcomes Emilio to return to his seat, a moment of careful consideration changing the man’s mind. Taking his seat back, Emilio looks at the woman, her eyes locked on his prompting the man to contemplate where to begin. | A knock at the door awakening them, Heather and Ameil leap from bed and dress in a hurry, Amy stirring into consciousness upon the second set of knocks. “Just a second!” Heather shouts, pulling her jeans over her hips as a third set of knocks persists, the woman tossing her shirt on as she walks for the door. Allowing those on the other side to enter, Alicia watches Emilio and Franklin take their first steps into the home, Emilio’s first inclination to point out the time. “Number one, it’s like two in the afternoon” Emilio exclaims, “number two, you can’t have us wait for him to put his penis away with a scorned public.” Finally, Emilio holds his hand towards Ameil, tripping over the waistband of his pants as he’s spoken to. “Number three, put your fucking penis away” Emilio proclaims, holding his hand over Amy’s eyes as Ameil falls. “This is Dawson’s second in command, huh?” Franklin jokes, petting Amy on the head as he walks by. “What’s going on? Where’s Jess?” Heather asks, the pair insisting a change of plans having put them in the forefront of danger. “We were a small part of that deal, too” Emilio admits, “so naturally, Jess gets yelled at by Dawson and her husband, and we take on saving an entire post-apocalyptic city… Because fair is fair.” As the pair get settled in, the home grows silent, the five occupants of the house anxiously awaiting the conversation of what comes next. As moments pass, the sound of people joining together in the street become noticeable to those within, chatter beyond the windows growing louder as time progresses, leaving those in the home to quietly wonder what must be going on to deliver such a reaction. “Ladies and gentlemen of Sun City!” a voice calls through a megaphone, the screeching sound alerting the public to the location unfolding right outside the home. In collective confusion, those within hurry for the windows, looking out into the street through the blinds, a figure stood atop a rundown vehicle addressing the mass of residents. “I’m Seth Havermeyer, and I work with the Sun City journal!” the man greets, Heather rolling her eyes until Ameil tries to pull away, the woman holding him back to ensure he does nothing stupid. “I know he’s on your nerves, and he’s on mine too” Heather explains, “but if we go out there and attack him, we only make him look better to all of them.” “As many of you had probably seen during yesterday’s protests, the second in command of this city took it upon himself to hit me in the face and run off like a coward!” Seth exclaims, the mob he’s amassed latching onto his every word. “So while our leader hides off in fear that he’ll have to answer for his failed promises, his second in command takes over and starts assaulting those that don’t agree with him!” Seth shouts, “throwing democracy aside in favor of running a dictatorship!” While the crowd chants for Dawson to pay for his inaction, Seth allows the masses to feast from his hand, declaring Dawson and Ameil to be examples of abuse of power taking place. “Sun city is supposed to be a community that brings back the world like it used to be!” Seth exclaims, his fist raised mightily in the air, “it seems as though they took that literally, pulling the corruption and suppression of the masses into the fold with it!” Eyes noticing those within the home peering at him from within, the man smirks, flashing a wink to those just out of sight, daring them to step into his world. “When the elections come around, I am going to run for the leadership of Sun City, and I will do so for the people!” Seth exclaims, “I will do so to ensure the democracy Sun City was built upon lives true!” Hitting the crowd with the famed buzzwords, Seth declares himself the formal opposition to Emilio and Franklin’s efforts, his fist still protruding upward, the first strike upon the end of Dawson’s reign of leadership being dealt. “Who will join me!?” Seth shouts, the question raised allowing those beneath him to hurry their fists into the skies, declaring their allegiance with the man capitalizing on public perception to jump the line, using this leverage to catapult himself up the ladder. “Great” the man mutters to himself, his eyes directed towards the group hidden behind the blinds, his stare letting them know that every path they now take leads them directly to him. With another wink, Seth makes his message known to those within, the voices hidden behind a thick pannel of glass accepting the fact that this task is not going to be an easy one to accomplish. == Rise == Feet pressing against the clumped dirt, John marches onto the mainland with a golf club in hand, his eyes targeting the undead one at a time as they stagger into view. Swinging the club like a baseball bat, John levels the undead, heads splitting into halves and skulls cracking beneath the weight of the cold, iron head.
Splatters of blood running down his formerly white shirt, John makes his way through the rundown town, venturing inland from the coast and continuing north. Reaching a long-abandoned suburb, John begins stepping onto the front steps of each house, continuing down the street in a pattern, house on the left, house on the right, move onto the next set. Tapping on the door, John waits for a few seconds before killing what approaches, and walking away from what doesn’t. Walking down one street, clearing out the undead occupying it and moving onto the next, John becomes a one-man, undead-clearing wrecking crew, his efforts made visible by the accumulation of bodies laid out in the streets beneath the early morning daylight. Tapping the head of the club against the door frame once more, John waits for a few moments at the top of the stairs before the silence waves him off, eyes latching onto the home across the street. Suddenly, the sound of something toppling over through the screen door now behind him takes his attention back, his eyes peering into the home through the limited view with intent. “You’d be an idiot to think I didn’t hear that” John calls out, finger and thumb pressing against the handle in a failed attempt to open the locked door. From within, a lone gunshot fires off from the upstairs, prompting John to pull back, hand upon the firearm on his hip, other grasping the club. “I’m not wanting any trouble from you, go on your way!” the woman shouts from within, John calling back that he’s looking for as much issue as the woman herself is. “I’m taking my frustration out on the undead around here, nothing more” John calls back, ‘that said, if you’re gonna shoot at me again, that’s all gonna change.” A moment of silence following, John awaits a response from within, the sound of light footsteps gradually making their way closer to him. “If you’re being honest, move onto the next house” the woman cries out, the voice coming from just behind cover at the top of the stairwell this time. “I will do so as long as you give me your word that you will not shoot” John replies, the woman hesitant to respond immediately. Noticing the indecision, John gives in, nodding to himself as he removes his backpack. “I’m not gonna force your hand, so I’ll leave you with this” the man calls out, removing two bottles of water and a pack of packaged food. “I’m gonna go on my way now” John exclaims, hand with the golf club held in the air whilst his opposite hand rests on his gun, slowly backing down the stairs and moving onto the next home. Now out of view from the woman’s perspective, John turns around and begins walking away, hearing the door he just left creek open quickly before slamming shut. With a nod, John adjusts the strap on his pack, moving on and looking back over his shoulder, the small amount of resources he left on the doorstep long gone. = Rise 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 3 onwards = “Why do they keep flying over us?” Amy inquires, glancing out of the view from the tower at the paramotorist above, Heather lacking answers just as the rest of the group. “I think they have a reason to, whatever that reason is” Heather replies, her train of thought broken by a pair of footsteps ascending the spiral staircase. “I hope I’m not interrupting” Ameil explains, Heather insisting he join them, honest to appreciate someone of her own age demographic for a change. “How’s everything at the city?” Heather asks, her question going unanswered at first as Amy quickly wonders allowed when they’ll be able to go back. “You like it at Sun City, Amy?” Ameil proceeds, Amy pointing out the candy stand as having sold her on the city as a whole. “I think the candy stand usually does it for everyone” Ameil replies, a smile on his face as he looks back up at Heather. “It’s… It’s not that great” Ameil replies, the woman watching the disappointment fill his face as the community he worked to build successfully tears itself apart from the inside right before his eyes. “I understand not wanting to see Dawson after he talked up a win he couldn’t deliver” Ameil explains, “but going as far as to send him death threats and picking fights with each other in the streets was something I didn’t see coming.” Hand wrapped around her neck, Heather apologizes for how things have turned, Ameil left reminding the woman that she had no hand in what went down. “You were in Sun City the entire time, you didn’t wage war and you didn’t start a wildfire” Ameil explains, “out of everything that has happened, you are to blame for none of it.” Nodding, Heather explains that she understands that, but doesn’t particularly agree. “This is my group, and while I may not be responsible… We are” Heather explains, Ameil holding his hand over her arm, telling the woman to look him in the eyes as he makes her a promise. “Sun City isn’t gone, it’s just hitting a rough patch” Ameil explains, “when the dust begins to settle, everything will go back to normal and we’ll rebuild what we had.” With a sigh, the woman gives into Ameil’s optimism, accepting the guarantees the man makes whilst storing all of her trust in him. “They’re just lost and afraid right now” Ameil explains, “if we can prove to them that we can rebuild like never before… It’ll all fix itself out over time.” With a nod, Heather places her own hand over Ameil’s, Amy including hers atop the pile for good measure. | Throwing his bedroom door open, Jess tosses Emilio his clothes, telling the man to get dressed before doing the same to Franklin, awaking Alicia in the process. As a few minutes pass, Jess walks onto the dock, looking out at the water in the time it takes Emilio and Franklin to catch up to her. “What’s going on?” Franklin asks, Emilio without care to open the conversation, already having noticed the anger within Jess’ greeting to be the driving factor of what is to come. “Dawson wants me to take over as the leader of Sun City now that he’s bound to be ousted” Jess explains, the woman watching Franklin and Emilio respond in their own displays of aggravation. “Not only am I faced with that, but my husband cant stand to look at me so much, that he’s now gone off on the mainland to kill all the undead in sight!” Jess exclaims, “so since this is all because of the deal we made, I feel like you should be roped in with me here.” Shrugging his shoulders, Franklin explains to Jess that they owe Dawson, nor Sun City anything. “We may have made a deal, but Dawson was the one that sent us out there to begin with” Franklin explains, “if anything, he had as much to do with starting this war as we did.” Unzipping his jacket, Emilio explains to Franklin that none of that is the point, suggesting the opinion that Dawson may simply be acting out on fear. “He’s been ousted from the community he built and the entire city is starting to fight each other” Emilio explains, “this is just like what was happening in the States before it all fell… It spells doom he wants to avoid.” Hands held out, Jess reminds Emilio that everyone in this collective trio understands that, but making it known that none of it matters. “The only way we survive here is with Sun City’s help” Jess explains, “we don’t have food to last the winter, gas to power the boats, or parts to fix the aquifer if it were to break down” Jess exclaims, “from where I stand, we fuck them over and we fuck ourselves over.” With a sigh, Franklin turns his attitude towards Jess into one of impatience. “If he told you to be the leader, be the leader!” Franklin explains, “what’s the point of debating this if there’s no choice to make?” With a grimace, Jess reminds the pair that they were as guilty in orchestrating this deal as she was, ensuring that they need to make up for the lack of presence they left by standing in the shadows. Looking at the woman in concern, Emilio asks the woman to be more specific in her demands if she wants to get anywhere with the pair. Tucking her hands into her pockets, Jess stares down both men, reminding them of what they were in the midst of before the world broke down. Rolling his eyes, Emilio takes a seat upon a cut wooden post whilst Franklin turns around to walk away. “We’re not running for their leadership, Jess” Emilio replies, the woman approaching him with the reminder that they don’t have a choice. “Even if I did run, someone would need to be there to be my number two” Jess explains, “so why not the pair that were running for govern literally until the moment everything fell apart?” Returning to the woman, Franklin tells the woman that there are a plentiful amount of reasons. “For a start, the democrats put us together, he would have run with Bill if he could” Franklin replies, “and to follow, because we were losing, because we played the race card, and because we were democrats!” Arms extended, Jess asks who would care about where they were back then anymore. “It’s been four years, how many of those people truly give a shit, or even remember any of that?” Jess proceeds to inquire, Emilio reminding the woman that all political ground is ground to gain. “No one can predict who will join the race, no one” Emilio explains, “someone that doesn’t like us joins in and points this out, it’ll awaken some memories long forgotten.” Her head shaking, Jess tells the man that she doesn’t care which memories do or don’t return. “Right now, I have a marriage to fix, so all of this is gonna be up to you” Jess explains, “either stick around to make nice with Sun City, or fuck off and run away from your problems again.” Walking off, Jess catches the attention of a disrespected Emilio, who turns around and calls her back without hesitation. “I’m done here, you figure this shit out yourselves!” Jess shouts back, the man placing his foot in the ground, refusing to leave the conversation unfinished. “Get back here you bitch!” Emilio shouts, the woman stopping in her place upon hearing the out-of-character response by the man, giving into his request. “For a start, you were gonna leave in the middle of the night like a coward, while I did so to John’s face” Emilio explains, “and to conclude, disrespect me or my husband’s memory again, and I’ll lay you out where you stand, am I understood?” A dark side of the man intended to be kept hidden, Emilio allows his truest of authoritarian instincts to reveal themselves, laying the law down to a woman perhaps as broken in the moment as he himself is. With a nod, Jess turns around and walks away more cautious this time, descension unfolding as Emilio watches the woman walk off, concern in the eyes of Franklin as he plays spectator to the events as they unfold. | Making it to a barn, John begins tapping his club upon the wooden doors, intending to wait for the undead possibly behind to make the journey, only for the heavy weight of undead within to begin pressing their collective weight against the doors almost immediately. “We’ve got a collection growing here, I see” John mutters beneath his breath, hand pressing against the wooden handle keeping the double doors from releasing the undead amongst the town. With a deep breath, John throws the wooden hatch open and allows the swarm of undead to fill the lot, John taking his club to the deceased one after another. First shot never intending to kill them, the second, third and fourth shots he takes on any one undead become a method of venting, John continuing to assault the overpowering horde without issue. “What are you doing!?” a voice calls out from the street, John shouting back that there don’t appear to be any people worth keeping the undead locked away from. “If I’m looking for pinatas, I found myself a gold mine!” the man exclaims, lifting his club into the air before a bullet rips through the head of the undead in front of him, ending the attempt. “I left you alone, please do the same” John exclaims, lifting his club into the air before the same fate is met. “You didn’t leave me to die, so neither am I to you” the woman replies, hurrying into the lot to help John take on the undead. “I’m really starting to regret leaving you on your own, ma’am” John replies, his displeasure left poorly hidden. “I don’t care, you’re not where you should be” the woman exclaims, confusing John in the moment as she continues ripping into the swarm. “What does that mean?” John asks, the woman continuing to put down the undead, one bullet after another spent on sparing the man his life. “You may be self-destructive, but you’re not a survivor” the woman replies, “you came from below, you were in the water before… This isn’t the water.” Continuing on, John returns to taking swings at the undead until the fault in the woman’s rifle begins to become noticeable. “What’s wrong?” the man asks, the woman left struggling to fix her gun as the undead continue closing in. “My gun’s jammed!” the woman shouts, continuing to step away from the swarm as it grows closer before ultimately giving up on her measures. Reaching for the hatchet on her hip, the woman struggles to retrieve the weapon from its place, the blade of the tool refusing to budge while the undead begins to lunge harder. The distance being closed in more with each step, the woman watches the undead come within inches of her before a lone bullet rips through the side of its head. His gun in hand, John keeps his aim at the second reanimated corpse and takes another shot, buying the woman much needed time. Her thanks offered, the woman frees her weapon and continues laying into the undead, a pile beginning to accumulate in the lot as the numbers dwindle. Used to more of the same, the woman continues to hack away at the undead, her weapon hurling through the air and splitting skulls one after another before it too, gets stuck. Pulling away from the jaw of another undead, the woman rips her weapon out of the head of the corpse and takes out the impending threat as the swarm dwindles. Their efforts finally paying off, the pair reach the end of the line, the barn completely cleared, and a field of bodies left to rot beneath the increasingly hot afternoon sun of a dying summer. “Thanks for the-” John replies, his head turning towards the woman while she hunches over in an effort to catch her breath. Before his statement can be finished, John notices the woman’s arm, the imprint of a bite presented over her bicep before she can notice. Taking the man’s silence to be representative of something, the woman glances at her arm before her entire mood shifts. Collapsing back, the woman takes a seat in the dirt, staring up at the summer sky in defeat, head shaking as the years of fighting to survive culminate in such an untimely fate. “Fuck” the woman exclaims to herself, John’s hand wiping the sweat from his brow as he realizes what his emotions helped allow play out, his stomach turning upon the realization. | Throwing clothes into drawers and making up the bed, Jack is interrupted by a wandering Alicia, who takes a seat upon the bed he was just in the midst of making to chat. “Is there something I can help you with, Alicia?” Jack asks, his question falling on deaf ears when Alicia asks a question of her own, one of significantly more value in answering. “Do you know of any oil refineries around here?” the woman proceeds, Jack left with a puzzled look on his face. “The places where they make gasoline?” Jack specifies, admitting a lack of such knowledge much to Alicia’s disappointment. “Why are you asking?” Jack proceeds to inquire, “If we’re being honest, you could pull off an ‘oil queen’ pretty well, but that doesn’t tell me much.” Laying back on the bed, the woman pats the spot next to her, sending Jack the signal he needs to notice the beginning of a new conversation. “How often have you seen that paramotorist flying over us?” Alicia asks, the man explaining that it’s happened at least once every day since they began calling the island home. “Why do you ask?” Jack proceeds, watching the woman glance out through his bedroom window before explaining that something feels off. “Sun City said all the gas just went bad last week, and that they’ve got nothing left” Alicia explains, “I don’t think whoever’s flying above us has a reason to worry about that with how often they’ve been flying.” Opening his mouth to respond, Jack thinks twice and takes a moment to consider the options, Alicia left trying to fill his mind with as many points to back her statements as she can think of. “I’m not convinced they’d have access to a refinery all by themself, but I bet they knows of a place that does” Alicia exclaims, “and if Sun City falls like it seems it will, we’d be well off finding where they’re getting that gas from.” Hand pressed to his face, Jack looks towards Alicia for an explanation for any other possibilities. “What if there is no big settlement?” Jack asks, challenging the woman’s thought as the opposition, “what happens if you’re wrong?” Head shaking, Alicia refuses the possibility of such a thing. “Even if they’re flying out from Matha’s Vineyard, they’re spending too much gas to make it down the eastern coast without at least one pit stop” the woman explains, “they’re stopping probably multiple times to refill and doing the same journey all over again.” With a sigh, Jack considers opposing arguments until his face is pulled towards Alicia’s, the woman guaranteeing him that whomever is flying above has access to useable fuel. “If we can find where they’re getting that fuel from, we can establish a partner to trade with” Alicia explains, Jack struggling to find an argument against an idea with as much to offer the camp as they would wish for, giving into the temptation of such an intriguing suggestion. “How are we gonna sell this then?” Jack asks, “if we’re gonna go after wherever they’re going, we have to run this by John first.” With a nod, the woman encourages the man to think simple, nothing else other than the promise of what lies at stake being needed to seel the man on the journey. “There’s a part of me that believes John is already tempted by it, he has to be at this point” Alicia explains, “all he needs to know right now is that someone else is too.” Placing his lips together, Jack nods to himself as Lauren and Franklin walk into the room, inquiring about the secretive conversation that seems to be taking place. “Come in and close the door” Alicia replies, making room on the mattress for two more. | Walking through the crowded streets of Sun City, the calls for and against Dawson’s leadership reign out, guards covering the length of streets to keep the arguing from turning sour. “This isn’t good” Heather mutters, holding Amy in her arms as Ameil guides them through a chorus of shared screaming and cheering. “Tell Dawson that we’re coming for him!” one protestor shouts, their ager directed at Ameil with no one else to take the brunt of it. “Just ignore them, they’re no threat to you” Ameil explains, “they don’t like me, but they want me to be the message carrier to Dawson… I didn’t sign up to do that.” With a deep breath, Heather continues following in the man’s footsteps, one half of the crowd growing angrier the longer they’re ignored, the other half shouting insults towards the others in belief that Ameil doesn’t deserve the criticism his brother should be getting. “Is this your girlfriend, Ameil?” a man shouts from the crowd, Ameil brushing off the comment despite Heather’s eyes turning towards the source, a gesture the man notices. “Tell your boyfriend he’s in trouble!” the man shouts from the crowd, Heather diverting her gaze from the man and joining Ameil’s response, something that triggers the concealed anger in the man’s response. “You should take John’s kid back to him you thief!” the man proceeds to shout, an insult that Heather shoots back towards instinctively, a sudden turn around catching the attention of both the man and Ameil beside her. “What did you just say?” Heather asks, continuing to hold Amy in her arms while Ameil walks after her, trying to keep her from interacting with the man in any way. “You’re just giving him what he wants, Heather” Ameil explains, the woman brushing off the suggestions in favor of confronting the man. “Repeat what you just said, but do it to my face this time!” Heather exclaims, the man holding his hands up in a sign of surrender when confront face to face. “I guess I should introduce myself” the man explains, dropping one hand from beside his head and holding it out for a handshake, “Seth Havermeyer, I write for the Sun City journal.” Her eyes narrowing, Heather repeats the man’s introduction in a mocking tone, antagonizing the figure and telling him to mind his business before beginning to walk away. “I’ll keep my nose out of it then!” Seth replies, returning his hands into the air in a snarky, mocking fashion, “just don’t let pretty boy here get shot on your watch!” Turning around, Heather approaches the man angrily, holding Amy to the side and raising her hand, a gesture immediately met with defense by Seth. In an act that riles the crowd up, Seth pulls his head back and sends a line of spit towards Heather, his aim thrown off by the quick dodge, letting the spit hit Amy instead. Disgusted by the action, Ameil goes into a rage and defensively punches Seth in the face, an action only further putting the crowd into a frenzy. Feeling threatened, the side in the camp against Ameil and anyone associated with Dawson charge their opposite, which fight back as one would only expect. Issues flying well out of hand, Ameil, Heather and Amy are led by guards through a series of backroads, all directing the trio back towards the center of town, away from whatever outcome the fighting produces. | “What are you doing out here?” Katie asks, her voice catching John by surprise, his immediate question to ask how she found him. “I follow you everywhere, it’s kind of my job” Katie explains, John immediately proceeding to question how she managed to do such a thing. “I took the second boat, did you stow away in a box somewhere?” John asks, the woman reminding John that the gulf waters are calm enough to swim through during the day. “I’ve followed you where you’ve gone since you told me to at the New World Order” Katie explains, “I appreciate you giving me a reason to go on a workout to do so, though.” Her eyes averting towards the woman, Katie inquires about the sight she’s becoming witness to. His golf club pointing in the direction of the woman, John fights off the urge to speak in a somber tone. Solemnly introducing herself as Taya, the woman allows John to do the rest, his words falling flat of explaining anything other than he got her bit. “And you didn’t think to cut the arm off?” Katie wonders, the woman responding that she’s right handed, therefor useless without it. “Not one to adapt, I see” Katie jokes, the woman taking offense momentarily before John puts an end to the arguing before it can begin. “So, what now?” Katie asks, John explaining that he’s already volunteered to put her down when she’s ready for it. “No, I’m not asking about how you’re gonna approach this” Katie replies, confusing John, “I’m asking how long you’ll be holding this over your own head before you snap out of it and get off your ass again.” “What do you mean?” John asks, Katie chuckling as if the man were joking, refusing to allow John to go without being aware of his own traits. “You don’t take people dying too well” Katie responds, John hanging his head and asking if one can blame him. “If you were just another member of the group, no I could not” Katie replies, “but you’re the leader, and any emotion that you feel is one everyone else feels by proxy.” Looking back up at the woman, John nods in agreement, understanding the point Katie’s trying to make. “I’m not saying you can’t grieve, but I am saying that you can’t let this consume you” Katie explains, “people die and it sucks, but we get over it and we move on.” Wiping the droplets of water from her machete, Katie tells the man that nothing they’ve accomplished would have been possible if everyone sat on their hands grieving all day. “Whether it was because of you or something else, she was gonna die someday” Katie explains, “it’s as true now as it was before all of this shit went down… We all die, it’s only a matter of when.” Walking up to the man, Katie directs his eyes into hers, intent on ensuring he takes in every word she says as gospel. “You can’t blame yourself for this and continue to be the leader” Katie explains, “I know you have a lot on your plate, but you need to finish it if you’re gonna be in charge.” Pressing his tongue against the inside of his mouth, John nods to Katie, agreeing with every word she’s said. “We’re all flawed, you’re no different” Katie explains, “but you need to start learning how to deal with it in ways that don’t get you or someone else hurt… This should be another lesson to learn.” Looking away from the woman, John glances at Taya, who is left to serve as the third wheel of the conversation in her final moments in life. Looking back in an aggravated fashion, Taya takes herself up from her seat and sits on her knees, John removing the gun from his belt loop until Taya suggests otherwise. “Don’t waste your bullets on me, this is just out of mercy” Taya explains, her finger lifting towards the golf club, “don’t waste your ammo on a mercy killing.” Refusing to allow the man to refuse, Taya looks at Katie, giving the woman the signal to strip John of the gun, all that’s left in his hand being the golf club. “Take your best swing, and do it quietly” Taya exclaims, “I want it to be over quick, but I don’t wanna know it’s coming.” Swallowing his pride, John does as instructed, holding the golf club by his side as Taya makes one final request. “When you go-” Taya begins, her statement cut off with John cutting the goodbyes short, laying the club into the back of the woman’s head, immediately knocking her into the dirt, unconscious and still breathing. “You could have let her finish” Katie says, her words holding no grievance as the man takes in a few deep breaths. “She didn’t wanna see it coming” John explains, adjusting his stance to stand over the woman, “there wasn’t any better way than that.” Finishing the job, John crushes the woman’s skull with the club an exceeding number of times than necessary before stopping, the brains of the woman spilled upon the dirt like an animal. A deranged, thousand-yard stare on his face, John keeps his eyes upon the woman he not only murdered, but sentenced to death, refusing to allow himself a future chance to forget the things he had done that day. Looking away, Katie allows the man to take in the sights, watching as he picks up the woman’s rifle from the ground and hands it to the woman. Silent, John walks past Katie, continuing the way he came whilst the woman remains stood there, watching the man walk off beneath the sunlight, his victim left buried in the open, left to rot with the undead. Fearing what will come of this, Katie stands frozen for another few moments before beginning after John again, throwing the rifle over her shoulder and making for the boat. == Rise == |
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