S4, E2 | Signal Fire

Tapping the tip of her right foot against the carpeted floor below her, Jaime sits in the backseat with both hands folded in her lap, waiting to reach her destination. Sitting through the car ride in silence, the woman remains fixated on the burning monolith just outside her window, its intense flames screaming into the heavens whilst a crowd of onlookers watch on, called to the burning high-rise in lieu of not being offered entry into the newborn republic.

“We’re doing everything we can to find the person responsible” Wilfred reassures, calling back to the woman that sits directly behind his passenger’s seat, her attention still kept to the unoccupied city centre east of her nation. “Of course you are” Jaime replies, leaning against the door as her eyes keep themselves glued to the sky above, its dark, star-filled expanse covered in the fire’s thick layer of smoke.

“I don’t want to be told you’re looking for him, I want to be told that you’ve found him” Jaime retorts, still bouncing her left leg as the SUV speeds through the debris-littered street, “whoever’s capable of this isn’t someone I want walking free for too long.” Nodding his chin, Wilfred quietly returns his sights to the road ahead, its length quickly shortening as they reach a fleet of fire engines, each massive vehicle flashing lights and sirens as their crews race to the scene.

“This is as far as we’re getting” Jaime declares, unfastening her seatbelt and hurrying to be the first out of the car, her determined approach of the nearest crew stalling for a moment as her eyes take upward once more. Searing the white exterior a shade of charcoal, the ghastly flames continue to shoot out from each shattered window as the tower becomes little more than a meeting point for those without a home in the new world.

Taken back by the sight for a moment, Jaime shakes herself out of the awestruck gaze that had encompassed her as the sound of additional car doors shutting just behind her recalls the mission at hand. With a confident stride, the chancellor embarks on a search for one man in particular, his voice soon calling out to her from afar.

“Hold on, hold on!” Fred exclaims, waving his hand back in the woman’s direction as he quickly hurries to their side, “it isn’t safe, you’ve gotta keep your distance!” Though dissuaded from advancing any further, the chancellor wishes to know as close to everything as she can manage, stepping back the way she came as the fire chief draws nearer.

“Tell me what I need to know” Jaime responds, finally within ear’s reach of the man as they begin walking for her car, keeping the conversation to a minimum so as not to clue the various survivors in on what’s not their information to know. “Well, for one- the building was built in the late-80’s. Unless you want mesothelioma, it’s best to keep as far away from this place as you can get” Fred replies, quickly setting his sights on the issue he knows the woman to be present for.

“As for the fire, we don’t know who did it” the man continues, immediately watching the disappointed look take shape over the chancellor’s face. “One thing is for certain though-” Fred explains, turning back to the skyscraper and pointing toward the building’s absolute top, “this thing wasn’t the guys from Angelino.”

Squinting as her chin tilts higher, Jaime watches the flames continue to shoot out as the most obvious question on her mind leaves the tip of her lips, “and you know that how?” Removing his hard hat, Fred wipes at his head before replying, watching as his crews storm the building with no regard for their own health, just insistent on putting the flames out for the betterment of their nation.

With the tap of his knuckles on the woman’s shoulder, Fred leads the woman he’s sworn loyalty to around the building’s length, walking in silence for a few minutes as Jaime remains silent, trusting in his opinion as they earn a better vantage point for their troubles. “Because I don’t think we have access to that” the fire chief replies, pointing toward a crater in the building’s centre layers, the strands of twisted metal and blown-out concrete protruding outward around the impact site.

“Well, maybe you do- but the rest of the Angelinos? No chance” Fred corrects, shaking his head at the awfully concerning sight whilst the woman beside him watches on, forced to take in a deep breath as the gravity of what she deals with becomes clearer. “Alright, do me a favour-” Jaime replies, trying to rid her mind of the anxiety that comes with the many threats that loom over her and her reign on the new republic in search of a more level-headed approach.

“-if anyone sticks out like a sore thumb to you, grab them” Jaime orders, not putting it past the display’s creator to blend in with the crowd and marvel at their own doing, “I want no stone left unturned. This will not go without punishment.” Bowing his head, Fred silently gestures to the woman that her commands are understood completely, taking the open-ending to their conversation as his signal to return to work before the woman’s voice calls out to him once more.

“And Fred?” Jaime exclaims, watching the man turn back at her request, “tell your men to stand down. If this thing isn’t healthy for me to be around, I don’t want you guys around it for too long either.” Confused, Fred turns his head to one side with a bemused smile, not understanding her motivations. “Jaime, this whole thing could come crumbling down any minute. If that’s not bad enough, it could set the rest of the town on fire” the man remarks, “we can’t just leave it burning.”

“Yes, you can” Jaime reiterates, not wanting to lose resources and manpower over already-lost causes, “we don’t live here. There’s already a protected ring around the republic, so the fire can’t spread into town.” Parting his lips to speak, Fred loses his ability to formulate words as the chancellor continues talking, knowing what she says to be true, but finding it hard to fall in line with such a great task staring him directly in the face.

“We’ve got nothing to lose from this thing continuing to burn, and if it isn’t safe for me to be around- I don’t want the rest of you wasting time on something as useless as this” Jaime proclaims, watching the slow acceptance of her commands roll over the disheartened, yet understanding professional. “Understood, Ms. Mor-” Fred begins to reply, stopping himself as he watches the woman brace for the declaration of her title, promptly correcting himself at the last minute.

“Understood, Mrs. Cutler” the man rephrases, bowing his head before turning to return to his fleet, the woman’s tense expression quickly easing as the look in her eyes express appreciation, allowing the man to rejoin his unit without further hesitancy. As if trying to pull herself free from the subdued glee she can feel run through her, Jaime returns her attention to the overhead inferno, staring into the building’s wound as her warm-hearted visage lessens, replaced with a frown.

= Dire is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 Media from the start of Season 1 onwards =

Letting out a sigh, Kayla sinks into her passenger’s seat as the lights of small businesses pass by her window, the night having brought about a clearer picture of the flame-enraptured megatower. “That’s not a good combination of issues to have, Chevy” the man’s pregnant fiance remarks, a proclamation he is not keen on arguing against.

“It’s just difficult to imagine that a burning tower is the least of all our problems” Chevy replies, holding the steering wheel’s crown with his left hand as his right comes together with his lover’s own. “I’d hardly argue that” Kayla responds, squinting as she takes her eyes toward the small pop-up stores that have sprouted from what had once been near-bankrupt businesses along the streets of West Los Angeles.

“We have food in order- the hassle is either making enough to let other people in, or making just enough for what we need and holding the rest at the gates” the passenger replies, eventually leading her sights toward the road ahead, “a burning tower is a whole host of other issues.” Pulling his head back, Chevy remains quiet for a moment as he takes in her remarks, challenging himself to find the sense she’d yet to bring the conversation around to.

“We have the trenches dug, so unless the fire stretches all the way across downtown- we should be fine” the man remarks, only able to earn a shake of the head from the woman beside him. “It’s not the fire that’s the problem, it’s how it happened” Kayla reiterates, resting her right arm against the inside of her door as her head presses against the back of her seat, “it’s one thing if it was an accident, some electrical problem or whatever- but if it was a person?”

Lifting his head toward the air, Chevy finds the route his fiance had begun to venture upon before meeting her halfway, finishing her thought before she even has the chance to. “If it was a person, that would be just as bad as the peacekeepers setting those fires around the perimeter” he remarks, the lack of reluctance from his partner only providing weight to his accuracy.

“And it could be the peacekeepers, but it could also be someone else entirely” Kayla proclaims, listening to a welcoming jingle come over the radio station they’d lowered the volume of. “In a worst-case scenario, it’d be the people we’re not letting in responsible for the fire” Chevy remarks as his partner begins to twist the farthest knob to the stereo, not wanting to cut him off before he has the chance to finish his thought, “at that point, it’d be more than just a problem.”

“-od evening, I hope you’re all safe and well. If you’re not informed already, I have some news to share with you” Chris’ voice remarks through the car’s radio, drawing immediate interest from the vehicle’s passengers. “Just a few hours ago, a fire erupted out of an unmarked tower in downtown Los Angeles around fifteen minutes outside of the republic” the man remarks, capturing Kayla’s attention as the driver’s eyes take toward a row of markings on the nearest sidewalk.

“After a short conversation with Ms. Morris, I’ve been assured that the fire is under control, and crews are actively working to put out the blaze” Chris proclaims, continuing to speak to the nation in a well-spoken, calming tone. “With the divide between the republic and the rest of its former city having already finished, there is no reason to believe that such a fire would be capable of reaching the nation” the informant continues, “so in any case, the fire is no need for alarm.”

His interruption of the broadcast brief, Chris returns the airwaves to whatever music he could get his hands on, prompting the vehicle’s passenger to reach for the knob once more. Turning the wheel, Chevy guides his truck down a stretch of mostly-unlit road, veering off the course his fiance had been expecting them to take. Curious, yet intrigued, Kayla keeps quiet as she follows the road her partner takes with her eyes, the unmaintained asphalt they trek through covered in dirt and debris.

Eventually finding an unmarked space on the side of the road, Chevy pulls his truck over and quickly hops out of the vehicle, the need to call his motivations into question having finally arrived. “Where are we?” Kayla wonders aloud, joining the man in hopping out of the car, his lead followed closely as he struggles to put his thoughts into words, his mind too preoccupied with questioning himself over what he’s looking for.

“That symbol- I keep- I keep seeing it” Chevy remarks, pointing toward the side of an abandoned, brick building where a small, spray-painted peace symbol resides. “I saw it on the curb, then again on that stop sign back there- now here” he continues, not yet certain what he makes of the presentation. Reaching out, Kayla rests her hand on the man’s shoulder and gently rubs it with her thumb, trying to ease his mind of cluttered thoughts whilst considering the discovery quietly.

“What if these things lead somewhere?” Chevy asks aloud, the same question his fiance had been asking herself now raised for the pair to share, neither half of the couple denying the possibility. With a glance toward the uncharted passage ahead, Kayla repeats the question to herself, her partner’s eyes soon joining hers in venturing toward what lies ahead, their desire to find an answer too great to ignore.

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With a dissatisfied look on her face, Kennedy reluctantly follows Chris through the length of the hospital, their destination lying ahead in the farthest corner of the facility. “And why do we need to do this?” the young girl inquires, yet to receive an answer to the question before the moonlighting doctor rounds the next turn, his quick pace prompting her to make an attempt at keeping up.

“Well we don’t want people freaking out over it, do we?” Chris responds, speaking with a higher voice so as to appear more friendly to his girlfriend’s daughter, unsure of how to speak to children. “Why does it matter?” a discontented Kennedy queries, both hands hanging limply by each side as she continues to provide a shadow to the doctor’s long walk down each lengthy corridor, “they can’t put out the fire, so why do they care?”

Rolling the small sheet of papers he carries, Chris tucks the notes into his coat pocket as he continues to answer the young girls’ questions, trying his best to be as likeable as he can manage. “Because it’s important to remind them that the fire- even if we’re not going to put it out- can’t reach us” the man replies, turning the final corner toward his intended destination with a smile, glancing toward the girl that continues to match his stride.

“Didn’t we say that this morning?” the young girl wonders aloud, finally beginning to set up a greater question than what the doctor can anticipate. “Well, Jaime mentioned the trenches- yes” Chris responds, immediately prompting the youngest Morris daughter to look back at him with confusion. “Then why do we tell them again? Didn’t they listen the first time?” Kennedy quips, raising a question the man she follows has a hard time refuting.

“People can forget things easily. It makes them difficult to like” Chris answers, letting a brief glimpse into his true feelings sneak through the cracks of his purposefully-welded visage, though one that the girl accompanying him shares. “Well duh, that’s why we call them idiots” Kennedy replies, unaware of the brief chuckle she earns from the man beside her, his hand pressing against his lips to keep his laugh from escaping.

Letting the conversation die there, Chris opens the door to the tech-filled wonderland that operates the republic’s detrimental airwaves, his seat taken in the chair that occupies the room’s centre. “It looks cool, right?” the doctor wonders aloud, funnelling through a stack of records as mid-60’s folk rock provides the nation with an evening of the closest thing to entertainment they can muster.

“It’s a bunch of machines and lights, why would it look cool?” Kennedy answers, the question one that turns the pleased doctor’s corner-residing smirk into a slight frown. “I don’t know” Chris responds, shrugging his shoulders in disappointment as he removes whichever record his fingers had stumbled upon, preparing it for the post-bulletin tracklist.

“How does all of this work?” Kennedy wonders aloud, her face lit with a green tint as she leans close toward a tower of computers, their various green bulbs blinking rapidly. “It’s all a bit complicated” her chaperon responds, sliding an 80’s metal record from its cover and removing the needle from the ongoing track, preparing the next round of music before repositioning himself in front of the mic, prepared to address the nation.

With a few switches flipped and buttons pressed, Chris turns the knuckle of his hand toward the desktop bell, ringing it in a pleasing melody before leaning into the stationary mic. “Good evening, I hope you’re all safe and well. If you’re not informed already, I have some news to share with you” he declares, passing a glance at the cross-armed girl standing off to his side, her unimpressed expression doing little to turn his downcast frown around.

“Just a few hours ago, a fire erupted out of an unmarked tower in downtown Los Angeles around fifteen minutes outside of the republic” Chris continues, speaking whilst Kennedy steps away, casually pacing around the makeshift studio whilst her eyes take to the individual machines that make up the parts of the room she’s yet to explore. 

“After a short conversation with Ms. Morris, I’ve been assured that the fire is under control, and crews are actively working to put out the blaze” the man continues, only for the young girl he’s been entrusted with looking after to take advantage of his back being turned to her, making for the still-open entrance without a peep. Uncrossing her arms, Kennedy quickly glides across the floor and steps into the hallway, passing a few looks toward the pre-occupied doctor as she subtly departs.

Rounding the nearest corner as quickly as she can, Kennedy makes her way into the larger portion of the hospital, quickly venturing through a few open doors before spilling into the front-most waiting room, not a soul around to keep her from continuing the unguided tour. Left to her own devices, the youngest Morris sibling steps past the empty front desk and slips into the next passageway, trying to keep as much distance between herself and the less-than-affable, airwave-occupying doctor.

Turning down a slender walkway, Kennedy’s ears catch the sound of wrestling metal a few steps back, the confusing noise immediately prompting her to turn back the way she came, uncertain of whether or not she’d mistaken the racket. With a cautious approach, the girl turns her head toward a set of double doors in the back of the waiting room, the eerie sensation of such an empty space holding host to such an unusual quarrel causing the hairs on her arms to rise.

With her eye to the sliver in the parted doors, Kennedy places her hand against the crash pad and begins to apply pressure. “Kennedy!” Chris exclaims, sprinting across the waiting area before ripping the girl away from the mysterious room, the bewilderment she wears like an unmistakable badge made apparent immediately.

“What the fuck!?” the young girl exclaims, not taking kindly to being carried away like a misbehaving toddler, swatting the man’s hands away as he sets her down in a chair. “What are you doing!?” Chris shouts, the vein that protrudes from over his eyebrow lending credibility to the rest of his enraged expression, his voice reaching heights Kennedy had never seen him reach before.

“What did your mother say about leaving my sights!? You could’ve gotten hurt!” the man exclaims, quickly trying to find a source for his paranoia that doesn’t involve the cafeteria entrance he’d just stopped the girl from reading too far into. “Don’t ever touch me like that again!” Kennedy warns, laying out her command before resetting her attention on the man’s proclamation, “and how would I have gotten hurt? What? Am I running around the hall with scissors or something!?”

“You don’t know what people can be capable of!” Chris quickly exclaims back, not yet noticing the irony behind that statement that only he, and he alone, can pick up on. “There’s no one here!” Kennedy shouts in return, waving her hands through an entirely-empty waiting area, not a soul to be seen or heard in sight.

“Well, if there was- things could be a lot different right now” Chris twists, his composure thrown so far off that his mind can’t wrap itself around better responses, something the young girl recognises. Shaking her head as she throws her hands out, Kennedy squints at the man in great disgust, watching him attempt to steady his breathing as he places his hands to each hip, trying to collect himself until the girl begins to speak.

“I don’t care if mom does- I don’t trust you” the girl declares, not needing to add anything more than what she’s already said, a proclamation that the misdeed-committed doctor takes genuine displeasure in. Frowning, Chris parts his lips to speak before thinking better of the decision, his eyes lowering for a moment before he finally forces the words out, “I’m really disappointed to hear that.”

With the shake of her head, Kennedy turns away and begins walking back the way she’d come, returning to the studio as Chris watches on, hands still placed on his hips as the frown he sports grows wider.

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In a makeshift camp on the highest level of a nearby hotel, Jaime watches the sun begin to rise on a new day as the flames continue to eat away at what remains of the sky-piercing tower. “They’re on their way up now, chancellor” Blake remarks, stood beside the room’s entrance as the woman’s he’s sworn to serve and protect remains glued to the farthest window, taking in the display whilst she still can, strangely fascinated by such a destructive presentation.

After a few minutes pass, a set of knocks are given on the opposite side of the door, prompting Blake to expose the room to those on the other side. “Here he is, chancellor” Wilfred proclaims, leading a man by the collar of his American military uniform, the displeased look on the prisoner’s face much less pronounced than she’d otherwise anticipated it to be.

“Walked up to us with his arms raised and confessed to the whole thing” the quick-tempered, desperate to prove himself militia figure concludes, asserting his dominance by shoving the man in the back, letting him fall to the ground without a care in the world. “Calm it down there, Willy” Jaime orders, turning away from the fire-lit spectacle just beyond the view of her suite to address the elephant in the room, his unapologetic demeanour made obvious as he climbs to his knees.

“Well I’m glad these circumstances are a lot more preferable than the last time I had to grill someone for answers” Jaime remarks, crossing her arms as she stands before the knelt man, whose eyes refuse to remove themselves from the ground before her feet. “Let’s start out with this- should I kill you or should I not?” the chancellor asks aloud, waiting for an answer from her captive audience, his momentary reluctance to do so prompting her to just remain patient longer.

“You should not, ma’am” the man replies, answering the question asked and only that, not offering a word more than what he’s asked to provide. With a nod, Jaime stands with her thoughts for a moment before pulling in a deep breath, rummaging through the folder’s-worth of questions she can ask before settling on just one. “In that case, why not?” the woman finally inquires, remaining stoic as she waits for a response.

“Because-” the uniformed man replies, reaching into his pocket to remove a single grenade, its appearance prompting the woman to widen her eyes just slightly, -I wouldn’t give you the chance to.” With flaring nostrils, Jaime turns her attention toward the small group of men standing near the front of the suite, their faces all tensing with disappointment in themselves for having overlooked their objective.

“You didn’t check him for weapons?” Jaime growls toward her detail, their clenched teeth and stare toward the heavens making it clear they regret it just as much as their chancellor does. “It’s the only way they would’ve gotten me to come up here without a fight. It's probably best that they didn’t check” the as-of-yet unnamed man remarks, finding the woman ahead relocking sights with him, their minds reaching a shared train of thought.

“And why did you want to come up here?” Jaime follows-up, curious to the man’s motivations for obvious reasons. “Because I needed to meet you” the man responds, speaking through a soft tone of voice the longer he proceeds, continuing to maintain the practice of only answering enough to satisfy the questions asked of him.

“And you did that?” Jaime queries, pointing her finger in the direction of the flame-encompassed tower just a few kilometres away from the scene’s epicentre. “Yes, I did-” the man replies, gently rattling the grenade he continues to wield before her and the first hand of the republic’s detail, “-obviously.” Puckering her lips, the chancellor sucks on her teeth before pulling her head back, nodding to herself before following up.

“Why?-” the woman responds, still curious to the man’s motivations, taking her eyes to the nametag he wears atop his heart, “-why would you do that, Travis?” Lifting his chin ever-so-slightly, the captive prisoner responds as requested, “it was the closest thing to a signal flare I could find.”

The answer one from a place of honesty, Travis continues looking the woman in the eyes as she fits the puzzle pieces together, filling in the gaps as best she can. “Why are you leading the peacekeepers out here?” Jaime wonders aloud, continuing to rephrase her question before taking notice of the man’s prominent head shake, “-why bring the peac-?”

“I’m not” Travis quickly responds once the chancellor ceases her question, his head shaking as he lifts his chin further, finally locking eyes with the woman without the intent of pulling them away, “those people are not my group.” Her confusion only growing, Jaime repositions herself as she goes to cross her arms, parting her lips in the same breath before her ears are called to the attention of the distant buzz just beyond her window.

Their sights stolen just as their chancellor’s are, the security detail pan their attention toward the burning tower, their focus captured just as the rest of the room’s is. Making for the window she’d begun the interrogation standing beside, Jaime rests her hand against the concrete divider between her window and the one beside it, looking out into the horizon and past the burning skeleton standing before her, called to the hair-raising sight.

“Those are my people” Travis remarks, ironically enough- the only inhabitant of the room not setting his sights on the near-distance. With a scowl, Jaime lets an unsteady breath leave her nose as she captures the sight her prisoner speaks of, the buzzing only growing louder the closer it comes to the building she occupies. Just past the burning tower, a fleet of helicopters tear through the sky inbound for greater Los Angeles, following the flames to their destination.

With a glance back at the centre of the room, Jaime locks eyes with the uniformed man, his undisturbed expression far different than what the rest of her detail wears. “Who are you?” the woman asks beneath her breath, not looking for an answer and finally going without one, the only thing providing her with a response being the line of choppers quickly approaching her with purposes as-of-yet unknown.

== Dire ==