S4, E1 | When the Cold Hand Burns Hot

​Season Four Premiere

> Saturday, 20th August 2039 <

“I love you too, Liv” Elaine remarks, pecking her daughter on the cheek as their paths cross, the young woman venturing for the home’s front door whilst the mother of two traipses toward the kitchen. At the sound of the door slamming shut beneath the flow of air that carries it in place, Liv descends the home’s front steps in a hurry before dipping into the passenger’s seat of the vehicle that waits for her at the curb.

“It’s our last weekend as free women! Let’s take advantage of it!” a chipper Derby proclaims, sitting behind the wheel with a belt fastened across her chest, fingertips pressing against the screen at the centre console. “It’s senior year, Derby... Not prison” Liv responds with a face full of humoured joy as she buckles herself in.

“I’ll pretend that I didn’t just hear you suggest the two weren’t the same” Derby replies, feeling the car’s weight shift backward as it pulls away from the side of the street, ready to embark upon the journey it’s been sentenced to. From the living room window, Elaine watches the car pull away and take toward the late morning distance, a pleasant grin carried over her expression as she approaches the other side of the home, placing earbuds to either side of her head with a phone in hand.

“Oh, hold on there champ... Mom’s calling” Andrew remarks, gently patting his son on the shoulder whilst reaching for his phone, looking out at the calm water of the pond they stand at the edge of. “In the half hour since you’ve called, neither of us have died” the father greets upon answering, watching his son continue to stare blankly at the bobber to his fishing pole as it sits on the water’s surface, “but we also haven’t caught any fish.”

“I was just calling to let you know that I was going to start cleaning” Elaine responds, gently dropping her phone onto the kitchen’s island as she steps onto the back patio, embracing the death of summer’s final weeks and the heat that waves over from it. “Sounds good. Anything you need me to pick up on the way back?” Andrew queries, looking into the distance as he holds his hand over both eyes, shielding his face from the burning sunlight.

“If we get Galen to bed on time tonight and Liv decides to stay over at Derby’s again, maybe bringing back some wine wouldn’t be the worst idea?” Elaine questions, unable to see the smile that her response brings upon her husband’s face. “I think I can carve some time out of the lacklustre fishing to bring Galen to the park in a little bit” Andrew considers, puckering his lips as he turns back toward his son, watching the young boy sway from one side to the other patiently, “that should tucker him out for bed?”

“I don’t think I need to tell you how much I like that idea” Elaine replies, listening to the man’s breathy chuckle find its way to her ears as he nods. “Alright. I’ll be back home with the finest tonight and let Liv know she can stay at Derby’s if she wants... just so she can convince herself that it was her decision” Andrew responds, offering departing words as the call comes to an end, plans for the rest of the day put back into place as he approaches his youngest child.

“Alright, champ... Let’s go to the park” Andrew remarks, gently reclaiming the fishing pole before winding it back, bringing the line to the shore as the boy cheers excitedly. Back at home, Elaine ends the call and looks toward her watch, replacing the sound of her husband’s voice through the earbuds with the tune of party music from the late 2000’s, springing her into action with an energy hard to come by.

Buckling his son into his seat, Andrew closes the door to his sedan’s backseat and makes for the front, looking into the distance as he does with a warm expression of a smile and rested eyebrows. Pausing before entering the vehicle, the man stares down the long stretch of gravel roadway they’d taken to get to the lake and lets a slow breath free, calmed to an extent that frees his chest of any weight as he descends, reclaiming the driver’s seat and venturing onward.

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

“How does this look?” Liv wonders aloud, pulling a shirt free from a cubby in which it’d been stored within, holding it against her chest with an eyebrow raised, only to receive a slight scowl from her friend. “I love you, Liv... But that shirt is not your style” Derby responds, looking back to the cubbies before her and selecting one at random, preferring the charcoal grey colour of the attire that her hand had taken as it is handed off to the girl beside her, “try this on instead.”

“I don’t have a style, Derby” Liv responds, gently taking the article of clothing that’s handed to her before shaking the yellow, purposefully-torn t-shirt she’d presented in the young woman’s face. “That just means you’re a clean slate. Don’t taint it by putting on this weird, ripped sponge thing” the alternative young adult remarks, earning laughter from her friend as she snatches the bright piece of clothing away, less pleasant about it than her friend had been- but equally humoured.

Rolling her eyes with a grin, Liv turns toward the dressing room just off to the side before leaving her pal to her own devices once more. Left to her lonesome, Derby continues to browse the selection of graphic tops, continuing to fail at finding anything that fits her less-formal preferences whilst shoppers pass by on the aisles to either side of her section.

“Excuse me?” a young man’s voice inquires, passively ignored by the young woman that continues to glance around the shelving unit that stands before her. Minding her own business, Derby continues to peruse the assortment of various designs, aware that they all have a more child-like appeal to them, but finding intrigue in the ways to which she can alter them more fittingly.

“Excuse me?” the young man asks again, this time tapping the woman on the shoulder to get her attention, catching her by surprise. “Oh, do you need me to move?” Derby inquires, not having thought that she was the subject of his interest the first time around, but still unsure of the reason for why she would be taken notice of.

“No, I was just...” the unfamiliar-looking man remarks, stammering over his words before nervously pointing toward the signage at the top of the compartment’s structure, “you’re in the boys t-shirt section.” Pulling her head back to follow the direction of the man’s finger, Derby looks toward the top of the unit, nodding in agreement at the conclusion that he’s wagered.

“Yes, it is” she answers, looking back at the man with reassurance in the claim that he makes, “I was sort of hoping that it would be when I went looking over here.” With a brief look of surprise in the woman’s intentional browsing of the area, the young man nods along with her conclusion before becoming even more shy than he had been when approaching her.

“I didn’t know that you meant to come here, I’m sorry” the young man confesses, stiffening his shoulders as his head takes a slight lean toward the ground, his posture obviously reading like someone who is uncomfortable in the conversation at hand. With a slight smile at the man’s reservation, Derby inspects his confidence-lacking demeanour for a brief moment before nodding along to her prior statement, deciding to take it easy on the young man as she throws her thumb toward the shelving.

“I like to find shirts that I find at places like these and screw around with them. Scrape out the pictures printed on them, paint the parts that are coloured in with different colours... stuff like that” Derby admits, putting on a more affable tone of voice. “Sometimes I’ll wear whatever the final product is. Sometimes I’ll give them to a friend or sell them to someone who likes it enough to buy it” she continues, gradually easing the young man into being less overwhelmed, “it’s just a hobby.”

“Well, it sounds like you’re really good at it” the young man responds, his compliment proving strong enough to put a smile on the woman’s face. “I’m Derby” she greets, extending her hand toward the young man that proceeds to reciprocate her gesture. “I’m Dylan” the man introduces himself, neither of the two shaking each other’s hand with much more than limp wrists, “I’d love to-”

“You really thought this was more my sty-?” Liv wonders aloud, accidentally stumbling into the conversation happening away from her ears, exiting the dressing room with the dark coloured shirt on, “oh... hello.” Letting go of the woman’s hand, Dylan waves to the unexpected re-entry with a sheepish grin. “Liv, this is Dylan” Derby introduces, stepping aside so the pair can shake hands as well, Liv’s grasp on his hand out matching the young man’s own, “he seems a bit shy.”

“I’m just not used to being around people all that much” Dylan confesses, laughing with his breaths as he tries his best to muster through the discourse, “I’m homeschooled. I’ll be going to an actual college next year, though. But I’m not really used to talking to people.” Amused by the man’s self-conscious demeanour, Liv smiles at him before looking toward Derby, who follows the same line of thought amidst the odd silence that comes over the three.

“Let me get your number then” the more alternative of the bunch proposes, her eyes meeting those of the man they’d become newly acquainted with. Surprised at first, Dylan snaps into action with his hand reaching the screen of his watch, a few clicks sending the combination of numbers to the device on Derby’s own.

“I’ll see you around, Dylan” Derby remarks, watching as the man nods whilst their paths separate, the young man’s venture to the aisle he’d actually intended to visit affording the girls a chance to speak in private. “Well he’s cute” Liv murmurs, passing a glance at his frame as it journeys away before noticing the slight grin in her friend’s expression, “you should ask him out.”

“We’ll fight one battle at a time there, Liv” Derby rebuttals, passing the pointer of her finger from the top of Liv’s wardrobe to the bottom of it, “our top priority has to be getting you something that works.”

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“Be careful, Galen!” Andrew proclaims, watching his son run off to begin the ascent of the play structure he eyes the pinnacle of, wanting to take a go at the slide, whose entrance sits at the very top, “I don’t want to be bringing you home to mom in a thousand pieces, okay?” Without a response, Galen’s marching orders remain already set out, his attempt at climbing the rock-like accessories already underway.

Taking amusement in his son’s scurrying, Andrew shakes his head with a smile as he turns away, walking for the park’s entrance where an ice cream truck sits and waits. “How’s it going?” the man passively greets another man along the way, paying decency to the fellow parent along his journey. With hands tucked into his pockets and a pair of sunglasses wrapped around his face, the other man silently nods to the bypassing dad before returning his sights toward the play structure as countless other kids ascend.

Reaching to his side, Andrew scrapes his knuckle against the rough edge of the pocket knife clipped onto his pocket, letting out a faint groan as he shakes his hand to rid of the dull pain. Going in for attempt number two, the father successfully retrieves the wad of cash from within his pocket as he approaches the window. “Just a vanilla cone, please” he requests, taking a glance toward the side of the vehicle before flipping through a few singles.

Gently placing five of them atop the counter, Andrew turns his back to the server and leans his shoulder against the truck’s exterior, waiting for service as he looks back to the playground, where he watches his son climb to the very top, nearing the slide’s entrance. Remaining in place at the sight, the father’s grin begins to lower into a cold look of malice as the man he’d greeted on his way by begins slowly approaching the play set, hands no longer tucked away.

“Daddy! Look at me!” Galen cheerfully exclaims from the very top, hurrying to the slide’s entrance as the stranger continues to wander forward, earning his father’s attention instead. Without the faintest sight of emotion in his face, Andrew steps away from the truck with a quicker pace than the man that casually and slowly approaches the set, eyes focused in on the gentleman as if he were less of a man and more of a target.

Tearing the pocket knife off of his hip, Andrew swipes the blade out and continues to follow the unaware man, keeping it tucked close to his person as the ice cream man calls out for his return. “Sir! Your cone!” the server proclaims, watching the father continue to walk away, refusing to acknowledge the completion of his order in favour of following the park goer.

“Sir!” the driver again proclaims, attempting to re-earn the ear of the man that departs his truck’s side, watching as the man continues to venture onward. Slipping into the slide’s entrance from above, Galen vanishes into the green tube and begins his great descent, prompting the man that’s unaware of who’s following him to break out into a sprint.

Refusing to give a warning, Andrew breaks out into a run toward the gym just as the man ahead does, assuming the worst of intentions whilst his son continues to ride the playground set to the ground. Wielding his knife with the blade out, Galen’s father runs at the same speed as the figure he pursues, ready to bury the weapon within the stranger’s body without a moment of hesitation.

Lunging toward the slide’s mouth at the very bottom, the strange man throws his arms outward as Galen continues to travel within its inner workings, prompting the man chasing him to pull his arm back and ready himself to fly forward as well. At the last second, a small child spills out from the tube and falls into the possession of the odd civilian, whose arms wrap around the boy and quickly pull him away from the slide just as Galen spills out as well.

Saving the second child from being trampled into by Galen, the man who Andrew had given chase to steps off to the side, prompting the knife-wielding man to ditch his initial intent at the last second. Bracing for impact, the chaser slams into the slide’s exterior and bounces off of it, turning his back to the stranger he’d nearly impaled in order to quickly close the blade and conceal it once more- not wanting to give any illusion to what he’d set out to do.

“Hey, sir!” the stranger calls out, clearly unaware of what had nearly unfolded as he catches Andrew’s attention, a finger being pointed in his direction, “you need to teach your kid to wait a second after someone else goes down the slide!” Clearly irritated, the civilian- who’d nearly become a victim- scolds the father for his son’s lack of playground etiquette, displeased with the situation that had nearly taken place.

Trying his best to regain his composure, Andrew watches the disgruntled father walk off whilst his own son climbs off the slide, not bothering to respond in lieu of what the alternative could’ve been. “Come here, Galen” the man instead sighs, taking his son into his arms and retreating for the ice cream truck, holding his son close as he attempts to rid his head of thoughts akin to the worst, “that’s enough playground for one day.”

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Groaning as she rips a pair of yellow, rubber gloves from covering her hands, Elaine lets them fall upon the nearby kitchen table before placing her palms to either side of her hips, surveying the room with a satisfied nod as the sound of music in her ears turns to the dial tone of a phone. Furrowing her brows just as she’d hoped to take pride in her accomplishment, the woman taps one of her earbuds twice and waits for the pleasing tone she’s used to.

“Hello?” the woman greets, hearing a slight amount of shifting in the background of the phone call before a voice can offer a reply. “Hey, Elaine. It’s Sophie” the woman responds, leaning against the concrete wall whilst looking at the colourless suit she’s dressed in, her dominant hand holding the landline handset against the side of her head.

“Sop... But it’s Saturday. I told you not to call on weekends” Elaine responds, caught by surprise at the young woman’s voice, having assumed that it was her husband attempting to call her. “I know, I’m sorry. I...” Sophie responds, clearly speaking through a subdued and reluctant tone of voice, concealing something within the undertones of her comments, “...I just really needed to talk to someone.”

Finding the reflection in the girl’s voice to be unnerving, Elaine squints toward the distance before reaching for the nearest chair, lowering herself into the seat as she interrupts the silence brought forth by her concern. “Is everything alright?” she wonders aloud, not receiving an answer at first as the jingling of keys on the guards’ hips and the shuffling of feet along the solid ground of the structure are all that she’s given a response from.

“No, there was a... uh... There was a riot yesterday” the inmate replies, wearing a scar over her right eyebrow, its either side stitched together with basic thread, “two groups had enough of each other and just started wailing with whatever they had.” Pressing her elbow against the kitchen countertop, Elaine looks toward the depths of the room and tries to process this information.

“A lot of people were injured. A few people died... one of them was my cellmate” Sophie confesses, looking toward the ground with a look of despair on her face, the dread that hides beneath it adding weight to the grim thoughts that flutter through her head like hot breath against a cold window. “Sophie, dear... I’m so sorry” Elaine responds, unsure of what more that she can say in the wake of such information, feeling like nothing that she can offer would be adequate.

“Thank you, but... that’s why I’m calling” Sophie replies, pressing harder against the wall as if she were trying to hide her figure, eyebrows furrowing as the conservative expression carries itself across her visage. “I don’t really like stepping on toes here, but my cellmate didn’t feel the same way” she continues to explain, keeping to herself and avoiding eye contact with anyone that passes by, “some of the people that didn’t like her dropped by a few hours ago. They told me to keep my next bunkmate in line.”

“They’re blaming you for your old cellmate?” Elaine questions, not fully understanding what’s being insinuated from the opposite end of the line. “No, they’re warning me not to start trouble and keep my cellmate from being any bigger pain to them” Sophie responds, shaking her head as she sinks further into the wall, “my cellmate was here when I showed up. They want me to let the one that’ll show up next know not to step on toes.”

Trying to decipher the language used, Elaine leans further into the marble finish as she stares forward, unsure of what more to say. “If my cellmate doesn’t keep her nose clean like me, that’ll make me look bad” Sophie explains, narrowing her line of sight as she stares at the corner of the room, feeling the rush of dread consume her like krill to a whale once more, “if that happens, I’m not sure I’ll be around to call you for much longer.”

Stricken with an immediate grief that she hadn’t anticipated to receive, Elaine pulls back in her chair with disbelief, not having assumed that was the point of the girl’s phone call. “I just wanted to call you and let you know. I don’t think anything will happen soon, but I know that it can” Sophie explains, nodding to herself as she tucks the phone in closer to her ear, “if it does, I just wanted to let you know why I stopped calling so suddenly.”

“Honey, I... I...” Elaine stammers, staring at the countertop wildly without certainty over what to say in return, only for the sound of nearing footsteps on the other end of the line to prevent her from having the chance to do so. “Phone time is up, Ms. Amari” a black woman’s voice comments from the other end of the line, putting a complete stop to the home body on the other end of the inmate’s phone call.

“I’ll talk to you sometime soon hopefully. Bye” Sophie remarks, ending the conversation as abruptly as it had begun by hanging up the phone, leaving her mother in law to hear the status tone of the disconnected line through the buds in her ears. With a sour look in her eyes, Elaine gently tugs the earpieces away and looks around the room, sitting with the sickness that forms in her stomach as the discomfort of the call lingers.

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“Are you going to call him?” Liv wonders aloud, following her friend through the mall’s exit and across the lot to their vehicle, receiving a light smirk from her inquiry. “I don’t know” Derby confesses, shrugging her shoulders as she continues walking onward, wearing the handles of a single paper bag over her wrist, “I don’t really think he’s my type. He seems friendly though.”

“I didn’t know that you had a type” Liv rebuttals, looking toward her pal with a surprised glare in her eye, drawing a chuckle out of the alternative young woman walking beside her, the head of her artistic pal hanging toward the ground. “I don’t know that I have a type either. I just know that he’s not really it” Derby admits, looking back to her shopping partner as the car draws nearer, “he does seem like someone that you’d be into, though.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, Liv looks toward the young woman with a curious and sceptical stare, keeping it held firm as they round the vehicle from separate sides, ready to climb into its front seats and venture off in favour of greener pastures. “What!? You seem like the kind of girl who’d like a guy that doesn’t know what to do with his penis” Derby doubles down, her follow-up comment drawing as much intrigue and awe as the first one had.

“You watch your mouth, Deborah Cohen!” Liv retorts, only to receive a wide-eyed, finger-pointing stare fro, the designated driver. “Use my full name again and I’ll text him from your phone pretending to be you!” Derby rebuttals, receiving feigned shock from the lady sitting beside her, “besides, I’ve never heard you talk about someone you’re interested in. I don’t really know what your type would even look like. You’re a clean slate.”

“That’s because the years I would’ve spent having crushes on guys were spent trying to fight a losing battle against my impulses” Liv responds, buckling herself into her seat as the driver begins typing away. “He’s cute. He seems really nice, but I don’t know if that’s enough to get me to like someone” the young woman continues to explain, running through the idea internally in a way she’d never thought to do before.

“As long as you’re not going to remain a virgin until marriage like some religious nutjob, that’s all that I care about making sure of” Derby responds, leaning back in her seat as she fastens her seatbelt, letting the car pull itself out of the spot in favour of the open road. “If I based who I was going to do it with off of your input, it’d be some geek from science class more focused on pulling pigs apart than my legs...” Liv replies to a flabbergasted look, “...I’ll cover the dating part on my own, thank you very much.”

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With one heavy footstep after another, Andrew makes his way to the bottom of the home’s staircase and rounds the bannister to find his wife’s eyes watching him from the kitchen nearby. “The boy is finally asleep” he remarks, watching her grin widen whilst he approaches, a glass of wine held in her hand and intended to be taken into his. “You made a fine choice in drink for this evening, Mr. Carrion” Elaine remarks, releasing the drink into her husband’s open and waiting palm.

Without uttering another word, Andrew leans in and presses his lips to his wife’s own, a prideful smile taking over his face as their mouths pull apart, replaced by the clinking of their glasses coming together. With grace and passionate care, the couple take the drinks to their mouths and sip, replacing the bitter taste of red wine with the presence of a kiss once more.

Directing his wife toward the kitchen as their faces remain intertwined with each other’s, Andrew gently takes the woman’s glass and places it atop the kitchen table alongside his own, too enthralled by the shared display of passion to pay any mind to their beverages. Wrapping her arms around her husband as she’s lifted from the floor, Elaine presses her face into the man’s own as they tangle together, continuing the affection without naturally advancing it.

“Fuck, this isn’t working...” Andrew suddenly comments, having grasped the woman by the hips as tightly as he could without being able to get himself in the mindset such an interaction would be brought on by. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry... I... I just had an awful fucking day” the man confesses, feeling horrible about his reservation in a way that the woman he’d shared it with quickly tries to reassure.

“Things didn’t go my way today either, Andrew... Seriously, it’s fine. I...” Elaine hurriedly explains, forcing herself to laugh at the odd end they equally wish to bring to the situation within each other’s hand, “...gosh, I’m so embarrassed.” Shaking his head in refusal of the notion, Andrew kisses his wife on the forehead and pulls her into a hug, their plans for a lovely night having fallen victim to their unpleasant days.

“Hey, let’s just forget about this and enjoy the rest of our night” he proposes, earning a pleased expression through the exhausted visage of the woman that feels more relief than anything else. “We’ll watch a movie and just... enjoy the night” Elaine proclaims, lifting her chin to kiss the man once more as he gently pulls her off of the kitchen’s island.

“I’ll make some popcorn. You pick out whatever you like” Andrew declares, ending the odd and curious encounter with as much dignity as he can muster. Continuing to wear his smile, the man approaches the kitchen counter as his wife rounds the corner, turning on the sink and allowing the water to get cold before dipping his hands beneath and coating his face with what remains on his fingers, trying to clear his mind of the hardship that wears upon his conscience, finding it difficult to forget the events of the day.

Seeing his reflection in the backyard window just over the kitchen sink nonetheless, Andrew looks back at himself as he pulls in a heavy breath. Flipping off the overhead light to wipe his mirrored image from the line of his sight, the man is left with a simple view of his backyard and the freshly cut grass that covers it beneath the stormlight just above the patio door. Ridding himself of the torment that looks him in the face, the man carries on with his evening, trying to put it out of his mind just as he always has.

== Generation Alpha ==