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Climbing out from its hole, a rabbit emerges from the bramble, its brilliantly-white coat covered in dirt. Gazing around the grass with its bold, brown eyes, the rabbit prances away from its home, sights set on the scattered, chopped carrots in the nearby grass. As if concerned, the rabbit pans around the forest again, peering into the vast assortment of flora, and expecting to find someone lying in wait, eager to pounce on the chance to take advantage of its preoccupation.
Satisfied enough to proceed, the rabbit scurries toward the carrots, placing the sliced disk at the front of its teeth before a distant shot rings out, the bullet propelled through its tiny frame with ease from closeby. “Good rabbit” Jess mutters, climbing out from her cover directly behind the rabbit’s hole, her dinner for the evening secured with little issue. With a dull knife and limited understanding of the process, Jess spends the afternoon hours struggling to shed the rabbit of its warm coat as the hot sun only grows warmer with time. Sweat trickling from her forehead, down the side of her face, and off the end of her chin, Jess slowly makes progress, eventually sliding her ineffective blade down the rabbit’s flesh well enough to serve. Above a small fire, the rabbit begins to cook, slowly browning the longer Jess spends watching it, the thin branch it’s skewered upon manually spun by Jess’ fingers. The dry patch of dirt over her head starting to dampen with her sweat, Jess scoops her carrots into a metal can and sits down for her meal, satisfied with the colour of her dinner’s cooked flesh. Removing the rotisserie, Jess raises the meat to her teeth, suddenly stopping at the sound of distant footsteps. On alert, Jess slides beneath the mound of dirt her back presses against, staying hidden from those that may approach from behind her. Wiping the drops of grease from her face, Jess reaches to her hip, the pistol housed there now taken into her hand, prepared to for may appear from behind the tall grass. Slowing her breathing to an inaudible hush, Jess listens beyond the low winds, her campsite darkened as clouds arrive just overhead. Unable to discern what’s being said, Jess listens to the whispering of two men about fifty yards behind her, their faint voices growing closer as the seconds pass. Just as they had arrived, the men excitedly huddle toward the ground, ruffling leaves and small twigs as they settle. Pulling her legs close, Jess lays the rabbit in a bucket and prepares to take part in the waiting game, her knees pressing against her ribs as the first few raindrops begin to fall. Continuing to talk amongst themselves for another few seconds, Jess listens in until their voices finally stop, an eerie silence emerging from her blindspot. Letting go of a deep breath, Jess readies her weapon, preparing to shoot as her eyes drift forward, falling upon the whitetail deer just past her makeshift slow-roast set. Coming to her realisation, Jess covers her ears, waiting out the seconds that remain before the gunmen behind her tear a bullet through the deer’s eye. Still able to hear the gunshot rippling through the trees, Jess watches the buck collapse as she huddles back into her cover, her weapon readied again. “Come on” Jess whispers to herself, paying no attention to the incoming rainstorm as the men approach, ready to be rewarded for their kill. “When was the last time you snagged a buck?” one of the men asks, climbing over a downed tree to keep up with the other. “It’s been a minute” the other man responds, leaping over a divot in the ground in route to their prized catch, yet to realise that Jess resides within that same crater, waiting for the right moment. “Minute or no minute, Jade’s not gonna have a problem with it either way” the first man replies, the sight of his feet whilst mid-jump affording Jess her moment. “Guns down, hands up!” Jess orders, rotating her aim between the two men as they turn around, immediately giving into the instructions made. Able to look both men in the eyes, Jess holds her aim on the second man, his familiar face speaking to memories of a distant time. “Ameil?” Jess murmurs, her look of awe mirrored across the man’s face, influenced by the slim odds of their reunion. “Jessica!” Ameil responds, noticing the fire by the woman’s side, “what are you doing here?” As the rain begins to fall harder, Jess lowers her aim, letting the gun hang beside her hip, their eyes yet to pull away from each other. “I could ask you the same thing” Jess responds, pressing her teeth together out of annoyance, completely unsure of how to reply past that. = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards = Watching Lauren emerge from the forest beneath the early drizzle, Grace occupies the cabin’s wooden front steps with a cup of tea in her hand. “You’re late” Grace exclaims, calling out to her puzzled co-worker with a frown, Lauren’s focus placed on the dozens of electrical workers venturing throughout their incinerator’s tunnel. “What’s all this?” Lauren replies, paying no mind to Grace’s earlier claim, “what are all these people doing here?” Allowing her own statement to be forgotten to time, Grace responds with a frown, her mug lifted to her lips mid-sentence. “The incinerator’s down. Something to-” Grace answers, her throat soothed by the brief pause it takes to pull down a swig of her warm beverage, “-do with the power grid.” “Okay, well- did they tell you when it’ll start working again?” Lauren responds, answered with Grace’s casual head shake. Turning away, Lauren sets her sights on the first worker she can find, his yellow vest sticking out boldly from the green-coated landscape. “Hi, I’m Lauren” the woman introduces herself, a smile as fake as her polite appearance. “Eddy” the man replies, taking her handshake on its offer. “I’m sure you already know what I came by to ask” Lauren responds, her hand finding a home on her hips. “If it’s about when your machine will be back up, I’m not sure yet” Eddy responds, walking back to the tunnel with Lauren following closely behind, the ground beneath them moistened enough to outline the bottom of their shoes. “We installed the incinerator after the zombies showed up, and had to hook it up to the main grid manually” Eddy explains, “if I had to guess, there’s a good chance something underground went awry.” Understanding very little of the man’s response, Lauren simplifies her question, “is there a time frame we’re working with?” the woman counters, hiding the pain that her fake smile inflicts, “are we talking hours? Days?” “More like weeks” Eddy responds, watching the plastic smile drop from Lauren’s face as easily as it had appeared, “Jade’s out of commission for the day, and this isn’t a small project. If I were you, I’d plan on it being down for a few weeks.” Freed from her responsibility of being hospitable, Lauren turns away without another word, walking back to Grace with a scowl on her face. “Any progress?” the tea-drinking woman replies, immediately recognising Lauren’s disgusted look for what it is. Her walk slowing, Lauren stands in the middle of the open lot, thinking quietly to herself for a few moments before responding. “They’re waiting for Jade to answer them- they’ve got no idea yet” Lauren answers, turning back to return home the way she came. “That’s it? You’re just gonna leave?” Grace calls out, her fingers wrapped around the rim of the mug as it hangs between her spread legs. “There’s no point in sticking around!” Lauren replies, back-tracking her way toward the entrance’s path, “lock up here when they’re done!” With her arms extended, Grace watches the woman walk away, no true intention of returning. “See you tomorrow, then!” Grace exclaims, her head shaking as Lauren holds her hand up, the only genuine ‘goodbye’ she can muster. | “Why do they give you so little?” Jack inquires, sat near the front of Rocky’s boat whilst Franklin sits in the rear, guiding his vessel and the nineteen others that follow. “If you give a little, you’ll get a little” Rocky responds, sat close to the middle, barely able to hear Jack over the sound of crashing waves, “it justifies giving us so little to work with. If we can’t produce the amount of weaponry they want because they short-change us, it justifies them short-changing us.” “Doesn’t that hurt their bottom line?” Nessie interjects, sat directly opposite their recently-acquainted friend, “sure, you’ll be the one suffering. That said, they’ll be the ones with less ammunition.” With a chuckle, Rocky shakes his head as his eyes drift toward the seas ahead, his face splashed with droplets. “There are fewer dead to kill and fewer living to fight” Rocky replies, “whatever the other camps make is more important in the long run than my bullets.” “And they don’t fear other settlements revolting?” Franklin interjects, one hand steering the vessel toward a distant island off Boston’s coastline. “Are you nuts? They fuck us over so much because it doesn’t make a difference to them” Rocky responds, never unamused by his guest’s cluelessness, “we get the scraps because the other settlements thrive. What’s one unhappy settlement if you’ve got dozens of others that love rolling in shit like pigs? I’ll tell you- they’re fucked.” “It still doesn’t add up. There’s nothing Rockford does that other settlements don’t already have their hand in” Clint explains, his curiosity still looming, “why keep you around if they’d be fine with cutting you out entirely?” With a shrug, Rocky shakes his head, again looking toward the distant island reserve. “It’s pointless questioning why Nova Scotia does what it chooses to” Rocky replies, letting out a defeated sigh, “it doesn’t make us any less screwed.” “No, but it could work in your favour” Clint quickly argues, adamant in his claim, “whatever it is that makes Rockford necessary for Nova Scotia- if you can figure out what that is, you can make a deal with them.” Hands wrapped around the back of his head, Jack takes Clint’s claim to heart, thinking the man’s statement over before concluding his own. “The ports” Jack mutters aloud, taking Rocky’s eyes toward him, “it’s the same reason they set up compounds at the start. For easy transport.” “They’ve got other ports along the coastline, Pinky” Rocky responds, quick to dismiss the claim. “Yeah, and they had other compounds too. One in Concord to make travel from Nova Scotia to New York easier. Or New York itself, so they could get between Concord and Delaware easier” Jack replies, finding the pattern written in plain sight, “They need Rockford because it keeps them from needing to travel inland to deliver shipments.” “You’re wasting your breath, kid- negotiations aren’t on the table” Rocky responds, quick to continue his dismissive reaction, “if Nova Scotia smells their strength starting to wane, they won’t hesitate to remind you why they’re the central power.” His response catching the eye of those in the boat with him, Rocky senses the need to explain himself, doing so before the opportunity can be given to him. “We tried to produce oil ourselves to up the flow of goods we were making, and I told you Nova Scotia put a stop to that” Rocky recalls, his eyes dropping as the mood begins to fall, “they cut off our supplies, took half of our personal weaponry and sixty percent of our food. They told us to work or starve, and we haven’t stopped since- all because one of our packing stations got drowned out by a flood. We got behind schedule one time two years ago, and we’re still paying for it.” The information they’re privy to beginning to unsettle them, Franklin and Jack look toward each other in silence, passing glances at Clint and Nessie to suggest a shared feeling of dread. “If Pinky hadn’t gnawed off his pinky like that, we would have shot you where you stood- we couldn’t afford people knowing where Rockford was” Rocky explains, not trying to hide his prior motivations, “but if the four of you can put this nightmare behind us, I will forever be in your debt.” “We only want a ride to Nova Scotia” Jack replies, quick to voice the trade off, one that Rocky takes kindly to. “And if this place is stocked with supplies like you say it is, you’ll have it” Rocky responds, extending his right hand out to Jack, this time neither hand being bloodied by self-inflicted wounds, “I’m a man of my word when the people are right.” Looking into Rocky’s eyes, Jack sees a genuine hope he hadn’t had upon their first encounter, a response that eases him into accepting the man’s offer. With the meeting of their hands, Rocky and Jack feel a bond in appreciation for the other’s past, as if their shared hope weren’t possible without the chances taken by the other. | “Is the rain a big deal?” Emilio inquires, more cautious in his step as he follows closely behind Jade, staring at every inch of ground they have yet to cover. “The small critters will run for cover, but we’re not hunting them” Jade replies, her rifle worn on a strap that rests around her neck, hands pressing against the same rocks she climbs over to venture further out. As the minutes pass, the rain begins to fall harder, crashing down with force. “Does it ever get tiring?” Emilio inquires, his hands pressing against the wet assortment of rocks ahead, “being the leader of a ton of people, I mean. Does it ever get tiring?” Her lips pressed together, Jade shakes her head, aware of her answer before any depth is needed for it. “I think I’ve done it long enough to the point where all the exhaustion is gone” Jade responds, her lips coated in a shade of black lipstick, “it’s just second nature now.” Nodding along to the answer, Emilio continues forward, following the woman to a clearing in the trees, their eyes finding the large body of water that lies ahead, its surface beaten by the droplets. “How about you?” Jade inquires, the question confusing the man that follows her lead, “did it ever get tiring being your last group’s leader?” With a sigh, Emilio’s eyes begin to roll, his annoyance sparked with the question’s verbalisation. “How many times do I have to repeat myself?” Emilio responds, the only hint of emotion in his voice being that of the exhaustion he holds for having to answer, “I wasn’t the leader.” With a chuckle, Jade tries her best to hide the amusement she gets from the man’s answer, her efforts doing nothing to keep Emilio from overhearing the humour she takes from it. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve convinced yourself that you weren’t, but you were” Jade replies, periodically peering at the man from over her shoulder, “and that’s not a bad thing. If I’m being honest, I don’t know why you think it is.” Rolling his eyes, Emilio continues to follow along, feeling his boots begin to sink into soft dirt, the banks of the woodland’s hidden pond resting at the tip of their shoes. “It’s not like you were the leader against everyone else’s will. From what I could tell, they were all in favour of you” Jade continues, sensing the man’s reluctance to respond now that he stands beside her, “it’s not like it’d be infringing on your democratic code.” Gritting his teeth, Emilio takes his view toward the distance, watching the storm clouds reflect off the natural waters as he ponders Jade’s point. “If you’d have met the people I’ve come across with that title, you’d understand my hesitation” Emilio responds, an answer Jade laughs off. “Who are we talking about? Tony? Dawson? Charlotte?” the woman replies, recalling the group’s vivid detail of their administrations, “or are we talking about John?” Feeling himself scurrying in circles, Emilio turns away, preparing to return to the path he and Jade had travelled to reach their reflective destination. “Running away from the truth?” Jade calls back, watching the man cease his retreat, looking back at her with an unpleasant look, “or are you just walking away from the past?” “I’m walking away from the conversation” Emilio quickly responds, watching the smile stretch across Jade’s face, her amusement knowing no boundaries. “No, you’re not” Jade replies, tucking her fingers into the denim pockets at her sides as the rain begins to pour worse, “you’re just walking away period.” His face coated with drops of water, Emilio stares into Jade’s eyes for a few seconds, keeping his silent and unresponsive exterior worn like a mask. “Have you ever stopped to think about how you got here? Maybe think about the things you said to people on the way?” Jade persists, watching the man slowly return to her, bracing against the wet conditions, “maybe think about the things you did to people on the way?” “What are you getting at?” Emilio cuts back, eager to hear the woman’s declaration from her own lips, not pleased with the game being played. Her tongue pressing against the corner of her lip, Jade hangs her head for a moment, thinking to herself as Emilio nears, his eyes staring a hole through her chest. “You hate the idea of having to be a leader, and it’s clear that your first-hand accounts through the years have made that true” Jade responds, “could some of that be John’s doing?” Thunder beginning to roar at the mention of John’s name, Emilio takes a step back, forcing himself to create distance between the pair. “I’ve said it before- we had our reasons” Emilio replies, his defensive response guiding Jade toward his most vulnerable thoughts. “And you can’t see for a moment why those reasons could have been misguided?- or even wrong?” Jade questions, the silence she’s initially met with only continuing. “Think about what you’ve done since this started. All the lives you’ve had to take to get this far” Jade explains, closing in on the man’s treasured beliefs, “you sent a plane crashing into a town of thousands, you led a misguided revolution, destroyed an entire democracy! Where does it end!?” “I didn’t do those things- John did” Emilio replies, unknowingly biting into the same hook Jade cast out to catch him with. “And you followed John. Everything he did was something you condoned by following his lead” Jade responds, stepping forward to voluntarily close the distance Emilio had originally created. “We had-!” Emilio quickly interrupts, only for he, himself, to be interrupted by the same woman. “-reasons, yeah- I’ve heard that once or twice” Jade interjects, leaving the man no room to retreat as she continues to approach, “from what I can gather, those reasons were wrong.” Confronted, Emilio pulls his face away, watching the sky’s flashing lights bounce off the foggy waters. “Look at me. I’ve been in charge of Cumberland since day one and we had no vote!” Jade exclaims, getting right back in Emilio’s face, “I’m the furthest thing from an elected official.” “You’re different” Emilio retorts, feeling the truth’s he’s curated begin to crumble at his feet, impossibly weak beneath the woman’s persistence. “Why am I different? Because my city hasn’t been lit on fire yet? Because I’m not executing people in the street?” Jade asks, her own conclusion soon dawning near, a look of realisation finding her eyes, “or is it because I’m not morally conflicted?” “What is that supposed to mean?” Emilio retorts, taking the jab at his expense for what it is, the thunder beginning to roar through the air as the woman replies. “It’s been nearly five years since the world ended. Have you ever taken a second to reflect on- fuck, anything? Jade inquires, taking Emilio by the bottom of the chin, his face guided toward her own, “have you ever stopped to think that maybe, just maybe- you’re the bad guy?” Given no chance to answer, Jade and Emilio’s confrontation is put to a halt by the cruel gods above, the lightning bolt that crashes upon the water embracing them with a gust of heat. Their eyes taking toward the sound of the eruption-like crash, Jade and Emilio stare out at the water, the sights that emerge from behind the greenery across the shallow pond redirecting their attention. “We need to get back to the truck” Jade remarks, watching the undead clump together as they approach the pond, taking attention from the people on the other side as their numbers continue to rise. “Is it a horde?” Emilio inquires, answered with little more than Jade’s hand wrapping around the collar of his shirt. “Let’s not stick around to find out” Jade shouts back, pulling the man in her direction as they retreat, the dead only continuing to grow. | “I’m home!” Grace shouts out, her voice bouncing off the walls of their large, spacious entrance foyer. Her bag being left by the side of the door as she shuts it, Grace glances back toward the spacious interior, waiting for a response that never arrives. “Donnie!?” Grace exclaims, again standing by for a response from the second level. Only met with further silence, Grace proceeds into the kitchen, her shoes being slid from her rough-skinned heels and left at the entrance. Pulling open the refrigerator, Grace wraps her hands around the first glass pitcher she sees. Pouring herself a tall glass of pomegranate juice, Grace rests the pitcher back in the machine and closes the door, her feet carrying her to the kitchen’s island, where she occupies one of many seats. Winding down for the evening, Grace gazes around the kitchen for a few minutes before the sound of a wooden pole toppling over rings throughout the home from the upper level. Startled by how close the noise seems, Grace peers back the way she came, nothing left in the foyer or walkway to suggest anyone would be present. “Hello!?” Grace inquires, waiting for a response that, again, never replies. Left with no other option, Grace grabs her drink and proceeds toward the stairwell, its sloped, marble design leading her from ground level to the floor above. “Donnie!?” Grace calls out again, no longer waiting for a response, but hoping for one, “are you home!?” As unresponsive as it were when she had arrived, the home remains quiet, only the sound of heavy rainfall from beyond the windows and doors to answer her, the sunlight blocked out by dark, ominous rain clouds. Cascaded in a shadowy grey, Grace watches the walls begin to talk, every other step allowing her to see beyond corners and into long stretches of darkness, the shadows that appear upon the white-coloured aisles giving her a clue into what lies ahead. “I’ve had a bad enough day as it is, don’t make it worse” Grace worriedly shouts, again given nothing in response, not even the outline of a figure to coax her into untravelled, hardwood-floored descents into uncertainty. “Seriously, Donnie- this isn’t funny” Grace exclaims, her left hand trembling enough for the juice in her cup to nearly slip over the edge, offering the opportunity to slide down the glass’ side and to the floor. “You got out of work two hours ago, I know you’re home” Grace warns, convincing herself of fables she could only wish were as real as they’d been made out to believe in times of strife, “if you’re in here, I’m going to hurt you!” Her heart beginning to race, Grace glances down the hall where their shared bedroom rests, its entire length hidden behind a sea of nothingness. Too scared to look away, Grace presses her shaky right hand against the wall, her palm fumbling around in search of the lightswitch she knows to be near. Grazing it with her fingers, Grace presses her hand into the switch, horrified by the uncertainty of what lies in the dark ahead, but somehow more afraid of what the darkness is bound to reveal. Forcing herself to throw her hand upward, Grace cloaks the hall in fluorescent light, what lies beyond surprising her in the best way. With relief, Grace calms her unsteady breaths, feeling her heart begin to beat slower as her mind regains control of her motor functions. Laid out on the ground, the handle of a broom rests against the floor, the closet door from which it fell knocked open amidst its descent. Laying her cup on the floor, Grace stumbles forward, still reeling from the suspense she’d been overcome by. Without issue, Grace lifts the pole and places it back into the bin it had fallen from, now able to close the door with a smile on her face. Feeling the locks set into place, the worry Grace had felt linger in her stomach before returning, the closing door blowing a small gust of wind back at her face. As her loose hairs settle, Grace stares at the door’s handle, unsure of why she’d become so worried. Timidly retreating to what caused the feeling, Grace opens the door again, the handle pushed down a few inches before guiding the door closed again, letting the handle rest in its normal position. Still uncertain, Grace repeats the action a few more times before putting her worries aside, allowing them to fester as she begins toward her bedroom. Empty handed, Grace flicks the lightswitch and closes her door, attempting to retreat to bed before the realisation suddenly dawns upon her. As if chased by a ghost, Grace throws her bedroom door open and dashes through the hall, kicking her glass of juice over as she scrambles toward the front exit. Pushing her feet into the first pair of shoes she can find, Grace dashes through the front door and hurries off into the distance, her spilled juice beginning to trickle down the stairs. Racing through the forest, Grace returns to her workplace, the cabin locked and secured whilst the accompanying tunnel remains open, welcoming whatever may come upon it to a dark, miserable journey. Running through thick clumps of mud, Grace pries the incinerator’s tunnel doors from their restraints and seals the cavernous interior off from the world, the worried hole burning in her stomach being filled as she locks the gates up and prepares for her return home. | “What you’re saying doesn’t make sense” Jess responds, sat across the small campsite from her unarmed contemporaries, their rifles lying beside her hip. “You’ve said that three times now, and you’re no more clear than you were the first” Ameil retorts, sat on a rock just ahead of the woman, his hair drenched in rainwater, “what doesn’t make sense?” “Why they’d consider you a ‘family of three’ and huddle you into an apartment” Jess replies, both hands pressed together beneath her chin, “if they’d put Emilio and the rest in a townhouse, it’d make sense to give you a single-family house. It doesn’t add up.” “Well- it’s not like we plan on being there long-term” Ameil responds, Jess’ eyes pulling toward him at the slightest hint that she could be right. “When Cumberland families are pregnant, or have a kid under sixteen, they’re given an automatic ticket to the next Nova Scotia group” Ameil confesses, watching Jess’ eyes light up with a festering anger. “You were gonna take Amy to Nova Scotia?” Jess replies, her head pulling away from the coupled hands at her chin. “You were gonna take my kid to Nova Scotia!?” Jess repeats, her voice beginning to raise to a shout, “you were gonna use my kid to get yourselves to Nova Scotia!?” His hands held out, Ameil watches Jess leave her seat, pleading a refusal to fight as she rushes at the chance to approach the man. “It wasn’t for us!” Ameil shouts, continuing to back away as Jess progresses, closing the small amount of space between them, “John wanted us to!” Her pace stopping, Jess stares into Ameil’s eyes, the anger she feels only resting at the brink of the pot it simmers within. “That was the plan you’d been preaching since before we met- to find somewhere safe to settle into!” Ameil explains, desperately trying to defend himself, “we thought the two of you were dead, so we were trying to get Amy there with us- like you’d wanted!” Able to understand the reasonable explanation, Jess struggles to settle down, gradually alleviating her anger through sheer will. “We truly thought you were all dead. If we knew you were alive, we would’ve come running once we saw the explosion” Ameil explains, watching the woman’s rage subside, “it’s not for us, I swear.” Slowly walking backward, Jess’ curiosities only continue to build, the distant sound of thunder ripping through the skies serving as a backdrop to their conversation. “I want to see my daughter” Jess remarks, slicing a piece of the cooked rabbit’s flesh off with a greasy switchblade, the water that coats it not concerning her. “Yeah- I’ll do my best” Ameil responds, again earning Jess’ disapproving side-eye. “You’ll do your best?” Jess replies, almost mocking the man’s response in a way, “what the fuck does that mean?” Cut off from speaking by the persistent sights of lightning flashes through the sky, Ameil waits for a moment, allowing the thunder to roar before answering. “I don’t know if Cumberland will allow it” Ameil responds, speaking through a disappointed muzzle, “I’m not sure how that process works.” “You wont get her back” Ryan replies, chiming into the conversation unrequested, an audible dislike for Jess contained within his voice, “they won’t give her to a single mom.” The man’s comments taking her ear, Jess swallows the cooked flesh she’d ripped apart with her teeth before responding to the third, mostly unfamiliar, man. “I’m Amy’s mother. They’ll either give her back to me, or I’ll burn the town down trying to take her” Jess responds, pointing the tip of her knife in the man’s direction. “Do you think threats are gonna make them change their minds?” Ryan counters, failing to see the reason within Jess’ thoughts, “if you were in their shoes, where would you leave a kid? In the hands of a single parent, or in a house with a mom and dad?” “I’d give the kid back to their birth parents, that’s what I would do” Jess replies, slicing off another piece of her meal. “What if their parents were neglectful?” Ryan suddenly retorts, the answer he asks from the woman going unreturned, only a curious look given back to him. “What does that have to do with this?” Jess responds, noticing the jab subtly taken at her. “Ryan, stop t-” Ameil interjects, both Jess and Ryan’s hand held toward him, both parties wishing for his silence. “I want to hear what the man has to say” Jess replies to Ameil, her focus given back to the man at the far side of the camp, tossing her skewed rabbit aside as she leaves her seat, approaching Ryan with her knife brandished, “what are you implying, Ryan?” Aware of the threat, Ryan leaves his seat and begins to back away, retreating one step for every foot Jess advances. “I said what I said, and I won’t say it twice” Ryan responds, visibly shaken by Jess, who brushes off Ameil’s persistent concerns as the third man backs away. “Don’t interrupt me, Ameil. It won’t end well” Jess explains, continuing to place her attention on Ryan, his active dissertation playing into her hand, “what’s wrong, Ryan? Won’t open your mouth now that it’s not convenient?” Adamant, Ryan continues to back away, his hands held at his chest in a show of surrender. “I’m not going to play this game, ma’am” Ryan replies, watching Ameil approach slowly from behind, making sure the conversation doesn’t end with blood being shed, “I said what I said, and I’d- Aaahhh!” His scream measuring close to the level that curdles blood, Ryan collapses onto his back at the stinging sensation around his ankle, which wears the sharp teeth of a bear trap directly through his shin. “What the hell did you do!?” Ameil exclaims, bumping into Jess with his shoulder as he races up to Ryan’s side, only able to work off of what he sees. “He stepped into a bear trap, I didn’t do anything” Jess responds, lifting both hands into the air. Tending to the wound, Ameil hears three distant gunshots ring through the air, his eyes widening as he looks out at Jess. “We need to go now!” Ameil shouts, reaching into the trap’s claws in an effort to pry its jaws apart. “Jess, I need your help!” Ameil exclaims, looking back to the woman with distressed eyes, her posture remaining unchanged from what it was before. “Why are you standing there!? Help me!” Ameil exclaims, again trying to pull the jaws apart to no use, the few inches of separation nowhere near the leverage required for an escape. “Jess, get the fuck over here!” Ameil exclaims, again finding the woman where she last was, standing at the campsite with the knife by her side, unwilling to intervene. “He’s screwed either way” Jess replies calmly, unphased by Ryan’s torturous screams, her finger aimed in the distance. “Aarrgghh!” a horde of roaming corpses groans in the near distance, their sights set solely upon the distressed men. “Oh god, Ameil! Hurry up!” Ryan shouts, unable to feel anything other than the soaring pain in his leg, its sensation making silence impossible. Attempting to pry the teeth off Ryan’s leg once more, Ameil’s third failure spells disaster ahead, time running too low for hope to prevail. As the dead near closer, Ameil is taken by surprise at the size of the impending horde, the three-bullet signal already having called for him. “I’m sorry, Ryan” Ameil murmurs, reluctantly pulling away from the man with a grimace on his face, any extra minute spent trying to win an already-lost fight serving as a threat to his own survival. “Ameil, please! Please, help me!” Ryan exclaims, digging his fingers into the mud as he tries to crawl away, aware of the writing on the wall. “PLEASE!” Ryan screams, reaching his hand out for Ameil as the dead finally close in, his friend’s back begrudgingly turned toward him. “Ameil!” Ryan screams once more, feeling the teeth sink into his calf as others begin to gnaw at his back, the rest digging into whatever they can reach. Listening to the guttural screams fade away, Ameil looks on in disbelief, hearing the man’s final gasps be taken, his own name the final thing spoken off the man’s tongue. Backing away, Ameil is helpless to do anything other than watch, his head shaking as the noises begin to decrease, soon fading beneath the starved groans of the dead. Only a few steps back, Jess peers at her hand, a sudden thought wrapping around her mind and pressing down, guiding her forward with a scowl. Storming forward, Jess presses her left hand upon Ameil’s shoulder whilst her right swings forward, plunging the blade into the man’s back with minimal effort. His shocked groans turned into a pain-ridden shriek, the sensation of the dagger being ripped from his lower back almost worse than the pain of it entering. Unable to process what’s happened, Ameil’s weak knees give out as his body spins around, the sight of Jess standing over him speaking all that he needs to know. “I’m sorry- I need to get Amy back” Jess explains, her blood-covered knife readied for a second shot, “I can’t have you ruining that for me.” Yearning to finish what she’d started, Jess buries her knife into Ameil for a second time, this thrust piercing his jugular with lethal force. Regurgitating his own blood, Ameil collapses face-down in the mud, slowly left to bleed out in the rain as the dead approach, kneeling before the man and consuming what’s been left for them. “It had to be done” Jess whimpers, wiping the snot from her nose as she backs away, the knife in her hand tossed into the vast forest. “It had to be done” Jess repeats, turning away from the dead and beginning her sprint toward safety, unable to focus on anything more than convincing herself that she’d done what was necessary, “it had to be done.” Creating puddles with every step she takes, Jess sprints through the woodlands, her eyes set on the clearing in the trees as she leaves the scene of the crime, completely ignoring the act she’d just committed. == Rise ==
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One of many, a ragged corpse stumbles toward the sound of struggle, taking whatever delight it can from the presence of its prey, fending off the likes of its kind. Cutting off one side of a reasonably new bridge as others approach from the opposite end, the zombie drags itself closer to the sound of desperation, hoping to get lucky and drag its victim down unsuspectingly.
His decay withering him down to loose skin, withered muscle and fragile bones, the corpse draws near, reaching out for its meal as its opportunity arises. As quickly as it had arrived, the corpse is discarded of, the crown of its skull caved in by the claw of a hammer, whose handle rests within a familiar grasp. “Keep moving, Clint!” Jack shouts, watching the once religiously-pure man rip his weapon from the undead carcasses skull and advance forward. “We can’t keep moving with them like this!” Franklin shouts, watching the number of the dead increase as his bayonet-tipped cap swings in the direction of rotten stench. “What do you suggest we do!?” Nessie shouts, kicking corpses aside as she takes on one at a time, her left hand grabbing their throat as her right brings a mallet over their heads. “Find some fucking cover!” Franklin shouts back, forced to push back the undead onslaught as they begin to pile up. The only man spared from fighting for the moment, Jack glances toward the bridge’s side, the coastline itself littered with trees he can barely see over the tops of. “There’s a few houses on the shoreline!” Jack shouts, jabbing his phillips-head screwdriver at anything that walks, “if we can reach the end, we should be able to slide down to them!” “I’ll settle for whatever works!” Clint exclaims, nearly splitting a corpse’s skull in two. “Get to the fucking shoreline then!” Franklin shouts, satisfied with the plan enough to start throwing his weight against the scrawny undead, leaving corpses to knock each other over as if they were bowling pins. Divided by a few feet, the group continues to push toward the front of the bridge, leaving whatever threat they’ve yet to dispose of behind in hopes of out-pacing them. In the very back of the group, Jack continues to wail on the dead, spacing his breaths to avoid getting winded. “I think I see a road up ahead!” Jack calls out, beginning to lag behind the others as their discards climb back up, beginning to turn their sights toward him, as if they could smell the sweat dripping off of his face, “if we can take it east, we’ll-!” Dropping another corpse mid-sentence, Jack pulls his hand back to free the screwdriver from its resting place, only to find his grip to have been relinquished, the perspiration-covered handle remaining in the dead’s skull as it falls beneath the next wave of corpses. “Fuck!” Jack shouts, watching multiple pairs of feet stumble over the body his weapon is buried in, separating him from his trusted defence permanently. “What’s going on back there!?” Nessie shouts, watching her brother begin to crawl through choked gravel and dirt on his way to the street below. “I lost my weapon!” Jack shouts, forced to pull away from the hornet-like swarm around him whilst kicking aside the dead in brief moments of self-preservation. “I’m coming, Jack!” Franklin shouts, ripping at the collars of a few weather-damaged shirts before his friend’s order calls him off. “Don’t! Just get to the houses!” Jack shouts, his back now pressing against the colour-faded green, metal fence. “I’ll find my way down!” Jack shouts again, this time aided in his declaration by Nessie, who hurries back to lead Franklin away by the hand, trusting Jack to handle himself. His lower body’s strength as strong as his pursuers are weak, Jack creates enough momentary separation to conjure a plan, seeing little option ahead that doesn’t result in his death. As Jack wraps his hands around the metal gate for leverage, a thought suddenly dawns upon him, leading the man to take a momentary glance at the waters below with a smirk. Taking advantage of the space he’s created, Jack turns his back to the dead and propels himself over the metal gate, lowering himself onto the ledge with caution, his fingers wrapped around the solid bars dividing him from the dead. Pulling back, Jack hangs himself over a steep drop into the water below as the dead advance, reaching their arms through the bars in hopes of getting within reach. “I hate how fucking ironic this is” Jack murmurs beneath his breath, glancing to his left as Nessie and Franklin descend toward the street below. “Ah, fuck!” Jack suddenly shouts, pulling his left hand away from the bars at the sensation of a stinging pain, his pinky finger curiously bloodied. Shaking his hand, Jack comes upon a quiet realisation, only needing a moment in thought to wear himself into horror. Without giving his actions additional thought, Jack lets his second hand pull away from the metal bars, his weight pushing backwards as he does so, allowing him to plummet into the rough waters below. Submerged, Jack feels the tide pull him away from his destination, unable to fight the stinging sensation in his back to begin pulling toward the surface. With effort and resilience, the man breaks through the surface, gasping for air as he paddles toward the shore, where Clint already awaits his return. Rushing into knee-deep waters, Franklin and Nessie hurry to meet Jack in the water, pulling him to land once in reach. “That was too fucking close!” Franklin shouts, letting the man’s shoulders fall onto the rocky, grass-covered back lawn of their riverside meeting point. “How many more of those encounters are we gonna have before someone gets hurt!?” Franklin angrily questions, clearly agitated by the struggle presented. “None” Jack suddenly interjects, gladly playing the opposition to Franklin’s concern. “Why is that!?” Franklin shouts, throwing his metal cap in the grass out of frustration, “have we finally learned our lesson!?” Still struggling to catch his breath, Jack holds his left hand toward the group, the water having washed the blood away to leave only the wound itself. “No” Jack replies, unable to speak without audible disappointment, “I’m bit.” Having seeked comfort in the release of his anger, Franklin is pulled back to earth by Jack’s statement, unsure of how to respond whilst Nessie gives into denial. “No- no you’re not” Nessie replies, clearly rattled by the revelation as she hurries to the man’s side, taking his hand to inspect it herself. “Yeah, Nessie- I am” Jack responds, pulling his hand from her reach and shaking it to relieve the pain, “a dementia-ridden Sherlock Holmes could figure that out.” “Yikes!” a distant, yet guttural voice exclaims, armed with an assault rifle as he approaches the group, flanked by dozens of men armed with the same, heavy-duty equipment. “When you find an infected washed up on the beach, the first thing you do is-” the man exclaims, waiting for his brigade to respond. “Eradicate the threat, sir!” the men all shout in unison, no one soul offbeat from the rest, not one existence daring to stand out from the cargo jacket, white t-shirt wearing ‘sir’. “We don’t want-” Clint begins to explain, his words dying off as quickly as he is interrupted. “You don’t want any trouble, I’ve heard all of that before” the grey-haired, clean-shaven, mid-50’s appearing man replies, his voice coming across with the tone of rolling molasses, “I don’t care, and I’m not gonna.” “We’re not a threat to you” Nessie replies sharply, protective of the people around her. “Is that supposed to change anything?” the man inquires, keeping his rifle aimed to the side, “if you’re a threat to me, I’d want you gone. If you weren’t a threat to me, what use are you without a pair of balls to stand your ground? Hell, one of y’all is already bit! It’s a lose-lose for you, darling.” “We don’t have to be a threat to you in order to be a threat in general” Jack replies, angrily pushing himself off the ground as the older man begins to laugh. “You’ll be dead in days, I know you’re a threat in general” the older man replies, readying his weapon to fire, “that’s why I have you and your friends down.” Throwing herself in front of Jack, Nessie shields her friend from the man’s line of fire, not caring for the result of her choice. “Little lady, you’d be better off steppin’ aside” the man warns, preparing his sights for a shot. “He doesn’t want bravery, Nes’” Jack groans, gently guiding Nessie aside, “he wants something more than that.” Lowering his weapon, the old man indulges Jack’s claim, intrigued by what the survivor is getting at. “Kid, I don’t know what your game is, but it’s not working” the militia commander replies, “bravery won’t keep you weak folk from meeting your maker.” “How about a tip, then? You know, for future use?” Jack queries, again prompting the older man to lower the gun from his sights. With a sigh, the man waits for Jack to offer his peace, providing another warning as he closes in. “My men will litter you and your friends with bullets if you don’t mind your distance, son” the greyed man explains, eagerly waiting for Jack’s advancement to cease. “Think of a bite like a problem” Jack explains, displaying his infected finger to the gunman, “if you get rid of it before it’s too late, you’ll cut out the problem before it ends you.” With a chuckle, the man clicks his tongue as he nods. “I already knew that, son” the old traveller replies, watching Jack’s smile creep in. “That’s good” Jack retorts, using his adrenaline to fuel his next move, “how’s this for weak folk?” Without warning, Jack leads his pinky finger between his teeth, feeling the tip of his digit press against the back of his tongue as his molars hover below the knuckle. Too committed to turn back, Jack sinks his back teeth through the skin, prying the pinky from his hand as the old man watches in surprise, listening to the audible crunch persist until there’s nothing left for Jack’s teeth to dig through, his hand shaking as it lowers from his jaw with one less count. Mouth slightly ajar, the old man watches a visibly shocked Jack close the distance that remains between them. With a blank expression, Jack spits the severed digit into the man’s face with no remorse, allowing a few seconds to pass before extending his bloodied hand toward his guest’s arm. “Jack O’Rourke” the man grunts, refusing to show weakness in his greeting, the hardiness shown earning Jack the man’s respect. “Rocky” the gunman replies, appreciatively refusing the man’s handshake whilst he remains visibly taken aback from the sight witnessed. = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards = “So, it was never part of your plan?” Lauren stumbles, stood across the room from Alicia and Salem with her arms crossed. “No! We had no idea!” Ameil replies, his body cascaded by the sunrise as it peers between the window’s individual shutters, “he told us to go, and that’s what we did.” “And you just assumed we were dead when the fireball went up?” Alicia asks, earning the response she anticipated. “What else were we supposed to think of it?” Heather counters, listening to footsteps patter along the floor overhead, “we never expected to see any of you again- I’ll be right back” she concludes, walking off to attend to Amy. “How’d you get here?” Angela questions, sat on a loveseat a few feet to the right of Lauren. “They brought us here” Ameil replies, glancing at each of his neighbours as he responds, his sentences mostly finishing with his eyes panning toward Emilio, “we were walking over a little stream when their cars found us. We weren’t in any position to fight, so we just hoped they’d see Amy and have some humanity left in them. Luckily for us, they did.” “And you just believed them when they said- what?” Salem inquires, her elbow pressing into the arm rest as she holds her head up. “They said who they were. They were from a town called ‘Cumberland’, they were patrolling a mile out from their border, and they wanted to bring us in for questioning” Ameil answers, “we were walking around the place because some street lights outside the walls were on. We knew there was power somewhere, so we followed the lights to it.” “The lights must be connected to the town’s power grid” Alicia interjects, willing to defend Ameil’s account, “it makes sense.” Still sceptical, Lauren pulls away from the wall, arms still crossed. “Why didn’t they question you outside?” Lauren replies, peering toward the man through squinted eyes as their landline begins to ring, “what made you three so special to them?” “Maybe the kid by their side had something to do with it” Alicia responds, engaging with the opposing side of Lauren’s question whilst Salem answers the phone. “Will you please stop answering for the man?” Lauren inquires, beginning to turn her annoyance toward the dark-haired couch dweller. “I’m not answering for the man, I’m making informed observations” Alicia retorts, matching Lauren’s increasingly-irritated tone of voice. “I’d like you to stop doing that then” Lauren responds, watching Alicia prepare to retort before Salem’s own frustration overwhelms them. “FUCK!” Salem exclaims, slamming the phone back on the receiver before storming out of the kitchen. “Where are you going!?” Emilio calls out, watching the irate woman march toward the front door. “I’m gonna kill Jade- bye” Salem replies, slamming the door shut as quickly as she’d ripped it open. Speechless, the group looks around the room for a moment, quietly wondering whether the woman is serious or not. “If Salem wants to kill Jade, none of us are gonna be able to stop her” Angela cuts in, aware of where the conversation had paused, “let’s get back to the ‘why are you in Cumberland’ story, please?” “There’s no story left to tell, we’ll just keep repeating ourselves” Heather replies, following Amy into the living space, “they found us, we let them question us, they gave us a house. That’s it, that’s the story.” “And they didn’t try to split you up?” Lauren asks, maintaining her reluctance for as long as it holds water. “They said they don’t split up families” Amy answers, her ability to do so still odd in the eyes of her peers, “and when the next bus comes, we get to go to Nova Scotland.” Getting on her knee, Heather places her hand against Amy’s head, whispering into her ear. “Scotia” Amy corrects, alleviating much of the worrisome suspense, “I meant Nova Scotia.” Leaving her seat, Alicia silently walks deeper into the home, leaving the conversation to those that remain a part of it. Allerted to the sound of knocking at their door, Emilio departs the conversation next, finding Ryan’s approachable look on the other side. “Hey, neighbour” Ryan greets, waving to the homeowner as his welcoming expression turns into a playfully concerned look, “should I be worried about the woman that just stormed out of here with a scowl?” “That’s Salem, and we’re not quite sure yet” Emilio replies, stepping aside to make room for the man’s entry, “come on in.” Accepting the offer, Ryan steps through the front door, immediately finding Ameil, Heather and Amy upon entering. “Uncle Ryan!” Amy warmly exclaims, holding her fist out. “Hey there, Amy-sphere!” Ryan greets, pressing his knuckles against those of the much smaller girl’s. “Can Ameil take me with you guys on your next patrol?” Amy excitedly asks, a question that prompts Ameil to stare at Ryan with a dismissive face, swinging his fingertips at the man as if to beg him to refuse. “I’ve only got grown up gear this time, kiddo” Ryan responds, a wave of concern brought over Ameil’s face, “maybe next time, though. Ok?” With a frown, Amy accepts the man’s answer and walks away, disappointed. “Maybe Emilio can join us?” Ameil abruptly asks, panning back to the hesitant man with a hopeful look, “I’m sure Jade would be interested in picking his brain.” Suddenly less hesitant, Emilio turns to Ryan, appearing as if he doubted the claim just made. “Jade is- wait, what’s a patrol?” Emilio questions, flustered with confusion. “We call hunting a ‘patrol’ around here so people don’t get the wrong idea” Ryan responds, lowering his voice, “you’re not supposed to go beyond the border.” Putting two-and-two together, Emilio turns back to the kitchen, where he occupies one of the island’s barstools. “But, if you’re up for it, we’d love to have you” Ryan doubles down, “it’s just Ameil, Heather, the McKee’s and I. We’ve got another set of gear if you’d like, though?” Reluctant, Emilio feigns considering the offer for a few seconds before attempting to decline. “He’ll do it” Lauren answers instead, watching Emilio’s face dart across the room, laying upon her with immediate annoyance. “Whatever this ‘hunt’ is, he’ll do it” Lauren doubles down, speaking louder than Emilio, who begins an attempt of refusal on his own, “I think he needs a few friends.” “Seriously, we’d love to have you!” Ryan replies, pleased with the answer as he glances back at Emilio, the man’s eyes watching Lauren look at him with a great intensity. “Yeah, alright” Emilio finally caves, giving into Lauren’s acceptance despite his preference remaining largely opposite of such an answer. “That’s great, I’ll send you the info then!” Ryan replies, shaking Emilio’s hand before preparing to leave, “I’ll see you all later!” Leaving the home, the group keeps their pleased facades worn until the coast is clear, where Emilio takes the chance to exercise his frustrations. “What the hell was that!?” Emilio barks, walking in Lauren’s direction with a confrontational edge. “This is your chance to find the others!” Lauren quickly responds, an answer that confuses Emilio the moment it leaves her mouth. “Wha-? You signed me up so I could look for Jack?” Emilio replies, unsure where her reasoning adds up, “Heather, we’re like- an hour outside of Providence. What, do you think he followed us?” “Who else is gonna be on the outside to find out?” Lauren retorts, gathering an equally confused look from Angela, “you could run into him on the way for all we know!” Pulling his head back, Emilio stares at Lauren as if he were wondering whether or not her answer was a joke. “Whatever, I’ve got to go to work” Lauren suddenly remarks, pushing past Emilio as she departs, leaving the home’s two residents hard for words. | Pounding her fist against the front door, Salem waits for an answer, refusing to speak until she knows someone is on the inside to greet her. “Whoever you are, schedule an appointment by telephone or mail” Archie replies from inside, sat at the kitchen table with a book in his hand. “Answer the door, or I’m going to drive that truck through your living room window!” Salem barks, almost able to hear a groan coming from within. “She’s not here, Salem” Archie responds, placing a bookmark in the page he leaves off with. “I don’t care, let me in or I’ll let myself in” Salem replies, again left waiting for a response. Casually strolling up to the door, Archie lets the woman enter, unphased by her physical display. “There are, in case you didn’t know, ways to talk to Jade that don’t involve threatening to destroy our house” Archie remarks, following the woman through the home, “like I said, Jade’s not here.” “My dead-sweep application just got reassessed and they hired me” Salem explains, climbing halfway up the house’s U-shaped stairs, “I know she had them change their verdict, I wanna know why.” Letting out a sigh, Archie’s head falls toward the ground, strapped for an answer. “Perhaps you convinced her the town was safe in your hands” Archie jokes, doing little to quell Salem’s anger, “our door doesn’t seem to be, but maybe the town will fare better.” “I’m not laughing at your joke” Salem replies, watching the man’s eyes roll. “I’m not joking! Our door has fifteen new dents, and I can promise you Jade will know exactly who put them there” Archie replies, pushing his humour aside for a moment, “I don’t know if she did, but why would that be a bad thing?” “Do I need to have a reason?” Salem responds, crossing her arms as she looks down from the staircase’s landing. “If you threaten to park my car inside the living room- yeah, kinda” Archie replies, looking into Salem’s face to find defeat. Silent, Salem’s head begins to hang, almost as if she were angry at the simple fact that she could be so angry. “Listen, I won’t pretend to know you or what you’ve been through. That’s not my business” Archie explains, watching the woman’s eyes trail toward him, “but I was there when we vetted you. I think it’s safe to say that, if we both had to guess, there’s something inside you that doesn’t click with all of this.” Turning away, Salem lets the man continue to speak, hearing him out without needing to pay him the attention he’d like. “There’s definitely an allure to what’s outside, Jade’s not wrong- but some people take to it more than others” Archie furthers, finally earning Salem’s eyesight, “you might just be one of the people that need it to function.” Calming herself from the anger she’d entered the home carrying, Salem’s breaths blow the loose hairs that hang in front of her face, throwing them outward before they fall back into place. “I don’t feel normal” Salem replies in a low voice, as if ashamed to make such a claim, “why doesn’t this feel right?” With a frown, Archie accepts the feeling of sympathy that comes over him, not afraid to offer an answer most would stray away from. “Maybe because it’s not?” Archie replies, pressing his hand into the railing as he looks at Salem, the silence that follows his response left to linger, sitting with them in the quietest parts of their mind. | “Is your real name ‘Rocky’ or do you just call yourself that because you live in ‘Rockford’?” Jack inquires, sat on a table as doctor’s tend to the wound on his hand. “What does it matter to you?” Rocky replies, leant against a surgical table with his arms crossed, hesitant to say much. “Well, if the answer is ‘number one’, it means you’re not trying to hide yourself. You don’t mind being open” Jack responds, holding back a slight chuckle, “if it’s the second, you’re just uncreative.” Amused, Rocky’s tongue runs over his bottom lip, wondering how to answer. “What is it, Rock? Are you an honest man or are you just a square?” Jack proceeds, watching the man’s teeth appear from behind his teeth. “I’m the man that chose to bring you into my home, and help you bandage that gnarly bullshit up” Rocky replies, both eyebrows lifting a few inches, “does that satisfy you?” “Jack, stop poking the bear” Nessie interjects, sat in a chair between Clint and Franklin, who keep their guard raised whilst Jack’s hand is stitched. “Where did you get these supplies in the first place, Rock?” Jack bothers to ask, disregarding Nessie’s suggestion with visible glee. “Stop asking questions, boy” Rocky replies, clearly beginning to grow perturbed, “you’re lucky that I let you live.” “Why is that by the way?” Jack continues, taking more joy in Rocky's reactions the more they divulge his true frustrations, “wouldn’t want to give your boys the impression that you’re ill-tempered? Maybe too trigger happy?” Unholstering a firearm from his hip, Rocky begins to approach Jack, letting the conferral warn the man on his behalf. “Maybe you don’t practise what you preach?” Jack persists, starting to laugh at Rocky’s perceived weakness, “all bark and no bite?” Goading Rocky into lifting his gun, Jack takes the opportunity he’s crafted for himself, prying his hand away from the attending nurse’s grasp and throwing it toward Rocky. With ease, Jack separates Rocky’s hand from the gun and takes it for himself, a gentle redirection now placing Jack in control. His finger on the trigger, Jack holds Rocky at gunpoint to the rest of his group’s surprise, giving into the thought in his mind. “What the hell are you doing!?” Franklin grunts, unable to comprehend the hole Jack’s begun to dig himself into. “He said it himself- we’re of no use if we’re not a threat to him” Jack replies, tilting the barrel of the handgun downward in an effort of guiding Rocky onto his knees, “I feel pretty fucking threatening now.” “We had a chance of being allowed to leave until you decided to point a gun at the man!” Nessie responds, keeping her voice to a minimum, “thanks for throwing that away!” His head shaking, Jack watches Rocky lower to the ground, refuting Nessie’s claims. “He wasn’t going to let us leave, but he’s gonna have a harder time getting us killed now” Jack replies, his voice calm and steady, poised in the face of his actions, “but if I’m lucky, he’ll cooperate.” “Cooperate with what?” Franklin replies, his voice the lightest of the four, calmed more than the rest, “we came here to keep you from catching an infection.” Hand steady, Jack keeps his eye on Rocky, the man’s demeanour not changing at all. As his breathing steadies, Jack keeps the man at bay, refusing to look at his group or afford the camp’s leader an inch of leverage. “Nova Scotia- I know he knows them” Jack replies, his face illuminated only by the flames of burning candles, night having finished dawning upon Rockford. “That’s what this is about?” Nessie hisses, almost more annoyed at the reason behind Jack’s actions than the actions themselves. “That’s what this has always been about- ever since we got away from Sun City” Jack responds, his conclusion providing a villainous overtone, “he’s our ticket there.” “Jack, this is absurd!” Nessie replies, unable to hide the rage she holds for Jack in the moment. “Is it? Is it really? Go ahead and take a peak outside, huh? Tell me what that looks like to you” Jack replies, forced to speak through gritted teeth, “if this is too low of a standard for them, we ought to be on the next bus to Boston.” “You’re basing this on a hunch?” Clint groans, watching Jack’s head shake. “They said there were boats they’d deliver stuff to the mainland on” Jack replies, continuing to stare Rocky down, “I saw the peer when they were bringing us in. It’s been overhauled, and I doubt these guys have the tools to turn a small, waterside dock into one capable of pulling a cargo ship to land- yet, there it is.” “You’ve lost it” Nessie grunts, finally giving Jack the vindication to consult with his hostage. “Let’s ask the man himself. After all, he’s right here” Jack replies, the smile reemerging on his face, “what’s with the dock, Yee-Haw? Selling smuggled Cowboys tickets on the down-low?” With no way to stop the man, Nessie, Clint, and Franklin turn their attention to Rocky, waiting for his answer, as well as for the situation to cease. Scowling, Rocky bites into his bottom lip and offers his answer. “They use it to offload oil” Rocky finally concedes, his revelation, and the true ties it holds to Nova Scotia, putting a look of shock on the group’s face. “Wait, it’s true?” Nessie responds, vindicating Jack’s entire plot by turning her sights onto Rocky’s confirmation, “you’re working with Nova Scotia?” Dissatisfied, Rocky answers with a vitriolic look. “The bastards keep short-changing me” Rocky replies, clearly sharing the resentment he has for the group with those above him, “they use my dock, they load their oil into my warehouses, they sell weaponry made in my factories, and when it comes to giving back what they take- I get scraps!” Squinting in the man’s direction, Jack takes a step backward, lowering the gun a few inches away from the man’s chest. “So, they’re fucking you over, but it’s you that keeps letting them use your ports?” Jack replies, unable to understand the logic behind that. “Have you taken a look around this room?” Rocky inquires, letting Jack take a few glances at the walls, “there’s a light bulb in every corner of this house, yet we’re lighting candles and prancing around in the dark.” Unable to disagree with the man’s logic, Jack lets Rocky continue. “The gas we’re given is what’s left, the food we’re given is what’s left, the medicine we’re given is what’s left” Rocky explains, clearly upset by the situation, “I can’t feed the people here, I can’t treat them without screwing over someone else later down the line- I can’t provide for them. And, if I don’t keep them in check, they’re gonna revolt. And like a bunch of vultures, they’ll circle around and wait for me to die.” “I thought every settlement had to specialise in something- agriculture, or medicine- something Nova Scotia wanted” Jack replies, watching Rocky take humour from his statement. “Yeah, we make guns, and ammo. The stuff you need for war, not for peace” Rocky replies, his statement finished by an observant Franklin. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume you don’t make as much as they’d like” the one-armed man responds, watching Rocky’s eyes roll. “Again, take a look around and you’ll see why that is” the man responds, staring back into his gunman’s eyes, “if you don’t feed people, heal them, make them happy- why would they slave over packing casings?” “There’s no oil refinery around here to take over?” Jack replies, again finding his response met with humour. “If I tried to undermine ‘big brother’ up north, I’d be dead before the vultures even thought to form that circle” Rocky replies, ashamed in his own ability to serve and protect enough to shake his head at the thought, “I’m in a lose-lose situation.” With a chuckle, Rocky gives the statement another thought before looking up at Jack, a half-smile on his own face. “As a matter of fact, kid- just pull the trigger” Rocky remarks, holding his hands outwards, “let this hell be someone else’s grave to dig.” Steadying his weapon, Jack keeps his finger resting on the trigger, half of his mind urging him to finish the job he started. “We might be able to help with that” Franklin suddenly interrupts, quick to draw every survivor’s attention toward him, “not the vulture part, or the ‘big brother’ part, but the ‘weapons’ part.” Doubtful, Rocky finds himself at a place in his life where he bothers to hear the man out, unable to find much of a reason not to. “If you can solve the unsolvable, I’ll give you whatever you want” Rocky responds, immediately sparking looks between the group. “We wanna be the first people on the next trip to Nova Scotia” Jack immediately remarks, taking the opportunity that stands directly in his face. “Kid, if you four can solve my problem, I’ll take you with me when the next leader’s assembly gets called” Rocky replies, prompting Jack’s eyes to turn back toward Franklin, silently urging him to hold up his end of the bargain. “Do we have an agreement, Frank?” Jack inquires, waiting for the head nod Franklin wastes little time in answering with. Taking another two steps back, Jack lowers the gun to his side and directs Rocky’s attention onto Franklin. “Alright, where’s this solution of yours?” Rocky questions, watching a cautious Franklin ease himself into an answer. Clearing his throat, Franklin looks Rocky in the eyes, “do you have a boat?” the man asks, keeping his question brief. == Rise == / Four Months Later /
As the cicadas sing beneath the spring heat of solar noon, life in Cumberland goes on, existing as it has since the town’s inception. Neighbours greeting each other in their front yards, united under the same unique privilege, and visibly pleased to do so. Wheeling their trash bins onto the side of the street, gathering at the bus stop to ride public transit to work, and walking their dogs in quiet forest paths, Cumberland’s residents experience their Tuesday for what it is- another Tuesday. “Morning, Sal!” Emilio exclaims, sharing a wave with the familiar face as the man runs a lawn mower over his lawn, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts. “Morning, Em’!” Sal replies, his front yard not leaving much to offer, though its clean, attended-to appearance weighs high on the man’s list of priorities, “getting started on the summer body?” His sleeveless, grey shirt drenched in sweat along its sides and collar, Emilio gives the question a laugh. “I would have preferred to work on a beach body, but we haven’t invaded the coast yet” Emilio replies, the comfort of a well-made pair of runners aiding him in his run, “I’m not keeping my hopes up on that one.” “Maybe we’ll get there someday!” Sal replies, letting the brief conversation end with a wave, “take it easy, Em’!” Corroborating the sentiment, Emilio ends his run with a return to his hillside home, where he descends his grass-covered lawn in an approach of the front door. Catching his breath, Emilio trots into the kitchen, no sound louder than his quake-inducing footsteps as he reaches for the refrigerator. “Hello to you, too” Salem greets, watching Emilio emerge from the cold box with a drink in hand. “What’s up?” Emilio replies, chugging half of his beverage before panning around the room, “I thought Alicia didn’t work on Tuesdays?” “She’s at the store” Salem replies, sitting on the couch with her eyes glued to a television the room’s length away. “And you’re watching football?” Emilio replies, looking toward the same screen with surprise. “We have tickets to a game tonight- I’m trying to learn” Salem replies, her voice lacking the anticipated enthusiasm. “Have you learned anything?” Emilio replies, lowering Salem’s legs off the coffee table before taking the seat beside her. “I’ve learned that there are Tiger Cats in Hamilton, and that I don’t know what the fuck an Argonaut is” Salem replies, watching the blue jersey-sporting quarterback sail a pass fifteen yards over his receiver’s head, “but it seems they both suck at football.” Amused, Emilio sinks into the couch, prepared to spend the afternoon watching reruns of football games until the sun goes down before a knock lures him toward the front door. “Hi!” Emilio greets, surprised to find another familiar face at his answer. “Hey!” Annie replies, taking instant recognition of the sweat covering his body, “I see the heat’s treated you well.” Friendly, Emilio leans against the doorframe. “Yes, I’ve been given the curse of sweating after physical activities” the man replies, quickly retreating to the obvious question, “is there something I can help you with?” “Yeah, I was wondering if I could use your phone?” Annie replies, squinting her eyes as if ashamed to ask the question. “Of course!” Emilio replies, stepping aside to grant the woman entry, “is everything alright?” “Yeah, I’m just an idiot sometimes” the woman replies, taking the phone off its wall-mounted receiver, “I usually bike from work and then go on my run, but I started my run from the school and forgot I still had to bring my bike back.” Nodding, Emilio watches the woman dial the buttons as he leans into the kitchen’s island, watching her head press against the phone. “My husband and I are hosting a bonfire and I was supposed to pick up firewood” the woman explains, waiting for the man to answer on the other line, “now I’m gonna be late, and I don’t want him to worry.” Returning to the living room, Emilio leaves Annie to make her phone call in peace, the curious look Salem stares at their guest with easily noticed. “What’s with the look?” Emilio whispers, his question recognised with little more than a passing glance, the woman continuing to stare intently at Annie. Quiet, Salem watches the woman make her call, the look Annie’s given completely unnoticed by the bike-bound woman. “Yeah, I love you too” Annie replies, sharing her departing words with the man responsible for the ring on her finger, “bye.” With that, her phone call ends, allowing her to turn back to Emilio with appreciation. “Thank you, I really appreciate it” Annie replies, politely following Emilio’s lead the way she arrived. “Not a problem” the man responds, opening the front door with grace as Annie steps through, only to stop her departure by glancing back. “Hey, maybe you and your friends can stop by if you’re free?” Annie offers, watching a hint of reluctance begin to peer out from Emilio’s smile. “A lot of people around here really want to get to know you all better- I mean, more than just a brief ‘how’re you doing?’ during your runs” Annie explains, slowly chipping away at Emilio’s disinclination. “I don’t want to pressure you. Just, if you’re interested, it’s on Meadowlark Lane. Just look for the big fire, you won’t be able to miss it” Annie explains, her friendly expression making it difficult to deny her offer. “Maybe” Emilio replies, earning a shrug from the woman as she retreats up the hills. “We light the fire at sundown!” Annie warns, resuming her run as if it were never on pause. As the woman sprints away, Emilio retreats inside, closing the door before turning around, finding Salem standing a few feet back with the same inquisitive look on her face. “Can I help you?” Emilio inquires, watching Salem’s hands sink into her pockets as she turns back, answering the question while reclaiming her seat on the couch. “I thought you had a thing for penises” Salem replies, displaying the most humour she’s mustered since arriving in the settlement. “The penis I had a thing for died a few years ago” Emilio replies, standing under the arch between the kitchen and living room, “now I only have a thing for chilli cheese dogs and bacon fries.” With a chuckle, Salem unmutes the television and returns to her spectating, a gesture that bemuses Emilio. “Wait. That’s- that’s it?” Emilio wonders aloud, watching the woman’s eyes take back to him, “you think I turned straight and want to fuck our married, vagina-wielding neighbour?” “You could have used a pairing other than ‘vagina-wielding’, but- no, that’s not it” Salem replies, lowering the television’s volume a few decibels, “she’s just- I don’t know- innocent.” Confused, Emilio rests his hand against the wall. “You say that like she’s a children’s cartoon” the man replies, almost earning another laugh, “she’s nice, sure. She’s very polite too, I’ll give you that. But I don’t really know what you’re trying to get at.” “I’m not getting at anything” Salem replies, again kicking her feet atop the coffee table, “I’m saying she’s innocent, or pure, or whatever. She’s just untouched by everything beyond Cumberland.” Rolling his eyes, Emilio slides a kitchen stool across the ground, occupying the seat. “I thought the whole point of going to Cumberland was to forget about the zombies” Emilio replies, watching Salem’s head shake as she looks back to the game. “The zombies aren’t as much of a threat as they used to be, but the people sure are” Salem retorts, watching the wrong idea cement itself in Emilio’s head. “You think her decency is threatening?” the man asks, only further frustrating the woman. “I’m not saying anything about her other than ‘she’s innocent’, it’s not her I’m referring to” Salem replies, “I’m telling you not to forget that we’re still trying to get to Nova Scotia. We can’t forget that people can still be dangerous.” “Okay, give me a little more than that” Emilio replies, calmly responding to the statement, “I think you’re being a little more vague than you think you are.” Taking a deep breath, Salem restates her thoughts as requested. “I’m reminding you that people will still do what’s necessary if it means cutting in line to get into Nova Scotia” Salem remarks, again muting the television, “they may not kill you to get it, but they can sabotage you if it makes them look better. Selfishness doesn’t die.” “So, you want me to tread lightly?” Emilio clarifies, his answer good enough to satisfy Salem. “Sure, that’d be good” the woman responds, unable to find a better conclusion than the one offered. “I’m gonna get in the shower” Emilio remarks, returning the stool to its place in the island as he departs. The television unmuted for the second time, Salem returns to her viewing, visibly disappointed at the result of the conversation. = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards = “Why do you bother with those?” Lauren inquires, watching her coworker remove the I.D card from the pocket of a recently-deceased. “Out of respect” the woman replies, laying the card on the ground, where it joins a small pile of others, “we can’t bury their bodies anymore, so we might as well bury their card.” With a shrug, Lauren hoists a corpse of her own onto a gurney, its padding stripped to just the metal platform a seat used to sit upon. “I used to know a few people that did the same thing” Lauren remarks, driving a small knife through the side of the corpse’s skull. “You used to know people?” the other woman responds sarcastically, “you, of all people, knew other people?” Unamused, Lauren glances up at the woman with a frown. “Yes, Grace, I used to know people” Lauren replies, raising her middle finger at the woman before leading her gurney into a large, semi-lit tunnel. “Well, go on” Grace retorts, following with her own gurney closely behind. “I met a few kids, I think they were eighteen or nineteen at the time? Anyway, it was around the first few months after everything went to shit, and they were in the same camp as me” Lauren explains, met with the silence of a captivated audience, “whenever they’d kill one of the dead, they’d bury their I.D and move on.” “I’m listening” Grace interjects, watching Lauren look back at her, “that’s it- that’s the story” she replies over her shoulder. “You’re not a very good story teller” Grace jokes, continuing to follow Lauren down the long stretch of tunnel, its lights beginning to flicker the deeper they venture within it. “What happened to them?” Grace eventually inquires, spending a few seconds with nothing more than the squeaky wheels to keep them entertained, “the kids with the I.D’s?” The question prompting her to hide a slight discomfort, Lauren opts to answer honestly. “One of them was shot some time ago” Lauren replies, her tone slightly changed, something Grace fails to pick up on, “he didn’t make it.” Tilting her head to the side, Grace asks the obvious follow-up. “And what about the other one?” the woman questions, reaching a large, industrial-sized door at the tunnel’s conclusion, “did they die too?” Pressing her fist against one of two buttons, Lauren makes room for the door to open, parting from the centre. “She left the group I was in shortly before I came here” Lauren replies, watching a large, menacingly dark fire pit appear through the large panels, “I just hope she’s doing well for herself.” Not thinking twice of the woman’s response, Grace accepts the tale for what it is and returns to her duties, dumping the corpse down a small ramp, and watching it slide into the incinerator. “Was there more people in-?” Grace begins to ask, interrupted by Lauren as the second corpse is disposed of. “Let’s change the topic” Lauren replies, preparing to return the way she arrived, “is he still an asshole?” “He’s not an asshole” Grace replies, responding as if she doubts herself, and giving Lauren little reason to believe her. “He’s a narcissistic clown that justifies looking down on people with the figure on his paycheck” Lauren doubles down, raising her eyebrow in Grace’s direction, “does letting you live with him rent free really cancel that out?” “I’d be worse off without him” Grace replies, quick to combat her own doubt with defence, “our job isn’t exactly much more than ‘thankless’, Lauren.” Continuing to walk back to the corpse’s they leave remaining, the sound of childish joy catches Lauren’s ear, bringing her both concern and annoyance. Leaving her gurney aside, Lauren takes to the end of the tunnel, watching the artificial light give way for more natural alternatives, the field she enters bringing her the sight she expected. “Roddy! Randy!” Lauren exclaims angrily, watching two children wrestle in the open space, “I thought I told you not to come out here anymore!” Pulling apart to see Lauren approach them, the boys scamper off, running through the woods as Grace catches up. “How do you become less of a ‘people person’ the more I get to know you?” Grace wonders, watching Lauren from the tunnel’s entrance. “Because I keep meeting people” Lauren sarcastically responds, turning back to the tunnel with a shrug. | “I’m gonna grab something to eat, do you want anything?” Angela asks, forced to shout over the sounds of gathered marching bands in order for Salem to hear her. “I’d like to know why I decided to buy tickets to a sport I know nothing about” Salem jokingly replies, soon gratefully declining the woman’s offer, “I’m good over here. I’ll catch up with you later.” As Angela departs, Salem begins to climb around the cheerful residents prepared for a night of organised violence, looking for a spot on the bench large enough to seat two. Climbing up one step at a time, Salem continues failing to find room, each new row somehow packed more than the row that came before it. Eventually, the woman reaches the highest stand available, her struggle to find room to sit becoming apparent. “I take it you know nothing about sports” Jade calls out, stood near the entrance to a small, yet considerably spacious press box. “I know how to play pool and darts” Salem soon replies, taking a look at the field in the same moment as the ball is sent flying through the air on an opening kickoff. “We’ve got some room in here” Jade politely assures, leaving her statement open-ended, alluding to Salem being allowed to join her. “That solves one problem” Salem finally replies, the accepted offer putting a grin on Jade’s face. “The first rule of going to a football game with bleachers is to get there a half-hour early” Jade explains, stepping aside to let Salem enter, only Jade’s brothers and a pair of cameramen occupying the room. Hesitant to say much, Salem sits in a chair and stares out the window, her sights kept to the play on the field. “Wanna hear a little fun fact?” Jade offers, sat in the seat directly to Salem’s left, answering with little more than a look. “So, they have a football league up in Nova Scotia, and theirs is much more organised” Jade explains, panning back to the game, “and when the coaches don’t like how a player is performing, they’ll come down here, and they’ll ask for the best players at the positions they need, and immediately take them back to Nova Scotia.” “I don’t think she knows what that means” Oliver murmurs, folded hands in his lap as he lays back in a recliner. “It doesn’t matter. The point is that this ecosystem runs so deep, it’s embedded in our sports” Jade replies, raising her finger toward the ongoing snap, “these guys aren’t playing for the love of the game- they’re playing for a job.” “Is that supposed to impress me?” Salem inquires, legitimately uncertain of the answer, “I don’t know what any of that means, so- how am I supposed to react?” Rolling her eyes, Jade looks back to the game, not bothering to answer the question proposed. “Why are you unemployed?” Jade asks, looking back to see how Salem responds to the question. “Because this town won’t hire me as a dead sweeper” Salem responds, “or a cop, or a firefighter, or whatever else you’ve got.” “Why do you keep applying to jobs that give you a gun?” Jade retorts, taking only that from the response. “Why does your town keep refusing to give me a job that lets me have a gun?” Salem counters, earning both a laugh and a nod from her powerful contemporary. “Maybe it’s within the town’s best interest to keep a loaded firearm off you while we can” Jade half-jokingly replies, pausing for a moment before adding to her claim, “though, maybe it wouldn’t be when you’re outside of town.” Reading between the lines of Jade’s response, Salem turns toward her slowly, waiting for the woman to continue. “Choosing to invite you here was one of the easiest choices I have ever made- ever” Jade persists, leaning on the short counter to her side, “when I vetted you and your friends, the one consistent I picked up on was that you- not Emilio, Alicia, Lauren, or Angela- but you have been the most reliable, resourceful, and powerful survivor since the moment the world changed.” Waiting for the punchline, Salem matches Jade’s posture, her arm pressing against the counter as she looks Cumberland’s leader in the face. “Those are the kind of people that are irreplaceable, the kind of people that you don’t want to be on the wrong side of” Jade explains, slowly allowing her smile to reappear, “those are the kinds of people that Nova Scotia likes to see at the front of the line.” Able to see the conversation’s impending path, Salem turns away, looking back to the game as Jade’s offer settles in, cementing itself within the back of the woman’s mind. “You do want to get into Nova Scotia, don’t you?” Jade questions, unsure of the answer amidst Salem’s reaction. “I don’t know” Salem replies, taking little time to give an answer, “I don’t even know if I want to be here, let alone a place three times as big.” Puzzled and intrigued, Jade soon comes across a thought, letting a few seconds pass before testing the waters around it. “Is that why you’re pushing to get in emergency services?” the leader replies, waiting for the change in Salem’s expression, “because you’re homesick for the battlegrounds?” If a change in expression is present, Jade fails to see one, only watching the inquiry bounce off Salem’s shoulders the moment it was asked, unregarded. “I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me” Jade explains, finally getting her change in expression, though not the change she’d hoped for. “Who said I wanted your help?” Salem replies, quick to argue the woman’s statement with a less pleased tone of voice, “who said anything about help? I didn’t.” Her hand held at her chest, Jade presents a display of surrender, alleviating any hostility before it can get out of hand. “It’s not difficult to see that you’re unhappy” Jade replies, a softer voice than the confident one she’d used to this point, “I have the power to give you something you want, but don’t have. I’m only offering my help, should you choose to want it, in getting you whatever that is.” Lulled into the considerate mindset she entered the press box with, Salem lowers her own voice. Listening to the distant sound of referee whistles blaring in the night, Salem stares into the dark sky, pondering her thoughts quietly. “I just want to stop feeling like I’m somewhere I don’t belong” Salem finally replies, looking back at Jade, who appears surprisingly understanding of her request. “It was fine back in Concord, but that was different. We’d been on the road for so long that it was almost like I’d never actually left society. I’d just- I’d just left into the woods for a few months and came back” Salem explains, feeling safe enough to let her guard down. “But it’s different now, y’know?” Salem continues, looking at Jade with worried eyes, “I can’t remember how the world used to work now, but when I think about being on the road, it’s like I’m actually out there again.” Letting her hands fall into the warmth of her lap, Jade lowers her own charismatic facade in a moment of genuine compassion. “It may be brutal and violent, but your world has an undeniable allure to it, Salem” Jade replies, not hiding from her own desires, “I’ve never had to live like you, but I still go out of my way to head out there and vet the people Courtney sends to me. I’m the town’s heart, but even I like skipping a few beats- I get it.” “You don’t get it enough” Salem quickly counters, suppressing a sadness that builds deep within her, “because, when the day ends, you can still come back here and feel like you belong.” | Running through the DVR in a baggy shirt with a bag of crisps, Alicia wastes her evening away with mind numbing entertainment. “Did Lauren get home yet?” Emilio asks, his heavy shoes having gradually tapped on the floor louder as he approached the living room. “She pulled in an hour ago” Alicia replies, impressed at the man’s appearance. “I was just starting to like the beard” Alicia remarks, looking at the appreciative look on Emilio’s clean-shaven face, the only thing more impressive being his ability to make the outfit of a skin-tight, white t-shirt and jeans look appropriate for a social gathering. “My face was definitely disagreeing with you” Emilio replies, grabbing a jacket off the hanger as he prepares to leave, “are you sure you don’t wanna come?” “I’m waiting for my doctor to give me a call” Alicia replies, noticing the confusion on her friend’s face. “Yes, the doctor remains open until the late hours now, Em’” Alicia clarifies, quickly reassuring her appreciation, “I am grateful for the offer, though. I hope you have fun.” Gently nudging his fist against Alicia’s shoulder, Emilio retreats, climbing to street level as he begins the walk toward his destination. Having found his desire to bring a jacket vindicated, Emilio braces against the slight chill in the night as he walks down the street, hands in his pockets as his eyes survey the row of well-kept homes, the fire he looks for found as unmistakably as Annie had led him to believe it would. “Is this the audition for ‘Little Drummer Boy’ or is that the next house over?” Emilio quips, watching the individual, fireside conversations turn to collective cheering. “You made it!” Annie shouts, the first to leave her seat. “Emilio, this is Ryan- my husband” the woman greets, stepping aside for the two men to shake hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emilio” Ryan remarks, “I was living in Hartford while you were campaigning. I swear, that win should’ve been yours.” “Oh, well thank you” Emilio replies, very appreciative of the kind words, “I think I put a lot of effort into it. It’s been so long, though- I can barely even remember it happened now.” Too overcome by the abundance of celebration to worry about how re-entering society would feel, Emilio just moves with the motions. “Annie was telling me that you’d been out there all this time” Ryan comments, “I mean, it’s been three and a half years! What’s that been like?” “Well, I can’t say it’s been easy. As a matter of fact, it’s changed me considerably” Emilio replies, unafraid to reflect on the life he’s lived, “it took my husband, and my friends, and a piece of me I’ll never get back if I’m being honest. But now, I’m here, and I’m ready to make all of that just another chapter in my life.” “That’s what people come to Cumberland for. From what I can gather about the outside, the only way to live is to just view this town as another chapter” Ryan replies, shaking the man’s hand again as he moves on to tend over more guests, “I’ve got to run, but I’m sure we’ll talk again tonight.” Bowing his head, Emilio watches the man depart, left only with Annie by his side. “He seems like a nice guy” Emilio remarks, looking back at the delighted homeowner, “did you get married before or after everything happened?” “We got engaged before, but we had our wedding a few months after” Annie replies, a champagne-less glass of orange juice held in her hand, “between you and me, we’ve been trying to get pregnant for the last few months.” His eyes widened, Emilio looks at the woman with general niceties. “Starting a little family in Cumberland, are you?” Emilio replies, adding humour to the night’s discussion. “Well, sort of” Annie replies, a somewhat guilty look appearing on her face, “when you’re pregnant, or you have a kid, the whole family is the first on board the next trip to Nova Scotia.” Understanding the picture a little better, Emilio attempts to respond, only to be guided away by the sound of his name. “Emilio?” a voice inquires from behind the man, guiding Annie’s guest in their general direction, where they’re met with a look of shock and awe. “What-?” Emilio mutters beneath his breath, turning to find Ameil stood behind him, whilst Heather approaches soon after with Amy by her side, yet to see their once fellow survivor turned neighbour. “You two know each other?” Annie asks enthusiastically, unaware of their shared history. “You- you-” Emilio stammers, visibly unable to comprehend what he’s seeing, “you’re alive?” == Rise == “Why do you call it ‘Cumberland’?” Angela inquires, leaving the question at Jade’s feet as the sky darkens, turning to night. “Because it’s in a town called Cumberland” Jade replies, quickly appearing to rescind her statement, “we didn’t see a point in getting fancy, so we just kept the name on all the signs. Honestly, it was much more cost-efficient.”
“You took over the whole town?” Emilio questions curiously, his eyes pressing closer together as he turns to his left, giving Cumberland’s leader an inquisitive look. “It was a lot easier than you’d think” Jade replies, one arm draped over the side of the truck bed, the other hanging over her bent knee, “at first, all we needed to do was cut off the entry points along two freeways.” “Aren’t most freeways littered with dead cars?” Lauren asks, sat near the rear of the vehicle, “wouldn’t that be enough of a cut off?” With a shrug, Jade responds whilst looking down the road ahead, her hair thrown by unusually cold winds. “Sometimes, it could be. But there were plenty of times where they caused trouble” Jade replies, her poised and animated demeanour never letting up, “after a year or so, we got in contact with Nova Scotia and the rest was history.” Quiet, the ride persists as it had been, veering around automobile-scattered roads in favour of slicing through thick grass, muddy trails, and rocky hills. “How’d you find out about Nova Scotia?” Salem calls out, the distance from the conversation failing to keep her from listening in. “They found us” Jade replies, lifting her voice just slightly in Salem’s direction, “if I’m being specific, it was Courtney that found us. She must have seen a fire from above, I never asked how.” “So she just- flew out of the sky and asked to talk to you?” Alicia replies, slightly amused by the image she’s left to picture, “and you went along with whatever she said?” Aware of the humour taken, Jade maintains her presence, answering the question directly. “When gas is scarce and someone flies down from the sky with a full jerry can, you don’t tend to fire at them” the confident lady replies, “and when they say they can get you more, you don’t tend to doubt them.” Peering through the sunvisor's mirror, Salem watches Jade in the reflection, intently studying the woman. “We met with some of their officials, we negotiated a deal, and expanded the town out to its natural borders” Jade concludes, allowing her legs to stretch out across the flatbed, “we’ve been bringing in people since then- about two years at this point.” “How many people do you have now?” Lauren murmurs, tilting her head back to look out at the sky. “We’ve taken in just under three thousand people- including you. The majority of the town were people that already lived there- that helped us cut off the entry points” Jade replies, quickly finding herself interrupted. “How many people already lived there?” Lauren cuts in, turning her head in the woman’s direction, desiring an answer. “We’ve taken two counts, one ourselves and one with Nova-” Jade begins to reply, again interrupted by the woman on the other side of Emilio. “What’s the number?” Lauren doubles down, the hint of anger beginning to creep into her voice. Her eyes pulling toward Lauren’s direction, Jade pauses to allow the woman respite, “just a little over twenty thousand.” “And you couldn’t make room for an extra six?” Alicia queries, obviously growing resentful. “It’s not that we couldn’t, it’s that we shouldn’t” Jade replies, pulling her arms away from the vehicle’s sides, beginning to speak with them as her response continues. “We can’t just make exceptions for one group when we wouldn’t for any other” the leader explains, beginning to speak with more vigour, “we take the strongest, the smartest, the most adapt, and the most trustworthy. No exceptions.” “So what made us different from the others?” Emilio quickly asks, quashing the emotional escalation he can sense rise near its boiling point, “why are we any of those things the others aren’t?” His face turning to the left, Emilio looks into Jade’s eyes, his question asked calmly, his demeanour unarguably unthreatening. Tongue gliding over her bottom lip, Jade’s head pulls away, briefly considering her options. “Jack was too skeptical of everything, Clint was worthless in combat, and, as tempted as I was to give Franklin the nod, it’d take a miracle for Nova Scotia to accept a handicap” Jade begins, offering her answers in quick succession, “Katie never truly thinking to mourn for her brother didn’t sit well with me, and Jess just didn’t fucking try. Does that cover it?” Panning around the vehicle, Jade looks for reactions, waiting for an answer. “It covers half” Emilio soon responds, watching the woman’s face look back to his own, “what made you choose us?” Letting out a steady breath, Jade lulls herself into a regained composure, answering for each person whilst looking them in the eyes. “Alicia’s judo background can allow her to train some of our own for combat, which makes her valuable in multiple ways” Jade replies, continuing in the order the passengers reside. “Angela understands what her priorities are, isn’t afraid to question herself, and can question things that appear simple for what they are” Jade persists, turning past Emilio, “Lauren displays the ability to do what’s necessary, even in times of difficulty. She’ll make the right call because it’s the right call.” Her eyes falling upon Emilio, Jade goes quiet, plenty to say with such little time. “As for you, I’m shocked you weren’t their leader sooner” Jade remarks, resting her hands over the sides of the truck again, “you’ve survived the lowest times, never stray a beat from ‘Humble Road’, and have the wherewithal to calm a situation by speaking. You were a no-brainer.” His head lowering, Emilio’s attempt to hide his appreciation is aided by Salem’s voice calling out. “You’re forgetting about someone” Salem proclaims, dangling her right hand through the open window. “Do I really need to elaborate on why you’re here?” Jade responds, again letting humour gradually seep into the journey, “I let you call shotgun, doesn’t that say enough?” Her back pressing against the seat, Salem’s face sprouts a grin, almost as if discovering validation. The ride reaching its natural conclusion, Archie guides the vehicle over a hill and back onto paved street, the asphalt the group reaches no longer covered in thick overgrowth. “We like to make our little town look aesthetically pleasing” Jade remarks, noticing the many eyes around her begin to peer out at the clear roadways, almost in shock, “first impressions are important to us.” Speechless, the group settles back into their spots, not wanting to appear anything less than the image Jade’s bestowed upon them. Within another few feet, the road becomes surrounded by well-trimmed trees, their branches lined with rows of Christmas lights as the vehicle begins to slow. “McKee party, five passengers, all vetted, no wounded, no sick” Archie lists, peering through his window toward a man, who stands with a rifle atop a well-hidden platform. “McKee, five vetted, no wounded, no sick” the man relays, shouting down a path of road concealed behind a large, industrial fortification. “Let them in” the man finally urges additional, unseen crew workers, granting them permission to part the barricaded structure, allowing the vehicle re-entry. “Thanks, Sal” Jade murmurs, raising her hand to the platform-stood man as the flatbed passes through the gates, the man’s smile and wave coming from a long-lost era of civility. Glancing back at her residential additions, Jade notices the unnatural looks upon the group’s collective faces, all hiding their deep wonder behind masks of general placidity. “It’s alright for this to feel weird- you haven’t had this in years. It’s normal” Jade comforts, watching every eye dawn upon her, hesitant to give into the allure a simple palisade. Most opting to look away, Lauren keeps her eyes placed upon Jade, who notices this gesture and shrugs. Driving an additional few miles, the truck passes a large, concrete sign in the middle of a roundabout, its lights lighting the town’s name, which stands chiselled into stone. The streets well-groomed, the grass well-maintained, and the trees well-trimmed, a paradise the survivors could only dream of embraces them within its embrace. “Like I said before” Jade proclaims once more, watching every pair of eyes steer back toward her, “it’s normal.” = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards = Groaning as he rolls onto his side, Jack pulls his head from the small of his arm and wipes the crust from his eyes, still feeling the warmth of the campfire woft over his face. “Don’t wake up the others” Nessie whispers, taking notice of his awakening from the steps above. Paying the woman a glance, Jack peers across the stairwell, where Clint and Franklin remain asleep on their respective, marble platforms. Keeping his groans contained, Jack rolls onto his back as his hands roll over his forehead, his sweat having given his skin a glossy sheen. “How long have-?” Jack begins to whisper, only pausing as his hands pass by his face, the ring on his left hand momentarily reflecting the fire nearby. “I’ve been up for a few hours” Nessie replies, nibbling at a cooked piece of fat, “the fire was dying out, I just chose to stay up.” Pulling himself up, Jack slides against the marble wall behind himself, using it as a backrest to sit against. “We need to figure out where to go from here” Jack stammers, slowly letting himself cycle through the motions of waking up. “Oh yeah, what’ve you got in mind, sleepy?” Nessie replies, her teeth pressing into her scrambled-together breakfast. “We need a place to stay, we should start with that” Jack replies, hands folded in his lap, “figure out where our next meal comes from, that’ll help.” With a nod, Nessie kicks one foot over the other and replies with humour. “While we’re at it, we should find a plane, make a trip out to the Bahamas and check into a hotel” Nessie replies, her eyes trailing over to the man below, “you’ve thought of it all.” His eyes rolling, Jack presses his head against the stone backdrop, leaving the question in Nessie’s hands. “If you’re gonna criticise me, I’ll assume you have a better plan of your own” Jack replies, paying a look toward a suddenly less-amused Nessie, her eyes rolling as she turns away, “I thought so.” “Why do we need a plan?” Nessie suddenly retorts, lowering herself closer to Jack while she carries the leather cover to a notepad, its usage now as a plate for slices of cooked meat. “What’s the alternative?” Jack replies, the fabric of his shirt riding higher with each shrug of his shoulders, “live life day-to-day until we fall into another camp?” “Would that be so bad?” Nessie cuts back, watching as Jack quickly attempts to restate his point. “I’m not against it, but I’d like to know that we’re trying to get somewhere” the man replies, graciously accepting a slab of buck. “Never living outside of a city might play a big part in that” Nessie replies, wrapping a blanket over her legs while pulling herself closer to the fire. “The city life is always about the ‘hustle and bustle’. You start your day, you end your day, repeat. You’re always working up to something” Nessie explains, her legs pulled up to her chest, “when all that goes away, life just happens. You’re not scrambling to meet a deadline, or dying to get to five o’clock- you just live.” “You can’t do that without a plan?” Jack replies, ripping a piece of meat from its slab. “You can, but it’d be stupid to” Nessie replies, waving her hand out at the dark, apocalyptic scene surrounding them, “when the tunnel vision clears- this is what you’re left with. Just the world as it is. No phones, no deadlines, no end to the work day- just what’s around you.” Quiet, Jack stares at the top of the stairs, the top half of city hall’s entrance peering over the top-most step. “Let’s start with dinner” Nessie concludes, patting Jack on the knee as she climbs up, “we can stay here all we want, but we’re going to need food.” Without another word, Nessie places the leather plate beside Jack and walks off, arming herself with a mallet as she descends the stairs, making for the front doors. | “Welcome to my home” Jade greets, climbing over the lowered tailgate and onto her stone-paved driveway. “This is your home?” Alicia replies, the lavish mansion the McKee siblings depart toward bewildering her. “This isn’t just our home” Jade replies, turning around with her arms stretched out, “this is 18 Rawson- the heartbeat of Cumberland.” “18 Rawson?” Salem replies, the only guest remotely unimpressed. “It’s the address. Like ‘10 Downing Street’, or ‘24 Sussex’- it’s the leader’s home” Jade replies, turning back for the front door, “anything that has to do with official business- negotiations, fundraising, supply-spending… It all happens here.” “And why are we here?” Salem rejoinders, slamming her door shut as she ducks into the strap of her rifle. Leading her key into the doorknob, Jade glances back at the woman with a smile. “Did you think we were just gonna drop you on the side of the road and figure it out from there?” Jade replies, pushing the front door open before vanishing inside. “The town functions like any town you’ve seen before, the only difference is the environment around it” Jade explains, leading the dirty survivors through her hardwood-floored home. “The landlines work, we have hot water, most homes are fitted with solar panels, and most people get around by bike” Jade rattles in quick succession, “dial 0-0-0 if you see a corpse stumbling around, and our crew of just over five hundred will rush over and take care of it- just as if it were a fire or criminal.” Setting her keys into a bowl on the dining table, Jade proceeds through the larger home, continuing her introduction. “The people will be kind, but they’re competitive. You’re all fighting for the same thing- a ticket” Jade explains, sinking her teeth into an apple as she steps into the kitchen, “serve your settlement extremely well and that ticket will be yours. That said, those tickets are hard to come by, so there’s a fair chance you’ll spend the rest of your lives here.” “You make it sound like that’s a bad thing” Alicia replies, still slightly astounded at what surrounds her. “It’s not, but I won’t pretend it’s the ‘cream of the crop’” Jade replies, climbing atop a bar stool and ushering her guests to claim any of the unoccupied seats. “We’ve got similar luxuries- armed safety, stocked store shelves, medicine, fucking football- we have plenty” Jade explains, her finger rising into the air, “but, and I speak from experience, it’s not Nova Scotia.” “Why would we want to go to Nova Scotia then?” Salem replies, the only guest not to take Jade’s offer of a seat, “I don’t suppose everyone has a taste for ‘the big city’.” Her head shaking, Jade finishes her bite before speaking. “That doesn’t matter. It’s just like L.A, or New York- as long as enough people do, the ticket will always be in high demand” Jade explains, sinking her teeth into the bright-red fruit, “if you wish to spend the rest of your life here, that’s your choice.” Sharing glances in each other’s direction, the group remains observant, waiting for someone to raise the first question. “Why keep aligning yourself with the New World Order?” Emilio wonders aloud, setting his sights on any of the McKee siblings for an answer, “if you’ve got it this good, what’s holding you back?” Sharing a laugh, the McKee’s hand the answer off to the oldest of the quarter. “Oil- nothing more, nothing less” Archie replies, pressing his hands together, “without their oil, this place isn’t standing. We can arm ourselves to the teeth, but Cumberland won’t buy anything more than another lost cause on a map of one thousand other lost causes.” “You can’t make your own oil?” Salem replies in somewhat of a suspicious tone, earning another laugh from the man. “We can make whatever we want. Medicine, food, alcohol, oil- you name it, and we have a way of making it” Archie replies, trying to hide the smile on his face, “but it’s not about being fundamentally independent, it’s about the ecosystem set up here.” “Elaborate” Emilio cuts in, interested enough to sit back with his arms crossed. “You see, people don’t tend to think two-dimensionally when it comes to power- which is partly why Angela was invited here” Archie explains, “the key to ruling this world isn’t food- it’s not weaponry, or medicine- it’s oil, it’s gas, it’s fuel.” “We get that” Emilio replies, waiting for the point to come about, “they set up a refinery and took the keys to the kingdom, we un-” “No, that’s not what they did” Archie interjects, watching Emilio’s eyes begin to squint as he’s cut off. “I’ll cut it to you like this- what is refined oil worth if no one’s around to buy it?” Archie inquires, his eyes floating across the table like a lost dog, waiting for a hand to raise. “The lifeline to their grasp on power isn’t the oil- it’s the consumer” Archie proceeds, watching Emilio’s head begin to fall back, finding the path he’s been led toward. “They knew the world was going to hell, and that’s why they set up these compounds. And when those fell, they adjusted” Archie remarks, matching Emilio’s head lean, “they needed consumers and couldn’t rely on their compounds any more. So they helped set up settlements they could get to produce goods, controlled the flow of those goods, and made sure the most priceless good on the market was the one they controlled.” | “Why did you say ‘no’?” Jack inquires, following Nessie through thick clumps of grass, their destination yet to be determined. “I beg your pardon?” Nessie replies, walking a few steps ahead of the man. “Well, I pardon your beg” Jack mocks, his joke received with a silent shake of the head, “but seriously, why didn’t you go?” “Why would I leave my brother behind?” Nessie replies, glancing over her shoulder at the man, thinking nothing of the question. “Because you’re not the only person that can look after him” Jack replies, one hand cradling the handle to his screwdriver, whilst his other rests in his pocket, “I think you already knew that.” Watching her step, Nessie continues to walk, no slower, nor faster, than before. “Are you trying to make a point?” Nessie replies, laying her mallet over the hood of a rundown car, “because, if so, you’re not doing a great job.” Slowly catching up, Jack occupies to seat beside Nessie, his face engulfed in the light of a midday sun. “I don’t think that’s because I lack a point to my question” Jack replies, resting against a shattered windshield, “I think you just don’t want to acknowledge it.” Quiet, Nessie turns toward Jack, waiting for him to continue. “Were your parents abusive?” Jack suddenly inquires, asking with no ounce of ignominy. “E- excuse me?” Nessie replies, the man’s unchanged expression becoming the source of an unreasonable anger. “You’re always there to protect him, and I mean always there” Jack replies, his eyes still shut, “you’re less his sister, and more like his mother. Logic would suggest that, for you to look over him like this, it’s cause someone else wasn’t.” Irate, Nessie presses her fingers together and slaps the man across the face before picking up her weapon and leaving. “I wasn’t implying you were an awful mother” Jack jokes, aware of the woman’s anger despite his lack of care over it. “What the fuck gives you the right to say that!?” Nessie shouts, flustered with an anger largely unlike her. “Does it matter?” Jack replies, rolling back to the ground before approaching the woman once more. “Yeah, it matters- to me!” Nessie exclaims, noticing the unapologetic demeanour Jack responds with. “Well, I’m so sorry I found a button of yours to poke” Jack replies, his own anger beginning to set in. “Do you think this is funny?” Nessie replies, tossing her mallet to the side as she walks up to Jack, visibly confrontational. “No, what I find hilarious is that I’d have the balls to tell my wife to leave for her own good, and you were too concerned with sheltering Clint from the world to make the same choice” Jack replies, anger turning into bitter rage. “It was my choice” Nessie replies, those four words the only ones she’s able to say before Jack interrupts. “And you made the wrong one!” Jack shouts back, quickly becoming more enraged than the woman who began the conflict, “everyone left except you! Why did everyone leave except you!?” “Because I chose to!” Nessie barks, watching Jack’s hands throw into the air as he walks away, de-escalating the conversation as quickly as it went off the rails. Leaving without his weapon, Nessie watches the man step off, seconds continuing to pass without him turning around. “What has gotten into you!?” Nessie exclaims, ushering the man back with the simple question. “What’s gotten into me!?” WHAT’S GOTTEN INTO ME!?” Jack shouts, returning the way he came as his anger consumes him. “What’s gotten into-!?” Jack barks once more, cutting himself off with an inaudible shout as he reaches the car, his body turning to the left as he winds his hand back, sending his fist through the intact driver’s window. “FUCK!” Jack yells, ripping his arm through the shattered glass in a wave of pain, its sensation taking over for the burst of anger. “Why did you do that!?” Nessie exclaims, the anger she’d felt rush through her body immediately turning into concern as she watches Jack drop to the ground. Refusing to answer, Jack groans as he wraps his palm around the open wound, the blood running down the side of his hand as Nessie kneels beside him. “Wrap this around it” the woman orders, her scarf spun over the man’s hand, “hold it tight.” “We’ve got a problem!” Clint shouts, running down the street from city hall as Franklin follows closely behind. “Little busy right now!” Nessie shouts back, preoccupied with tying the ends of her scarf together. “Jess is gone!” Franklin shouts, watching the pair turn toward him with wide eyes, his concern only growing. “What!?” Jack exclaims, pulling away from Nessie to regather himself. “We’ve looked everywhere- she’s not here!” Franklin replies, his heavy breaths turning to a frosty chill, “she’s gone.” | Rolling to a stop, the McKee’s truck halts outside of a large, blue-coloured home just below the top of a hill, it’s right occupied by a smaller home, and it’s left taken by the natural treeline it sits within. “This is your stop” Jade remarks, handing out copies of house keys to her now-former guests. The first to disembark the vehicle, Emilio steps to the hill’s edge, looking down at the spacious, two-family townhouse with a comforted expression. “You’re just giving this to us?” Angela replies, the next to approach the hill’s edge, “for free?” Reclaiming the passenger’s seat from Salem, Jade responds. “It may be hard to come by a six-bedroom house in this town, but I managed” the woman explains, hanging her hand out through the open window, “I don’t want any homeless around here.” “So, we just live our lives?” Alicia replies, watching Salem step down the hill without much of a reaction. “You get a job, you buy your goods, you pay your bills… It’s life as it was with a few updates” Jade replies, patting the side of her door as the truck begins to accelerate, “welcome home, boys and girls.” With that, the McKee’s exit just as they’d arrived, pleased with their introduction and ready to move on. “Something about this doesn’t feel good” Lauren whispers, the few seconds spent staring with surprise offering her time to reflect. “I feel the same thing” Emilio replies, both Alicia and Angela turning in his direction, “like this doesn’t feel right anymore.” Watching Salem disappear inside the left-most door, not a word more to offer than what she’s already given. “We’re just not used to this” Angela concludes, walking up to a garbage bin on the side of the road and discarding her knife in it, choosing to move forward, “it’ll get better” she vows, climbing down the hill and stepping through the right-most entrance. “It shouldn’t feel good” Alicia cuts in, standing between Emilio and Lauren, more hope within her response than the rest, “but I suppose that shouldn’t stop us.” Breaking off, Alicia descends the hill, following Salem into the eastern wing of the home. The last remaining, Lauren looks to Emilio uncomfortably, her expression saying what she can’t put into words. Giving in, Lauren follows the group’s lead, climbing down the hill and leading herself into the eastern wing as Emilio watches, unsure of how to respond. “You’re new” an unfamiliarly feminine voice remarks, jogging toward him in a light jacket and performance shorts. “Yeah, we just got here” Emilio replies, retreating to a friendly greeting, his hand extended with a smile as if the world never changed. “I’m Emilio” the man introduces himself, feeling the woman’s warm hand find his own. “Anastasia, but my friends call me ‘Annie’” the woman replies, quick to stop and move on, “I’ve gotta get home before I convince myself to take a break- but, uh, welcome to the neighbourhood!” “Yeah- yeah, thanks” Emilio replies, watching the woman leave as she arrives, his concerns melting like the snow that puddles along the ground. His smile still present, Emilio takes his attention back to the home, its many windows illuminating one after the other, his group challenging the claims of electricity. Bowing his head, Emilio convinces himself to descend the hill and follow the order, retreating to the comfort of the right-most door, and closing it on his way inside. == Rise == |
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